What Burns Within

by Sandra Ruttan

  Craig paused. “What do you need to report?”

  Silence.

  “Ma’am?”

  “A rape.” The voice coughed and sputtered, and then Craig heard the sharp intake of breath. “I was raped.”

  Crossing the threshold into Isabella Bertini’s bedroom made Ashlyn feel like she’d stepped back more than a dozen years in time. There were books and stuffed animals and posters. Different icons, but the same generic style as the ones she’d hung up on her bedroom walls when she was a kid.

  The room was tastefully done, with sunshine yellow walls and crisp white trim. There were murals on the far side, above the bed, depicting butterflies in flight. To her left a mirrored sliding door concealed the contents of the closet, but exposed the stickers and decals the girl had used to personalize the cold metal that intruded on this space.

  On her right a long bookshelf overflowed with novels. Anne of Green Gables was stacked on top of This Can’t Be Happening at Macdonald Hall. Beside the other Montgomery and Korman titles was a copy of The Call of the Wild, and behind them were rows and rows of books about dogs and horses.

  Ashlyn turned in the other direction, scrutinizing the artwork on the wall. It looked like pastel to her untrained eye.

  She turned again and stifled a gasp. Ashlyn knelt down.

  “Hi there.”

  The little girl with silky, dark brown hair and enormous black eyes smiled, partially concealing her mouth behind her blue stuffed bunny. She was a smaller version of her sister.

  “My name is Ashlyn.”

  The girl smiled again and then spun on her toes. She stepped right into her mother’s legs.

  “Time for bed, Sophia. Go on to your room.”

  Ashlyn stood, smiled and waved as the girl glanced back at her and then trotted down the hall, almost tripping over her pajama pants.

  Mrs. Bertini blinked. “Would you like some tea, juice, coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  The woman stepped inside the room, her arms folded in front of her. She nodded at the mural behind Ashlyn.

  “Isabella loved to draw.”

  “She was very good.”

  “I suppose we might as well leave things as they are. Sophia has always loved this room. Maybe in a few years…”

  Ashlyn offered what she hoped was a supportive smile. “It’s still a bit soon to worry about that. You have plenty of time to decide what you want to do.”

  “And yet we must decide. We must decide where we will bury our daughter. We must decide if the flowers should be pink or purple, whether to put a cross or a sacred heart on her tombstone.”

  Ashlyn’s breath caught in her throat. What could she say to that? That the room was at least one less thing to worry about? “Do you have someone, anyone who can help you? I can give you the number for—”

  “Victim’s services.” Mrs. Bertini brushed tears from her cheek with her left hand in one efficient motion, looking at her dampened fingers as though they were a curiosity, nothing more. “Yes, I have their number. And we have our church.”

  A baptismal certificate on the wall caught Ashlyn’s attention. Infant baptism. Stickers adorning the frame of the mirror. A crucifix, the Easter lily, the dove, the fish.

  “You’re Catholic?”

  “Yes.”

  Ashlyn nodded. “Well, if there’s anything we can do, please call us.”

  Mrs. Bertini stood with her lips slightly parted for a moment.

  “There’s only one thing I wanted you to do, and you failed. All that’s left is a small consolation.”

  She turned on her heel and walked away.

  Ashlyn exhaled. She wanted to defend herself, defend Tain, point out they’d done all they could, but that was her pride talking. Could she really blame Isabella Bertini’s mother? Ashlyn switched off the light, shut the door and followed Mrs. Bertini down the hall.

  “We should have someone from victim’s services check on them in a few days. Get someone to talk to Mr. Bertini,” Tain said.

  “Did he fall apart?”

  “No.” Tain backed into a driveway to turn the car around. “He took it like a man.”

  “That is cause for concern,” Ashlyn said, but she knew what he meant.

  He glanced at her. “Seriously, he just bottled it all up, like it wasn’t really happening to him. When it hits home with this guy he’ll take it hard.”

  Ashlyn sighed, thinking about the tight bun Mrs. Bertini had her hair pulled into, the neat skirt, dress blouse, the modest heels, even in the house on a Saturday night. Was it strength or madness that had enabled her to hold it together in front of her daughter and the police officer nosing about her dead child’s room?

  “I take it you have some concerns about the mother?” Tain asked.

  “It would be a good idea to have someone check on them. Since it’s summer it’s not like the little girl has a teacher or someone we can rely on to notice if the family starts to fall apart.”

  “We’ll need to interview Isabella’s teacher anyway. Maybe we can sneak her sister’s teacher onto the list, just so she knows. Can you imagine going back to school in a matter of days after all of this?”

  “I can’t imagine any of it. Living this nightmare, trying to decide what to put on your child’s tombstone.”

  Tain was silent for a moment. “Not the first parents who’ve had to deal with that,” he said quietly.

  She felt his eyes on her for a split second. When she finally did turn to look at him he was staring straight out at the road, his lips mashed together. “It doesn’t make it any easier for them.”

  They drove in silence. Ashlyn could see the Burrard Inlet and wished for a moment they could just pull over, feel the breeze off the water, shut their eyes to the world and listen to the caw of gulls, the waves lapping against the shore. They weren’t far from their next destination, and it was a visit she wasn’t looking forward to.

  “So, we’ve dealt with hopelessness. Now we get to face unknowing desperation?”

  He glanced at her. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  When they arrived, they got out of the car and started walking up the front steps. Loud voices spilled through the windows, and Tain quickened his pace.

  He rapped three times, barely paused and rapped three more times.

  Ashlyn looked at him and started to reach back for her gun.

  “Goddammit, what the hell is it now? More bloody…” The door was yanked open in front of them. The man’s face morphed from a scowl of annoyance to a worried frown when he set eyes on Tain. Then he turned to look at Ashlyn, and his jaw dropped. He blinked.

  “Ashley Hart?”

  “Ashlyn.”

  “Right, sorry. I, uh…” His eyes narrowed for a moment, and he glanced over his shoulder and then turned back around. “Did you need to talk to me about the fires?”

  She glanced at Tain and shook her head. “No, Mr. Brennen. We’re actually here about Taylor.”

  “What? You’ve found her?” A woman pushed forward then, her silk blouse partially pulled out from her tight skirt, wisps of hair falling out of the clasp that pulled most of her long blond strands back, her thick makeup smudged and tear streaked.

  Tain answered. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Brennen. We haven’t found Taylor, but we’d like to ask Mr. Brennen some questions.”

  “How will that help? You should be out there looking for my daughter instead of wasting your time.”

  “Mrs. Brennen, please. We have uniforms covering the fairgrounds and the surrounding area. Everything that can be done is being done. Can we come in, Nick?” Ashlyn stepped forward, hoping Nick Brennen wouldn’t resist. It sounded as though things had been on the verge of getting out of hand when they’d arrived. A domestic assault charge might have been understandable, but it wasn’t going to help anyone.

  Nick Brennen stepped back and held the door open, gesturing for them to enter the living room.

  “What did you want to ask me?” he sa
id as he sat down across from them, barely balancing on the edge of the couch, looking like he was prepared to jump up at a moment’s notice.

  “How often does Taylor stay with you?” Tain asked.

  “She’s here every other weekend with her brother. It’s in the custody agreement,” Mrs. Brennen said, returning to the room with a drink in her hand.

  “And every weekend when you can’t be bothered with her because you’re screwing the aerobics instructor or the pool boy or some drunk fool you picked up at a bar or whoever else you can get your hands on.”

  “I didn’t ship them off to you this weekend, did I?” she snapped back.

  Nick jumped to his feet. “Because I was working and Mom couldn’t watch them, so you sent them to the fair. The fair. What the hell were you thinking, Connie? Maybe you’d pick up some vendor for a quick fling while the kids were entertaining themselves?”

  She flung the drink in his face, and he slapped the glass out of her hand, sending it crashing to the floor where it shattered, sharp pieces scattering across the hardwood.

  Ashlyn jumped between them. “Separate corners, now,” she said, pointing each in opposite directions.

  “Waste of a good drink,” Connie muttered.

  “Daddy?”

  They all turned toward the hallway where Nicky Brennen stood wearing Blue Jays pajamas. He had tousled blond hair, a brown teddy bear in his hands.

  “Hey, sport.” Nick took a step toward his namesake and knelt down. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

  “Actually, do you think I could talk to Nicky for a minute?” Ashlyn asked, glancing at Tain, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod. She crouched down beside the boy. “Would that be okay?”

  He looked up at his dad, who said, “What do you want to know?”

  “Can you think of anyone unusual you might have seen around recently, maybe when Taylor was staying here? Anyone who showed a lot of interest in her?”

  Nick frowned for a moment before shaking his head, tossing a hand up in the air. “No.”

  “Had Taylor gone to any sleepovers or parties lately, anywhere unusual?”

  “What has that got to do with anything?” Connie stomped across the room from the corner Ashlyn had sent her to and sat down on a chair. “She was grabbed at the fair.”

  “Mrs. Brennen, we have to consider every possibility,” Ashlyn said, glancing at Nicky. She wished she didn’t need to say this in front of him. “Someone may have been watching Taylor. They could have been waiting for an opportunity to take her. And it’s still possible that Taylor wasn’t taken by anyone, but that she’s wandering in the park and we just haven’t found her yet. It’s too soon to say anything for certain.”

  “Come off it,” Nick Brennen said. “We all know what’s happened. This selfish bitch sent her ten-year-old daughter and eight-year-old son to the fair by themselves, and my little girl has been snatched by that sicko who’s been taking other girls. Remember that one, they found her body a few weeks back? And the other one, Isabel, I think her name is? She’s still missing, right?” Nick stared at Tain, who didn’t meet his gaze.

  “Oh my God. You have…Is she…?”

  “I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”

  “Like hell you can’t! The same sick freak has my daughter. He has my little girl.” Nick Brennen’s body convulsed as he sank down on the couch and choked back a sob.

  “It’s not going to make you sleep better,” Tain said quietly.

  Nick lifted his head, his eyes bulging, red-rimmed. “What the hell makes you think I’ll be able to sleep at all?”

  Ashlyn had asked Nicky to show her his room, in part to get him away from his parents. She’d been listening to Nicky identify every model car he owned. He had antiques and current cars, trucks and sedans of all shapes and sizes, and he knew his vehicles better than she did.

  “You know the name of every single one. I’m very impressed,” Ashlyn said as Nicky finished labeling the cars that lined the bookshelves in his room.

  He jumped into his bed and pulled the covers up over his head.

  “Oops, you forgot somebody,” Ashlyn said, holding out the teddy bear, which was incredibly soft. The covers inched down slightly, revealing big puppy-dog eyes blinking up at her.

  She sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “I need to ask you something really important,” she told him.

  His eyes got a little smaller. She suspected his smile had disappeared beneath the blanket.

  “Was anybody talking to your sister, or maybe you saw someone following you around at the fair?”

  Nicky scrunched his whole face up like a raisin and shook his head. “No.”

  “How did you get separated?”

  “I wanted to play at the park.”

  “So you went by yourself?”

  “Taylor wanted to get a charm and play games. I didn’t want to. I pulled on her hand, and she pulled on mine, and then people came and got between us.”

  His eyes had gotten big again, but this time they were sagging down at the corners.

  Ashlyn smiled. “I think I would have rather played at the park, too.”

  Nicky looked down at the teddy bear in his hands. “But it’s my fault. I should have listened. Now Taylor’s gone.”

  “Oh, no, it isn’t your fault. It was an accident that you two got separated. Accidents are nobody’s fault.”

  “But Mommy said so. She said—”

  Ashlyn shushed him softly. She tucked the covers in around him as he lay back against the pillow. “Your mom is just upset right now because she’s scared. Did you know grown-ups get scared sometimes?”

  He seemed to think about it, his lips twisting with uncertainty at first and then forming a solid line. “Do you get scared?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  “If you have a night-light it keeps the monsters away,” he told her, eyes wide again as he shared his secret.

  She smiled. “I’ll remember that. Do you want me to leave this light on too?”

  He blinked and nodded.

  “Good night, Nicky.”

  Ashlyn got up and crossed the room, glancing at the bed where Nicky lay, his big dark eyes staring at her as she pulled the door shut.

  “Is he okay?” Nick asked as Ashlyn returned to the living room.

  She sat down beside Tain and looked at Nick. “I know this won’t be easy, but you need to reassure him that this isn’t his fault.”

  “I told you to keep your bloody mouth shut,” Nick snapped as he glared at his ex-wife, his lips curling into a snarl.

  “They were supposed to stay together.”

  “Who the hell is the parent? He’s eight years old. For Christ’s sake, Connie.”

  “Here we go, always blaming me for everything. I deal with them day in and day out. At least I don’t have to deal with your shit anymore.”

  “Listen, you two aren’t helping. And if you keep this up, I’m personally going to call social services again and have them do a child removal and see that Nicky goes to a foster family that isn’t going to heap abuse on him.” Tain pointed at Connie Brennen. “As it is, you have a hell of a lot of explaining to do already. Your ex-husband can contest the custody arrangement and likely take your children away from you for good. Don’t tempt me to testify on his behalf.”

  Nothing but the distant hum of cars could be heard for a few moments, and even then it wasn’t much of a hum. Tain glanced at the clock, finally realizing how late it was.

  “I don’t think there’s anything else to night. Mrs. Brennen, it’s likely best that you go home now,” Tain said as he stood.

  Connie glanced at her ex-husband, who kept his eyes directed at the coffee table and didn’t extend an invitation for her to stay. After a moment she stood up, walked to the door and pulled it open without a word, stomping down the steps as the door slammed shut behind her.

  Ashlyn took a card from her pocket. “If you need anything, Nick, call.” />
  He looked up then, his eyes brimming with unshed tears as he took the card from her hand, nodded and looked away.

  Craig knocked again. This time he heard soft footsteps in the hall, followed by the sound of a deadbolt being retracted. Then a voice, muffled at first before coming into focus.

  “Let me, Sara.”

  The door opened as far as the latched chain would allow, and Craig held up his ID for scrutiny. The man, who Craig guessed to be about his own age, pushed the door shut and then opened it fully.