by Alex Barclay
You immediately checked up, you asshole!
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ren. ‘You can understand how I may have had concerns after your interaction with him yesterday.’
Wiley snorted. ‘You’re something else.’
Oh, fuck off, Wiley. ‘I’m just doing my job,’ said Ren. ‘Someone comes forward, I want to hear them out – whoever they are. Why were you so adamant he would have nothing of value to say?’
‘I told you already,’ said Wiley. ‘But going over my head like that—’
What the fuuuck? ‘Over your head?’
Wiley stepped toward her.
This guy is nuts.
Ren leaned into him. ‘Back the fuck up.’
Without saying another word, Wiley turned and walked away.
Ren walked in the opposite direction, and saw Ruddock standing at the end of the hallway.
Shit.
‘Mind if I have a word?’ said Ruddock.
‘No problem,’ said Ren.
‘Firstly, I would like to apologize for whatever happened just there,’ he said.
‘Please,’ said Ren, ‘there’s no need.’
Ruddock gave her a kind look. ‘There are no excuses for Gil’s behavior, but … he’s going through a rough time at home. I’m not betraying any confidences here, it’s common knowledge – his wife’s got an alcohol problem, and it’s been getting a lot worse lately. Now, I know Gil came in this morning smelling of alcohol himself, but that is one of only a handful of times that has happened in all the years I’ve known him. Usually, he doesn’t drink. He can’t stand it. Apparently, his wife had some kind of meltdown yesterday. It probably tipped him over the edge, with the stress of the investigation, the fact that she clearly didn’t care about that. I just want you to know – he’s never late and never that unprofessional.’ He paused. ‘I know Gil doesn’t have the best manner in the world, but this is just who he’s been since all this with his wife.’
‘Well, thanks for letting me know,’ said Ren. ‘That’s very sad.’
‘Back there – he was probably more angry with himself than he was with you,’ said Ruddock.
I don’t give a fuuuck who he’s angry with as long as he keeps it out of my face. But, Jesus Christ, how hard can it be, guys? Feel Angry at X = Get Angry at X. Leave Y the fuck out of it.
‘Wiley completely disregarded what Clyde Brimmer had to say,’ said Ren. ‘Do you think there could be anything else going on there?’
‘You mean – could Gil be involved in something?’ said Ruddock. ‘Absolutely not.’
Ren nodded. ‘OK – I had to ask. You can vouch for him.’
‘Of course I can,’ said Ruddock.
First flash of anger … or as close to anger as a man like Ruddock might get.
‘Are you ready to go?’ said Ruddock.
‘Sure,’ said Ren. ‘Let’s do it.’
Two hours later, following a consultation with the Medical Examiner, with Shannon Fuller, and on studying a cell phone photo provided by Clyde Brimmer, a Marion County judge issued an exhumation order for the body of Aaron Fuller.
23
Shannon Fuller sat in her living room, the same three words on a loop running through her head: rest in peace. It had been short-lived for Aaron, and here she was again, in a fresh hell. She couldn’t imagine who would want to hurt him. Maybe something happened at the dance – a fight, or maybe it was just an accident. Aaron was a sweet boy. She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to deliberately hurt him.
But then, she figured most mothers would think the same way. She had a sudden thought that turned her stomach – most children know their abusers. She pushed the thought away, but a whole stream of names came into her head – the names of people who knew her, who knew Aaron.
She stood up and walked down the hallway to Seth’s door. She knocked.
‘Enter!’ he said.
She walked in, but stopped, hovering in the doorway. She looked at his sweet face. She didn’t want to say anything.
‘They’re taking my baby out of the ground, Seth …’ She started to cry.
‘What?’ he said. ‘What?’ He stood up.
‘There was a bruise on Aaron’s back,’ said Shannon. ‘He may have been injured before he drowned. Or … maybe he was drowned … deliberately.’
Seth started to shake. ‘What?’
Shannon nodded, sobbed harder. Seth went to her, put his arms around her. ‘Oh my God,’ he said. ‘Who would do that?’
‘I don’t know,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Why do they think that?’ said Seth.
‘Clyde … Clyde saw the bruise when he was embalming him. Apparently, a bruise won’t always show up right away, so that’s why the Medical Examiner didn’t see it. She’s going to do another autopsy.’
‘But why didn’t Clyde say anything to us?’ said Seth.
‘Would you say that to a grieving family?’ said Shannon. ‘She pulled back from him. ‘You’re shaking,’ she said. ‘You’re white as a sheet. Sit down.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Seth. ‘You’re the one …’ He trailed off, struggled to catch his breath.
Shannon gripped his arms, and guided him to the bed, sat him down. ‘Are you OK?’ she said.
‘I … don’t know why someone would do that to Aaron,’ he said. ‘He was only a boy, only a little boy.’
Seth fell sideways on the bed, clutching his chest.
‘Seth!’ said Shannon. ‘Seth! Oh my God.’
Sweat poured down his face. Shannon ran into the living room, came back with a brown paper bag. She sat him up, held the bag to his mouth.
‘Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,’ said Shannon. ‘Come on, deep breaths.’
Seth did as she said, and before long, his breathing was back under control.
‘Thank God,’ said Shannon. ‘Thank God. Was it just the shock?’
She looked into his eyes, and saw fear.
Shannon frowned. ‘Is there something else, Seth?’
‘No …’
‘You’re making me nervous, sweetheart,’ said Shannon. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No,’ said Seth. ‘No – I swear to God. I’m just … freaked out. I …’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, I was here that night too. I was so close, and … I couldn’t help.’
Shannon looked at him. ‘Seth, I know you weren’t here that night.’
Seth went very still.
‘I was here alone,’ said Shannon. ‘I was drinking. I drank a lot, and I was worried about how drunk I was and I went to your room to let you know to watch out for me. I opened your door. Your room was empty. Your bed was cold.’
Seth still didn’t move. ‘I …’
‘Where were you that night?’ said Shannon.
Seth stared away from her. ‘Why didn’t you say anything before?’
‘It didn’t matter where you were,’ said Shannon. ‘Until now.’
24
Ruddock and Ren met in the parking lot of the ME’s office in Salem on Thursday morning.
‘A heads-up,’ said Ruddock as they walked toward the building, ‘call the ME Beckman. Her name is Lois Beckman, but she’s our youngest ever ME and she looks a lot younger than her years. So she’s trying to prove herself, which I think is why she prefers the last name, but also – she can come across as a little abrasive or defensive. And considering why we’re here …’
‘But she should know that she didn’t do anything wildly irregular here,’ said Ren. ‘It’s not standard practice to resect the back, unless they suspect abuse, and no one had any reason to here.’
‘Knowing Beckman, she won’t see it that way.’
‘Well, if a drunken barfly was the one drawing attention to the flaws in my work, I might be feeling a little defensive too.’
Ruddock laughed, but there was a hint of surprise in it.
Am I actually funny or do people just laugh because they’re expecting Clarice Starling? I’m intense too, people. No screaming lambs
, but lots of fucking voices.
Lois Beckman came down to the lobby to greet Ren and Ruddock. She was very short and very pretty, with a don’t-mess-with-me walk. She had thick blonde hair to her shoulders, and warm brown eyes with long dark lashes. Her smile had a sweet earnestness.
I see why you have to work harder to get people past your youth and beauty.
‘Nice to meet you,’ said Ren.
‘You too,’ said Beckman.
Southern accent too! Could you be any cuter?
‘Hi, Pete,’ said Beckman. ‘This is a first for me – autopsying an embalmed body.’
‘Well, it’s not a common thing,’ said Ren. ‘And the circumstances here are most unusual. I mean – this boy was found dead, floating in a lake. The logical—’
‘The logical thing in my line of work, as it is in yours, is not to make assumptions,’ said Beckman. ‘I know that.’
I’m screwing this up already. ‘I know,’ said Ren, ‘but … why would you have resected the back tissue?’
Beckman gave a concessionary nod.
Phew.
‘We’re just finishing getting set up,’ said Beckman, ‘if you’d like to take a seat. The water sample from Lake Verny was delivered earlier by your crime scene tech, and I’ve prepared the slides from the sphenoid sinus fluid. I’ve also had my assistant prepare lung tissue samples, taken at the original autopsy. This is all going to come down to diatoms. When a person goes into the water alive, obviously, they’re taking in water. Whether it’s fresh water or salt water, it contains diatoms – these microscopic algae. They circulate around the body and settle in the organs. Diatoms vary across different bodies of water – you can tell this just by looking at a sample under a microscope: the diatoms are different shapes, colors and sizes, depending on where the water’s been taken from – it’s not as hardcore as a fingerprint, but you can definitely determine if the victim was drowned in the same body of water he was found in.’
‘And what about the bruising?’ said Ruddock.
‘Well, I’ve seen that before in cases where a victim has been held under water, like with a knee in their back,’ said Beckman. ‘I’m not sure how someone could use a knee to hold someone under a lake – how exactly would that work? Though, I do know to keep an open mind on these things.’ She paused. ‘OK, sit tight. I’ll have someone come get you when we’re ready.’
Twenty minutes later, Ren and Ruddock were suited up for the autopsy. Ren went into the morgue ahead of him.
The fucking smell!!!
‘Beware the embalming fluid,’ said Beckman, looking up at them.
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Ren, stopping short. ‘That is caustic.’
‘It’ll get better,’ said Beckman. ‘Thank the Lord for our ventilation system.’
Very earnest Lord-thanking. You really mean it.
Ren was about to walk on, but stayed rooted to the spot as soon as her gaze went to the stainless steel table ten feet from her, where the body of Aaron Fuller was laid out, eerily preserved in some gray and ghoulish version of who he once was.
Ren’s stomach flipped.
Thank God your mother doesn’t have to see this.
Ruddock had walked up beside Ren and stopped at exactly the same point. She turned to him, knowing that the look in his eyes mirrored her own. They both let out a breath.
I hate these masks.
Beckman was looking at them with compassion in her eyes. She nodded at her assistant across the table. ‘Let’s turn him over.’
Slowly, they turned Aaron’s body on to his stomach. They all gasped. There, exactly as Clyde Brimmer had described, exactly as his photo had shown, was an area of darkened skin between the shoulder blades.
Ren and Ruddock locked eyes.
‘There it is,’ said Beckman.
Oh, God.
Beckman drew the scalpel down the back, opening up a deep cut from the lower neck to the buttocks.
‘This will reveal any occult bruising,’ she said. She made three more cuts, parallel to the first.
Ren’s stomach spasmed.
‘You can see here that there is blood deep in the tissue, consistent with an injury, or with force having been applied between the shoulder blades. It’s impossible to tell from what, but it could be something like a knee, if he was being held under water.’
Holy. Fuck.
‘Could the bruise just be a separate thing?’ said Ren. ‘Like, could it have happened hours before he died? Maybe he fell against something, it was an accident … the embalmer said that it takes ten to twelve hours for a bruise to appear on the skin.’
Beckman nodded. ‘All I can say for definite is that it happened around the time of death, while the victim was still alive.’
They were silent as Beckman made cuts into the arms and legs. ‘I’m checking here again for occult bruising.’ She looked up at them when she was finished. ‘I’m not seeing anything here, but I think you’ve got what you’re looking for.’
They gathered in Beckman’s office afterward. She bent down over the microscope and looked at the first slide. ‘This is the sample from Aaron’s sphenoid sinus,’ she said, ‘if you’d like to take a look.’ She stepped back. ‘Diatoms look like those kaleidoscope things you had as a kid.’
Last year, in your case.
Ren looked through the lens. ‘They’re very purty.’
‘They are.’
Ruddock looked too, but it was out of politeness.
All you’re thinking is that there is a child killer on the loose in your lovely little town.
‘Now,’ said Beckman, taking another slide, ‘this is the sample from Lake Verny.’ She took a look, then stepped back again. She shook her head. ‘It’s totally different.’ She turned to Ren. ‘You were right: Aaron Fuller drowned, but it wasn’t an accident, and it didn’t happen in Lake Verny.’
25
Jimmy Lyle was seven years old. His daddy was taking him to Rainbow Rapids, and they were going to stay in an inn nearby overnight. Jimmy had stood on the front porch in his shorts and T-shirt with his little suitcase packed, waiting for his daddy to get the house in order. He was going around each room, cleaning it, tidying it, making sure it was as neat as it could be for when they got back.
Jimmy knew his daddy had already cleaned the bathroom, so if he used the bathroom, his daddy would have to clean it all over again. Jimmy looked at his yellow plastic watch. If he went back in there, they would be late. They had to leave at exactly 9 a.m. He knew that much. Exactly that time. He shouldn’t have had more juice. Daddy told him that as he was standing at the bathroom door with the mop. He gave Jimmy the last-chance warning. Jimmy told him he didn’t need to go.
Jimmy listened as the vacuum cleaner moved back and forth across the hall carpet. His daddy was nearly done. Jimmy checked his watch. It was four minutes to nine. His chest filled with a surge of excitement. He forgot about everything else, he forgot to hold on tight. He ruined everything.
His daddy stripped him from the waist down right there on the porch. Jimmy remembered the smell of the rubber gloves, the feel of the breeze on his damp skin, the power in his daddy’s arm as he pulled his sneakers off, struggled with the slow, wet socks. He remembered looking over his daddy’s shoulder, drawn to the sound of bicycle pedals, then brakes, then feet hitting concrete. Then the kids’ laughter, so much laughter.
Then the front door slamming, the click of the locks, the clatter of the mop and bucket, the stench of bleach, the ice cold of the bathtub’s edge against his chest.
Jimmy’s cell phone started to ring, startling him back to reality. He glanced down at it. DEAD TO ME flashed on the screen. He was proud when he came up with that name. He pictured his daddy with the phone up to his ear, with the mournful expression of an abandoned hound, his wide-set eyes heavy-lidded, the right drooping lower than the left, his thick lips. Jimmy remembered his glasses and how they would steam up, the blood rising to the surface of his skin, the sweat on his upper lip, and how he w
ould lick it, over and over.
DEAD TO ME left him a voicemail. Jimmy listened to it right away.
‘Jimmy, it’s your daddy. Please … please call me back when you get this.’ He paused. ‘I … I … need your help, son. I … I … need you. I—’
Jimmy felt a surge of rage. His hand shook. He ended the call. There was a choking knot of emotions inside him, ever since his mama left him with a broken daddy who would fall away from him, leaving him alone, then return, searching for common ground, reaching out to drag Jimmy on to it, when it was only the size of a pin-prick. And they would teeter there, clinging to each other for a balance that they could never achieve. Then, as their failure was once again revealed, Jimmy would watch as his father would reach for something else … for someone else.
Jimmy sucked in a breath.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
And the words, the words, always the same words:
Daddy loves you, Jimmy. Daddy—
Sometimes, his daddy was naked, on his knees beside him. He remembered the cold edge of the tub as it pressed against his chest. He remembered his daddy’s pale skin, the darkness of his armpits, the darkness between his legs. He remembered his words, the smell of him, his fingertips buried into his neck, his words.
You are nothing and I will return you to nothing. You are everything and I will restore you to everything. You are nothing and I will return you to nothing. You are everything and I will restore you. You are my everything. And I will restore you.
Jimmy listened to the voicemail again, listened to it all the way through this time. It ended with ‘You know Daddy loves you, don’t you? Daddy loves you, Jimmy.’
Jimmy deleted the message. He remembered a different version of that proclamation, a different ending.
Daddy loves you, Jimmy.
Daddy loves you to death.
And back again.
26
Ren and Ruddock arrived at The Crow Bar. The door was open, but there was no one inside.
They’re dead.
Jesus.
Ruddock called into the house. ‘Hello? Shannon?’
There was no answer. Ruddock went in behind the bar. Ren followed him into the living room.
