Stutter Creek

by Ann Swann

  Allie collapsed shortly after they pulled her up. The way she was bent over in pain, John was pretty sure she had some broken ribs. He just hoped they hadn’t punctured a lung or worse. He’d once seen a shard of rib bone driven right through a victim’s pericardium and into the heart itself. Allie’s left wrist was obviously fractured, and her head, well, if she didn’t have a concussion he’d be surprised. She was so cold that he suspected she might also be hypothermic.

  But the boy . . . it was nothing short of a miracle that he was alive at all. He was a skin-covered skeleton. Even he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had a meal. A hamburger he said, but then he retracted that memory when he further recalled that Kurt—whom he insisted was really his father, for pity’s sake—had thrown it out the window when he’d complained that it was gritty. He’d had some beef jerky, he thought. But he just wasn’t certain. By the time the paramedics loaded him onto the stretcher, he was unconscious again. He’d slipped away as soon as they started trying to insert the intravenous line into his poor, dehydrated arm. The pediatrician at the E.R. radioed that they should quit messing around and get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

  Beth was strong. Other than some balm for her bleeding lip and the numerous cuts, scrapes, and superficial knife wounds, all she wanted from the paramedics was something to ease the rope burn across her throat.

  Allie had that same thin line across her throat, too.

  “Karma,” John said when he saw the marks on the women. “He’s sporting his own jewelry, now.” Secretly, he thought it very fitting that he had accidentally killed the guy in the same manner that he had attempted to kill the two women. Later, he would learn that Kurt’s first two victims had sported strangulation “necklaces,” too. Only their marks were bruises, and they had not lived to tell about it.

  Chief Brown insisted on following the ambulance carrying Allie and the boy to the hospital in Stutter Creek. He made John, Beth, and Turk ride with him. Once in the car, he immediately instructed the dispatcher to notify Joe and Martha to meet them at the hospital. They, in turn, called Greg and Angie who were just getting into town. Angie then called Ginger and told her that Allie had been found alive.

  Ginger said she would meet them at the hospital.

  Officer Hagar was left to wait for the Medical Examiner. Detective James stayed with him. Detective Dean drove to the hospital to interview Beth and Allie for her report.

  Allie was not able to answer any questions. In fact, once she was being cared for in the hospital, she went to sleep and did not wake up for two days.

  The doctor in Pine River—where she was transferred when it was decided she needed to be near a neurosurgeon just in case the head trauma was worse than they thought—said it was most likely just her body’s way of coping with the aftereffects of her ordeal.

  Beth agreed to spend the night in the Stutter Creek hospital for observation, but she asked John to retrieve her purse and her cell phone from the cabin. She wanted to call Abby and Cindy and let them know everything was okay. She wasn’t the least bit surprised to find both a text and a voice mail from Abby wanting to know what was wrong. Her daughter seemed to think she had been in danger.

  “You must be psychic,” Beth texted back. “I’m okay, but you were right, I was in danger.” Immediately, the phone trilled.

  It was Abby.

  Beth couldn’t help it; she sobbed out the whole sordid story. When she came to the part about her heroes Turk and John, Abby interrupted with a question of her own: “John . . . the childhood friend you ran into?”

  Beth admitted that he was one and the same. Then she had to explain who Turk was and what part he played in the rescue. Finally, she took a deep breath and told Abby all about the colored lights and the text messages from her dad.

  “Grampa texted you from the great beyond?”

  Beth wasn’t surprised at the skepticism she heard in her daughter’s voice. “Not only that,” she replied. “He saved my life by showing me where the killer was inside the cave.”

  “But I thought you said the dog saved you . . .”

  Beth frowned. “That’s true, even though I got outside with Dad’s help, the maniac caught me again. That’s when Turk arrived. But if Dad hadn’t helped, I wouldn’t have been out in the open at all. I probably would have been lying at the bottom of that shaft—it’s hard to explain.”

  Beth figured that Abby wondered about her mental state, but Beth, of course, insisted that she was fine. “No, I don’t need you to come home. You just barely got back to Rome. I’m fine, I promise! As a matter of fact, I’m just about to call Cindy and give her a report. And you know what? I think I’ll make a trip to visit you and Terry before the summer is up. I’ve never been to Italy. Will you show me the sights?”

  Laughing, Abby replied, “Of course, Mom. That would be wonderful. Thank God you’re okay . . . and Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “I do believe you about Grampa—after all, I knew the moment I woke up this morning that something was wrong. That’s why I called—I knew in my heart that something wasn’t right.”

  Beth sighed. “I’m glad you believe me. I just wish I could have told him thanks one more time.”

  “I’ll bet he knows,” Abby interrupted. “I’m sure he does.”

  Ending the conversation after promising to call again in the morning, Beth whispered, “Dad? You still around?”

  The phone beeped softly indicating a new text.

  I KNOW, the message read. I KNOW.

  She saw a tiny flicker of color near the ceiling. “I love you, Daddy. You saved my life.”

  LOVE YOU TOO, BABY, ALWAYS AND FOREVER. I THINK I SEE YOUR MOM UP AHEAD—SHE LOOKS SO YOUNG. I’M LEAVING YOU WITH BIG JOHN NOW. THANK GOD YOU FOUND EACH OTHER AGAIN.

  Beth’s eyes filled with tears. “Tell Mom I love her.”

  The lights winked and disappeared. The phone beeped, but there were no more words.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Greg Moreland looked down at his precious daughter lying so still on the sterile white bed and he was reminded of a national news story a few years earlier about a pair of friends who were in a horrific car crash together. One lived and the other died immediately. But the one who lived was misidentified and so her parents thought she was dead. The parents of the dead girl thought she was the one alive and battling for life in the hospital. Greg couldn’t remember how long it was before the poor disfigured girls were correctly identified, but looking down at Allie’s bruised and swollen face and her lumpy, misshapen head, he could understand how it could happen. He’d seen the poster of the other missing girl. She was a carbon copy of his Allie, even down to the way they both wore their blonde hair.

  Suddenly Greg was certain he was looking not at his little Allie, but at a stranger’s daughter. Perhaps it was his little Allie who was lying dead on a cold pull out metal slab in the hospital morgue. Maybe she wasn’t here at all. But wouldn’t he know? He was certain if his precious girl had left this earth, he would know. Somehow.

  Wouldn’t he?

  Furtively, he looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching, he had to know. Had to be positive. There was one thing he knew of that would convince him that this still pale form was truly his daughter. He carefully lifted the sheet on the left side of the young woman’s body.

  And there it was: the tattoo she thought no one knew about. It was a tiny tattoo of a crouching black panther located just above her left hip. It was her high school’s mascot. He had a feeling it had been a graduation night dare. Her mom had caught a glimpse of it a few days afterward when she’d inadvertently walked in on Allie stepping out of the shower.

  To his surprise, Angie had not thrown a wall-eyed fit; in fact, she had pretended she hadn’t even seen it. She’d only mentioned it to Greg later that evening when they were getting ready for bed. He was doubly surprised that her tone had been calm and rather indulgent. Actually, they both knew that they had been very lucky
where Allie was concerned. If one small tattoo was the worst of her rebellious phase, they could definitely live with that.

  Now he was glad she had seen it because there it was, right where Angie had told him it was. It’s funny how the most minor things often happen for a reason, he thought. He lowered the sheet carefully, his vision blurring unexpectedly at the proof. He hadn’t realized how worried he was. Odd that no one had thought to mention it considering how unrecognizable she was, but then, they had found her car at that woman’s cabin. This time, two plus two did equal four. Thank God. She really was a mirror image of the other girl. He prayed that her family would find some measure of peace. Though he couldn’t imagine how he would have, had the roles been reversed.

  Feeling a bit more hopeful, he allowed Angie to come in and sit while he headed to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.

  Amanda Myers’s family intercepted him as they were coming up from the morgue. It was as if his worries had conjured them out of the air.

  They passed each other in the corridor and then Kami stopped, excused herself from the others, and hurried after Greg. Touching his arm hesitantly, she said, “Excuse me, are you the other girl’s father?”

  Even deep in thought, Greg knew what she meant. “Yes. I’m Allie’s dad. Her mom is sitting with her right now.” He felt the need to explain why he wasn’t with her. He wanted them to know she had not been left alone.

  Kami cleared her throat. “I--I just . . . I don’t know. I wanted to say I’m glad she is alive. Will she be okay? My sister was one of his victims; we just came from the morgue. We drove in from Sunset.” She seemed to realize she was rambling as she half turned and indicated the rest of her family. Her husband was literally holding up his mother-in-law. Her face was soft and loose. She didn’t even glance in their direction.

  Greg wondered if the mom had been given a sedative or something. He felt incredibly guilty that his girl had survived and theirs had not. Yet, he was still so thankful. Impulsively, he enveloped Kami in a loose-armed bear hug.

  She collapsed against him, sobbing.

  Greg wondered if it was the first time she’d allowed herself to show her emotions. He could only imagine how horrible it must have been, seeing her sister’s bruised face.

  Guiding her to a small area of chairs, Greg nodded to her family that it was okay, and then he sat and held her while she railed against the madman that had taken Mandy’s life.

  Eventually, Kami’s mother looked up and wandered over. She stood beside them for a moment, absently watching her remaining daughter sob on the shoulder of a stranger. Then she sat down beside her on the orange Naugahyde connect-a-chair and pulled Kami to her.

  Greg got up and walked into the cafeteria as if in a dream. He was exhausted and empty. Eventually, he thought he would fill up that emptiness with even more gratitude; but right now, the thing he felt most was a cold conviction that the world was nothing like he had always believed. Evil, he thought. There really is a deadly evil that pulses just below the surface of our everyday lives.

  ***

  At the Sheriff’s Office, Janie’s father had Ray backed into a corner. He was questioning him and reading him the riot act at the same time. All the while he was talking, he was inching closer and closer to the young man’s face. Spittle was flying and his finger was itching to punctuate his words.

  Finally, it did: “And I don’t know what my daughter was doing in that ditch beside your car with a flat tire and no spare, but if you ever think about trying to contact her again, boy, you better think and think again!” That’s when the hard stubby index finger poked Ray in the chest. Each time the man said the word think, that hard finger jabbed Ray just below his collarbone.

  Ray’s first instinct was to slug the old dude. He’d never been so disrespected in his entire life. However, maybe he had grown up a bit in the last few hours. He pushed away his instinct to lash out at the older man. Instead, he used his head. He decided if he ever wanted to see Janie again—and he most definitely did—then he was going to have to suck it up and grovel.

  “You’re absolutely right, sir,” he began. “I was an idiot for not replacing my spare the last time I had a flat.” He resisted the urge to rub the spot where the index finger had been poking. Instead, he continued, “Being a mechanic, I really have no excuse other than what I already said: I’m just an idiot.” Ray looked down at his shoes, then, so the older man would not think he was being flippant because he wasn’t. He really did regret the whole thing. Since the poor dead girl was beyond help, he wished with all his heart that someone else had found her. He was pretty sure the image of her lying there in the ditch would live in his head from now on. And he didn’t even like to think of how many ways it might affect Janie. She was so young, and tenderhearted.

  “Don’t be too hard on the boy,” the deputy said from across the room. “If not for them, we wouldn’t have found that poor girl until the animals had pulled her to pieces just like the other one.” He frowned. “That one still hasn’t been identified. Don’t know when she will be identified. At least this little girl’s folks will know what happened to her. Must be awful not to ever know . . .”

  Janie’s father stepped away from Ray and sank down at an unused desk. “Just don’t think you’re ever going to take her out again,” he said in Ray’s general direction. “She sure as hell don’t need some damned fool don’t even know how to keep a car runnin’.”

  Ray glanced at the deputy and mouthed a silent “thanks.”

  The deputy nodded.

  Janie was still in the ER with her mother. It looked like she was going to be admitted for observation. The ER doc said she would be all right after the shock wore off and she slept for a while.

  Ray had already decided he was going to the hospital as soon as they were done taking his statement here. He didn’t care what her father said. He’d be polite, but Janie would know he was there. He wouldn’t let her down again.

  Many years later, when Ray was actually his son-in-law, Janie’s father would admit that he had focused on Ray that night because he felt so helpless at the hospital. Janie had been semi-conscious and he didn’t know how to handle it. Therefore, he had taken it out on Ray. “You really did deserve it, though,” he told him. “You were quite an idiot back then. It’s a wonder I didn’t just kill you and tell God you died.”

  By then Ray had gotten used to his father-in-law’s sense of humor—and his John Wayne way of dealing with the world—and he simply replied, “Well, I’m glad you showed some self-restraint. Your grandkids thank you, too.” And then he grinned because he knew he had been lucky and blessed in more ways than he could ever count. It was as if the act of finding Amanda’s body had solidified something between him and Janie. Perhaps it had just made them both grow up.

  It had taken months of sitting on Janie’s sofa watching videos and playing Monopoly with the family before he was ever even allowed to be alone with her again, much less take her out on a “date.” But Ray never regretted a moment of it. They had three wonderful children as proof. He did indeed open his own garage eventually, and Janie’s little brother, Bill, who had once been something of a black sheep, became his right hand man, and his best mechanic.

  Since her mother was in prison and no other relatives came forward, the remains of Sherylyn Combs were buried by the county after she was identified as being the victim whose arm had been found by Officer Lujan in the suburb of Yellow Bend. Her name had been first on the hand-written list they’d found in Kurt’s jacket pocket. Ms. Candy Deevy and Ms. Shaniqua Patterson took up a collection at Wal-Mart and ordered a simple headstone for Sherylyn’s grave. It helped assuage their feelings of guilt, somewhat.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Beth started dialing Cindy’s number. She’d had a reply to her earlier text about meeting John and planning a picnic—a lifetime ago—but she was so exhausted and relieved to be lying safe and clean in this nice white bed, that she’d fallen sound asleep in the middle of dialing.
Surprisingly, whether due to the drugs the doctor had ordered or simply due to fatigue, this time, her dreams were sweet. Perhaps it was simply because there were no more shadows in her life. They had all been banished.

  Later, the light from the hallway dimmed considerably as the massive bulk of John Stockton filled the doorway. He stood quietly, watching her sleep. When he was certain her chest was indeed moving up and down, he crept in and placed a card and a perfect pink rose on the nightstand.

  Turk was waiting in the truck. John had made a quick trip to The Corner Store where Juanita, having already heard about the heroics of her favorite canine, had picked out and gift-wrapped a special bison bone just for Turk. Juanita was the one person in Stutter Creek who was on more than a nodding acquaintance with John and his dog. Part owner in a small buffalo ranch in addition to The Corner Store, she’d been supplying them with bones and bison steaks since the day John had come in for his first it-feels-good-to-be-home bill of groceries.

  In the truck, in the hospital parking lot, Turk was gnawing happily at his reward. The passenger side window was down, no danger of theft with Turk riding shotgun, and a cool breeze wafted through the cab, ruffling the thick fur around his neck. The clean scent of snow was still on the breeze, and if he could have spoken, Turk might have said that the scent of bison combined with the clean fresh breeze was just what he needed to get the stench of Kurt out of his snout.

  It was near dawn the next morning when Beth awoke. A nurse’s aide had opened the curtains, and the room was bright, but disappointment settled about her like a cloak when she realized she was alone. Of course, it was her own fault. She’d told Abby not to come—not that she could have made it from Europe in such a short amount of time anyway—and she had never even contacted Cindy.

  Okay, admit it, she chastised herself. You expected John Stockton to be sleeping in that fold out recliner. He’d said he would be here, and even though you know how men are about vows and promises, you still expected that fairy-tale Prince Charming—