The Other Child

by Joanne Fluke

  “Hey, I’ll give you another great picture!” Gary called out, laughing loudly. He stood on top of the big rock and did a mocking dance—white, untanned buttocks jiggling in the sun. “Take another one—take the whole roll!”

  “I hate you!” Leslie’s eyes narrowed to slits and she grabbed the key tightly in both hands. Her voice was a mere whisper, but the sound carried clearly to the rock where Gary was dancing.

  The sun gleaming on the water made her eyes burn like fire. Leslie braced her feet against the dizzy feeling she knew would come and drew a shuddering breath. Christopher was coming. He’d make Gary stop.

  That’s all right, Leslie. I’ll make it all better. We’ll get even for this.

  Gary glanced over his shoulder at Leslie and stopped dancing, noticing the funny expression on her face. Her eyes were huge and black. They were like pools of darkness, with a gleam deep inside that almost frightened him. He grabbed for his shorts and climbed into them as quickly as he could. His joke was over and he’d better get out of here. Leslie looked spooky. He wished there were others around; he didn’t like being alone with that girl.

  His bravado came back, though, as Leslie turned abruptly and stared at the water. Why should he have to run? It was his swimming hole before she ever moved in. She couldn’t do anything to him. She was just a stuck-up kid and he had played a great trick on her.

  Leslie was standing stiffly, both feet planted firmly on the ground, facing away from him. Gary didn’t really want to quit yet. He wasn’t quite satisfied. He wanted to rub it in a little more.

  He grinned, realizing that he still held the rope in his hand. Leslie was standing close to the path of the swing and that gave him a great idea. He’d swing right past her and scare her half to death. Then she’d run home for sure.

  He grasped the rope up high and swung out with a coarse laugh. He was headed right toward her, swinging widely so he could brush her with his feet. She was really going to scream this time! They’d hear her all the way to Main Street.

  The tip of his foot grazed her arm. Gary gave a bloodcurdling yell and sailed by. He was almost over the rock now, preparing to jump. This was the best damn trick he’d ever played. Bud and Taffy would be in stitches when he told them about it.

  Now. Christopher’s voice was filled with urgency. Watch, Leslie ..... now!

  There was an audible snap as the rope broke. She caught a picture of Gary framed by the tree branch. Terror was written on his face and he dropped like a stone, only a few feet away from safety.

  His howl of fright hurt her ears, and Leslie winced as she clicked the shutter. He hit the rock with an ugly thud and there was a moment of terrible silence before the screams started. His arm was bent under him at a crazy angle, like a broken doll’s, and now he wasn’t dancing his lewd dance anymore. He was screaming, ashen-faced, on the rock, one scream after another, which finally trailed off into whimpers and then complete silence.

  Now everything was still. The only sound was the lapping of the current against the sparkling granite slab, washing the blood from the edge of the rock.

  Leslie stood there, unmoving, letting the sound of the water soothe her. She didn’t have to worry about Gary Wilson anymore. He wouldn’t tease her again.

  Go home, Leslie. Christopher’s voice was fading now and Leslie turned from the river obediently. She didn’t want to stay here. Her place was at home.

  As Leslie walked slowly, mechanically, up the path toward town, she passed a group of kids headed in the opposite direction. They were carrying towels and inflatable rafts. She stopped for a moment, disoriented. Why was she here, and why did she feel so strange? There was something she wanted to tell the children, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Her eyes hurt dreadfully and she was shaking. It was sunny, but she was so cold, she shivered. Well, it didn’t matter anyway. Why should she bother to stop and talk to them? There seemed to be something wrong with her head; it was spinning, and she couldn’t think or see clearly.

  It was too late now. They were gone. She had to hurry home and not worry about what she’d forgotten. It probably wasn’t important, but getting home was. Away from this town and all the people in it. Home was where she belonged.

  FOURTEEN

  She was just sitting down at the table when Leslie came in. One glance at her daughter’s face told Karen there was something horribly wrong.

  “Leslie! What happened?”

  Leslie blinked and opened her mouth, but no words came out. She looked dazed and helpless.

  “Here ..... sit down, darling!” Karen pushed her into a chair. It was like trying to seat a large rag doll. Leslie’s body slumped down into place, but there was no awareness in her eyes. She was clearly in shock, just as she had been at the birthday party.

  “Are you hurt, honey?” Karen looked her over carefully; she had no visible signs of injury. Perhaps it was sunstroke. Leslie was shaking, and she was unnaturally pale.

  Karen ran for a glass of water and held it to Leslie’s lips. “Drink this, baby..... That’s it, honey—just sip it slowly.”

  As Karen watched anxiously, a little color came back to Leslie’s face. She looked better and Karen drew a deep breath. She should have known it was too hot for Leslie to play outside today. This was all her fault.

  “Oh, no, Mom—I have to go back!” She looked wildly around her. “He’s hurt! I have to go back and help him!”

  “Who? What are you saying?” Karen demanded loudly, shaking Leslie’s shoulders. “Who’s hurt, Leslie? What happened?”

  Just then they heard the sirens, going down the road to the river. Karen gazed out the window. Leslie’s eyes widened and she shuddered convulsively. Now she remembered everything. Gary Wilson was hurt. He was hurt really bad!

  “Gary’s hurt and I did it!” Her voice was tortured. “I did it, Mom! Maybe I even killed him!”

  “What do you mean?” Karen felt her heart pounding wildly in her chest. “Tell me what happened, Leslie! Was there an accident at the river?”

  “It was no accident.” Leslie’s voice was small and scared. “Gary Wilson was down at the river, swinging on that rope. It’s my fault he fell. The rope broke because I got mad at him. I wanted him to fall and he did!”

  Karen put her arms around Leslie. She smoothed her hair and held the shaking girl as she tried to make some sense out of Leslie’s words.

  “Gary was swinging on that rope by the riverbank,” Karen repeated carefully. “Is that right, honey?” She waited patiently until Leslie nodded. “Then he fell. Is that what happened?”

  Leslie dipped her head in another small nod. “He fell on a rock, Mom! The rope broke and he fell! He’s hurt really bad! We have to go down and help him!”

  “The ambulance is there by now, honey. Don’t worry, they’ll know what to do.” Karen tried to comfort her overwrought daughter. “I’m sure Gary will be all right. It couldn’t be very serious.”

  “I did it.” Leslie’s voice was a whisper. “I did it, Mom. He fell on the rock because I wanted him to.”

  “Leslie, listen to me.” Karen’s voice was firm. “Wanting something doesn’t make it happen. I know you were mad at Gary and maybe you wished that he’d fall, but that isn’t why he did. It’s just a coincidence, honey—an unhappy coincidence. Wishes don’t come true, you know that.”

  “I guess not.” She wanted to tell her mother how her birthday wish came true and all the kids got stung. And how she had wanted to stop the ladies from gossiping and the cans fell, but she couldn’t find the words to explain. It was all so complicated—dreams, and voices, and Christopher, and the key. She had a friend, but whenever he was with her, scary things happened, and everything was out of her control. Her mother would never believe that a ghost came and talked to her and made things happen. She might think Leslie had done all those bad things to people. They’d all blame her. She couldn’t tell anyone the truth.

  “Sit right here and I’ll make a call.” Karen got to her feet. “I’ll try
to find out if Gary’s all right.”

  “Oh . . . okay, Mom.” Leslie put her head down on the table. She heard her mother talking on the phone in the next room and closed her eyes. She felt awful. She hadn’t meant to hurt Gary. She’d just wanted him to stop teasing her—that was all.

  Leslie shivered again. She knew everything was her fault even if Mom didn’t think so. She had the power to hurt people whenever she wanted—whenever she got mad. She was going to stay in the house from now on, where it was safe. And she was never going to get mad at anyone again.

  “No news yet.” Marilyn Comstock sighed as she came back into the kitchen. “I’ve been on the phone all morning and no one’s heard a word from the hospital. Janet said she’d call just as soon as she got the doctor’s report, but there’s no word. Old Dr. Simmons says it was a nasty break and they were almost afraid to move him. His elbow is shattered completely and he’s positive they’ll have to do reconstructive surgery.”

  “I just don’t understand that rope snapping.” Rob rubbed his forehead and pushed his half-eaten lunch to the center of the table. “The Rotary checked it just last week and I know that rope was sound. I guess we never should have allowed that swing in the first place, but no one’s ever been hurt on it before.”

  Marilyn shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Rob. Nobody can blame the Rotary. Who could guess that rope would break?”

  The phone rang shrilly and Marilyn rushed to answer it. Rob sighed and lit a cigarette. Marilyn’s phone was the nerve center for the entire town.

  She came back to the kitchen, her lips set in a tight line. “That was Dorothy Jackson. She had her kids at the river this morning and she saw Gary swinging. She said when she got ready to leave, there were only two children left—Gary Wilson and a blond girl with a camera. She thinks it was Leslie Houston, Rob. You know, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if Leslie had something to do with Gary’s accident.”

  “Leslie? How can you say that?” Rob’s voice was incredulous. “What can you mean, Marilyn? The rope broke! How could a little girl have anything to do with that? What’s gotten into you now?”

  Marilyn sat down heavily. “I’m not sure,” she faltered, “but there’s some connection, Rob. Remember the hornets’ nest? Everyone got stung, except Leslie. And those cans falling on Roberta and me in the store? Leslie was right there, waiting at the checkout stand. And now this. There’s something wrong, Rob. I don’t know how she’s doing it, but Leslie Houston is at the bottom of these accidents. Nothing bad ever happened in Cold Spring before the Houstons moved in.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Marilyn!” Rob couldn’t believe his ears. “Think about what you just said. Do you realize how crazy you sound?”

  There was a moment of silence as Marilyn dropped her eyes. She looked embarrassed and upset and Rob reached out to pat her arm.

  “It’s all right, Marilyn. You’re just too upset about Gary to think straight. Why don’t you get out of here for a while . . . go down to the store. Maybe you can help out a bit. I’m sure the Wilsons would appreciate that.”

  Marilyn nodded. That’s just what she’d do. She could help mind the store and be right there when Janet called. And she wouldn’t say a word about Leslie Houston. Rob was right. The whole idea was crazy, blaming the little girl. It was a horrible accident, a broken rope, nothing more. Why, there couldn’t be a connection between Leslie and the strange occurrences lately. That sort of thinking just didn’t make any sense at all.

  FIFTEEN

  Doing the laundry was one of the most boring jobs in the world. Karen switched on the radio as she sorted the basket of clothes into piles: one for the whites, one for the colors, one for the delicates, one for the permanent press. It was humid and steamy hot today and she stopped to wipe her face. The weather report was just coming on.

  “WCCO reports the weather on this Wednesday, the seventeenth of August, brought to you by Land O’Lakes, the best in dairy products. It’s a scorcher today, folks—a hundred and one degrees, the hottest day for this date since 1943, when the temperature reached one hundred and four. The weatherman says that old mercury is going to keep right on climbing, with a high of one hundred and five predicted for the Twin Cities and surrounding areas. There’s no relief in sight and it looks like we’re in for a record-breaking heat wave.”

  Karen lifted the hair from the nape of her neck and sighed as the announcer’s voice continued.

  “If you’re looking for a way to beat the heat, WCCO suggests you good folks settle down in front of your radio with your air conditioner on high and pour yourself a frosty glass of Hamm’s beer, bottled right here in the Land of Sky Blue Waters. Relax, kick off your shoes, and enjoy our own dynamic duo, Boone and Erickson.”

  Karen reached out and snapped off the radio. She didn’t want to hear any more about the heat. The small laundry room was like a sauna already, and it was still early morning. By the end of the afternoon it would be miserable.

  She filled the washer and started the first load, checking pockets carefully for forgotten change or ballpoint pens. The pants Mike had worn yesterday were on top of the pile and she sighed as she pulled out the checkbook. It was lucky she had checked. Karen looked at it again and swallowed hard. Her fingers shook as she opened the leather-covered folder. She was almost afraid to look. For the past week and a half, Mike had taken it with him wherever he went.

  “What?” Karen’s eyes widened. Their current balance was even lower than it had been before, despite two new deposits. The number of cash withdrawals was staggering. Mike couldn’t have used all that money for supplies and overhead. Three thousand dollars in ten days! It couldn’t be. If they kept on spending money this way, they’d be absolutely penniless in no time at all. This time she was going to be firm. She had to confront Mike and demand to know exactly what he was doing with all that cash.

  “Oh, no!” Karen gasped as her suspicions began to coalesce. Mike had been edgy and nervous for the last month or so, and it all tied in with a pattern she knew only too well. He had acted this way before, when they’d first met, when he was gambling heavily and losing.

  Karen shivered, remembering. The day after a big loss Mike would be sullen and crabby. He’d drink too much and sink into depression. There were times when she wouldn’t see him for days. When he won, it was another story. Then he’d be on top of the world, confident and cocksure. He’d knock at her door and take them out for a big dinner, spending money lavishly on presents for Leslie and herself.

  Lavish presents . . . Karen winced as another piece of the puzzle came together for her. Leslie’s telescope was lavish and so was her birthday party. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was that Mike was gambling again. And if he was gambling, he was probably drinking again, too.

  “Karen? Where are you?” It was Mike’s voice, calling to her from the kitchen.

  “Coming!” Karen hollered back, squaring her shoulders. It was about time they discussed this, and she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She’d demand to know why Mike was going back to his old habits. Now, with the feature and the importance of the new house, he could ruin everything.

  “You left the checkbook in your pants pocket, and I want to know where all that money went.” Karen stood with her hands on her hips. “You’re gambling again, aren’t you? You gave me your solemn word you’d quit for good when I married you!”

  Mike was sitting at the kitchen table. He looked up at Karen in surprise and winced. One thing he didn’t need was this kind of an assault first thing in the morning. He was worried enough as it was, and he didn’t appreciate Karen’s going at him like a prosecuting attorney.

  “Now, wait a minute, honey.” Mike tried to put on a sincere smile. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not really gambling. I just got into a couple of those office pools, that’s all. It’s just small stuff—not like real gambling at all.”

  “Three thousand dollars?” Karen was incredulous. “You’re trying to say that’s no
t really gambling? Come on, Mike—we don’t even have enough money left to make the house payment and it’s due next week. What’s going to happen to us if we lose this place? We’ll be out on the street!”

  Her voice was grating on his nerves, as shrill and loud as fingernails on a blackboard. Mike winced again and shook his head.

  “Please don’t shout, Karen.” He tried to be reasonable. “There’s always a grace period, so stop worrying. You’re being ridiculous.”

  “I’m being ridiculous?” Karen glared at him. “You’re the one who’s being ridiculous! You’ve been gambling for months now and you hid it from me! And you’re probably drinking, too!”

  “Shut up, Karen!” Mike had reached the end of his patience. He pushed his chair back so hard it clattered over on the floor. Her crack about his drinking was a low blow. If she only knew how hard it had been to stay away from it, how hard he’d been working to be a good husband, a good father to Leslie.

  “I saved enough for your precious house payment, so stop screaming at me. And I’m not drinking! Maybe I should be. It’d make things a hell of a lot more pleasant around here, and you seem to expect it out of me. You’ve never trusted me completely, have you? You always thought I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough to quit.”

  The way Karen was glaring at him made Mike even angrier. And gambling wasn’t all that bad. Businessmen gambled every day.

  “You wouldn’t say a word if it was the stock market,” Mike accused. “Then you’d applaud if I made money. Be reasonable, Karen . . . I had to get the money for your fancy house from somewhere. A couple of thousand for a sofa! Nine hundred to get that old piano fixed! My gambling paid for the whole fancy birthday party and the telescope, too. Where would I get that kind of money if I didn’t gamble? You know the magazine doesn’t pay that much.”