“I understand, Doctor,” I said. “I imagine there will be a lot of therapy and so on required. But she’s going to be okay, right?”
He looked thoughtful. “Physically I believe there is good reason to believe she’ll do fine. There will be a period of recuperation, of course, aided by physical therapy. It won’t be easy. But I see no reason why she shouldn’t do well in this area.”
The way he had stressed ‘this area’ left me with the strong impression there was another area he was not so optimistic about. “There’s something else, Doctor. What aren’t you telling me?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s very early in her recovery yet and we don’t want to draw conclusions based on early indications … but so far she has not been communicative.”
“Is that unusual after such a long time in a coma?”
“When it comes to comas, Mr. Parmenter, there is much that we don’t know. There is really no such thing as normal in cases like this. But it appears at this stage that she is unable to verbalize or understand oral communication.”
“What are you saying? She doesn’t know how to talk?”
He nodded his head in a somber manner. “It appears that way, yes. We’re going to be running some tests over the next few days and we should know a lot more when the results are available. In the meantime, you’ll want to see her, of course, but please understand she will almost certainly give no indication that she knows who you are. I know you’ll find this difficult but you simply have to accept it for now. You must not do anything to frighten or startle her. Am I clear?”
“Yes, I understand all that. Just please let me see her.”
He stood and told me to come with him.
When we entered her room together Callie was lying prone but awake. She turned her head very slightly to her left to see us but most of the movement came from her eyes. I watched them closely.
She looked from Doctor Salouf to me without showing a speck of recognition. It was like she had never seen me before in her life.
There was a look of wariness on her face but the closer we came to her the more her eyes reflected fear. The doctor placed his hand on my arm. “Wait here,” he said. He then slowly approached Callie. “Hello, my dear,” he said in a soothing voice. “How are you feeling, hmm? Do you remember me? Doctor Salouf? Can you say something to me? Anything?”
Callie stared at him without speaking or moving. Every once in a while she would steal an apprehensive glance at me, as if to make sure I wasn’t sneaking up on her.
I couldn’t stand not being near her. “Callie,” I called gently. “It’s me, Jack. Your husband.”
At hearing my voice her eyes turned to me with that look of half fear, half wonder. But without recognition. I could have been anyone.
The doctor steered me out of the room. “That’s enough for today, Mr. Parmenter. We’ll get the tests started tomorrow.”
The days that followed were full of worry for me. It was wonderful to have Callie back in my life even if it was on a very limited basis but, so far, there had been no change in her ability to remember me or communicate at any level with anyone. About a week after she emerged from the coma Doctor Salouf called me into his office. “Have a seat, Mr. Parmenter,” he said.
“Is there anything new, Doctor? Has she progressed at all?”
“Not really, no. Her brain is healthy but she appears to have a case of complete retrograde amnesia. That is, she has no memory of anything preceding her attack. And I mean that in the literal sense. She doesn’t know language. She’s unable to recognize anything or anyone. She’s like a newborn baby. Quite a rare phenomenon actually.”
“Jesus, what ….”
“Now, as I said, her brain appears to be healthy. And she is showing signs that she remembers events post-coma. So it is my hope that her memory will gradually return, that she’ll start to remember things over time.”
I took a moment to absorb the meaning of all this. “You’re saying it’s possible she’ll never remember me?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “There is simply no way of knowing the answer to that question at this time.”
19
I called my folks after my return home and updated them on Callie’s situation. They were positive in the extreme that everything would eventually work out fine. I didn’t share their level of optimism but I tried to keep a positive spin on things.
Next I called Con and invited him to come over. He arrived a couple minutes later and I ran through what Doctor Salouf had told me.
“At least there’s hope, Jack. That’s more than you had a week ago.”
“I know. I am thankful for the fact that she’s awake. It’s just so hard seeing her when she looks at me like I’m a complete stranger.”
“It’ll get better,” he assured me.
“I hope so.”
“Have you given any more thought to Henderson?”
“That scumbag son-of-a-bitch is never far from my mind, Con.”
“Yeah, I know. But I mean about finding him.”
“Things have changed a little now,” I admitted. “Callie is going to need me more than ever before. We’ve got a long road to recovery in front of us. I still want to get that fucker, Con, have no doubts about that. But I can’t do it in such a way that I’ll go to prison for it. I have to be smarter than that.”
“But you still wanna kill him?”
I was a bit surprised at Con’s apparent insistence that I clarify my craving for retribution. “You’re damn right I want to kill him,” I said angrily.
Con nodded in his usual contemplative manner. “Right.”
“What is it with you anyway?” I demanded. “One minute I think you’re all for helping me string this guy up by his balls and the next you look all pissed off at me that I’m still determined to do it.”
“I never said anything about helping you kill him,” Con said calmly. “I only said I was willing to help you find him.”
“Yeah? And then what? We take him to Denny’s and treat him to a senior’s special?”
“Very funny.”
“Well, what is it you think I should do then?”
He stood and walked slowly to the door, then turned to face me. “That’s not for me to say, Jack. That’s something you have to work out for yourself. Just make damn sure you’re prepared to live with the consequences of whatever it is you finally decide to do.”
20
I arrived home from the hospital a few days later to find a couple more Bureau guys waiting for me. They were not the same two who had brought me the news of Tanya’s demise but their presence still triggered a plethora of the same feelings that had hit me that day. The one thing I could now count on was that the news couldn’t possibly be as bad as on that previous occasion. It’s the only positive aspect to hitting bottom: if you’re still able to move, there’s only one way to go.
The agents introduced themselves as Felgaard and Tripp; they sounded like a Vegas circus act. Felgaard was the spokesman. “Mr. Parmenter, we were in the area and just wanted to pay our respects, sir.”
“That was very kind of you, gentlemen,” I said, although I was skeptical that there wasn’t more to the visit than a social call. “Come on in. You can update me on what’s happened.”
They seemed happy enough to comply.
Inside, Felgaard got right to it. “There’s been an abduction,” he said. “A seven-year-old girl from a small town about a hundred miles north of here.”
“You think it’s Henderson?”
“We’ve got no evidence linking him to it yet but there are some similarities to his m.o. The victim is the right age, blond hair, and she was grabbed while playing in a neighborhood park about fifty yards from her home. No witnesses.”
I shook my head in a world weary way. “And the beat goes on.”
Tripp spoke for the first time. “We were wondering if you had any ideas on where Henderson might be.”
His attitude was slightly confrontational.
Almost like he was accusing me of withholding pertinent information. “And why would you think that I might, Agent Tripp?”
He shrugged in an offhand manner. “You worked the original case that led to his arrest. You probably know him better than anyone else in law enforcement.”
“Well,” I said, trying mightily not to lose my cool, “if I thought I knew where he was, don’t you think I might have bothered to mention it to somebody before now?”
Tripp leveled a very intimidating glare at me and didn’t flinch when I tried to stare him down. “I don’t know,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“What is this all about?”
“We have information that you’ve been keeping the company of a Conrad Edgerton,” Felgaard said. “You can understand why we might find that interesting.”
“I’m a little surprised that you know who I’m keeping company with, gentlemen, but let’s put that aside for a minute. What makes you think it means I’ve learned anything?”
“Your neighbor, Mr. Edgerton,” Felgaard responded. “has a … how shall I say this… ‘interesting’ background.”
“And what does that mean?” I asked.
Felgaard leaned back, holding both hands out, palms up. “What do you know about Edgerton?” he asked.
“Apart from the fact that he did a hat-trick in Nam and makes a mean highball, nothing much at all.”
“So you’re not aware of his… speckled past.”
“Speckled past? What the fuck does that mean?”
“I guess it means, Mr. Parmenter, that we are painted with the same brush as those we choose to associate with.”
I was beginning to get real agitated. “Look, you guys, I don’t have the foggiest idea what it is you’re getting at here but, unless you’d care to elucidate for me, this little chat is over.”
Felgaard looked at his partner. “I don’t think we’re going to get anything helpful here, John. Let’s be off.”
They stood, didn’t offer to shake hands, and left.
So what did the fact that they were monitoring me mean? That they considered me a suspect in the attempted murder of my wife and the murder and beheading of my daughter? Jesus Christ.
I phoned Tom Kilborn before the two agents were out of sight. “Tom,” I said when he came on the line, “I’ve just had a visit from a couple of your boys. Mind telling me what the hell is going on?”
“What are you talking about, Jack?”
“I’m talking about the fact that my movements are apparently being monitored by the FBI. Am I a suspect for Christ’s sake?”
“Of course not,” Kilborn assured me. “We’ve been keeping an eye on your place just like I promised you we would. Your movements are noted, not monitored.”
It was a distinction I wasn’t sure meant much. “So there was some mention of my neighbor – Con Edgerton – as having a ‘very interesting’ background. I believe ‘speckled past’ was mentioned. Wanna fill me in on exactly what that means?”
“You really don’t know?”
“Tom,” I said, “like I told the two goons that just left here, I know nothing about Con Edgerton but what I’ve learned over a couple of drinks.”
“If he told you he was in the army, he’s not lying. He’s a highly decorated Vietnam soldier. He left the service with more medals than General MacArthur. But after his release he came home to his wife and things took a turn for the worse.”
“How so?”
“Keep in mind,” Kilborn clarified, “this is all from the State boys. After he’d been home for about three months his wife was reported missing. Him being the husband, of course, he was automatically regarded as the prime suspect in her disappearance. There was evidence that she had fooled around on him while he was in Nam and it was pretty much a slam dunk that he offed her.”
“Was he charged?”
“No. There was never a shred of hard evidence against him. He claimed she had simply left because they weren’t getting along after he returned from his last tour. But, as I’m sure you can appreciate, there are plenty of cops who think otherwise.”
Well, it was, indeed, interesting. “You’re not suggesting there might be some chance he was involved in any way with what happened to Callie and Tanya are you?” Even saying it aloud seemed utterly absurd.
“No, no, I’m not saying that at all. Just… be aware of the facts and act accordingly.”
“I’m not at all sure I know what the facts are, Tom.”
“There’s not much more I can tell you, bud. I’m sorry, I’ve gotta run. We’ll stay in touch.”
21
The knock on my door came just as I was leaving for the hospital. “Con. How are you?”
“Same as ever,” he said. “You holding up okay?”
“I’m doing as well as can be expected I guess,” I said. “I’m just on my way out, though. Headed down to see Callie.”
“Oh, well, don’t let me hold ya up. Just wanted to make sure everything was copacetic.”
“Sure. Listen, if you’re not doing anything, why don’t you come along?”
He was clearly surprised at the invitation. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he said.
I had been bothered by the way things were left the last time I had seen Con and bothered even more by the things Tom Kilborn had told me about him. The drive to Ocala and back seemed like a good opportunity to search out a few answers for myself about what had gone on with his wife.
But, as usual, he remained a hard guy to get information from. By the time we reached the city I was really no further ahead in my quest to learn more about my enigmatic neighbor.
“You want me to wait here for ya?” he said when we arrived at the hospital parking lot.
It didn’t seem fair to leave him sitting out in the car for an hour. “No. Come up with me.”
When we entered her room, which was still protected by a uniformed police officer who checked Con for weapons, Callie was slightly propped up in her bed – a semi-sitting position, which I took to be a good sign. As I approached her it was apparent that she knew me from my previous visits so there was none of the fear that had originally been so evident. But there was no element of happiness involved either.
I motioned Con to join us and he did so cautiously and shyly. When he stopped by Callie’s bedside a very strange thing happened. Her eyes lit up – the first time I had seen this happen – and she held out her hand to him. I was a little bowled over at this turn of events. Con looked shaken, too. He glanced at me and I motioned to him that it was okay to take her hand.
As he stood there, holding her hand in both of his, a small change seemed to come over him. It was like he was in awe of her. He started to gently massage her hand and arm in a way that struck me as not entirely fitting.
Callie appeared entirely comfortable; in fact, all the while Con held her there was a contented smile on her face.
“An excellent indication,” Doctor Salouf said from behind us. He came to her bedside and stood across from Con and me. “She is demonstrating a desire to socialize. A very good sign indeed.”
I was happy to hear she was showing signs of improvement, of course, but deep down I was a little disappointed that it hadn’t been me she had reached out to as her first ally.
“How is she doing with her therapy, Doctor?” I asked.
“She’s doing well. It’s a slow procedure but she is moving ahead even better than I had hoped.”
He seemed genuinely pleased with her progress. It was the best day I’d had in a long time.
On the drive home Con was even quieter than usual, seemingly deep in thought. Several times, though, he commented that Callie was a good woman. It struck me as a bit odd that he was apparently so profoundly engrossed in thoughts of her.
I decided it presented an opportunity for me to enquire about his own marital status. “You ever been married, Con?”
After a deep breath he exhaled noisily. “Yeah,” he said. “Once.”
I hoped
by saying nothing it would prompt him to offer up something more enlightening but he remained quiet. “Divorce?” I asked casually.
“Look out!” he shouted. I had taken my eyes off the road for a second and barely missed a raccoon waddling across the road in front of us.
Con never chose to respond to my query about divorce and, on reflection, I thought it would seem pushy of me to bring it up again.
22
I hoped that with Callie showing signs of progress toward a return to the real world, I might start to experience fewer nightmares. But that turned out not to be the case. I continued to routinely wake up in the wee hours, drenched in sweat, Tanya’s screams echoing in my ears.
My dreams had changed though. Although I could never recall specific details I usually woke with the sense that I had drawn blood, caused fear. But the feelings I experienced afterward always left me conflicted. I wanted to feel good about the pain I had brought to bear, but it seemed my vengeful actions only made me suffer more guilt. And the more guilt I felt, the angrier I became.
* * *
Callie was on an intensive and effective curriculum of physical exercise to win back the muscle tone she had lost from two months of total inactivity. She was also being seen by a psychologist in an effort to reactivate her memory cells. One day I received a call from the psychologist and learned the sessions had been very successful in one extraordinary sense: they had restored her ability to speak. She had quite magically simply started talking again. She had no memory of her past yet, but I now had good reason to believe her total recovery was imminent.
So as not to confuse her at this early stage in her recuperation I was simply referred to as ‘Jack.’ There was no effort made to explain my relationship as her husband.
* * *
The case of the little girl who I’d been told had disappeared from a town north of my home was resolved on a happy note. She was found in an apartment not far from where she’d been taken. She had been abducted by a young woman who was suffering from a host of mental issues. The child had been confined but was otherwise well cared for during the eight days of her captivity and appeared to have suffered no permanent damage as a result of the episode. Despite what I was dealing with I was flooded with relief that she had not ended up another in the long list of tragedies orchestrated by Reuben Henderson.
A Shadow Fell Page 6
