“Frank D’Amico. That you, Joyce?”
“Oh—yes.”
She heard the paper rustle and then Carl stood in the doorway, watching her.
“You called me?” Frank prompted.
“Yes, I—” Her eyes met Carl’s, and retreated.
“I’m sorry I bothered you,” she said into the phone. “It wasn’t really anything.”
“I see. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m sure. Thank you.”
Carl asked, “What was that all about?”
“Nothing. The operator.” She sat down weakly in a chair. Why hadn’t she handled it better? Somehow alerted Frank? Why hadn’t she taken the children and fled while Carl was in the village?
The phone rang again. She snatched at it, but it was only Anita. “Hi, Mrs. Gil, can I talk to Gail?”
Bright, cheerful, and irritating. She called Gail, who answered upstairs. Mary Ellen wailed, “What’s with this telephone? I’ve got a splitting headache, and it won’t stop ringing.”
Joyce looked at her sharply. “You have a headache?”
“And a stiff neck. I took a couple of aspirin.”
“I’m not surprised.” It was the shock. The jarring effect.
After the aspirin began to work, Mary Ellen felt well enough to help with Adam’s bath. She would not have missed it for anything, she said.
“And I like feeding him, too,” she told Joyce, “he’s so cute and messy. I wish I could nurse him the way you do.”
“Good God, don’t let your father hear that. But, Mary Ellen, I was thinking—The way your father’s behaving, I was wondering if it mightn’t be better, when your mother comes home—”
“Oh, I can stand him,” Mary Ellen said airily. “Except for last night. That was a little too much.”
How to explain?
Mary Ellen would not leave—in truth she had no place to go until Barbara returned—but Gail wanted badly to get out of the house. While Mary Ellen fed Adam his mashed bananas, Joyce secluded herself in the bedroom and put through a call to Pennsylvania. Her mother should have been home, but when she realized it was already noon, she was not surprised that no one answered. Mom would be at the hospital, or on her way there.
Carl appeared in the doorway, just as she set down the receiver.
“Who was that?” he asked, with the very faint smile and the calmly cheerful tone he so often used.
“I was trying to call my mother.”
“What do you want to call your mother for? You just saw her.”
“I wanted to find out how Dad’s doing.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait until evening when the rates are lower?”
Yes, it would. Also Mom would be home then. She shrugged and said distantly, “It just came over me. I’m really worried.”
He turned his head and listened, hearing a new voice downstairs. “Who’s that?”
“Anita. She called a while ago. Probably wants to play with Gail’s dolls.”
He left the bedroom just as Mary Ellen came in with Adam. Again the cold exchange of looks, but his went farther than her face. Joyce noticed it, and Mary Ellen did, too. There was a sudden hardness about her.
She’s only here, Joyce realized, because her mother trusts me. And I can’t seem to do anything.
23
Anita noticed the closed bedroom door. “Is your mother sleeping?”
“She’s feeding the baby,” Gail said. Already Anita was getting on her nerves. She would not even have agreed to let her come over, except that Anita was so insistent.
“Then we can go,” Anita said.
“Go where?”
Anita wandered into Mary Ellen’s room and turned on the small red radio. Mary Ellen swooped to grab it away from her. “You messed up my favorite station.”
“I’m sorry,” Anita said huffily, and turned her attention to Gail. “We have to go back to that place and get my peacock. I mean Denise’s peacock, and the horse. I really have to get them.”
Gail shook her head. “I’m not going back.”
“You have to. It’s partly your fault I left them there. If I don’t get those animals, Denise is going to kill me.”
“It’s not my fault,” Gail argued. “You stole them. And I’m not going back. That’s where—”
Mary Ellen looked up from readjusting her radio. “Why do you suddenly need them now? They’ve been there for ages. It was the day before I came.”
“Because Denise is going to kill me,” Anita repeated. “I told her I’d get them back this afternoon. I—”
“Why can’t you just buy her some new ones?” Mary Ellen suggested.
“She’d know the difference. Those come from a Japanese store near my father’s office in the city. You can’t get them here. Anyway, she doesn’t know where they are. I told her—” Even Anita seemed embarrassed by the monstrousness of her statement. “I told her you had them.” She suppressed her uneasiness and fluttered her eyelashes at Gail. “I told her you borrowed them.”
“Well, you can just un-tell her,” Mary Ellen said as she put her radio back on the dresser. “You have no right to tell lies about Gail.”
Anita chose to ignore her. “Please, Gail?”
“They’re probably gone by now anyway,” Mary Ellen continued. “There’ve been police and searchers all over the place.”
“I’m talking to Gail, in case you didn’t notice.”
“All right, Gail can do what she wants. But I think you’re a turd.”
Gail looked out of the window at the bright steamy day. It was like that other day, the last time she had seen her cave-rock. She would never forget the smell of that thing under the leaves.
Of course you couldn’t smell it from the cave-rock and anyway it was gone now, for a long time.
Maybe if she only went as far as the cave-rock, and only for a minute. She, too, had worried about those beautiful animals staying out there to be rained and snowed upon, and broken.
She wouldn’t tell Mary Ellen, who would only think she was being a jellyfish. She drifted out of the room and down the stairs, looking to see if Carl was anywhere around, so she could avoid him.
Anita danced beside her and seized her hand. “Are you going with me?”
“Only for a minute,” Gail said. “Just to see if they’re still there. And after this you’d better not take any more things that aren’t yours.” With Anita in her debt right now, Gail could safely lecture her.
At the foot of the stairs she stopped to fasten on her shoes, and then they went out into a day just like that other day.
“Watch out for Mr. Lattimer,” Anita warned as they climbed through the stone wall. “Aren’t you scared, with him so close to your house?”
It had not occurred to Gail to be afraid of him. He was so stiff and shuffling and self-contained, she had never thought of him as much more than a rather pungent part of the scenery.
“Do you think he killed those people?” she asked.
“I know so. My mother said he did.”
“Then why don’t they arrest him?” Gail glanced nervously at the roof. There was no smoke rising today. Perhaps even Mr. Lattimer had realized that he did not need a fire in this weather.
“Because they haven’t got anything on him.” Anita knew that kind of language from her cousin, who was a policeman. “But they’re watching him,” she added. “They found some clothes and stuff in one of those buildings on his place.”
Gail felt a lurch somewhere in her middle. If she had known about that, she would definitely have been afraid.
She looked back at the apple tree, for she had been too distracted to check it as they passed. Even the growing apples were spoiled for her now, with home so unbearable because of Carl. And Mr. Lattimer.
They climbed over the other stone wall and down the slope to the brook. She tried to see up toward the beginning of the brook, which was somewhere on Mr. Lattimer’s place,
where the police had found
those clothes. It was lost in the leaves. Everything was lost in the leaves down here. You could hide. She slapped a mosquito on her arm. You could hide in these green leaves. Maybe he was hiding here now.
Then up the hill through the jungle of white stalks. They were like bones, those stalks.
As the woods opened around her, she felt a quickening. She did not know whether it was eagerness to see the cave-rock again, or fear. She pushed it from her mind.
“They’re here!” cried Anita, running up the hill ahead of her. “They’re still here! Gail, there’s junk all over this place, and the people don’t have any clothes.”
She sat down to clean off her animals, which had gotten dirt in their tiny grooves. Gail surveyed the garden. Leaves and debris had fallen out of the trees, and the moss was littered with cigarette butts, a flip top, and a cellophane wrapper. The pebbles that had neatly lined the moss beds were scattered and some of the moss uprooted.
“Who did that?” Gail demanded.
“Those police and other people.” Anita picked up the trash and threw it over the side of the hill. Gail crouched down and began to straighten the pebbles and replant the moss. She didn’t care so much about the people. They could always make more of those, but the garden had been her masterpiece.
“Where’s the queen?” Anita scratched about under the rock. “We’ll never find another dress like that for the queen.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Gail patted the moss back into place. She wished it would rain. That might help it along. “Maybe I can find a piece of lace. Or foil, that would be nice.”
“Maybe we could bring your dolls out here.”
“No, they’re too big.”
“The palm tree’s gone. I’m going to pick some more leaves. They never got to have their party that night.” Anita reached up to the branches that overhung the cave-rock and removed a few leaves. She began to dress the stick figures. Gail thought
of going down to the brook for water, but had nothing to carry it in. She found the twig that had been the queen, and looked for something new in which to dress her.
Their murmuring voices blended with the forest, and all the watcher could see through the leaves were splotches of white and yellow from their clothes, and the glint of Gail’s blond hair.
He saw an arm reach out now and then, and their legs folded under them as they sat. He dared not move. In the woods, something would crackle. He could only watch those young limbs and hear their voices. A glaze covered his vision. He began to feel the dampness, and took out a cloth to wipe his face.
He forgot that he was growing cramped, waiting there. The glaze spread from his eyes to his whole body. He always liked it when this happened. He didn’t feel like himself anymore, or even something that was made of flesh. He was protected and borne aloft.
The murmuring voices grew sharp. “Well, Fm going to put them over here. It’s supposed to be a dance, not a sit-down party. You’re no fun.”
“You’re no fun. You always want everything your own way. This was my cave-rock, and now you’re trying to boss it around.”
“It’s both of our cave-rock. I brought the horse and the peacock, that’s more than you did, so it’s mostly mine.”
“Then I’m not going to play anymore.”
“Ha ha, you’re just mad because it’s mostly mine.”
The flash of white and the blue shorts came into view more clearly now, scrambling down the side of the hill. He could have gone after her. It would have been logical.
He watched the long skinny legs and the blond hair hurrying down the path. If she hadn’t been so angry, she might have seen him. She was disappearing now, over the hill toward the brook. He wondered if she would come back. Not likely.
And if she did, he could see her from up there.
He turned his attention to the other one, sitting cross-legged among the rocks, humming to herself. He’d love to get hold of that hair, that little round body. She had no right to tease him like this. Or anyone. Again the dampness came, and again he wiped it away. It was all over him now, soaking his clothes. His hands started to tremble. That was the way it came on. He could feel it everywhere. He felt it in his groin.
Carefully he pushed aside the low branch just in front of him and took a step forward. His foot rustled in the leaves. He waited, but she did not look up. Still humming, she tossed her head and ran her fingers through her hair.
She had forgotten about Gail, until she heard someone coming.
But it wasn’t Gail. “Oh, hi,” she said.
He didn’t answer. His eyes looked funny, and he shivered as if he was cold.
At the same time, he sweated all over his face and arms. She thought maybe he had gone a little crazy, the way he looked. She watched him, and felt swallowed up by those strange eyes.
She didn’t think about being afraid until he was almost there. Then, when she drew in a breath, he was on top of her. She felt a sharp crack at the back of her head. She was down on the rocks looking up at the sky. His big hand squashed her mouth. She couldn’t breathe.
A white thing gleamed and went into her mouth. Soft and white, it filled her throat. She gagged, trying to force it out.
He flipped her over so her face was in the moss. A pebble bit her forehead. She couldn’t move her legs, and when she tried to free her arms, they stuck together.
In a flash, she realized she was tied up like those girls. She tried to scream, to shake him off, but couldn’t move.
She saw the rocks whirl about her, and the trees and sky as he rolled her onto her back. For an instant she saw his face, then squeezed her eyes shut. Wriggling and squirming, trying to fight her way free, she didn’t even feel the pain in her arms that were tied beneath her.
He tugged at her shirt. A knife slashed and her chest was bare. Again she squirmed. The knife sawed and ripped at her shorts. She felt the air on her nakedness.
He pushed back her legs. He was too strong. She couldn’t move. He thrust up inside her, burning and tearing. Then the big hands came down on her throat and the blackness roared in her head, bigger and bigger until it crushed her.
24
During the afternoon Joyce tried twice more to call Frank D’Amico. He was out, they said. Out most of the day. She did not leave a message, nor did she want to speak to anyone else. She trusted Frank.
When the telephone rang at five o’clock, she dared hope he was trying to reach her. Perhaps he had gotten a hidden message from what she said before.
It was Sheila, asking about Anita.
“She was here earlier,” said Joyce, “a couple of hours ago, but I think she left.” The house was quiet, except for Mary Ellen’s radio. “She must have started home.”
“Started home? A couple of hours ago?”
“I really don’t know when she left, I’ve been busy. Maybe she stopped off somewhere.”
She heard Carl come in the front door and his heavy tread go straight upstairs.
“Okay,” said Sheila. “If you see her, tell her to come right home.”
He must have been working outside. She could hear the shower running. She hadn’t seen him anywhere out there. In this heat, you would need a shower after just taking a walk.
It was time to think about dinner. Would it be like last
night? Probably Gail wouldn’t even come to the table. Maybe not Mary Ellen, either.
That reminded her of her plan for Gail. She tried again to call Pennsylvania, listening all the time in case he turned off the shower.
“Mom?” How could she explain? “Mom, listen, I know you’re busy—How’s Dad, by the way?”
Dad was getting better. Still in the hospital. She told her mother that Gail was upset over the murders. “It’s extra bad because she remembers about Larry. She can’t even go outside to play.”
Naturally her mother was worried about her, if it was that bad. Joyce said it was not like that, it was only Gail. If she could just get away for a while …
As she had
known, her mother could not refuse. She sounded quite pleased about it. Joyce would make reservations and then let them know when Gail was arriving.
She felt almost lighthearted as she hung up the phone. That was one thing solved, even if only for the time being.
A car came up the driveway. A black one, the Farands’. As she went out to meet it, she looked for two heads in the front seat and saw only one.
Sheila leaned from the window. “I’ve just driven all the way from my house to your house and she’s nowhere along the road. When did you say she left?”
The pounding feeling again. She was afraid Sheila might see it.
“I really don’t know.” It was true. “I had all these things to do, and I just wasn’t concentrating.” But she thought it had been some time ago. Quite a long, long time ago. Maybe with Gail. But Gail had come back.
“Look, Sheila, I’ll watch for her. Why don’t you go back along the road? If she stopped anywhere, you might have missed her. And I’ll ask Gail.”
Sheila hesitated. Probably she wanted to ask Gail herself.
Joyce urged her again. “She must be somewhere along the way, since she already left here.”
Hours ago.
Sheila would notice how upset she was. Her frantic smile. “I know how you must feel,” she added.
Sheila nodded and turned on the engine. “You’ll let me know?”
“Of course.” But Sheila would find her. She would find her.
The shower was still running as she hurried upstairs. He always wanted to be terribly clean—after yard work.
“Gail?”
Gail looked up from The Wizard of Oz.
“Gail, where did Anita go after you left each other? Do you know?”
Gail’s lips parted as though trying to frame an answer.
“She didn’t go anywhere. We were at the cave-rock. She got too bossy, so I came home.”
“The cave-rock?”
“That place. We just went—She had to get something. And then we fixed up the garden, but—”
“You went to that place? The fairy palace?”
“I didn’t mean to, but she said—”
(2001) The Girls Are Missing Page 16
