Cemetery Girl

by David Bell

  All that effort wasted. .

  But Buster spoke up.

  “Settle down there, girl. You’re eating like the Iraqis are coming up I-75.”

  Caitlin ignored him and kept going.

  She did look better in her new clothes-a long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and new sneakers. She didn’t say anything, didn’t acknowledge any of the mindless conversation the three of us made, and when her plate was clean, she laid her fork aside and belched. She began fidgeting with a necklace. It was a simple gold chain with a small amber stone. Topaz maybe? She took the stone between her thumb and forefinger and pulled it back and forth on the chain.

  “That’s pretty,” Abby said, her teeth gritted just a little.

  Caitlin just nodded.

  I watched Caitlin swing it back and forth, a nervous tic. I wanted to know what made her touch it that way and who she thought of when she held it.

  “That’s your birthstone,” Abby said. She kept eating, but the skin around her mouth drew tight. She looked like she was chewing broken glass. “Very pretty, very pretty.”

  Detective Ryan called as we were finishing our meal. He said he was on his way over to talk to us, the sooner the better. I shared this with everyone when I hung up the phone. Buster poured himself another cup of coffee, but he squirmed in his seat and checked the clock on his cell phone repeatedly. Finally, he stood up and said he was leaving.

  “Really?” I asked. “Don’t you want to stay and find out what’s going on?”

  “I don’t want to stay and get hassled by the cops. Besides, I have the drive back. . ”

  “Makes sense,” Abby said.

  Buster bent down and gave Caitlin a hug.

  “We’ll talk soon,” he said.

  She nodded, almost smiling.

  “I’m glad you’re back.”

  I walked with him to the front door. “We took her to a psychiatrist today, and she didn’t say a word.”

  “A shrink? Really? Jesus, Tom. That’s worse than that fruity pastor at Abby’s church. What’s he going to do for you?”

  “He can tell us what’s wrong, or get her to tell us what happened.”

  “You need a shrink for that?”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Shit,” Buster said. “I should slip out the back.”

  “Yeah, that would look good.”

  I opened the door for Ryan. Momentary surprise passed across his face; then he held out his hand to Buster and they shook. Buster’s posture stiffened. He pulled back his shoulders and lifted his chin.

  “Are you living here, William?” Ryan asked. “In New Cambridge?”

  “Over in Columbus.”

  “Nice,” Ryan said. “Actually, it’s a good thing you’re here. I need to talk to Tom and Abby, and if you don’t mind. .”

  Buster nodded. “Sure. I’ll sit with Caitlin and watch TV or something while the grown-ups talk.”

  “Don’t you have to go?” I asked, trying to move things along.

  “It’s fine. I’ll make sure I only speak to her in declarative sentences.”

  “I’ll get Abby,” I said. “The three of us can talk on the porch.”

  The late afternoon was warm, unseasonably so, and a light breeze rustled through the trees. It felt good on the porch, like we were doing something normal.

  “Is she doing better?” he asked.

  “We bought her some new clothes today,” Abby said. “We’re adjusting.”

  “What did you think of Dr. Rosenbaum?”

  “It was fine-”

  “What are you here for?” I asked. “Did you make an arrest?”

  “No, we didn’t. Can you tell me how things went with Rosenbaum?”

  “We learned that our daughter doesn’t like to talk to shrinks,” I said. “And we learned that she doesn’t like being with us as much as she liked being gone.”

  “Tom. .” Abby said.

  “Okay, he told us a lot of things, things a parent wouldn’t really want to hear.” I kept my eyes on Ryan. “What did you learn today? There must be something.”

  He reached into his inside jacket pocket and brought out a small spiral notebook. He wet his index finger and started flipping through the pages while he talked. “One of the benefits of Caitlin’s recovery is that it puts her story back in the public eye in a big way, even more than the composite sketch of the suspect.” He licked his finger again, turned a few more pages, and stopped. “In the last twenty-four hours, we’ve been getting a lot of calls about Caitlin’s case, and we’ve only just begun to wade through them. But a picture has started to emerge.”

  “A picture of what?” Abby asked.

  “A number of people have called and told us that they saw Caitlin during the four years she was missing.”

  “You mean people who thought they saw Caitlin and were mistaken?” I asked.

  Ryan shook his head. “No, they saw her. Not all of them, of course. Some of them are crackpots, but there’s a consistency to the sightings that makes us believe them.” Ryan looked down at his notes again, and I sensed a reluctance on his part, a hesitation about what he was about to tell us. “People saw Caitlin out in public in the company of the man from the sketch. The stories are similar to the one you heard from the young woman at the Fantasy Club. Caitlin and this man were seen in out-of-the-way places. Strip clubs or diners. Always in rural or isolated areas. Never here in New Cambridge. Never in town or near the campus.”

  I felt a sickness churning in my lower gut, a slow roiling, as though I might at any moment have to run to the bathroom to relieve it.

  “I don’t understand,” Abby said. “What does it mean that Caitlin was out with this man? She must have tried to get away or asked for help.”

  “No, she didn’t. At least not that any of our witnesses saw.”

  I leaned forward in my chair, hoping to ease the pain in my gut. I didn’t think I could say anything.

  “How can that be?” Abby asked. “Some strange man takes her, and she doesn’t run away. He must have held a gun to her or something, right? Tom? What are you doing, Tom? Are you okay? Are you hearing this?”

  “We don’t know if there was a weapon involved or not,” Ryan said. “We’re looking into that. But in cases like this, it’s not unusual to hear that the victim was intimidated into not running away.”

  “She has that bruise,” Abby said.

  “We don’t know what that’s from,” Ryan said, “but it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that she was physically assaulted by whoever took her.”

  “Why are you telling us all of this?” I asked. I shifted my position on the chair.

  “I’m really just trying to keep you informed. This is going to somewhat change our approach to this investigation,” Ryan said. “Caitlin was a child when she disappeared. She’s still a child in the eyes of the law. We need to remember that. But this information could suggest a different and potentially more complicated relationship with whoever took her.”

  “Let’s not use the word ‘relationship,’” Abby said.

  “I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “That was a poor choice of words. But Caitlin may very well be seeing it as a relationship.”

  “Who is this guy, Ryan?” I asked. “If he showed up in public places, he must have left a trail. Credit card statements, signatures. He must have talked to people, given someone his name or something.”

  “We’re going to do everything we can,” Ryan said.

  His words were just nonsense syllables, though, meaningless mutterings that made no impact on me. I felt myself tuning out, fading away from a conversation that should have held so much importance for me. When Abby spoke again, her voice came to me from a great distance, as though she were speaking through a long tube.

  “Are you going to ask Caitlin about this?” she asked.

  Ryan nodded. “That’s the other reason I’m here. I have to see if she’ll talk to me. We gave her a break yesterday, but the sooner we can get some answers out of her,
the better for the investigation. I was hoping. .” Ryan hesitated. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I was a little more aggressive with my questions. I’m going to press her a little bit now just to see if anything shakes loose. We’ll know pretty quickly if she’s going to respond to my approach.”

  Abby looked over at me, her face uncertain. I got the feeling she wanted me to object or tell Ryan he couldn’t talk to Caitlin, that it was too soon, give us time. But I didn’t. The pain in my gut was starting up again, and I liked the idea of someone trying to provide me with answers.

  “Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll tell her.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Buster and Caitlin sat on the couch in the living room, the TV tuned to some kind of talk show. The volume blared, and Buster was leaning over to Caitlin, saying something into her ear. He straightened up when I entered the room.

  “What’s all this?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Just hanging out and doing a little uncle and niece bonding.”

  “What are you saying to her?” I asked.

  “I’m telling her a stupid joke, Tom. Easy.”

  “Caitlin, Detective Ryan needs to ask you a few questions.”

  I felt Ryan behind me, his bulk looming there like an eclipsing planetary body.

  Caitlin kept her eyes on the television.

  “Maybe now isn’t the best time there, Sipowicz,” Buster said. “Maybe another couple of days to settle in.”

  The left corner of Ryan’s mouth went up in a half smile, but there was no humor in it. “Maybe you could give us some privacy, William,” Ryan said. “But don’t leave. I’d like to ask you some questions as well.”

  Buster smirked. He leaned over to Caitlin and gave her arm a squeeze. “I’ll be out there if you need me,” he said, loud enough for all of us to hear. “And don’t take any shit.”

  Ryan walked across the room and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Caitlin. He reached out, picked up the remote, and clicked off the TV.

  Abby slipped in the front door as Buster went out to the porch. She closed the storm door, blocking out the sounds of the outside world. “Is it okay if we’re here with her?” she asked. “I’d like to be here.”

  “Sure,” Ryan said. “We’re just going to have a friendly chat.” Ryan adjusted his bulk on the couch, settling into the cushions a little like a bear choosing a spot to hibernate. It took long seconds, and when things were just right, he let out a long sigh. “Okay, Caitlin, do you want to tell me anything? Do you feel like talking about where you’ve been?”

  Caitlin stiffened visibly and gave Ryan a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t respond.

  “I know this might be difficult, but we’ve got to get to the bottom of some things here, and the sooner we do that, the better. A crime’s been committed, and it’s my job to figure out who did what. Can you help me with that?”

  Ryan reached into his inside coat pocket again. He brought out a piece of white paper, folded into thirds. He unfolded it and held it in front of Caitlin.

  “Do you know this man? Do you know who he is?”

  Nothing.

  “You know his name, don’t you? He took you when you were little.”

  “Maybe-” Abby began to say.

  Ryan held up his hand without turning around, cutting Abby off.

  “Caitlin, did this man hurt you in any way? Do you know the kind of ways I might mean?”

  Abby gasped, but Caitlin turned and faced Ryan for the first time. She spoke to him through gritted teeth. “You think you know so much, but you don’t. You don’t know anything.”

  “I want you to tell me those things, Caitlin,” Ryan said, his voice softer. “I want you to tell me what I need to know to find this man and convict him.”

  Caitlin’s eyes darted back and forth ever so slightly, and she used her tongue to moisten her lips.

  “Did this man threaten you? Did he say he’d hurt you if you talked to the police? Did he threaten your family? Your parents? You don’t have to worry about all of that. You’re safe here. Your parents are safe. We can protect you and your family.”

  “Yes, Caitlin,” I said. “Listen to him.”

  Ryan paused, letting his words sink in. I’m sure he was hoping the fatherly, protective approach might break Caitlin down, but when it didn’t, he pressed ahead.

  “You know, people saw you out with this man,” Ryan said. “They saw you in public places, acting as though you were a couple. Let’s see, you were at the Fantasy Club with him, Pat’s Diner over in Leesburg, the Country Inn and Buffet in Russellville. You weren’t in handcuffs when these people saw you. You weren’t tied up or shackled or anything like that. In fact, some people saw you go off and use the restroom, which means you could have run away if you wanted to. Why didn’t you, Caitlin? Were you scared? Did he say he would hurt you if you ran?”

  The sick feeling in my gut, the one that had started on the porch, came back even stronger. I bent down into a squatting position, resting my back against the wall. Abby was looking away, off toward the blank TV screen. Her right hand was raised to her chest and clutched a handful of fabric from her shirt.

  Ryan sat back a little. He refolded the paper with the sketch on it and placed it back in his pocket. “I think I know what’s going on here,” he said. “I think you were trying to go back to this man last night. That’s why you went out the window and ran away. Do you love him, Caitlin? Is that what you think? Do you think you love him?”

  “I do love him,” she said. “And he loves me. He does. Still. He loves me.”

  I stood up, my mouth dry. I felt on the edge of panic. “Who does, Caitlin?” I asked. “Who is this man who’s been telling you these things?”

  Ryan held up his silencing finger again, and when he did, Caitlin turned away from him and folded her arms across her chest. She looked younger than her years, like a small child throwing a tantrum, and to complete the effect some tears ran down her cheeks. It wasn’t full-fledged sobbing like the night before, but it was enough to signal the end of the conversation.

  Ryan pushed himself up from the couch, the springs groaning with relief.

  “Okay, Caitlin,” he said. “I’ll leave off there. But I do hope we’ll talk about this again. And I’ll be sure to tell Dr. Rosenbaum about our conversation. Maybe you’d rather talk to him about it at some point. Would you prefer that? Would you prefer to talk to Dr. Rosenbaum?”

  Caitlin didn’t answer.

  “Okay,” he said. “That’s fine. Well, I’m glad you’re home with your parents and getting settled in.”

  Ryan left the room, and as he passed, he placed his hand on my arm and nodded, indicating he wanted us to follow him. We did, but before we left the living room, I looked back at Caitlin. She still sat on the couch in the same position-arms folded, jaw set. She looked stubborn and determined. Not only did I wonder about the secrets she held inside her, but also about the nature of the effort it would take to pry them loose. Before I left the room, Caitlin reached up and took hold of the topaz necklace. She rubbed the stone between her thumb and forefinger as if it were some kind of charm.

  The three of us gathered in the kitchen, presumably out of Caitlin’s earshot, although a part of me suspected Ryan wanted her to hear our conversation.

  “Continue to keep a close eye on her tonight,” Ryan said. “She may bolt again.”

  “Oh, God,” Abby said. “Those things you said to her. . Why. .?”

  “I’m sorry if it seemed too harsh. She has a strong wall up, and she’s strong willed. I had to try to get through it. The sooner we answer these questions, the sooner we can catch the person who did this to Caitlin. This guy’s out there, and I think he’s close.”

  “Close?” Abby asked.

  “In town. Or at least he was. Where did your brother go?”

  “The porch, I guess,” I said.

  “I’ll catch him on my way out.”

  “Why do you want to talk to
him?” Abby asked. “Frankly, given some of his past behavior, I thought maybe you should. . examine him more closely.”

  “This is just routine,” Ryan said. “Really, keep a close eye on her tonight. She’s still attached to this guy.” He gave Abby a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Stay strong. We’re getting there.”

  Abby and I walked with Ryan to the front of the house, back to the room where Caitlin was sitting. She’d turned the TV back on. Through the large picture window, I saw Buster sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette. I thought he’d quit, but there he was, the long tendrils of smoke leaving his mouth and nostrils and being carried away on the wind.

  “I’ll just have a word with William and be on my way.”

  “Tom?”

  I followed Abby’s gaze. She stared out the window to the porch, where Ryan stood over Buster. Ryan’s face displayed the same unfriendly grin, and Buster was shaking his head back and forth, back and forth.

  She said my name again.

  “Tom?”

  I looked over at her. She jerked her head toward the kitchen, so I followed her back there. She leaned against the one counter and I leaned against the other, facing her.

  “It’s true, isn’t it? All that stuff Ryan was saying to her? It’s true. She lived with some man, and she. . lived with him or whatever.”

  “She was taken.”

  “Are you sure? What if she ran away? What if she wanted to be away from us? Someone else seemed more appealing. Better.”

  “Stop it.”

  “It’s possible, Tom. Admit it’s possible. Don’t all kids wish they could be away from their parents? Maybe Caitlin. .”

  I went back to the living room and looked out the window. Buster wore a large smirk, and for a moment, he looked as childish and pouty as Caitlin under the heat of Ryan’s questions. He flicked his cigarette butt out into our yard and kept smirking.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  I turned back to Caitlin. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the light was going. I sat in a chair across from her and didn’t bother to see if she would move her eyes from the TV screen to me. I knew she wouldn’t.