by M. Z. Kelly
I then unfolded three handwritten pages and began reading. Time receded with each passage I read. It was almost as though I could see and hear my mother speaking, her voice traveling back to me from another time and place on the day I had come into this world.
***
September 17, 1984
Hello my precious child…
Judie Crawford realized her hand was trembling and she hesitated. She put the pen down and drew in a heavy breath, at the same time glancing over at the newborn infant in the hospital warmer beside her bed. The nurse had brought the baby to her, giving her a few minutes of bonding time. Her heart was filled with so much emotion that she couldn’t stop the tears spilling from her eyes.
Kate—that was her chosen name—had been born just a few hours earlier. The labor had been difficult and painful, but that memory was already fading, now replaced with a love that Judie had heard about but never experienced.
This is what it’s like, she realized, to love someone so much that you’d do anything, even give up your life in a heartbeat, if necessary. She put the pad and paper on the table beside her bed and walked over to the infant. The baby had a wisp of dark, curly hair, and olive skin. Her lips were full and perfectly shaped. She wasn’t sure about her eye color, but Judie had a thought that the child might have green eyes, like hers.
The baby was sleeping, and, as she traced a finger over her forehead, Judie let her mind drift back to that moment when she first realized she was pregnant. She was both terrified and overjoyed. A child. Could there be anything more magical or wonderful in existence? But then the reality of it all had settled in.
Ryan was starting to call again. She knew he wanted back into her life, but he didn’t know about the baby and everything that had happened in the years since they’d been separated. Judie knew there was no way she could explain it all to him. Her former boyfriend was dangerous and violent. There was no telling what he would do to her, or the child for that matter, if he knew.
Judie stood up and walked over to the window. She saw that evening was settling in. A bank of fog was drifting over the hillside; a slow, frothy white syrup of water-laden clouds. By morning the city would probably be partially hidden by the heavy fog. She thought about that and her own life, wishing that she could also hide, just go away and disappear with her daughter. But even as the fantasy came to her, she knew it would never be possible. While Ryan was dangerous, he was nothing compared to…
“Stop.”
She had said the word aloud, forcing her mind back to the present. There was no way she was going to dwell on everything that had happened. The man who had fathered her child had made it clear to her that he couldn’t be involved in her life. Judie knew that she had to move on and deal with what was at hand. The safety of her baby overruled any other concerns.
As the infant still lay sleeping, Judie went back over to the bed and began writing again. She held the pen in her hand for several minutes, wondering how you tell a child that you have no choice but to give her up and walk away forever.
Her emotions took over again, teardrops falling onto the page as she tried to explain. She decided in this first letter, she would only talk about John Sexton, the man who had offered to raise her child. He was the most wonderful person she had ever known. And, with that thought, she began telling the woman she would never know why she could never be her mother…
I have a story to tell you, Kate. It’s about the man who will become your father. It’s a love story…
***
I folded up the letter and pushed it back into the manila envelope with the others. I was so overcome with emotion that my thoughts were jumbled and I had trouble concentrating. I spent the next half hour crying until some clarity finally came and I was able to assimilate my mother’s words that had traveled through time to find me.
Judie Crawford had, in this first letter, confirmed that John Sexton, the man who raised me, was not my biological father. She’d told me that when she found out she was pregnant he had offered to raise me as his own child with my adoptive mother. My mother had then said something about him that struck home: the man who will become your father says you are a gift that will be cherished, loved, and protected.
I brushed another tear, thinking about the word gift. Even then, the man I call my love-dad knew about how a gift can be found in the aftermath of loss.
My mother had also talked about her deep feelings for me; how her heart was broken, shattered into a million pieces at the thought of having to give me up. She had told me she was deathly afraid of Ryan Cooper, what he would do if he ever found out about me.
But, as I’d read her words, I also knew there was something she wasn’t telling me. My biological father was only referenced in passing as not being able to be involved in my life. I still didn’t know who he was or exactly what that meant.
As the jet began its final descent, I knew one thing for certain: my mother had loved me unconditionally. She had chosen to give me away to protect me. I felt a profound connection to her, but also sadness in the realization that we’d never been able to connect when she was alive.
As I glanced down at the manila envelope again, I thought about the other two letters. Each of them had been written in the intervening years. Did they contain information about my biological father? Did Judie Crawford tell me who he was and explain why he couldn’t be part of my life?”
I picked up the envelope, but hesitated as the pilot made the announcement to prepare for landing. I buckled my seat belt and then held the envelope against my breast. I had waited a lifetime to hear my mother’s words. And I now knew for certain that she’d given me up out of love, not abandonment. For now, that was enough. The mystery of who was my biological father would wait for another place and time.
EIGHTEEN
I got home a little after seven and stopped by my friends’ apartment to get Bernie. My big dog was overjoyed to see me, jumping into my arms. After giving him lots of love, Natalie and Mo wanted to know all about my meeting with Janice Taylor and the murders near Florence, which were now being covered by all the media outlets.
Natalie, never one to mince words, said, “I heard it was like finding a bunch of cabbages in a field—there were heads everywhere.”
“According to the news, there was seven of ’em,” Mo added, “like something out of a Halloween display.”
I saw no reason to deny what was already being reported. “That’s pretty much what we found. It was a gruesome scene.”
Natalie took over for me, giving Bernie a dose of attention, and asking, “Why do you think that looney bin whacked ’em?”
Mo, who tonight had on a braided red wig that reminded me of the children’s character Pippi Longstocking, gave us her thoughts. “She’s starting another killing spree and she wanted to make it personal. That’s why she wanted Kate there.” She levelled one eye on me. “What exactly did she say to you?”
I sighed and didn’t respond right away. That was apparently Natalie’s cue that I needed help. “Kate needs her a little pick-me-up and I got just the ticket. She went into the kitchen where we heard dishes clattering.
“You look pretty down,” Mo said to me while we waited for her.
I dragged a hand through my messy hair and yawned. “It was a long couple of days; a pretty bad scene.”
“How were things with Joe?”
I’d mentioned to my friends before I left that I was meeting Joe Dawson, who they’d previously met. “Joe was good. It was nice to have him there during everything that went down.”
“You got feelings for him?”
I laughed. “Not the kind of feelings you’re talking about. We’re just friends. He’s someone I can always count on.”
Natalie appeared from the kitchen with a tray of something, but I wasn’t sure what it was.
She set the tray on the coffee table. “They’re called Cherry BB’s. You soak the cherries in vodka overnight and then dip ’em in vanilla, add some blue sprin
kles, and voila.” She picked one up, popped it in her mouth, and said, “I call it Death by Poopin’. Give it a go.”
I chuckled at her variation on the Russian president’s name. The offerings looked pretty tame in comparison to some of Natalie’s previous creations, so Mo and I both indulged.
I found it was surprisingly good and said, “They’re delicious.”
Natalie looked at Kate and giggled. “At least now we know that Kate’s got her cherry back for real.”
I savored my BB and said, “It’s the only way that’s ever going to happen.”
“What’s the latest with you and the doggy stud? Are you two still gettin’ together?”
I smiled, thinking about Noah. “We’re still planning on that outing Saturday afternoon with his therapy dogs and riding horses.”
“I think Kate’s smitten,” Mo said to Natalie. “She looks like a schoolgirl with a crush.”
Natalie agreed. “Better grab yourself another Cherry BB, Kate. A girl’s gotta keep her strength up if she’s gonna do it doggy style all day.”
I ignored her comment but took the offering. Mo then changed the subject, asking about my mother’s letter. “Did you come to your senses and read it yet?”
I swallowed my BB. “Actually, there are three letters. I read the first one on the plane ride home.”
Natalie took a seat across from me, tipping her head back as she worked on another one of her cherry delights. “Did she tell you who your dad is? Do we need to go find the bloke, put him in a headlock, and give him a piece of our minds?”
I shook my head. “She didn’t mention him, but her letter was very touching. It was written on the day I was born. She…” I found my emotions surfacing and took a moment. “Mom told me how much she loved me and confirmed that she had to give me up because she was afraid of Ryan Cooper.” I sniffed, looking away from my friends. “She also said that my father, the man who raised me, was the best person she’d ever known.”
After they gave me a moment, Mo said, “That’s it?”
I nodded.
“What about the other letters, what’d they say?”
“I haven’t read them yet. I want to take some time to process the first letter.”
Mo shook her head, her Pippi Longstocking wig flying around like a couple of crazy antennae. “I don’t get it.”
Natalie’s hazel eyes narrowed on me. “Isn’t the suspense of not knowing what’s in the other letters killing you?”
“I won’t deny that I’m curious, but, like I said, I want to take my time. The letters were written several years apart. I think they each have a separate message and I want to honor that.”
After they both gave me their opinions, Mo saying that maybe I was afraid of what was in the other letters, and Natalie telling me that I was suffering from emotional constipation, something she called doo-doo depression, Mo mentioned my meeting with Janice Taylor again.
“What exactly did that lunatic have to say to you?”
I was feeling the effects of Natalie’s Cherry BB’s and answered her, despite knowing that I shouldn’t be talking about the case. “She’s in league with some others who I think are going to continue the killings until we stop them.”
“It’s The Swarm,” Natalie said, her eyes growing wide as she drew out the word like it had half a dozen syllables. “They’re coming for us all. Nobody is safe.”
Taylor’s threats and statements about the group had been covered by the media previously, and Natalie’s hysteria was exactly the kind of response we didn’t need. “We don’t know exactly what’s going to happen next. I don’t think there’s any reason to get too stirred up. You just need to be vigilant.”
“I’m layin’ in some assault weapons,” Mo said to Natalie, “in case her group of crazies comes ’round here looking for Kate.”
What they’d said made me wonder if that was possible. I knew Taylor had taken a personal interest in me, but I also felt like she wanted to use me in her game, whatever that was.
I stood up. “Like I said, I think you just need to be careful and watch for anything out of the ordinary. Janice Taylor is behind bars in a supermax prison. Hopefully, that will prevent her from doing anything further.”
As I walked to the door, Natalie mentioned the case they’d been working at the Hollywood Movie Museum. “Gladys has gotta herself a suspect, so Mo and me are still planning to go undercover with you as soon as we work out the details.”
The last time my friends had gone undercover, it involved them going to a sex club and interfering with my case. “What exactly does undercover mean?”
Natalie glanced at Mo, suppressing a grin. Mo answered for her. “It’s nothing dangerous. We’re just gonna walk through a crowd and see what our suspect is up to. Like baby sis said, we’ll fill you in when it’s all set up.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a lot more to the story than you’re telling me?” I got nothing but smiles in response. I put Bernie on his leash and said, “See you both later.”
After taking Bernie for his evening stroll around the grounds of the Barkley Bungalows and saying hello to a couple of zombies—they lived in the complex and were in the production of a TV show about zombies called Hollywood Walkers—I went home.
After fixing myself a bite to eat, I took a shower and got into my pajamas. I was exhausted and was planning to turn in early, but my thoughts drifted to my sister. I remembered my last phone call; her boyfriend Brody or Ice’s, words when he’d answered: “Lindsay might be your sister, but she belongs to me.”
I decided I wasn’t going to be put off or intimidated by him. I got my phone but then hesitated. I decided instead of calling Lindsay that I would text her, thinking maybe she would be more responsive to a text than a phone call. I sent her a short message, telling her I was thinking about her, and asking her to call me. I then watched TV for a half hour but got no response and decided to turn in for the night.
After settling Bernie in his bed, I sat on my own bed for a couple of minutes, thinking about my mother’s letter and the other two that I hadn’t yet read. For a moment, I considered just going ahead and reading them as my friends had suggested, but then I hesitated. I decided that I did need more time to process what my mother had said in her first letter. I knew it had taken a lifetime for her to write the letters and they each deserved to be read and considered carefully.
After turning out my light I lay there for a long time, the events of the last couple of days swirling through my mind. I knew that Janice Taylor and The Swarm would strike again, it was just a matter of time. I also knew that I would eventually have to talk to the insane woman again and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that. I tried to dismiss those thoughts and closed my eyes.
I had just dozed off when I heard my phone chirp on the dresser, telling me that I had a text. I turned on the light and went over, checking the message. I saw that it was from Lindsay. I read the text twice, just to be sure I wasn’t imagining things.
Got your message. I’m doing okay. Ice and me might be getting married soon!
***
Bernie and I got to work late the next morning. Alex was already seated across from me as I settled in at my desk.
After receiving Lindsay’s message last night, I’d tried calling her and sent a couple of texts expressing my concern but didn’t get a response. It made me wonder if her boyfriend had realized she’d responded to my text and wouldn’t allow her to call me. The thought of my sister marrying her violent boyfriend terrified me. I spent the remainder of the night trying to think of a way to communicate with her but didn’t come up with anything.
“Sounds like it was a busy couple of days for you,” Alex grumbled while glancing at a report, not bothering to look up at me.
“Unfortunately, yes.” I began sorting through my overflowing in-basket.
“You could have done better.”
I looked up, seeing that my partner’s dark eyes were now fixed on me. “What are you talking a
bout?”
“You visit the crazy bitch and she leaves seven victims in her wake. Nice job.”
I drew in a sharp breath. “What happened had already been orchestrated. My talking to her had nothing to do with it.”
He shrugged. “Whatever. If that makes you feel better, go with it.”
I did a slow burn and went back to my in-basket. I knew it was his way of pushing my buttons, trying to get me to retaliate, so I did my best to ignore him. An hour later, Oz called us into his office where we found Selfie and Molly were already seated. I was told that Leo was working at the PAB this morning.
I spent a few minutes going over the events of the last couple of days, even though I was already tired of discussing what happened. After a few questions, Oz told me, “The brass has authorized you to go back and work with the feds when and if it’s necessary.”
I glanced at Alex, wondering if he was going to keep his big mouth shut. When he didn’t say anything, I told the lieutenant, “I appreciate that. When they’re ready, I’ll probably have to leave on short notice.”
After Oz told me that wouldn’t be a problem, we got down to discussing the Reeder and Hodge cases. Selfie, who had decided on a Disney princess theme for the day and wore a tiara with pink hair, took over updating me.
“As you know, we did record checks on Galen Marshall but came up empty. After he quit his job at the shredding company, he stopped paying rent and moved out of his apartment. The DMV doesn’t have a current address. It could even be that he’s homeless.”
Molly added, “We also ran some checks on Bruce Reeder’s former best friend and lover, Jason Quail. He’s still living in the area. No record, but we’ve got his current address.”
I looked at Alex, who was making squiggles on his notepad. “Did you and Leo turn up anything else?”
He shook his head. “You ask me the lion’s past his prime. We got nothing.”
I was irritated by what he’d said but ignored him, turning back to Selfie and Molly. “What about the group photos at Bernstein Studios? Did you find out if Marshall ever worked there?”
