“Sharon!”
“She’s all mouth and needs to be taught a lesson.” She reached down, grabbing Connie by the hair. While she attempted to lift Connie by her locks, Connie screamed, and Sharon sailed another foot into her.
She wheezed heavily, and then Connie started to cry.
“That’s enough,” I told Sharon.
“If I stop now, she is going to the police. We teach her a lesson, she won’t say anything.”
“She’s gonna tell either way,” I pleaded. Sharon still had a firm grip intertwined in Connie’s hair.
“Then what? Nothing. We’ll get a fine. But she won’t get your boyfriend anymore. Besides, we aren’t hurting her. Not really.” Without saying anymore, her hand holding Connie’s hair, Sharon also grabbed Connie’s sweater and pulled her into the playground construction site.
“What are we doing?”
“Shut up,” Sharon barked, dragging Connie.
“But …”
“Shut up!” Again, Sharon yelled at me and heaved Connie forward with everything she had.
Poor Connie tried to get up; she got to her knees, and again Sharon struck her.
“I’m done.” I raised my hands. “I’m not doing this. Let her go.”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m done.” Sharon knelt down to Connie. “Almost.” She reached for her cheerleading skirt and pulled it.
Connie squirmed left to right, but Sharon didn’t let go of the skirt.
“Sharon,” I called her name.
Sharon ignored me, smacked Connie in the face, and grabbed her underwear. “Wanna show off what you have under this skirt? You’re real proud, huh?” Clenching the underwear, Sharon ripped at them.
Connie screamed and struggled, her body dragging on the ground as Sharon pulled.
Sharon prevailed. As if she’d won a prize she cheerfully waved Connie’s underwear and skirt high in the air. “Come on, let’s go.”
“We’re gonna leave her like that?”
“Why not? She was proud enough of them to show Richie. Come on, let’s go.” Sharon took off toward the car.
I looked at Connie. She huddled on the ground, crying, her body nude from the waist down. I could have helped her, said something, but I didn’t. I just ran to my car and left town with Sharon.
We never heard anything that night. Police never showed up, Richie said nothing. We figured we had scared her. I put it out of my mind, kind of, until it was on the news that she was missing. Disappeared the night of the game. I was the last to see her, and she was fine then.
The police arrested a boy. Seems like Richie wasn’t just cheating on me, she was cheating on her boyfriend, and he knew it. Nothing ever became of it; he was released and she was never found.
Not until 1999.
While we didn’t have anything to do with her death, I blamed us because we left her in that construction area, alone, injured, and half naked.
I don’t know what she went though after we left. But I know we didn’t do it. No, wait, I didn’t do it.
I let Stacy know I wanted to print up that article, and she showed me how. I wasn’t finished searching. Not by a long shot.
The ‘on line’ thing was new and interesting and I had a lot more searching to do.
Chapter Seventeen – Desmond Andrews
There was no phone contact information given for young Justin Perkins. Just his plea to the news and a number where a message could be sent. He had contacted Freedom Project, but they weren’t giving out Pam’s information until she, herself, gave the go ahead.
He did leave his number with them, and they were pretty good about not giving it out. So I left messages with my name.
Eventually he called me back. I told him who I was and what I wanted. He confirmed my identity with Freedom Project, and the next thing I knew, he was at my office.
I applauded his cautious nature.
I asked him right away about the call screening process. He said it wasn’t his idea until hundreds of calls were coming into the station and Freedom Project, claiming to be his mother or friend of his mother. Even family.
He looked like a bright young man, soft spoken and mild. I don’t really know what his father looked like, but he did resemble Pam.
His hair was short and light, and he looked as if he didn’t comb it. I suppose that was the style. I don’t know.
Still in high school, he lived twenty miles from Hartford and made the journey just before my day was done.
He explained that he was emancipated but lived with an older aunt whom he didn’t think was going to be around all that long.
I explained to him that I was treating his mother.
“So she does have a mental illness.”
“I am not at liberty to say.”
“But she’s seeing a psychiatrist,” Justin said.
“She’s spent eighteen years in pretty much isolation. How do you think she is?”
He nodded and looked down to his hands for a moment, something his mother often did. When he looked up he made eye contact. “That’s sad.”
“What is?”
“That she spent all that time in that place and wasn’t guilty. I feel bad. Really bad. She lost her kids in a horrible way. Then they send her away for it.”
“I know you’re young,” I told him. “What do you know about the case?”
“That she was accused of killing my brother and sisters and grandmother.”
“Did you read that your father’s testimony was a big part?”
“Yes, I did,” Justin replied.
“He was an eye witness. He said he saw he do it.”
“That’s what they say. He never said anything to me. Nothing.”
“Why do you think that is?” I asked.
Justin shrugged. “Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was so distraught that he saw things wrong.”
“Why do you want to see your mother?’
“Why doesn’t she want to see me?”
“I asked first.”
“Because she’s my mother. I went my whole life thinking she was dead. Burned up in a fire.”
“Would you still want to see her if she wasn’t released?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said firmly. “She’s my mother. She didn’t give me up on purpose. So, why doesn’t she want to see me?”
“She does,” I replied. “She’s just scared.”
“Of?”
“Couple things. Why you wanted to see her, and the fact that your life was good without her.”
Justin laughed almost sarcastically.
“Your life wasn’t good?”
“What do you call good?” Justin asked. “I moved from place to place. My father never held a job for very long. He was an alcoholic. He brought women home constantly. And when he was angry, he wasn’t very nice. I raised myself most of the time. Looking back now, it’s almost as if he were wracked with guilt. Maybe I’m imagining, I don’t know, but it wasn’t a fun life.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It is what it is,” he said, matter of fact. “I want to meet my mother. I’m all she has and she’s all I have. Hell, we may meet and hate each other. Then again, we may meet and we may be exactly what the other needs. We won’t know until then.”
“As a professional and your mother’s doctor, I’m suggesting that the visit be here or even at a coffee shop with me present.”
“Why?”
“I think it’ll make it easier,” I said in an ‘up’ way. “Less nervous for you both.”
He nodded in agreement. “That’s fair. But can it be soon, please, I really want to meet her.”
“Absolutely, I’ll call her this evening. I’m sure she’ll feel the same way when I tell her about you.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“Now, before you go, is there anything you want to ask me about her? That I can tell you, of course.”
“How well do you know her?” he asked.
“Just learning her.”
With an ‘oh’ he nodded disappointedly.
“Why?”
“Well, I didn’t know if you knew anyone she knew.” Justin said. “Some lady has called three times. Doesn’t leave a number. Just a message. Asking if I’m there and then saying for me to stay away from my mother. That she was a friend of hers from the past and she had a bad feeling.”
“That sounds rather odd,” I commented. “That’s it. No name?”
“Yeah. Sharon.”
I sat back. “Sharon.”
“Do you know the name?”
I nodded, folding my hands and bringing them to my chin. “The name has come up recently.”
“So my mother knows her and she knows my mother?”
“Sharon has been a part of your mother’s life for a very long time,” I replied.
“Should her warnings be heeded?” Justin asked.
“Here’s the way I see it,” I told him. “Your mother said Sharon got her in trouble. She also says that Sharon lied on the stand. So I’m going to say that Sharon’s warning may not be valid.”
“Thank you, that’s what I thought. She probably still thinks my mom is guilty.”
I wanted to add, ‘like a lot of people’, but I refrained. “Justin, I find it very interesting that Sharon would call you. Do you know who takes the messages for you at the station?”
“Yeah. One secretary screens the calls.”
“Do me a favor, can you leave my name and number with this secretary? If … Sharon calls back, I want her to contact me. Think you can pass that along?”
“Absolutely, I’ll see what I can do.” Justin stood and extended his hand to me. “Thank you very much.”
I shook his hand and told him I would be in touch. He stood and left the office, and I picked up the phone and called Pam.
There was a few second delay from her answer of the phone to her actual ‘hello’; I suppose she was still getting used to the phone.
“Pam, this is Desmond.”
“Who?”
“Desmond Andrews?”
“Oh,” she said, long and airy. “I’m sorry. I know you as Doctor Andrews.”
“What are you doing right now?” I asked.
“I’m at one of those coffee places, trying this drink you recommended. Then I’m heading back to the campus library, they’re open a couple more hours tonight. Been doing that on … line research thing. It’s wonderful.”
“Are you learning anything?”
“Aside from using a computer, yes.” She paused. “You’re calling me. Is everything ok?”
“Yes, I just met with Justin.”
Silence.
“Pam?”
“I’m a little nervous about what you have to say.”
“I’d like to talk to you. Can you make it to my office right now?”
“Um … honestly, I was in the middle of something at the library. Can I come by tomorrow morning? The library is only open a couple more hours.”
I looked down at my watch. “Tell you what. I go by the library on my way home. I can meet you there, if that’s okay?”
“Yes, it is. I’m the computer laboratory.”
Her reference to calling it a laboratory made me laugh. But I didn’t let her know. “I’ll be there.”
I ended my call with her. I wanted to see her and talk with her. I wanted to tell her about Justin. Ask her about Sharon and maybe see what kind of research she was doing.
My case with Pam was getting interesting, indeed.
Chapter Nineteen – Sharon
Maybe it was too much, calling the contact number for Justin Perkins, but I didn’t want to take a chance. I’d try again. I had to. I had a bad feeling about it.
I knew about his mother, what she was like. The dark side, the tortured side. The side of her I always liked and wanted to be. Then again, I always was the type of person she wanted to be.
Perhaps it was because I embraced who I was as a girl and woman, not hiding it behind big clothing and a fake sense of chastity. Maybe the chastity and preservation of her virginity was the reason she was so easily set off.
The way she freaked on Marion Blake, she just went overboard.
That isn’t even the end of the long line.
Sometimes I think she found emotional safety in numbers. As if she remained mild mannered until we were together. She found her strength in me. Of course, I protected her. What I was I thinking? Why did I continue to allow myself to be a part? To witness and even … help.
I’ll be honest. One word … Richie.
Like Pam, I too was obsessed with him. There were many times I wanted to walk away from Pam, tell her our friendship was too dangerous, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t that we were together for so long; losing Pam meant never seeing Richie.
Richie called me out on that several times. Jumping to his ‘loved one’s’ defense, saying I used her, and to stop using Pam to get to him.
I liked Pam and all. I did. But I liked Richie just as much.
He was right.
Richie and I weren’t more than lip buddies in junior high. We’d kiss. I let him feel my chest and then he’d guide my hand over his jeans. To be honest, I didn’t know what the heck I was feeling for or why. I was thirteen, for crying out loud, and at that time most of us were naive.
While I held on to my virginity until I was eighteen, I did other things. Other things that made me want to have sex, but I didn’t. Probably because deep in my mind, I was waiting on Richie. Just like Pam.
Then again, unlike Pam, I had gone a little further with Richie than just my hands brushing over his pre-pubescent jeans.
That night with the cheerleader. After we went home I found Richie. I just wanted to blast him, argue with him, and yell at him for being with someone else. Outwardly it was in Pam’s defense; inwardly, I was just as angry and jealous.
If he was going to cheat, why couldn’t it be with me?
Yes, I know, Pam was my friend. But sometimes love, infatuation, can run deep and dark.
We argued, Richie and I, but we ended up on the floor of his father’s garage, doing things that pushed the limits. Touching, feeling, kissing. He gave my body this feeling I never knew could exist. Almost as if I were the edge of delivering something brilliant, but he and I stopped short. I never got to that point.
I held on to that feeling like a drug addict, craving, wanting more.
In February of my senior year, I turned eighteen. Valentine’s Day, to be exact. I was a woman and I was alone. Richie had teased me. I sent him notes, telling him I wanted to have actual sex for the first time on my eighteenth birthday.
We hadn’t been together since the garage, and for weeks he told me that he would do it. That he’d make plans.
When he cancelled on Pam, I was positive it was for me.
My father was out of town, one of the very few weekends he had off, and the house would be mine.
Then Richie cancelled on me.
I threw a fit of rage. How could he cancel? How could he lead me on? I sought out Pam who was miserable and crying because her boyfriend blew her off on Valentine’s Day. I didn’t want to be around misery. And I was convinced Richie was blowing me off, like Pam, for someone else.
I drove around for hours looking for him but couldn’t find him anywhere. At midnight, I gave up and headed to his house. I was waiting outside when his father came out. He asked me what I was doing outside, sitting there, all dressed up and looking sad.
I told him …sort of. He invited me inside, telling me I was more than welcome to wait in there for Richie.
Richie’s parents were divorced; they married young, had Richie young, and broke up. His father was still young for a dad. A lot younger than my father.
It was in that living room that I seduced Richie’s father. It wasn’t too difficult. Rich Senior didn’t even realize I was virgin; why would he, I didn’t lead on like I was. I went down on him like a pro beforehand. Never did I imagine my first time would be sprawle
d out on the well-worn reclining chair with the father of my object’s desire. Close enough, I suppose. I cringed, clung to everything and tried to make my moans of first-time pain sound like moans of pleasure, all the while hoping and praying that Richie would come home and see his father having me.
Richie never did.
I fooled around with his father here and there until I graduated and didn’t see him again until the quickie wedding of Richie and Pam. At that point he was with some older woman, and he treated me like a little girl. That was okay, I didn’t need him anymore. At that point, I already was on the path to having Richie.
Chapter Twenty – Pam
Imagine my surprise, when Dr. Andrews showed up at the library. I gathered up my papers as if I were hiding something. I wasn’t. But if he asked me, I would tell him the truth. He was bound by oath, right?
That coffee beverage he recommended had to be an acquired taste. I found it a little bitter, but since I paid so much for it, I decided to try to finish it.
“You seem very engrossed,” Dr. Andrews said to me as he pulled up a chair to share my space.
“This is so interesting,” I said in awe. “Really? I cannot believe how far things have come. I mean, look at the pictures on the computer.”
“It’s amazing, yes.”
“Nothing is a secret anymore. It would be hard to hide the truth.”
“It’s also very easy to distort the truth. So many believe what they read on the internet.”
“We shouldn’t?”
He laughed and touched his hand over mine, quickly pulling it back. “My dear, you are very impressionable right now. So, what are you researching?”
“I’ll get to that.” I turned my chair to face him. “How did it go with Justin?”
He nodded. “Very well, I think you two should meet tomorrow during your appointment.”
“So you think it’s okay.”
“His attitude is about finding his mother. It has nothing to do with your past or the crimes you were once accused of. Had you still been in the institution and he learned of you, he would have contacted you.”
“Then I would like to meet him.” The thought of that immediately sent flutters to my stomach. “Is he a nice boy?”
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