My mother shook her head and brought her hands away to dab at her eyes. Guided by my father, she stood. Both of them exited the station.
Ethan watched them leave and was silent for a minute. When he turned around, the anger had reappeared on his little face.
“The chief of police is reaching,” he muttered. “What a weak man. Like your employer. Ike. Not willing to take a risk for fear of his reputation. Even when it’s something as important as the life of a little girl.”
“It’s his family reputation,” Joe Collins said out of nowhere. My eyes went wide.
So did Ethan’s. “Branchett, the man who shot the Grim Halberdier. The Axe-Man.” The boy scratched his chin in his thoughtful fashion. “This crisis is the chief’s time to shine, his chance to live up to his ancestor’s deeds.”
“Something like that,” the cop mused.
“Let me out, Joe.”
“I can’t disobey a direct order, Mrs. Clegg, whatever my personal feelings are. The absolute best I could do is carry out the chief’s instructions now and make a statement later.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but we heard raised voices outside. A second later, Garrett burst in. His right arm was still swollen and immobilized, and he still wore a hospital bracelet on his wrist. The folder he had tried to give me earlier was tucked under his left arm. He looked a little unsteady on the old prosthetic leg, as if it was painful to stand on.
He stomped past Ethan and Collins and handed me the file through the bars. As I set it on the bench beside me, he rubbed his ear. “Well, I just had a pleasant conversation with your mother on the way in here.”
“Mr. Clegg, you really shouldn’t be here. It—”
“Back off, Joe.”
“What did she say to you?” I demanded. “She seemed to think it was all her fault. She thinks I did that to you.”
“Yeah, I know. It was me giving them grief about it. They should know better. Anyway, you really ought to have a look at that stuff. Everything’s going to start making sense. Listen, this is what we need to do—”
But the door swung open again and a wide man in a suit ambled in. It wasn’t the fat man I’d expected. It wasn’t the mayor.
“Mr. and Mrs. Clegg,” Cotton said. “I sure hate to see you like this.”
“Pastor!” I called out. “Why didn’t you help me? Why did you make my parents think I was guilty?”
Ethan approached him. “Pastor, something terrible is about to happen. I know you think you’re helping, but…”
Cotton’s heavy hand on his shoulder silenced him. “It’ll be alright, son. I know what’s happening. We will fix it soon. But I need to speak with Mr. Clegg.”
As Cotton and the boy carried on a quiet conversation, Garrett caught my eye and winked. “It’s going to be fine, OK? I’ll talk to him. Just sit right there.” He indicated the bench. “Don’t do or say anything.”
“Garrett, you need to know what he told—”
“Kelly, sit. Please. Right there.”
Confused but moved by his insistence, I took a seat right on top of the file he had given me. I cocked my eyebrow. “You alright?”
“Yeah. Stay there until we’re finished. Let me handle this.” He turned toward Cotton and the boy. “Hey, Pastor. What did you need to talk to me about?”
Cotton straightened up, his left hand still on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Clegg. I know my church’s presence in Grunwald has caused some hardship for your father. I wanted to extend an olive branch and make sure your family is well taken care of. And I’m very sorry for your injury.”
Garrett moved his bound right arm. “If this arm would just fall off, it would be doing me a favor.”
Cotton nodded toward his own immobile right arm. “I sympathize.”
“I figured a fellow combat veteran would.”
The pastor smiled. “So your wife told you about our meeting.”
“She sure did. You did her a lot of good, which I appreciate. She said you could do the same for me.”
Cotton made the sad, vulnerable face he had made during our conversation. “Well, my primary goal is to help Kelly. The dynamics going on between her and her friends and family have taken quite a toll on her psyche. I was very concerned. When I heard you were hospitalized, I feared the worst. That’s why I reported her to the police.”
He made the call? I gritted my teeth. Don’t say anything. Trust Garrett. My husband will make this right.
“I understand that,” Garrett said. “I bear some responsibility for her condition. Anything I could do to help…”
Cotton floundered, suddenly looking unwilling to meet Garrett’s gaze. “You could let her know that you forgive her. She feels very guilty about considering divorce. And about the baby.”
Garrett stiffened. “I didn’t realize your conversation went that deep.”
“Oh, yes. It is tearing her apart that she was so relieved at the loss of the child. I believe that is part of her continued involvement with these other children. Especially this unfortunate boy.”
Garrett paused for a long time. The words that came out of his mouth made my heart skip a beat. “What do you mean… relieved?”
The pastor’s eyes flashed. The look scared me. It didn’t look like sympathy. At first I thought he had figured he’d said too much. But that wasn’t it. He looked like a shark that had smelled blood.
“She never told you,” Cotton said.
At that, I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. I jumped to my feet. “I did tell you, Garrett. Right away. I never hid anything from you. Don’t act like this.”
When my husband turned to me, his face was red and progressing to purple. “You never said that you were happy our baby didn’t make it. Do you hate me that much? Why did you stay, then, Kelly? Out of guilt after I got blown up? Too afraid of what your friends might think?”
I stammered. “G-Garrett, I can’t believe this. You knew this. I felt so terrible about it. You know I don’t feel that anymore. I wish our baby was here. I think all the time about how you might have stayed home to be a father. How our house would have been wonderful for a little family. How peaceful Grunwald was, away from the big city. We’ve had this discussion. You said it was alright.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Garrett hissed. “Don’t take advantage of my brain injury like that. What else? Did you come at me with a bat and then make up some story about me getting thrown around by a giant crocodile? Are you really as crazy as the town thinks you are?”
“My God, Garrett…” I sobbed. “I told you too soon, didn’t I? It was too soon after the accident. I knew your memory was so bad. I took for granted that you’d remember…”
He took a step back, glaring at me, shaking his head. “I can’t tell anymore when you’re telling me the truth. I’ve heard enough. I’m gonna go clear my head. You can stay right here. We’ll talk after this is all over.”
“Garrett… please…”
My husband turned his back on me, not looking at the horrified Ethan, not looking at the satisfied smirk on Cotton’s face. He stormed out of the police station and slammed the door behind him.
I sank back onto the bench, holding my throbbing, aching heart. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I had managed to drive everyone else away. Why not Garrett too?
“It’s time to go,” Cotton said. When I looked up, he was pulling the boy toward the door.
“I’m not leaving Kelly,” Ethan said. “Even if everyone else does. I won’t.”
“It’s not up to you or me,” Cotton replied. “It’s the law. Don’t worry, my church works closely with the state for foster placement of orphaned children. You’ll be alright.”
“No, damn it,” Ethan snapped. He may have had the mind of a centuries-old man, but he had the body of an undernourished boy, and he could not pull free from Cotton’s grip. “We won’t be alright.”
“That’s enough, son. Let’s go.” The pastor started walking, an
d Ethan had no choice but to follow.
“Joe, don’t let him take the boy,” I heard my rasping voice saying. “Please.”
The officer continued to pretend not to notice the scene in the police station, as he had been doing for the past several minutes.
Cotton disappeared out the door, pulling Ethan after him. The boy's little hands made a desperate grab for the doorframe.
“Stop!” Ethan shouted. “Kelly has to go into the forest tonight! You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, you’re wrong about that, son. I do.”
The volume of Ethan’s voice ramped up again, even as his grip on the frame was jerked loose. “Let go of me! This town will fall! None of you will live to see the dawn if you don’t trust us now! The girl will die! Grunwald will die!”
Chapter 29
I couldn’t believe it. My employer, my friends, my town, my parents, and even my husband had abandoned me. Pastor Cotton, who I had thought would help me, instead strolled in here and wrecked everything. How could I fix this?
It’s alright. It won’t matter in the morning. Everyone will know the truth.
I raised my head, looking around the cell. Joe Collins had turned on the TV on his desk and was watching the news coverage of the investigation happening just outside town. There was no one else in the room that I could see. Who had spoken?
In less than twelve hours the town of Grunwald will find the girl you kidnapped. You will be held responsible for what you did to your husband, but they will look upon you with a kind eye after everything you’ve gone through. You will survive. Rest your head and ease your heart. There is nothing you need to do but wait.
The high, melodic voice was coming from inside my head, I realized. Who was saying that?
I’m you, Kelly. You know that. You know all this was play-acting. You know you never had the ability to be Mother Bear. You always knew.
I sank on the bench, leaning against the cold wall.
This was always doomed to fail.
Yeah. That was true.
Just wait and see. Your pains and fears, all of your resentments and unresolved anger with your loved ones will end. You will be fine. Just let it be.
Against all my expectations, I felt a strange calm settling in over my body. As if someone had laid a warm, thick blanket on me. The comforting voice in my head was right, after all. I had to wonder if I had been wrong. I knew I was cracking up, but had it gone this far? Had I really done what they were accusing me of doing?
Well, regardless, the voice was right. I had done everything I could. No use beating myself up about it now.
I took off my denim jacket and rolled it up into a pillow. As I leaned sideways to lie down on the bench, I heard a crinkling sound. I’d forgotten about the papers I was sitting on. Collins had either forgotten too, or he didn’t care. He was watching the news.
“Hey,” he said without looking back. “The mayor just introduced the chief. He’s about to talk.”
“OK.” I sat up and pulled out the file Garrett had brought me, the information Gordon and Maggie had dug up from the archives and left with him at the hospital.
No. I can’t be crazy. Here is a physical, objective piece of information. Would Garrett and Maggie and Gordon have given me this if I had done what the police are saying I did?
Comforting myself with that thought, I opened the folder and looked at the top sheet. A missing person report. Dated for—
“Chief Branchett! Chief Branchett!” a female voice snapped, interrupting my thoughts. I involuntarily turned my head. Collins seemed to have taken my noncommittal “OK” as an indicator of interest, and he had turned up the volume on the TV. Branchett stood in front of the town hall next door to the police station. He was in full dress uniform and he was surrounded by a group of reporters sticking microphones in his face.
“Has Laylah Flaherty been found?” a brusque, middle-aged woman in a rayon suit asked him.
“We’re cooperating fully with the state of Texas. All of our resources have been diverted to the search.”
“Have you apprehended the suspect yet?”
“We are questioning a person of interest,” Branchett said in a flat tone that did not invite a follow-up question.
“Chief Branchett, what about the rumors of monsters in the forest? Do you think people’s fear and superstition could have compromised their ability to thoroughly search the surrounding area?”
His nostrils flared and he took a second to compose himself. Before he could speak, though, a hand clapped on his shoulder. Pastor Cotton stepped into frame and whispered in his ear. Branchett stepped aside.
“I’ll take that question,” Cotton said.
I shrugged. Whatever Cotton had to say, I didn’t care to hear it. I returned my attention to the folder in my hand. The missing person report was dated November twenty-fourth, 1915. A week after Muriel’s letter. A week after Branchett the elder had shot the Axe-Man in the forest.
“It’s true that Grunwald has a problem with superstition,” Cotton said. “That’s the very reason Bellwether was called by the Lord to relocate here. In recent weeks, this town has had problems with its children disappearing. But the people have been vigilant about attending services and making their weekly offering, and God has smiled upon them thus far.”
The missing victim’s name was Cyril Crayford. The document stated that he had not been seen in town since the seventeenth. It also noted that he had been prosecuted multiple times for illegal, exploitative lending. I flipped to the second page—a handwritten note.
“SUSPECTS—MOTIVES?—MAYOR WAS IN DEBT TO C.C.—CHIEF BRANCHETT TOO—LOOK INTO THIS, BILL”
Something about this resonated in my memory, but I couldn’t recall it exactly. I had a hunch, though.
“Can I have my phone now, please?”
Collins glanced back. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Who you need to call?”
“Well, no one now. Everyone I needed to reach came in here to tell me how terrible I am. I’m just bored.”
“Alright.” He handed me my phone. Soon Cotton’s speech drew his attention again.
“The arrival of Bellwether to Grunwald was as the light from the eye of God, piercing through the darkness that lay like a shroud across the town. When the first girl got lost, these people were paralyzed with fear. My loyal supporters and I led them to prayer. Lo and behold, the Lord sent one of our flock to bring Emma Lee Hagen back to her family.”
I navigated to my photo album and pulled up the picture of Muriel’s letter. I saw the passage that confirmed my memory wasn’t yet completely shot.
“Our dullard of a mayor puts ridiculous ideas in people’s heads, spinning my claims into tall tales and wicked spells. I know it’s that awful moneylender Crayford whispering in his ear.”
“Unfortunately,” Cotton said, “the hero who rescued that girl has fallen to pride and lust for glory. We cannot officially say for certain that she is responsible for the kidnapping of Laylah Flaherty, but rest assured she is in the capable hands of the Grunwald Police Department. We will soon have answers.”
So Crayford went missing the day Muriel had written her letter. I gave the document one last pass. I didn’t think there was anything else I could glean from it, so I set it aside and moved on to the next page.
A forensic report from January of 1916.
“1/16/16 at 5:25 P.M.—Clinical History.
Received decedent at 5:00 P.M. this evening. Initial observation to be completed tomorrow 1/17/16. Per police report, the decedent was discovered by a hiker’s dog at about 6:00 A.M. two miles east of the Green Ravine river valley in Grunwald, Texas. Police were called and the body was collected for transportation.
1/17/16 at 8:17 A.M.—Initial Observation.
Decedent is a male of large build in an advanced state of decomposition. Very little tissue remains on the skeleton, providing limited insight as to weight or state of health. Observation of the decedent’s teeth places age at time of death at app
roximately 40 years.
Skeleton is largely intact aside from two major trauma points. The supraspinous fossa of the right scapula bears a bullet entry wound. Upon measurement this wound appears to have been inflicted by a .44-caliber pistol round such as those in the service revolvers carried by the sheriff’s department.
The other trauma is a complete fracture of the right clavicle, with a pattern suggesting the bullet passed through the brachial plexus and exited at this point.
Further examination is indicated, but initial observation suggests the cause of death to be gunshot wound with associated axillary artery dissection followed by rapid exsanguination.
1/18/16 at 8:02 A.M.
Further examination of the decedent cannot occur as the remains have been removed from the department. No record of transfer has been filed. Every effort will be made to locate the decedent and complete the report to the Department’s satisfaction.”
I looked up and stared at the wall as I processed what I had read. This body had been found in the woods, dead from a gunshot in the back, two months after the Axe-Man crisis, and then the body disappeared.
“This just goes to show you cannot put your faith in any one person,” Cotton was saying to the media. “Even someone with laudable valor, someone you admire for their courage, can fall and lead you astray. That is why you may only put your faith in God. That is why we have come here to lead Grunwald away from superstition and toward the light of the Lord.”
I turned the page with shaking hands, terrified of what I was going to see. It was a copy of a pair of photographs, themselves in black-and-white with terrible quality, but I could see what I was supposed to. The large skeleton lay on the examination table. Both shots were from the chest up; in one the skeleton lay face-down. Someone had drawn a circle on the photograph in bold black marker, indicating the hole in the shoulder blade. The other photo showed the skeleton laying face-up. The broken collarbone was obvious.
“So I invite all of you to pray with us,” Cotton said. “Stay in your homes this night and pray. We need it now more than ever. The Lord our God will smile upon us and bring Laylah Flaherty home if we honor and worship Him. Let’s all pray, now.”
Momma Grizzly Page 14
