I have a special friend. A squirrel. He has been coming very close and this morning he left a nut right at my feet and he looked at me. He did. He stopped for a moment after he dropped this nut right by my foot. He sees me. He actually knew he was leaving me a nut.
I have to admit that I did an unmanly thing and shed some tears. No one ever, ever really sees me. I put the nut in my possibles bag. It is one of my greatest treasures.
Dorothy paused, took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “He’s double-traced some of the letters. It has the effect of bolding the words.”
“This project was very important to him then,” Josie said. “That and the animals. He wants to know what men should be like. He could do worse than L’Amour. But go on. No one is ready to go to bed just yet.”
A Manly Man:
1. Does not cuss when there are ladies around.
This is not a problem because I never get to be around anyone.
2. Removes his hat when he walks into a room.
I don’t have a hat so this is not a problem either. I keep checking the landfill to see if someone has thrown one away. I want a hat more than anything.
3. Does not talk too much.
I win that one. I never talk if I can help it. People cannot understand me anyway. They could if they would listen. But they give up right away.
4. Is always fair and true.
I never have a chance to be. I would always be fair. Always. Because I know how much unfair hurts.
5. Always stands up for what is right.
I will do this. I pledge my honor to this. I will. This is easy for me to say because I never have a chance to stand up for anything. I practice in my head with a beautiful gun with pearl handles. I say “when you say that, smile.” More than anything in the world I want a chance to show people how brave I am.
“Oh that poor neglected child.” Tosca was lying in Josie’s lap and anxiously looked up at her face. She laughed and scratched the base of the little dog’s topknot. “I’m fine, Tosca Nothing to worry about.”
“We’re at a good stopping place. That’s the end of his list. Time for me to turn in.”
“Me, too. I’m sure I’ll get some feedback tomorrow about today’s meeting and I need a good night’s sleep so I can keep my wits about me.”
Dorothy put the commonplace book on the table. I checked the kitchen and put remaining slices of pizza into zip-lock bags and headed upstairs.
The phone rang before I even reached the third step.
“Hi, Lottie. David Hayes here. I got a hit.”
“A hit from ViCAP?”
“Yup.”
“A case like ours? You mean in additional to the ones at Polly Park and Garden of Eden?”
“The very same. I know it’s hard to believe and it was a long time ago—well, about fifteen years—long enough, but the same thing. Exactly.”
“Where? And how come we didn’t know about something that shocking?” My fingers flew to the pulse in my throat.
“Well, that’s the weird thing. You know what you told Ferguson about local law enforcement not using ViCAP enough? There’s been a big campaign by the FBI to get some of the sheriffs to turn over old records and get them entered into databases by paid FBI personnel. Their documents are returned to them, but the center has the benefit of the data for profiling. In fact, when the local boys can see all their stuff online a lot of them are getting with the program. Everyone wins.”
“About the one you say is similar to our case? Details?”
“I didn’t say similar. I said exact. It happened in Liberal, Kansas. A baby was found frozen to death in the arms of a statute called the Pioneer Mother of Kansas. Here’s the thing that adds something special. She was already holding a baby against her breast. This one went undetected because it was on the opposite side like she was holding twins. It seemed to fit in. It was three days before anyone noticed and that was because of the stench. The town is very proud of the statute and the newspaper kind of kept a lid on all the gory details. The article said that ‘the body of an abandoned baby was discovered in the grounds by the library by two children who had been playing hide and seek.’ No more details given than ‘every attempt is being made to locate the mother. Persons seeing any suspicious activity were to report to…’ and so on, and so forth.”
“It has to be the same killer.” Although I could control my voice, make myself sound rational, analytical, like a person qualified to be in charge of a complex investigation, I could not control the sudden lurch of my stomach like I had taken a plunge in a roller coaster and was falling, falling. I wanted off of this world that was plummeting into evil.
“I’m going to start entering all the data we have so far on our case.”
“Okay. You might hold off clicking Send for a couple of days. Something new might turn up. But why didn’t Dimon find this?”
David cleared his throat. “I have special ways.”
***
When I finally climbed into bed beside Keith I could not fall asleep. Eventually I gave up and put on my quilted chenille robe and sheep’s wool-lined slippers and went downstairs. I brewed a cup of valerian root tea and went into the family room. The fire had burned down but I dug around in the woodbox and located kindling and brought it back to life. When it began to leap and fill the room with the pungent aroma of cedar, I tossed in more logs. I headed for my leather chair where I wrapped myself in a heavy quilt. Content to just watch the fire sparking then ebbing in the dark room, I waited for the tea to work its magic.
A born list-maker, in a few minutes I switched on the lamp and reached for my pad and pencil and tried to write out what was bothering me the most. After a few minutes I slapped the writing material back down on the table. I couldn’t even do that.
I was stuck on determining the next steps. I absolutely did not know what to do next. Didn’t have a clue as to what to do next.
Unless Sam and his men could figure out how someone got a baby up in Reaching Woman’s outstretching arms.
Unless Dorothy spotted some piece of evidence in the crime scene photos that we had overlooked.
Unless Dr. Ferguson or Josie could work some kind of a miracle and come up with a genius analysis that would help us find a person so clever that he could murder three little babies and one grown man and not leave a trace behind.
But Harold and Josie had contempt for Ferguson’s abilities.
I gave up thinking and reached for the commonplace book. Poor Franklin Slocum had far more troubles than I did. Dorothy had left off reading at the point where his greatest wish was to be a brave person and stop evil. To stand up for what was right. It was a noble goal. Maybe some of his courage would rub off on me.
A car came through the trees yesterday and a boy and a girl got out. I know who they are. They were in high school and are seniors. Anne was a cheerleader and Timothy was homecoming king. He spread a blanket on the ground and they both laid down and I’m too embarrassed to explain what happened next even in this book. I know all about it from the pamphlets the doctor gave me but I had never seen it with real people just with the animals. It made me feel very, very shy and unhappy because it will never happen for me.
All kinds of things happened to my body and I could hardly breathe and I wanted to be Timothy so bad I could not stand the aching. Anne made all kinds of noises and then they both laid really still and kept whispering to each other.
The animals that I can act like the best are the prairie dog and the possum. I can hide quick as a flash and that’s what I did and I played dead like a possum. But I have not found the right spell to turn myself into a wood frog so I can make myself invisible and stop breathing.
After they left I cried and cried. I know that no one will ever love me. Not like that. And I’ve started feeling sorry for Biddy. Poor Biddy. I went back to the house that night and watched Biddy throug
h the window. She cries sometimes when she goes to bed and now I know why. I wonder if my father ever loved her and who he was and if he will ever come back. Poor poor Biddy.
Other cars come here. I always watch. Even though it makes me miserable. I watch. I’m a super good hider. It’s about the only thing I do really well. My clothes are so dirty now that I look like I’m part of the woods.
***
The next thing I knew Keith was gently shaking me and held a cup of coffee in his hands.
“Morning, Sunshine.”
“Morning? You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. You slept here all night.”
Chapter Fourteen
I was glad to take my turn manning the sheriff’s office. I carried in a stack of books about psychology including the new version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Harold and Josie could and would fend for themselves when it came to meals. Dorothy had returned to her own house in town.
At about ten o’clock Merilee Suter drove up. It was a school day so I was surprised.
“Sam here?” she asked as she headed for my desk.
“No. I’m the only one today.”
“Good. I wanted to catch you when you were alone.”
“Have a seat. I think I can dig up a can of pop or do you drink coffee?”
“Nothing, thanks. And I can’t stay long. I cut study hall and the class I should be in now is Geometry and I do just fine in it. Mr. Latimer is covering stuff I already know. Not that I’m a math whiz, but Brent was and he made a game of teaching me stuff. Sometimes I had to calculate grain ratios just to prove to him I could do it. I didn’t do so well with quadratic equations, though. But then I doubt if I ever need to master that.”
She fidgeted, then put her hands beneath her thighs and bounced her legs like they were driven by a little motor. I knew I was going to have to put up with a lot of small talk again. Talking in circles instead of diving in to why she came. She still looked like hell. Dark circles under her eyes. A tic now. A little side jerk when she talked. Her lean jeans, intended to be super-tight, sagged through the legs and buttocks. Her long shag needed trimmed. She was furtive, like a little wharf rat.
A hard chair was the best I could offer in the way of seating. Sam’s office was simply Sam’s office and no prize. We had the new swanky room in back, fronted by this office that still looked like it had been snatched from a set for an old Western. Like this place was a disguise covering up the real thing. We had an old scarred desk and an office chair with splits in the leather that Sam had patched with duct tape. The walls were peppered with literature racks and wanted posters.
There was a dispatcher’s room through the door to the left. Another door led to rather bleak restroom facilities with small black and white hexagon tiles. To the right of the main office was a cloakroom with a cabinet and plugins for our coffee pot and an assortment of brooms and cleaning supplies. Next to the cabinet was a broken down old fridge with a tiny tin bin at the top that was supposed to make ice. It usually held a six-pack of Diet Coke and a supply of apples. Nevertheless, the office was immaculate because Sam kept it that way. Visitors were always accosted with the odor of Pine-sol and tobacco.
“Something important must have come up for you to cut classes.” My gentle prodding stopped her rambling narrative.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’ve been thinking about why Brent would go to the Garden of Eden that time of night. There’s only one thing I can think of that would draw him out without him letting me know what was going on.”
“What Merilee?”
“Someone told him Joyce was still alive. Even there, maybe.” Her big eyes followed my face to see if I would take her seriously.
My fingers tightened around my coffee cup. Of course. Everyone on the team should have hit on that immediately. The lure wasn’t just information but the person herself. Whether true or false, Brent would have gone there to see for himself. “That’s solid, Merilee. And I appreciate your coming up with that and then knowing it was important to pass this along. Good for you! There’s a number of people I’m going to tell.”
“Like who?”
“Well, Harold Sider, for one. And my sister, Josie, and Keith, of course, and his Aunt Dorothy, and Dr. Ferguson. He’s the psychologist from the KBI. They will all kick around that idea.”
She managed a cautious little smile. “I was afraid you would think I was crazy.”
“No way.” But there she was again checking to see what I thought about her mental health. It was never that we would think she was wrong or stupid or arrogant for making suggestions. It was always that we would think she was crazy. “I think you’ve made a very astute deduction. I appreciate it.”
She rose and picked up her backpack from off the floor and checked her watch. “Guess I’d better get back to school. It’s lunchtime now and then I have an English class.” Her carriage was awkward, her body a long slumped curve, but she blushed with pleasure over my encouragement. “See you,” she said as she walked self-consciously toward the door, turned and gave an awkward little wave. Then her mouth opened in a perfect “O” and her hands clasped the side of her head. She looked like the figure from the haunting painting, The Scream. Only she was not standing on a bridge with a dark figure advancing. She was standing in a bare bones sheriff’s office on a bright winter day.
I could not get to her before she collapsed. I lifted her head from the floor and cradled it on my lap and stroked her hair for a moment before I lifted her to her feet. There was a cot in the dispatcher’s room. With starts and stops we wobbled toward it. I laid her down, shoved a pillow under her head, and covered her with a blanket. There was no point in calling 911 because I was it.
I called Josie and asked her to come immediately.
“I’ll be there in a flash.”
“I can’t go home. I don’t want to go home,” Merilee wailed. “Please.”
Waif-thin, she looked like a wisp of a ghost that would disappear into the first wind.
“Merilee, what is the matter? Tell me.” Was something terribly wrong in that perfect 4-H household? All the tales Josie had told me were whirling through my mind: Incest where it was not obvious, psychological warfare that was unbelievably cruel, undercurrents concealed by impeccable behavior. Something that required training to unearth. But for the life of me, I could not see Ernie or Patricia as the type who would do anything to damage a child.
“Tell me,” I demanded again. Coping with Merilee’s mental condition would be Josie’s bailiwick. Mine was to find out if there was a criminal situation right under my nose.
“I did tell you.” Her voice was weak, but defiant. Faintly hostile.
“Merilee, is there something going wrong with your parents? Something I should know? There are all kinds of support systems out there.”
Clearly shocked, a surge of blood gave her the strength to sit up. “Don’t you dare. Don’t even think about blaming my parents for any of my problems. My folks are two of the finest persons you are ever going to meet. Bar none.”
The door flew open and Josie walked in. Merilee’s face drained of its last dollop of color. She gave a little cry and edged away from both of us.
“It’s fine. Everything is okay.” I reached for her and held her against my chest while I smoothed her hair. “Shh. It’s fine. Josie is my twin sister. You’re not seeing double.”
Josie stood quietly while I calmed Merilee.
“How did you get here so soon?”
“Tosca needs dog food. I was already in town when you called. Now what’s going on?”
Relieved, I grappled for the right explanation that wouldn’t distress Merilee even more. “Merilee, has had, is in…”
“I don’t want to go home. Please don’t make me go home.” She buried her face in her hands.
Josie gestured for m
e to stand back and she took over. She knelt in front of Merilee and removed her hands from her face. “What’s going on? You’re safe here. You’re with friends. You can tell us anything, but we’ve got to know.”
“I told Lottie. She just ignored me.”
I started to protest. She hadn’t told me anything.
“I hear voices. They aren’t in my head. They’re real. And I see things. Out of the corner of my eye. I can’t turn fast enough to see what’s going on. Someone is trying to drive me crazy.”
“I didn’t ignore you…” But my voice broke off when I realized I had. I decided she was unstable the first time I met her.
“I’m taking you seriously.” Josie looked her in the eye and patted her hands. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this. But before I take other steps I need an honest answer, Merilee. Are you afraid of your parents?”
“No, I swear to God, no. They wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“So, it’s just your home?”
“Yes.”
“When did it start?”
“Right after Brent died.”
“Only at your house? Not in school or anywhere else?”
“No, just there.”
“Okay, before I do any testing, I want to check something out.” Josie stood and gestured for me to follow her into the main office. “What is Dorothy up to? Would she be available to stay at the Suters’ for a couple of days?”
“She would be glad to.” I didn’t have to ask her first. Dorothy welcomed any kind of involvement. “What do you have in mind?”
“It’s my policy. First I always take the patient’s words at face value. I learned that lesson the hard way early in my practice. A lady came in who claimed her husband was trying to break her leg. I zeroed right in on her underlying paranoia. Then one day she showed up with a broken leg and, needless to say, filed charges against her husband. Ever since, I’ve checked the validity of a patient’s story first. Before I venture a diagnosis. After that I check out physical factors. Blood counts, brain scans, etc. That’s the sequence: truth, then physical tests, then analysis as a last resort.”
Fractured Families Page 14
