Dream With Little Angels

by Michael Hiebert

  I paused, thinking he was joking and realizing he wasn’t. “Yeah, but guess where that is. You’ll never guess.”

  “Then I’m not gonna try. Why should I try if I never will?” he asked abruptly. “Just tell me right off.”

  I sighed. “Fine.”

  So I did. I told him everything. About how I came home and found out Mr. Robert Lee Garner had discovered the body of Mary Ann Dailey in the exact same place as he had found Ruby Mae’s and how I convinced my mother into bringing me to the crime scene on account of I was a witness and all that.

  “But you’re stuck in the car?” he asked. I had told him that part, too.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “So, what’s the point of being a witness, then? I don’t see how you can be witnessin’ much from the car.”

  I wanted to say something sarcastic, but I couldn’t on account of him being absolutely right. Through the rain-smudged windshield, I saw Mr. Garner point toward the willow and watched Officer Jackson head in that direction. “I think Chris Jackson’s goin’ over to look at the body,” I whispered to Dewey into the phone.

  “What’s your mom doin’?” he asked.

  “She’s puttin’ on her hip waders.”

  “Now why in God’s name would she be . . . she’s not thinkin’ of goin’ into Skeeter Swamp, is she? She wouldn’t be that crazy, would she?”

  It occurred to me why she might consider doing just that. “I bet she’s wonderin’ if Tiffany Michelle Yates is somewhere in that swamp,” I said to Dewey. “I bet she’s gonna go search it.”

  “She’ll get eaten by gators!” he screamed into the phone. “You gotta stop her!”

  “I can’t. She told me to stay in the car and obey her orders.” Outside the car, my mother slowly followed in nearly the same direction Officer Jackson had gone. Mr. Robert Lee Garner came along behind her. Sure enough, she started into Skeeter Swamp, one slow step at a time. “Jesus, I can’t look. She’s wadin’ into the swamp,” I said.

  Dewey tried to placate me. “She’s got that gun, remember? She’ll be fine.”

  He was right, my mother did have her gun and it was out of its holster and in her hand, pointing up at the rain clouds as she cautiously went farther into the swamp with her elbow bent near on ninety degrees. Her gaze never left the surface of that stale, murky water. My heart began pounding in my throat and sweat tickled the back of my neck. I thought she must’ve been at least as scared as me, likely more so.

  “You just be careful in there,” Mr. Garner called out to her. “That thing’s full of gators. Even if the other girl had been thrown in, I doubt there’d be anything left of her by now. Those bastards are fast and they’re hungry.”

  I shivered, feeling a cold steel ice pick at the base of my spine as outside the car the rain hammered down harder than ever. It was as though the sky was beginning to open up.

  “I’ll be fine,” my mother called back, never once taking her eyes off that water.

  Officer Jackson came back over the stone bridge. “I’m gonna grab the camera and the CSI kit,” he said to my mother. “I think I may be able to get a boot print. Hard to tell. I’ll also try to get a proper forensics team as quick as possible. Hopefully there’s somebody available in Mobile.”

  “What do you think’s gonna happen?” Dewey asked, but I shushed him.

  “I’m tryin’ to listen to ’em talkin’,” I said.

  “Think someone’s gonna get shot?” he asked.

  “Just be quiet a sec.”

  “Okay,” I heard my mother say to Officer Jackson. Then, tentatively she added, “And once you’ve done that, I need you to bring Abe out of the car and show him the body. Get a sworn statement from him that it hadn’t been there when he was here fifteen minutes before Bob called me.”

  Officer Jackson stopped, nearly midstep. “You serious, Leah? You want me to show your boy . . . ?”

  She sighed. “He’s a witness, Chris. He wants to see it. He’s offered to help. I think it’ll be fine.”

  “You’re sure ’bout this?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “You’re his mama.”

  “That I am. That I am.” She took a few more steps before saying, “I don’t think there’s much to be gained by me wadin’ through much more of this swamp. Like Bob said, if Tiffany Michelle’s body got dumped in here, it’s likely been digested, and frankly, I don’t want to lose either of my legs.”

  “I think that sounds reasonable,” Officer Jackson said, opening his trunk and removing the CSI kit and camera. My mother slowly made her way out of the swamp, coming up on the other side, and I breathed a sigh of relief as both her feet once again touched on solid ground. I’m sure she did the same.

  “Dewey,” I said into the phone. “My mom’s out of the swamp and I just heard her tell Officer Jackson that, once he’s taken pictures and stuff, he’s supposed to bring me out and show me the body. I gotta swear it wasn’t there when we was here.”

  “What about me?” he asked. “Don’t I need to swear, too?”

  “Dunno,” I said. “I guess they only need one witness for somethin’ like this.”

  It wasn’t fifteen minutes later that Officer Jackson approached my mother’s car. “I gotta go,” I said, and quickly hung up the phone.

  “I’m supposed to show you the murder scene,” Officer Jackson said, bending so as he could talk to me through my open window. “You sure you’re up for this? It’s probably not entirely necessary.”

  I nodded. “I’m okay.”

  He shook his head. “All right.” He clicked open my door. I swung my legs out of the car and stood on the hard ground of Mr. Robert Lee Garner’s ranch. The rain pelted me, but I was already half soaked on account of having my window wide open. I barely even noticed as I followed Officer Jackson toward that stone bridge. A mixture of emotions built up inside me as we drew closer, and I wasn’t even sure what half of them were. I was excited, I was scared, I was sad, I was . . . I don’t know what I was. I purposely didn’t look at that willow as we walked. My eyes stayed locked on the back of Officer Jackson’s boots until we were across the stone bridge and stopped at the base of the small hill that led up to the trunk of the willow tree.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Officer Jackson asked. I think he knew I hadn’t looked away from the ground yet.

  I nodded. “I think I’m fine,” I said. But really, I wasn’t sure.

  “Okay, then look up, Abe. There’s Mary Ann Dailey.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting to see, but obviously it was something different than what lay before me, because near on immediately I felt what I could only assume was the first panic attack of my life trying to overtake me. With two deep breaths, I managed to fight it off as I looked at Mary Ann’s dead body lying limp and lifeless, propped up against the trunk of that tree.

  She was practically naked, and her skin had a blueish color to it. A cut ran all the way across the front of her throat, right below her chin. Her eyes were wide open, but there was no life behind them. That was the part that was hardest for me, seeing those eyes. You get so used to seeing eyes full of life that when you finally see dead ones, they aren’t like anything you could ever have imagined.

  The body was strewn across the rise of the roots, some of it partially buried in a shallow hole that obviously had been dug in a hurry. There was loose dirt on her skin and what little clothing she wore. I think it may have only been a large blue T-shirt full of shreds, but I could be mistaken. So much of the details blurred together in my head very quickly after seeing her. The hole was far too shallow to be of any use, and it made me wonder why anybody would even go to the trouble of digging it. It didn’t nearly hide her from view from any possible angle. It was almost as though whoever placed her here just knew in the back of his head that the dead are supposed to be buried and it didn’t matter how deeply, provided they were somewhat beneath the ground.

  “Nearly exactly like I found Ruby Mae,” Mr. Garner said from
behind me. His voice made me jump.

  “Seen enough?” Officer Jackson asked me, resting his arm across my shoulders.

  I nodded, but found it hard to look away from Mary Ann. It was those eyes. They had me gripped.

  “Okay, then,” he said and gently turned me around. I noticed a shovel lying in the dirt between the small hill the tree stood on and the swamp as Officer Jackson guided me back to the car, where I sat on the seat while he squatted outside the open door and took my report, asking me things like what time approximately had I been at the Holly Berry Ranch and was I definitely sure there was no body under that tree and then he asked a whole bunch of questions about Mr. Garner. What he had been doing, what he had been wearing, what he talked about. Officer Jackson asked me more questions about Mr. Robert Lee Garner than anything else.

  “Now you’re sure about the time and that?” Officer Jackson said.

  “One hundred percent,” I said. “See, my Uncle Henry bought me a new watch today.” I showed him my exquisite timepiece.

  “And you’re certain the body wasn’t there already?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “In fact, that was why Dewey and I came in the first place. To look at the tree where they found Ruby Mae twelve years ago.”

  He tapped his pencil against his pad and stared at me a few seconds. “Livin’ with your mama really has an effect on you, don’t it?”

  “I think everyone’s mama has an effect on them, don’t you?” I asked.

  He nodded and looked away, scratching the back of his head. “I suppose you’re right. How about you roll up those windows now and try to stay warm. Your mama’s probably gonna be here another couple hours. If you want, I can try to get someone to come pick you up.”

  “No, sir,” I said. “I’d like to stay, if that’s all right.”

  He shook his head. “It’s fine with me.”

  CHAPTER 16

  About an hour or so later, another two squad cars pulled into the ranch. Since Alvin only had two of their own cars, these were obviously from some other town. I suspected this was the forensics team Officer Jackson had called in.

  Two officers got out of each car. Of the four, two of them each carried some sort of kit, much bigger than the CSI kits that Officer Jackson and my mother kept in the trunks of their cars. All four of the men had short-cropped hair. Two were blond with goatees. The other two had dark features and no facial hair.

  One of the pair of experts went in the direction of the body; the other started taking samples of things from around Mr. Garner’s ranch: leaf and branch cuttings, dirt specimens, and something that looked remarkably like chicken dung to me. All of it was collected and put into clear plastic bags. Some of it, like the chicken dung, was taken using a pair of tweezers and placed in a test tube full of liquid that was then shaken and brought back to their cars. I had no idea what they were doing with any of it. All I knew about forensic experts was that they were way too high-tech as far as Alvin police work went and that they were the ones who tried to solve crimes by running scientific tests on things like blood and stuff like that. We were just learning about blood cells in school.

  I called Dewey back and reported with an update.

  “They’re testing chicken shit?” he asked in disbelief. “Why the heck would they be doin’ that?”

  “I don’t have the slightest idea,” I said. “Maybe they think it’s possible Mary Ann Dailey was taken by a chicken.”

  Dewey laughed and I wished I hadn’t made the joke. After seeing her body, laughing just didn’t seem right.

  “Wow, I can’t believe all this,” Dewey said after a period of silence.

  One of the forensic experts called out to Mr. Garner. “Is this here your shovel?” he asked, pointing to the spade I had seen on my way back to the car.

  Mr. Garner’s hands went to his hips. He barely gave the shovel a glance. “Could be,” he said. “Sorta looks like it could be anyone’s shovel. Most shovels look the same, don’t they?” He sounded mad, and I couldn’t figure out why.

  “You being a smart ass?” the man asked.

  “You’re the expert, you tell me,” Mr. Garner said.

  “Detective Teal, I’m finding your friend here rather uncooperative,” the forensic officer said to my mother.

  She came over to where Mr. Garner was standing, his big arms crossed across his chest. “Something wrong, Bob?”

  “I don’t know, Leah. You tell me. You bring these ‘forensic experts’ in and suddenly they all askin’ me if that’s my shovel or not. Sounds to me almost like an accusation.”

  “Bob, please just answer their questions. They’re only doing their job, just like the rest of us.”

  “Okay, then,” Mr. Garner said. “You ask me.”

  “Ask you what?”

  “Ask me if that’s my shovel.”

  “Is it?” my mother asked. I didn’t remember seeing that shovel when Dewey and I had been here earlier. Not lying on the other side of the river or anywhere else for that matter.

  “Are you asking me if I killed a little girl and left her body partially buried beside the creek?” Mr. Garner asked back instead of answering my mother’s question. I couldn’t see how he mixed those two things up.

  But my mother paused and I saw her swallow. “Did you?” she asked.

  I couldn’t believe I heard what I heard. “My mom just asked Mr. Garner if he did it,” I told Dewey in a fast whisper. “If he was the one who killed Mary Ann.”

  “We know he wasn’t,” Dewey said.

  I shushed him and told him I couldn’t hear with him jabbering and the rain and all.

  Mr. Garner’s face grew slightly red. “What do you think, Leah?” he asked. “Let me tell you what I think. I think you’re makin’ some really bad decisions right now and you don’t want to be askin’ me things like that.”

  My mother took a very deep breath. She was frustrated. After a hesitation, she asked, “How come your tools ain’t locked up?”

  “Jesus Christ, Leah, I only just got the roof on the shed. Like less than ten minutes before I found Mary Ann. I haven’t even gone down to Jim’s for the hardware for the door yet. The last thing I expected was someone to come lookin’ for a shovel to dig a hole for a little girl.”

  My mother considered this, looking over at the willow, where I assumed Mary Ann’s body was being bagged, since I saw them take the necessary equipment in that direction. “Three little girls go missing,” she said. “Funny, how two of ’em show up right outside your ranch.”

  Mr. Garner was quick to respond. “Yeah, you’d think I’d be smarter than that if it were me.”

  “That’s not helping your case.”I

  “My case? What? I’m actually a suspect? Shouldn’t you be reading me my rights?”

  “No,” my mother said, nodding to Officer Jackson. “He will. I have to get my kid home.” She turned and started walking toward the car.

  “Dewey, I gotta go,” I quickly said and hung up the phone.

  “You’re not serious?” Mr. Garner called out behind my mother just as Officer Jackson told him about his right to remain silent and all that.

  Mr. Garner apparently didn’t care about that right. “Leah, your pa and I were friends, for Christ’s sake.” I watched Officer Jackson bring Mr. Garner’s hands behind his back and cuff him.

  “Geez!” I said, remembering the windows. Quickly I reached across and started winding my mother’s up. Her seat and steering wheel were drenched from incoming rain, but she barely seemed to notice as she opened the door and got inside.

  “You think Mr. Garner killed Mary Ann Dailey?” I asked.

  “Mind your business and do up your belt.” She glanced at my open window. “And do that up. And give me that.” She pointed to the car phone lying on the floor at my feet. I handed it to her and started rolling the window up. She went through the phone’s call log. I swallowed hard, knowing she was seeing my two calls to Dewey. “I figured as much,” she said. “Abe, you got about
as much sense as a dew worm.”

  “You only told me to stay in the car , nothing else.”

  “You know what?” she asked. “Right now, I don’t even care.”

  I could tell by her tone not to ask any more questions about nothing. I didn’t think it was Mr. Garner who killed Mary Ann Dailey, though. I still had Mr. Farrow at the top of my list.

  She backed out, leaving tire trails in the swampy mud before turning back onto the dirt road. “Is Mr. Garner gonna go to jail?” I asked after a few miles of silence.

  “I said, mind your business.” She lifted her phone and speed dialed Chief Montgomery at home without even pulling over to do it. This was very unusual behavior for my mother, who was generally overly cautious about such things. I listened to her describe what had happened.

  “. . . and we found tape marks over her mouth, rope marks on her wrists, strained ligaments in her feet. Yeah. Very much like the Vickers girl. No, Ethan, I’m fine. Seriously.” She threw me a sideways glance. “Nearly exact same indications of sexual abuse. Yes. No, I’m seriously fine. I don’t care how I sound. If you saw what I just did, you wouldn’t sound so perfect, either. Yeah, they’re bagging her. Found extensive DNA evidence on Bob Garner’s shovel. Not sure yet. Yeah, we’re bringing him in.”

  She hung up the phone. I started to say something, but she quickly snapped at me, “I said, mind your business,” so I closed my mouth tight.

  All the way home, I kept glancing at her every couple minutes. It was a very long time for me to have to mind my business.

  Back at home, I tried talking to my mother about Mary Ann Dailey, but I could tell right away she really had no desire to discuss it. “Why don’t you go and find something to do in your room?” she said. Carry was already in her own room with the door closed, where she’d spent most of her time since her grounding. That is, other than the foray into Japanese raw fish, which was almost like cruel and unusual punishment as far as she was concerned.

  It wasn’t even near on bedtime, but I stayed in my room anyway, sitting on my hardwood floor and playing with my LEGO blocks. Really, it was just an excuse to listen to my mother and Uncle Henry talking down the hall, a good three rooms away. I was starting to get pretty good at picking up their conversations.