I'm Still Here: A Novel

by Jon Mills

  “Hi, I’m Kara Walker.”

  “Yes, my mother said you’d be arriving. Come on in, she’s just in the kitchen. By the way, I’m Abigail.”

  Kara gave a nod.

  “Should I take my shoes off?”

  “No need. My mother got rid of the carpets years ago.”

  The woman was dressed in a black skirt, and tights with a black sweater and white blouse. She was thin and her clothes seemed to hang off her bones. The aroma of coffee and freshly baked pie carried through from the hallway.

  “Mother,” Abigail said.

  A frail-looking woman in her late sixties was just in the middle of taking a pie out of the oven. She had wiry gray hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, and pasty skin as if she hadn’t seen the sun in a long time. It was common to see those who’d lost someone fall to pieces, stop eating, stop socializing and spiral down. Her mother had done it. Maureen was wearing a thin blue sweater, and a blue skirt, along with white flats.

  “Hello, come in, take a seat. I hope you like apple pie.”

  “I hope you didn’t bake that just for me,” Kara said.

  She chuckled. “Don’t worry, she does it for everyone, don’t you, Mother?” Abigail said. They all took a seat at a round dining table. Kara glanced around. It was a cramped kitchen but big enough for two. The counters were worn, and the backsplash tiles had come away from the wall in the corner of the room. A money plant seated on the windowsill looked wilted. She saw a photo on the counter of Maureen, Abigail, Scott and an older man, big, weathered and with stubble.

  “Scott?” Kara asked.

  Maureen set down a tray of coffee, and a couple of plates for pie. She nodded. “Taken a year before he was taken.”

  Her breath smelled like cigarettes.

  “Is your husband around?”

  “He passed away two years ago.”

  She wished she hadn’t asked. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”

  “It was sudden. An aneurysm, though I think it was brought on from all the stress.”

  “Mom, what did we say?”

  “I know. I know. Abigail here doesn’t like me to get bogged down in it but it’s the truth. These last five years have been like hell.”

  “I understand.”

  “Right, you would, of course.” She studied Kara’s face and smiled sweetly before handing out plates and cutting the pie. “Now be careful, it’s really hot.” She heaped a scoop onto a plate and asked Abigail to get the ice cream out.

  “How many years has it been for you?” Maureen asked.

  “Twenty-five,” Kara replied.

  “That’s a long time. But at least you know who was behind it, right? If he hadn’t been jailed in ’96, I would have thought he was responsible for Scott.”

  Kara nodded as Maureen took a seat across from her.

  “Do you speak with the other families?”

  She drew a breath and reached for her cigarettes but her daughter placed a hand on them. She grimaced and looked back at Kara. “Yes, all three of them. In fact we have our annual vigil tomorrow night. At first we were doing them alone but then we decided we might as well do them together being as they all went missing on the same day, just different years.” She paused as she put milk into her coffee. “You are welcome to come if you like. It’s just a small gathering now. At one time we used to have hundreds show up but as the years have passed that has dwindled.”

  “Right,” Kara said, her eyes darting between the two of them. “So Abigail, you live here or elsewhere?” Kara asked.

  “If my mother had her way, it would be here.”

  “Hey, I just like the company.”

  Abigail placed a hand on her mother’s. “I know you do.” She looked back at Kara. “I have three kids, a dog and a husband who doesn’t do well with tight spaces.”

  Kara nodded and smiled looking around the cramped room.

  “But I’m down here most days, checking in and making sure she’s okay. Isn’t that right, Mom?”

  “Yep, Abigail is my rock. I wouldn’t know what I would do without her.”

  Kara couldn’t help wish that she’d had that closeness with her mother. It was strange how different families responded to tragedy. Some would come together and their bond would grow stronger, and others like hers came apart.

  Already familiar with how Scott went missing, Kara didn’t want to bring up the events surrounding that night but she was interested in knowing if they had taken any photos or video of the vigils over the years.

  “You had mentioned you wanted to discuss the case. Have there been any new leads?” Maureen asked.

  “Not exactly, however, we are looking into the recent abduction attempt in Clallam and looking to see if it’s somehow linked to Scott and the other boys.”

  She looked confused. “So how can we help?”

  “I was wondering if you captured any video or photos of the vigils over the past four years?”

  “Of course.” Maureen went to get up but Abigail said she would get it. “But why do you want to see them?”

  “Vigils are commonly frequented by offenders. They get off on the misery of others and often enjoy the thrill of being close to the victim’s family and the community.”

  She looked disturbed. “Are you saying that whoever took Scott might have attended?”

  “Well that’s what I’m here to find out.”

  Abigail returned with a small album of photos, and a camera in hand. “Some of the footage is on this, I would need to hook it up to the TV. Would you like me to do that?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” Kara said.

  After being led into a small living room with a brown couch, a throw rug, a coffee table, and an IKEA chair, Kara browsed through the album of photos. It wasn’t all dedicated to the vigils. In fact only one-fourth of it contained photos from those events, the rest was of Scott and family prior to his abduction.

  When the video began playing on the flat-screen TV, Kara looked up from the album and watched a huge group of people gathered outside Maureen’s home. Candles had been lit and placed on the ground, along with flowers, balloons, letters, paintings and toys. Several people were wearing red football T-shirts.

  “Scott always loved watching the Washington State Cougars,” Maureen said. It made Kara think of Charlie and his love for the sport. While she continued pointing out things, and discussing the huge amount of support in the early days and the kind letters she received from all over the state, Kara’s focus was on the crowd. She scanned somber faces looking for Seth Leonard. Many huddled together holding candles and sobbing. Minutes turned into an hour as they waded through the vigils. The final one was held at a nearby park with all four families.

  “Is that where tomorrow’s vigil will be?” Kara asked.

  “Yes. It’s more centralized and with fewer people coming out each year it just feels right to be there to support each other and let them know that we haven’t forgotten even if others have.” Maureen sighed and looked into her hands. “I understand. People can’t dwell on the loss forever. They have to get on with their lives. I just wish I knew what happened to him. If he’s dead, I can live with that but it’s the not knowing. You know — wondering where he is, what he’s thinking and who has him. What have they done to him?” She shook her head and Kara was about to tell her daughter to turn it off because she hadn’t seen Seth Leonard when she spotted someone.

  She leaned forward. “Hold on. Wait. Pause it and back up a little,” Kara said.

  Abigail backed it up a bit too far so she asked for the remote and did it herself. When she paused the screen she walked over and touched it. “This guy. Have you seen him before?”

  Maureen put her glasses back on and then nodded. “He’s a strange fellow, always shows up.”

  Kara backed up the video and watched him bend down and place what appeared to be a sheet of paper under a candle.

  “Shoot. Can you make out what that is? What did he leave?”

  Abigail go
t real close to the TV. “Mom, weren’t those the charcoal sketches?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Very odd.”

  “What happens to everything that gets left behind?” Kara asked.

  “We gather it up and store it in Scott’s room. Do you want to see?” Maureen asked.

  She nodded and backed up from the TV keeping her eyes on the face of Ray Owen. He was slightly younger looking but without a doubt that was him. Maureen led her upstairs to a room at the end of the hall. The door was closed and there was a yellow construction sign that read: CAUTION THIS DOOR MUST BE KEPT CLOSED.

  Maureen pushed it open and Kara stepped into a room that had been turned into a treasure trove of goodwill items left behind by strangers, family and friends. Cards lined the walls, balloons that were now deflated covered the ground, and toys filled up every inch of space of that young boy’s room. She could barely make out the bed beneath the thick layer of jerseys, gifts and artwork.

  “Where would it be?” Kara asked.

  “Anything that is artwork is in among that stuff.” Maureen pointed and waded through the sea of gifts to assist. She pushed aside items. “I know they are here somewhere. I remember how odd they were. He kept on leaving the same sketch every year.”

  “Did you consider mentioning it to the cops?”

  “Of course. But we’ve had a lot of strange people approach us offering to help and giving us paintings and well, you name it,” Abigail said in defense. “Some people sketch rainbows, others landscapes, though usually they are different each time and colorful. His were always the same. Dark, ominous, weird.”

  “And you never approached him?”

  Abigail sighed. “You know as well as us that these events are heartbreaking. We’re really not thinking about why people show up. We just appreciate anyone supporting us, however strange that might seem. Lots of people approached us and gave tips but—”

  “Here we go!” Maureen turned and handed over four sheets of cream-colored paper that were covered with black charcoal drawings. It was a sketch of a stone well with a bucket reeled in at the top. All of the images were identical. There was no message on them. No signature. Nothing.

  “Do you mind if I take these? I need to show them to someone,” Kara asked.

  “By all means,” Maureen said as Kara walked out of the room lost in thought. She asked her a question on the way down. “Do you think he had something to do with Scott’s disappearance?”

  “I don’t know but I’m going to look into it. You have my word on that.” She turned to her daughter. “Can I get the SD card? I’m going to have to bag this as evidence. You’ll get it back.”

  It wasn’t hard to see how concerned they were by this. The thought that perhaps the abductor might have been among the community all this time would have been disturbing enough, but to think that he might have been within arm’s reach could send anyone over the edge. As she was getting ready to leave, Maureen came over and gave her a warm hug and thanked her.

  “It’s been a long while since the police have shown any interest in my boy. And to have someone who has been directly affected by a similar situation means a lot to us.”

  Kara wasn’t sure how to respond to that so she simply offered back a thin smile and said she would be there on Saturday for the vigil. After leaving the residence she sat in her SUV for a while looking at the sketches.

  Chapter 25

  Arriving in Blackmore later that evening, Kara was perplexed to see Lloyd Benson’s vehicle parked in the driveway outside her father’s home. Inwardly she groaned as she made her way in. The house smelled of chicken soup, the one dish her father was good at cooking. It was a homemade concoction of chicken cuts, with a healthy mixture of veggies. Every time he dished it up, he acted like he was some fancy chef. Her mother used to poke fun at him. As Kara entered the mud room she could hear the faint sound of conversation coming from the kitchen. She peeled off her coat and hung it up, then entered the kitchen to find Lloyd, her father and her Uncle Rob seated around the table with a bottle of wine and a bowl of bread, and dishes with crumpled napkins in them.

  “Ah, here she is.” Her father twisted in his seat. “I was just telling Lloyd about Ethan, and how much he’s grown up.” In front of him were a number of photos she’d sent over the years. It felt like an invasion of her privacy. Her father was always in the habit of overstepping his boundaries. Lloyd scrutinized her in his usual fashion. She immediately felt like she was in a session and being picked apart.

  “Hey Rob,” Kara said acknowledging him alone. He smiled and looked as if he was about to say something when her father chimed in again.

  “Have you eaten?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Well come on, take a seat.”

  “Actually I had a few things to do.”

  He turned to Lloyd and spoke about her like she wasn’t even there. “See, I told you. She takes after her mother.” He said it in a way that sounded almost offensive. Instead of allowing him to get under her skin or make her feel like a fool, she pulled up a chair and began to help herself to some soup.

  Lloyd ran a finger around the rim of his glass and it let out a whine sound. He did it in a way to get her attention before scooping it up and taking a sip. There was something about his eyes that bothered her. They were small, sunken, beady. “Your father was telling me you finally got rid of your mother’s paperwork in the basement. That’s quite an achievement, Kara,” Lloyd said it like she was suffering from some inability to move beyond the past.

  “Actually I moved it.”

  “You still have it?” her father asked, his features twisting. “But you said…”

  “You wanted it out. It’s out. It’s not gone,” she replied, scooping a few more spoonfuls of soup into her bowl before dipping in a chunk of bread. Her father glanced at Lloyd as if seeking his support or input on a matter that really was none of his business. Meanwhile Uncle Rob sat there observing and withholding judgment.

  “Any reason in particular?” Lloyd asked.

  Oh great, here he goes again, she thought. He was going to psychoanalyze her reasons. Well she wasn’t going to let him. Instead she decided to be clear with them. If they couldn’t understand, that was their problem.

  “It’s of use to the investigation.”

  “Investigation?” Rob blurted out. “What investigation?” His eyes bounced between them all. Kara had her spoon a few inches from her mouth, she paused for a second then swallowed the soup. Once it was down she leaned back.

  “The attempted abduction of a child.”

  “But what your mother had gathered was related to Charlie,” Lloyd said.

  Kara eyed him before replying, “And previous attacks on young boys in the days leading up to his abduction. And let’s not forget the four that were taken from surrounding counties.”

  All three of them looked dumbfounded before her uncle said, “She thought they were connected?”

  Kara gave a short nod. “It seems so.”

  “But that’s ridiculous,” he replied.

  “Is it?” she asked breaking off another chunk of bread. Her father straightened up in his chair. She knew what was coming. She’d become accustomed to the way he would react before tossing in his two cents and she figured she was going to hear it whether she wanted to or not. He leaned towards her a little, his hands clasped together.

  “You said you were staying for a few days to help me, not get tangled up in your mother’s wall of weird and disappearing down that rabbit hole.”

  “That wall of weird just so happens to have generated a few new leads, and as for disappearing down a rabbit hole, I expected more from you, Dad.”

  She got up and went over to the sink to fill the jug with more water. In the reflection of the window she saw her father nudge Lloyd.

  He drew a breath. “I think your father is just concerned that holding on to the past isn’t healthy, Kara.”

  “Neither are consuming meds and overanalyzing, Ll
oyd, but we sure seem to do a lot of both,” she replied returning to the table. She was surprised her uncle wasn’t saying more. She poured out a tall glass of water. There were a few minutes of awkward silence.

  “Was that Sam I saw you with today?” Rob asked.

  With a mouthful of food she nodded. He and Janice lived in Port Angeles so it wasn’t a surprise when he mentioned it. Rob ran a small Italian restaurant just off the main street.

  “How is he doing?” Rob probed deeper.

  “Fine. In fact he’s been very helpful with the investigation.”

  “And Bobby?”

  “Good.”

  “Bobby was there the night she got into that spat with Mary Harris,” her father added, throwing salt on an open wound.

  “Oh, really? What spat?” Rob asked hoping that her father might shed some light on the incident.

  “Let’s not go there, Dad,” Kara said.

  “Well I think we should, being as she was responsible for the brick through our window.”

  “Allegedly. We can’t go throwing accusations out,” she added.

  “Why not? She’s done her fair share. Someone should toss her in a jail cell with her scummy, child-molesting sicko brother,” her father said, reaching for the wine to pour some more. Now it was the alcohol talking. Kara put her hand over his glass.

  “I think you’ve had enough for one evening, don’t you think?”

  “Don’t belittle me.”

  Rob piped up. “She’s right, Matthew.”

  He huffed and his chair screeched as he got up to take a few plates over to the sink.

  “So you mentioned there were a few new leads?” Lloyd asked. “Anything in particular?”

  She chewed a piece of chicken and washed it down with water. “Nothing that I should be discussing here.”

  “Well, we’re among friends,” her father said. “Besides, I’d be interested to know what is causing my daughter to get involved with the local police department. I gather that’s who you’re assisting?”

  “The Criminal Investigation Division of Washington State Patrol.”

  “Must be serious if they’re involved,” Lloyd added, looking at Rob.