Sawyer, Meryl

by A Kiss in the Dark

  "Your uncle is not on this plane," Gerte stated as the pilot walked off.

  Acute disappointment and a nagging sense of suspicion kept Royce silent. She turned to leave, catching something in her peripheral vision. She spun around. "Wally?" Thank God, it was her uncle walking with a flight attendant, his bag slung over his shoulder.

  "Sorry," he apologized with a one-armed hug. "Haven't slept much. I got on the plane and I was gone. I'd still be asleep if this young lady hadn't woken me up."

  Royce barely heard Wally say good-bye to the flight attendant. Weak with relief, all Royce could think was that Mitch was wrong. Wally had been down South.

  "Wally, this is Gerte Strasser. Paul wants her to stay with me at all times. Increased security. Ingeblatt's hovering around, using a scanner to eavesdrop on phone conversations. That's why I couldn't talk last night."

  Wally smiled good-naturedly at Gerte, who merely grunted and fell into step behind them as they left the airport. Naturally, Wally didn't mention Mitch. By the time they'd reached Gerte's BMW, Royce knew Wally had read about Caroline's murder, but he didn't discuss her alibi. When her uncle spoke, he concentrated on the question of who would possibly want to kill Caroline.

  It was a question Royce had asked herself countless times. If they could determine the motive, they would find the killer. Right now, though, the murder wasn't Royce's top priority. Mitch was. The drive into the city seemed three times longer than usual. She couldn't question Wally until they were alone.

  Inside Wally's apartment Gerte was content to plunk herself down on the sofa and watch soap operas while Royce and Wally went into the kitchen on the pretext of making coffee.

  "What were you trying to tell me about Mitch last night?" Royce asked the second they were out of Gerte's range of hearing.

  Wally pulled two cassette tapes out of his jacket pocket. "I swear, this is Pulitzer material."

  He was smiling with such glee that she was tempted to whack him. "Remember, Wally, we promised. A reporter's word is his bond. You taught me that." He reluctantly nodded and she continued, "Tell me why Mitch was in that institution."

  "Listen to these tapes and hear for yourself." He pulled his tape recorder out of his duffel bag. "The nun, Sister Mary Agnes, told me about Mitch, so I went to the Fair Acres Home." He inserted the first tape. "The home is cruder than most state run facilities. It's set up in a rural area surrounded by farms. The home is a farm too. The inmates who aren't dangerous work in the fields."

  Royce waited, trying to picture Mitch hoeing a row of corn, as Wally turned on the tape. Did she really want to hear this? What if it destroyed her image of the man she loved?

  "This is my interview with Emma Crowley, who worked at Fair Acres when Mitch was there." The whir of the tape became Wally's voice, which was slightly higher pitched than he sounded in person. "Do you remember a boy whose last name was Jenkins?"

  "You a reporter?" The female accent was southern; the tone hostile.

  "Yes. I'm with the San Francisco Examiner. "

  "I don't have nothin' to say."

  "I swear none of this will appear in print."

  "I ain't saying nothin' bad about the Jenkinses." A long silence, then, "Is the boy in trouble?"

  "Hardly, he's a very successful attorney. People come to him when they're in trouble. He's defending my niece. That's why I'm here. I'm worried about her."

  "That so? A lawyer, huh? Always was a fast talker."

  "Tell me about him." Wally's tone was soothing, and Royce could just imagine the other woman responding to his comforting smile.

  "His ma, Lolly Jenkins, lived down yonder in the hollow with her cousins. Pert' near everybody knows everybody else in these parts. Lolly was two years older 'n me. She always was a little tetched. Not loony like the people in this joint, but dreamy-like. Everyone said it was cuz she was from New York City, but Pa claimed it was cuz she'd been in the car when her parents were killed in the accident.

  "One night when Lolly was about sixteen, she up'n disappeared. Two days later the sheriff found her wandering on a back country road. Nearest anyone could tell—Lolly couldn't talk—a buncha college boys had raped her. They beat her up real bad, don'tcha' know."

  Royce put her hand over her eyes, blocking out the bright sunlight streaming in the kitchen window. The shock of this discovery hit her full force. Now she knew why Mitch refused to defend any man accused of rape.

  "The sheriff took Lolly back to her cousins' farm. The minute the sheriff let her out of the car she hightailed it for the barn and hid. Poor thang was terrified. 'Course, everyone thought she'd come out of it. But three days later she was still in the barn."

  Royce stared at the recorder, imagining Lolly's terror with heartwrenching compassion. She'd had nowhere to turn; no one to understand. She'd done the only thing she could to protect herself. She'd hidden, taking refuge in the comforting darkness of a barn. She'd needed a doctor. Counseling. Someone who loved her.

  "Lolly's cousin went in to get her. She upp'n killed him with a pitchfork. At the hearing it was plain enough why. They had to keep her in a straitjacket. If she saw a man 'bout college age, she'd try to kill him."

  "Didn't the sheriff try to find the boys who'd gang raped her?" Wally interrupted.

  "Tried, but don'tcha' know they could have been from State or Tech. Someone saw a car of college kids the night Lolly disappeared. But Lolly was too far gone to help the sheriff."

  "She didn't try to attack the sheriff?" This from Wally.

  "Nah, T-Tommy Pickett was real old. Lolly wasn't afraid of young boys or old men. The judge said this was the saddest case he'd ever seen, but Lolly had murdered one man and was likely to kill again. So, insteada sentencing her to life in prison, he sent her here."

  "My God," Royce cried out, then quickly lowered her voice, remembering Gerte was in the next room. "Mitch must have been the result of that rape."

  The thought froze in her mind, numbing her. When had Mitch realized the horrible truth? For years Mitch had lived with the fact that he'd ruined his mother's life.

  Emma continued, "When we found out Lolly was carrying a baby, it was way too late to do anything about it. We thought she'd try to kill it, but don'tcha know, when he was born, she loved him. She didn't seem to make the connection between the rape and the baby."

  "I take it she got better," Wally commented.

  "Nah, she was in the female wing, so she didn't see many men. Her plot in the garden was just outside the building. She spent most days out there tendin' her veggies. The attendants made sure no men strayed into the area. But Lolly never got better. Maybe her condition has improved now. 'Bout ten years back her boy had her transferred to some fancy private hospital."

  That's it, Royce thought. His mother's in the home. But why would he runnel support money through the Caymans? It didn't matter. She blessed him for obtaining the best care he could for a mother whose life had been so tragic.

  "Miz Raymond was director of Fair Acres back when the baby was born. She felt sorry for Lolly. She said, 'What's the harm?' and let her keep the baby for a little while. The years, you know how they go by, and Miz Raymond couldn't bring herself to break Lolly's heart by taking Bobby."

  Bobby? Probably short for Robert. Mitch's real name was Robert Jenkins. It didn't seem to fit him, she thought. Robert was too ordinary a name for a man as distinctive as Mitch.

  "What about school?" Wally asked.

  "Bobby went to the one-room school right here on the grounds. It's set up for the employees' children. 'T'ain't much—now or then. Everything might have worked out if it weren't for that ole coon dog that wandered in one hot afternoon in late August. Named him Harley after those motorcycles.

  "More'n anything Bobby loved that old hound. Lolly spent most of her time in the garden. There weren't any kids Bobby's age."

  Her heart went out to Mitch, experiencing the loneliness of a young child trapped in such a place. No wonder he'd treasured Harley. She barely heard Emma's
account of how Mitch was forced to shoot the dog he loved. His only friend. A gift from God.

  "If'n you're askin' me, I say the farmer got what he deserved. Bobby clobbered him with the butt of the shotgun. Whacked him a good one too. Took six stitches to close the wound. The farmer filed charges and Bobby was arrested."

  "An eight-year-old?" Wally questioned.

  "T-Tommy had retired and we had a hotshot young sheriff who thought Lolly was crazy and so was her kid. They put Bobby in jail until a judge could come down from Tylerville."

  "That's positively barbaric," Royce cried with a shuddering breath, putting herself in Mitch's place.

  Something inside her died. Innocence. A child's trusting view of the world. Shattered. She experienced the shock of innocence being ripped away from Mitch just as if it were happening to her. How well she remembered her own fear at spending time in jail. How would a young boy have felt? Especially after he'd just destroyed the dog he adored.

  "Well, don'tcha' know, Bobby did go crazy. Least'n, that's what they said when he began screaming and banging his head against the wall. I went to see him myself to see if I could help. I can tell you it's a sight I won't forget.

  "They had him in a straitjacket. He was babbling something fierce, saying someone was in his head talking to him. Poor little thang. He was just a mite of a boy. Who knew he'd grow to be so big?

  "Anyways, I was the only one with a peck of sense. Right quick I ran and got the young doctor who was doing a summer internship at Fair Acres. He gave Bobby a shot that put him to sleep.

  "Don'tcha know what that young doc found? A chigger had crawled in Bobby's ear. Doc got it out, but they'd waited too long—sayin' he was crazy like his ma—he couldn't hear outta that ear no more."

  Something in Royce went cold. What had happened to Mitch went so far beyond barbaric that it was difficult to imagine it happening in this country. A wave of anger swept over her, leaving utter frustration in its wake.

  She wanted to strangle those people, but it was too late. It was over. The damage done. And nothing Royce did could change that fact.

  "Well, the judge came and Miz Raymond hired old Buster Tatum, the only lawyer in these parts, to represent Bobby at the hearing. Buster was a real jawboner. He convinced the judge to let Bobby go, but the judge decided he had to be taken away from Fair Acres. Said it wasn't a suitable place for a young boy.

  "Bobby had been sittin' beside Buster real brave-like, but when he heard he was being taken from his mama, he started to cry. I mean bawl. I can still hear him sobbin'—'I want my Mama. Please don't take me from my Mama.' It took the sheriff and his deputy to haul Bobby into the squad car. I can still see him, his little nose pressed against the window, his fist poundin' on the glass. 'Mama, Mama, Mama.'

  "My poor heart like'ta broke. If'n that wasn't bad enough, we had to tell Lolly."

  " 'My baby,' Lolly sobbed when we told her. 'Don't let them take my baby. What am I going to do here all alone without my baby? I can't stand it here all alone. I can't. Somebody please help me.'

  "I'm tellin' ya, Lolly stopped eating. She even stopped working in the garden, which she loved. All she'd say was, 'Don't leave me here alone. I'll die without my baby. I'll die.'

  Deep in Royce's chest an ache of sadness coiled so tightly that she actually felt pain. As if spring loaded that raw emotion erupted in a sob she couldn't have suppressed if she'd tried. She loved children; she'd always wanted a child of her own. How would it feel to have your child taken from you when you were trapped, helpless?

  Wally turned off the recorder and patted her hand, his eyes filled with sympathy. "There's more, but let's listen to what Sister Mary Agnes has to say first. That way you'll hear the story in order, the way it happened to Mitch."

  Royce could barely nod. She supposed she should be grateful that Mitch hadn't been in Fair Acres for committing a crime, but all she could think of was a lonely little boy who'd lost his beloved pet and his mother all at once.

  Wally studied her closely. He drew a photograph from his pocket. "Emma had a picture of Lolly and Mitch. It was taken when he was five."

  Royce held the faded photograph, her fingers trembling. "He's adorable. Oh, my, look at those freckles. And Lolly's beautiful."

  Like Mitch she had midnight black hair and striking blue eyes. A touching picture, she decided. Mother and son. They could easily have been smiling into the camera for some slick Madison Avenue advertisement. Who could have guessed the heartbreak they would suffer?

  "Iwant my Mama."

  "What am I going to do here all alone without my baby?" Royce blinked back tears. All her maternal instincts fired at once. Oh, how she loved Mitch. She longed to hold him and make up for the years of love he'd missed.

  "Are you ready to listen to my interview with the nun?" Wally asked.

  She wondered if he'd guessed how she felt about Mitch. But she didn't care. Wally would have to accept that she loved Mitch. "I'm ready."

  Sister Mary Agnes had a cultured voice. "Of course I remember Mitch. I'd been teaching at St. Ignatius just one year when the judge sent him. Sister Elizabeth was in charge and she told us to expect a mentally unbalanced child who would have to be straightened out.

  "Instead we received an adorable little boy who kept begging to see his mother. My stars, you would have expected Sister Elizabeth to be compassionate. But her sense of duty —as she called it—compelled her to make certain the little boy never made another mistake. She legally changed his name so he wouldn't have to face the stigma of a 'half-baked' mother.

  "She used the name of the intersection where the school was located. She claimed he'd always remember what he'd learned here. Personally, I thought it was sadistic. Everything she did to that child was cruel. His room had to be neater than ours. He had to pray even longer. If he did one thing wrong he had to eat tomato soup for a week. And, believe me, she always found something wrong."

  How much could one child bear, Royce wondered.

  "I truly believe Sister Elizabeth hated all men. Unfortunately, she had total control over the child and no one to challenge her. He went from being a rather happy child to a sullen, defiant adolescent.

  "I never had a moment's trouble with him, though. He loved English and I gave him as much extra attention as I could. But of course, it wasn't enough. He confided in me several times that he missed his mother.

  "He was with us for six years. By that time he had grown quite tall, but Sister Elizabeth still hadn't put him with children his own age. He'd been behind in his studies when he came but he'd caught up and shouldn't have been with such young children. Was it any wonder he didn't have friends?"

  No friends. Royce had always had close friends like Talia and Val as well as a slew of others. No wonder Mitch was such an insular man. He'd been alone his entire youth while she'd had the comfort of friends and family.

  "One day Mitch demanded to be placed with the other children his age, but once again Sister refused. The next morning Mitch was gone. We reported him missing, but no one found him. Two years later a Navy recruiter called me.

  "I truly believe God understands why I lied. I knew Mitch wasn't eighteen, but I verified the information on the birth certificate. I didn't know where he'd been or how he'd survived those two years, but I thought he'd be better off in the Navy. I couldn't help remembering a pathetic little boy crying over his dog and calling night after night for his mama."

  Royce had never expected a story like this. The judge may have been right that Mitch didn't belong in an institution, but he had been with his mother eight years. Despite the sordid events that caused his birth, they'd forged a strong bond. And Lolly had been lucid enough to realize her son was being taken from her.

  Once they'd had each other, then they had no one. She imagined them each in their separate beds—night after lonely night—crying. For each other; for what might have been; for what was never to be.

  Why did Mitch have to encounter such an unsympathetic nun? It was a mirac
le he'd survived and become such a strong individual. But the psychological wounds were there —well concealed, but there. He'd reached out to Maria for love, then she'd betrayed him by choosing Brent. Royce realized the importance of not betraying Mitch. Too often, at crucial times in his life, the bond of trust had been severed.

  "Royce," Wally said, "I asked if you're up to hearing the end of the story."

  She managed a nod and he inserted Emma's tape once more.

  "Don'tcha' know, I was stunned when Bobby walked into Fair Acres one Sunday six years after they'd taken him away. Tall. No freckles. But the minute he said my name, I knew it was him. Claimed he'd been allowed to take the bus from the convent to visit his mother. 'Course I knew better.

  "His clothes looked like he'd slept in a hayloft. But I figured, what's the harm? Lolly grieved somethin' fierce when Bobby was sent away. It would do her broken heart good to see her boy again."

  How brave of Mitch, Royce thought. Somehow he'd made it halfway across the state to see his mother, probably without a cent. That cruel nun, Sister Elizabeth, didn't sound like the type to give a child an allowance.

  "I took him back to the garden where his ma was working. I knew they'd want to be alone. I watched from the door as he walked up behind her and called, 'Mama, it's me. I'm home.' "

  Home? Royce thought of the quaint Victorian she'd lived in her entire life. Now, that's a home. Yet Mitch would go through life thinking of an asylum as his first home.

  "Don'tcha' know, the look on Lolly's face brought tears to my eyes. She hadn't smiled like that since they took Bobby away. She got up slowly, a garden trowel in her hand like she was scared to turn, afeard she was just dreaming. Bobby touched her shoulder. 'Ma, I love you. I'm back.'

  "Lolly turned. Lord a'mighty, you'da thought she'd seen the devil. 'Not you,' she hollered. 'I'll kill you. I swear I'll kill you.' Before I could open the door she lit into him with the three-pronged trowel in her hand. If he hadn't been raising his arms to hug her, Lolly would have put his eye out with that darn thing.