Buried Secrets

by Kate Anslinger

  For the first time, Miriam looked up and lifted the baby toward Grace, placing her gently in the nook Grace’s arms created as if she was giving away her most prized possession.

  “You must be so happy to have another granddaughter, Miriam,” Grace said as she stared down at tiny pink lips and eyelashes that fluttered ever so slightly. Grace had seen her fair share of hate and crime in the world, but it wasn’t until this moment that she realized just how delicate life was and how vulnerable one must feel as a parent. This wasn’t even her own baby, but she knew she would do anything she needed to protect her.

  She was suddenly able to empathize better than ever before. Now she understood how Miriam could kill the person she suspected of hurting her daughter, and Edward’s inability to live through such pain, to pull himself away from causing any more harm to his one living child.

  “Yes, I have two beautiful granddaughters and I couldn’t be more blessed.” The words, which came out emotionless, softened at the ends to hint at some gratitude. Grace had the perfect excuse to not make eye contact with Miriam and didn’t want to ruin the moment for either of them. She didn’t want to taint her first experience holding a baby and understanding parental love by visions of death, because this moment was as close to life as a person could get.

  ***

  Grace experienced a calmness she hadn’t felt in weeks when she left Christie and Scott’s house. Instead of moving at a rapid pace as usual, she took the time to walk to her car and take a few deep breaths along the way. As soon as she slid into her car, she heard a loud boom followed by a cracking noise; as predicted, the storm had infiltrated the area, opening the sky up to thunder, lightning and rain that began coming down in sheets. Suddenly she heard a loud tapping on her window between the crashing of the rainfall, the sky no longer sharing the rain in droplets but in buckets instead. At the passenger side window was Miriam, her hair pushed to the front of her face by the rain’s force, her drenched, flowy dress falling off her shoulders. Grace leaned across and opened the door as Miriam slid into the passenger seat without a word. She smoothed out her dress and pushed back her hair.

  “Do you need a ride somewhere?” Grace asked.

  “Yes, I’d like to go to the police station with you,” Miriam said nonchalantly, as if she was talking to a bus driver.

  “Miriam, are you okay?” Grace looked at her, waiting for her to turn her head and reveal another secret into her past. But Miriam looked straight ahead.

  “I’d like to go to the police station.”

  “Why would you want to go to the police station? Are you feeling okay, Miriam?”

  “Yes, just drive, please just drive away from my son’s house.”

  Grace put the car in drive and slowly drove down the street, turning on the only street that allowed her to get out of the neighborhood and toward the center of town. There was no way Grace would take Miriam to the police station; the woman was obviously in the wrong mindset and worked up from seeing the baby, maybe even thinking it was her own Annabelle from so many years ago.

  Grace pulled onto a little outlet street that led to the ocean wall and overlooked the airport, which was eerily quiet due to the storm. A lightning bolt flashed in the sky, a vein winding from the clouds to the ocean in one bright flash.

  “What’s going on Miriam?”

  “I’d like to confess. I know who the remains belong to. I’ve seen the facial reconstruction of the skull and I know who it is.”

  “Confess to what?”

  And with words as intentional as her expression, Miriam said, “I killed my daughter’s killer, Stephen Cassidy.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Miriam

  I believe some things are destined to happen at certain times, which is why I remained patient all those years. Thirty-one years had gone by since that disgusting person stole my baby girl from me, stole my reason for being who I was. I had never been the same since that day at the aquarium and I wasn’t going to let another criminal get away with murder just because the police department was too lazy and under-funded to investigate the case thoroughly. “Annabelle is long gone now, Miss Caverly, and none of our evidence points to anyone in particular.” The keychain she’d had at the aquarium that day, the one with the pink and yellow beads and the little blue mermaid dangling from it, had been on her backpack, and then it was on his key ring. But that wasn’t enough evidence for the police, so I took it into my own hands. Justice needed to be served and I was presented with the perfect opportunity. I had watched him for years, monitored his every move when he was least expecting it. After all, I was an innocent little old lady, permeating the town with her volunteer work and her dedication to the many committees and boards.

  While I watched him, I bettered the town for my granddaughter. Bettering it so she didn’t have to grow up worrying about kidnappers and murderers and those who commit inhumane acts without guilt.

  After my patience proved a virtue for so many years, I was ready to pay him back, and the perfect opportunity presented itself when I happened to be volunteering for the sailing gala at the Bridgeton Yacht Club. Nobody suspects a little old lady like me, so it wasn’t hard to slip the Rohypnol into his gin and tonic. Since everyone had known me as the committed volunteer, I could slip behind the bar easily. I could offer to relieve the on-duty bartender for a few minutes, making myself look, once again like a kind and generous person who would give the shirt off her back. As luck would have it, he was sitting at the bar with Michael, who was already three sheets to the wind. They were talking about lobster-trapping. Michael had been slurring and in his usual state, sharing stories about scoring a rare blue lobster years ago. I knew it would be easy to get Michael out on the boat, his body tended to move slowly and his mind even slower when he drank the way he had that day. As I squeezed the lime in Stephen’s gin and tonic, the roofie slipped from my fingers and landed in the glass, dissolving before my daughter’s killer could even blink. I had to work fast from there, knowing the drug would kick in within 20 minutes. I perked up and entered the conversation. Suddenly I was interested in lobsters.

  “You have a lobster trap, Michael? I’ve been thinking about getting one too. What do you say you show me how it works?”

  Ever curious about marine life, my daughter’s killer perked up and bit onto my suggestion like a piece of bait. The three of us, an unlikely trio, walked down to Michael’s boat, and my daughter’s killer even helped lug the lobster trap out. In some sense he assisted in his own death. The more he dug his grave, the more content I would be, and the world would be that much safer.

  It was Michael who would be my biggest challenge. He was already too drunk to drive the boat, and my daughter’s killer had nearly succumbed to the effects of the magic pill I’d slipped in his drink. I needed Michael present long enough to get the boat started, and I could take over from there. As soon as he pulled out the bright orange squishy keychain with the Bridgeton Yacht Club logo, I slipped the second roofie into Michael’s next cocktail, which I knew he was bound to have. From there it was easy. Once my daughter’s killer started to drift off into what I hoped was anything but a peaceful slumber, I distracted Michael. And then, just as planned, good old Michael started to slump over. I guided him down to the boat’s floor; a drunk’s body is dead weight, but luckily he didn’t have far to go. Once we got out far enough where I couldn’t see any other red and green dots of light from the other boats, I used every ounce of strength I had to roll my daughter’s killer up onto the wooden slats that hovered just above the water. It helped to picture Annabelle’s face, and I gained even more strength when I imagined the life I’ve had to endure without her. I imagined her arms wrapped around my neck and her sticky fingers pressed against my face in the way that she used to kiss me directly on the lips, as if claiming her territory. As my biceps burned and my back ached from pulling Stephen’s body upward, I thought about Annabelle’s laughter that would echo throughout the house and the smile that lit up my world for th
e brief time when she was a part of my life. And then, with one more push, he was in the water. I didn’t have the satisfaction of watching him suffer and I didn’t get to see his last breath as he gulped for air, but just knowing he would be dead and wouldn’t hurt another child was satisfaction enough for me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “But you said that guy Harris Whitaker said the computer graphic image was of Edward Caverly,” Mark said between bites of his pizza, his eyebrows crinkled together in pure confusion.

  “Yes, that is right. So, according to the X-rays, the teeth of the skull belong to Edward Caverly, Scott’s father and Miriam’s husband. Therefore, Whitaker was one hundred percent right.”

  “But if Miriam confessed that she killed Stephen Cassidy, then where is he?”

  “Well, obviously at the bottom of the ocean somewhere still. Come on, Mark, you were a cop once. Has the gym stolen your natural ability to think of the details?”

  “Okay, jokester, but what about Judy McNeil? Who the hell is Judy McNeil?”

  “Well, here’s the thing… After Miriam confessed her story, she looked at me like a deer in headlights when I told her the skull didn’t belong to Stephen Cassidy. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her that in fact, the skull was her ex-husband’s. That will be up to Scott to do if he wants to. But I asked her if she knew anyone by the name of Judy McNeil, and she looked at me like I had four heads. She’s never heard of the woman before. She did tell me a little bit more about her background though. Evidently, just as Edward’s letter says, he left Miriam and Scott not long after Annabelle’s disappearance.”

  “So, did Miriam change her name back to Haskell after he split?”

  “You’re getting better at this honey,” Grace joked as she leaned forward and pulled another piece of pizza from the box.

  “Yeah, I guess that was just because she was bitter. I mean, I think I’d change my last name back if you left me after our daughter got kidnapped.” The words came out faster than Grace could process them, but Mark didn’t miss a beat.

  “So are you saying you want to marry me?” he joked, well aware that she was fully embarrassed by her slip-up.

  “No! Stop it!” She threw a pillow at him, and, as if they were signaling that it was time to play, Brody pushed himself off the floor and lifted his front paws onto the couch. “Look what you started! Now he wants to play.”

  “So, in all seriousness, though, what’s your next step?” Mark kept his hand on Brody’s chest, circling it repeatedly to keep him content.

  “Well, I think it’s time to give Jayson McNeil a call.”

  ***

  “Hello.” Jayson picked up on the second ring.

  “Hey, Jayson, this is Detective McKenna from The Spray.”

  “Yes… hi detective. Sorry, can you hold on one second?” Grace could hear Jayson making commands about pitching drills in the background. “Okay, sorry, I’m back. I’m just at practice now.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”

  “No, that’s what assistant coaches are for.”

  “Well, I’m calling because I need your help with something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m trying to solve a case involving a missing girl by the name of Annabelle Caverly. She went missing right around the time you mentioned that a little girl matching her description was in your life for those couple of days. It was when you were about six, right? And since you are thirty-eight now, then this would bring us back to 1985, the year Annabelle Caverly was reported missing.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “Well, Jayson, how determined are you to give the parents of Annabelle Caverly some closure? Because I think your mother might have a few answers we are looking for.”

  “Listen, I love my mother, I really do. She was a great mother, but I love my son and I know just how painful it would be to lose him, so I’m willing to help.”

  “Okay, first things first, can you set up a meeting with her somewhere in private away from the bar?”

  “Yeah, I can do that.” He hesitated for a moment. “I think I have an idea.”

  ***

  Just as Jayson had predicted, Judy was walking her dog along the trail overlooking a marsh that traveled through the outskirts of the town. Grace was well prepared for the unscheduled meeting and even had Mark on alert, staked out in the wooded area that lined the trail, in case she needed backup. She was dressed in black spandex and a tank top, playing the role of a runner. As soon as she saw Judy from behind, she pulled herself up onto the trail from the muddied ground below and followed her, planning to make her move. With every step forward, Grace’s heart escalated, right up until she was accidentally bumping into Judy from behind.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Grace said just as her chest slammed into Judy’s back. Without a word, Judy turned around ready to offer a sign that all was okay, but instead, she looked below the rim of Grace’s Red Sox cap and knew exactly who she was. Annabelle’s face was front and center, pale and covered in dirt once again, gasping for air with lips that were quickly turning blue.

  “Hey, you’re that lady from The Spray… Judy, right?” Grace looked around her, saw a bird digging for worms in the ground nearby, a gang of squirrels racing up the tree in a game of chase. Everything around them felt peaceful until she looked into her eyes.

  “Yeah, well, I gotta go.” Judy started to walk away, turning her back on Grace.

  “Judy! Wait, I have a question for you…”

  “What’s that?” She turned around, her eyes on the ground peering down at her dachshund sniffing the wooden walkway at a rapid rate.

  “I recently opened up a case from long ago. Actually, truth be told, the case was never closed. It’s a missing girl named Annabelle Caverly.” Grace pulled a printout of the only available photo of Annabelle, the grainy one used on the missing person’s posters all those years ago. “Do you know this little girl? Have you ever seen her before?”

  “Leave me alone.” Just like that, the woman Grace had seen hunched over and drunk at the bar so many times picked up her dog and started sprinting down the walkway, jumping off the side and running through the woods. Grace heard Mark before she saw him, and with the ease of a gazelle running through the forest, he caught up to Judy in a matter of seconds, dodging the branches she had pulled down as a deterrent and hopping over rocks that served as obstacles. He knew not to tackle her and instead pinned her arms behind her and sat her down on a rock beneath a tree with long, willowy branches reaching outward, taking the dog leash with his other hand. The dachshund was in a fit of snarls and growls, set on protecting his owner.

  “What do you want from me?” Her words came out quiet, defeated.

  “I want you to tell me where Annabelle Caverly is. And if you don’t tell me now, be prepared to pay.” Grace said the words like she was in a TV police drama and instantly felt ridiculous. “I know you had something to do with her disappearance and…”

  “Annabelle Caverly is dead!” Judy looked down at the ground and gave up. “Do you think I haven’t regretted this every day since? Why the hell do you think I’ve been at the bar every night drinking my life away? Why do you think my son won’t let me see my grandson? Because Annabelle Caverly, the sweet, innocent four-year-old girl, died, and it’s all my fault.”

  Judy seemed to feel the biggest relief she’d experienced in years; Grace could almost see her relax as she said the words.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Judy

  It was so easy that day at the aquarium. It was like someone handed me a key that opened the door to my dreams. Jack and I had been trying for a second baby for the longest time, and I wanted a little girl more than anything else in the world. Every time I saw other little girls, I found myself staring, partly because I compared each and every one to what I had pictured in my mind for my own little girl. She’d have wavy dark hair, like Jayson did as a child, and she’d be filled with sweetness and a love for
princesses, unlike Jayson’s love of trucks.

  I had my boy and I wanted my girl. I wanted her badly, which is why when Stephen Cassidy brought a lost and crying little girl to me on my way out of the aquarium that day, I took her. It was like God had handed me the gift I had been yearning for, and it was so easy. He mixed up the families and thought she was mine, and I accepted her as my own. She struggled when I pulled her toward me, batted her hands and tried to run, but she looked like every other kid in the aquarium that day: one step away from a temper tantrum. She batted me with her hands until I pinned them to her chest and lifted her up on my hip. It had been a while since I’d held a child, since Jayson was already nearing seven and the biggest in his class. I remember the smell of her hair, moist from the tears and mashed against her head, as I pressed her close to my body and walked her to the parking lot where my car was parked. And I remember thinking the parking lot was just another sign that I was supposed to have this little girl as my own, because Jayson and I always took the train to the aquarium, except on this particular day, we didn’t. She was so little at the time, only four years old, the exact age difference I had dreamt about for my two kids.

  The strange thing about it all is she was just as concerned with finding her lost keychain as she was about finding her mother. “I need my keychain and my mommy” was all she could say over and over again. And then I took her home and she must’ve been worn out from all the crying, because soon she succumbed and fell asleep, so I moved her to the bedroom I had already set up for the little girl I would one day have. After I watched the rise and fall of her chest, I locked her in the room and prayed no one would come looking for her. When I woke up that next morning, I thought it was all a dream until I heard the banging on the door.

  “Let me out, I want my mommy!” she was yelling, screaming at the top of her lungs. When I opened the door, her face was bright red, making her blue eyes stand out even more. She screamed over and over until I told her I would bring her back to her mommy right after I fed her breakfast. But, I turned my back for one second, that’s all it took, and she was gone. Jayson had been up in his room because he was mad at me. He didn’t understand why this new little girl was in our home and why I was giving her so much attention. So, I turned my back to pull the toaster out of the pantry, where it was sitting on a shelf up high. I didn’t even hear her get up from the table, but when I turned she was gone, and the sliding door that led to our small backyard was open. When I looked back, I called out to her. I looked in the yards of all the houses on our street but didn’t see anything. I remember it was a weekday and everyone was at work, it was so quiet. And then, I saw a flash of pink, four houses down. The flash was so brief and I started running toward it, but quickly lost sight of it. I looked everywhere and called out her name over and over. And then I saw her. She was in a neighbor’s in-ground pool, face down, falling to the bottom. Her dark waves now straightened and splayed out like a mermaid’s. My instinct kicked in and I jumped in, pulled her to the top and tried to revive her. But it was too late. She was gone. God had handed me a daughter and taken her away just as fast. I don’t know if she tripped while she was running or if she was trying to hide from me in that pool, but either way, I wasn’t ready to take the blame for that little girl’s death. If I told the police, I’d have been charged with kidnapping and taken away from my son. I had already lost my husband. He had gotten so frustrated from all the years of me forcing him to try for a little girl. He was happy and content with Jayson, but I wasn’t, so he left me and accused me of being crazy. So, I did what I had to do and I buried her body.