Before She Was Found

by Heather Gudenkauf

  At dinner I told my mom, dad and sister about the project and how cool Mr. Dover is. I talked about how Gabe and his partner wanted to do theirs about a woman whose butt implants exploded but Mr. Dover said no way. A lot of kids wanted to research gross urban legends about murders and ghosts and sex and stuff. Mr. Dover told us that if we didn’t want our grandmas to hear our reports to choose a different topic.

  Later, Kendall said Mr. Dover was a perv. Kendall told me to watch how he looked at the girls who had big boobs, then I’d see. What she said makes me have a sick feeling in my stomach. Mr. Dover has only been teaching here for a few years. Some people say he came here because he got in trouble at his old school. But I don’t think that can be true. They wouldn’t have hired him at our school if he did anything bad, would they?

  Mr. Dover is cute. He is tall and has longish hair that he pushes out of his eyes about a thousand times during class. He has a young face but he dresses like a teacher (except when he’s dressing up like Paul Revere or Abe Lincoln): khaki pants, button-down shirts with a tie. I told Kendall to shut up, that Mr. Dover was the nicest teacher at school. That he actually cared about kids. Then I came up to my room and cried, though I’m not sure why.

  For the next few days I watched Mr. Dover more closely. I didn’t see him looking at any boobs but it seems like he spent more time talking with girls than boys during class. In social studies, I whispered to Violet what Kendall said about Mr. Dover being a pervert and she laughed. She whispered back, “Hey, that should be our urban legend topic. ‘Mr. Dover: Social Studies Teacher or Child Molester?’” I laughed, too, but I felt icky that I brought it up. I like Mr. Dover.

  Jordyn came over and asked what we were laughing about and, thank God, Violet said it was nothing. I can just imagine Jordyn telling everyone that I called Mr. Dover a pervert. Jordyn actually sat down and talked to us for a few minutes about normal stuff. She even told me she liked the earrings I was wearing.

  Suddenly, I heard a voice say, “Ahem,” and when I turned around Mr. Dover was walking over to us. He stood really close behind Jordyn, put both of his hands on her shoulders and said, “Ladies, I hate to interrupt this obviously very important conversation you are having, but we’ve got work to do.”

  Violet’s eyes went wide and she gave me a look that said, Oh, my God, you’re right, he is a perv! She burst out laughing and I started laughing, too. Jordyn looked at us like we were crazy but then she started laughing, too, even though she had no idea why. Violet was laughing so hard she gave a loud hiccup. Then everyone started laughing.

  “Go get a drink, Violet,” Mr. Dover said, finally dropping his hands away from Jordyn’s shoulders. To the rest of the class he said, “Okay, comic relief is over, turn to page twenty-four in your books.”

  Violet hurried out of the room, hiccupping all the way. I pulled out my social studies book and when I looked over at Jordyn she was smiling at me. Smiling like a friend would. Maybe she’s not as bad as I thought.

  Dr. Madeline Gideon

  September 14, 2018

  Mara Landry came to my office that evening after our first meeting. I was sitting at my office desk flipping through the collection of notes that I jotted down throughout the day. I’ve always found that my young patients get anxious when I record my observations during our sessions and tend to spend more time trying to see what I’m writing about them rather than sharing their feelings.

  The sun was dipping behind the linden trees that line the campus streets when I heard a light knock on my door.

  “Come on in,” I called, thinking that it was one of the residents or fellows stopping by my office to discuss a patient. The door opened and Mara Landry stood uncertainly in the doorway. “Mrs. Landry,” I said, surprised. I really didn’t expect her to reach out to me after our initial meeting and after seeing her husband’s reaction to me. “Please, come in. How is Cora?”

  “I don’t want to interrupt you. I know it’s getting late and you probably want to get going,” she said apologetically.

  “It’s no interruption at all. Please, sit down,” I invited. Mara Landry looked worn out. Her face was drawn and pale, her shoulders slumped as if the events of the day were pressing down on her and she was suffocating beneath them. A look I’d come to know well on worried parents.

  “I can’t stay long. I just wanted to thank you for stopping by earlier and to apologize. I know that Jim wasn’t exactly...” She struggled to find the right word so I jumped in to rescue her.

  “No apology necessary. Tell me about Cora. Did surgery go well?” I asked.

  “The doctor said it went well considering all her injuries.” Mara’s face buckled momentarily as she struggled to keep her composure. I waited and she went on. “There will be scars.” Mara’s fingers fluttered near her cheek. “But it could have been much worse and Cora is a strong little girl. She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

  “Is Cora awake?” I asked. “Is she in much pain?”

  “Some.” Mara nodded. “They’ve been keeping her sedated and she’s pretty out of it. But she’s scared. She’s absolutely terrified. I can tell. She starts to fall asleep and then jolts awake and cries out. I tell her over and over that no one can hurt her anymore, that she’s safe, but...she keeps calling out for whoever did this to her to stop. To please not hurt her anymore and Jim can’t stand it. The police aren’t telling us much right now. They just say they are investigating and once they have information to share they will.”

  I nodded sympathetically. This was a common refrain I heard from the families of victims of a crime.

  “My oldest daughter, Kendall, won’t stop crying and can’t even look at Cora. Can’t even stand to be in the hospital room with her. My family is falling apart, Dr. Gideon.” Mara’s voice cracked. “One minute we’re hosting an overnight for my daughter and her friends and the next Cora is bleeding next to the train tracks.”

  “Are the other girls okay?” I asked.

  “As far as I know. We ran into Violet’s mom down in the emergency room but she said that Violet was just being treated for shock.” Mara pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh, God, that sounded terrible,” she said shakily. “I’m glad she’s okay. I really am.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “I need to get back to Cora,” Mara said. “But tomorrow? Do you think you might have some time tomorrow to visit with her?”

  “Certainly,” I said. “How about I stop by around eight or so?”

  “Maybe closer to nine would be better,” Mara suggested and I wondered if perhaps that was a time her husband wouldn’t be around. It’s not a good sign if one parent is open to my services and the other is not, but it’s a start.

  “Nine will be perfect,” I assured her. “Try and get some sleep tonight and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I watched Mara walk wearily down the hallway. I’d seen it hundreds, maybe thousands, of times: the unsteady, almost drunken walk of those suddenly in the midst of a life-changing event. Mara’s equilibrium was off, but with time and help and with some luck she’d gather herself up and see to it that her family get through this and whatever else was to come.

  No matter how determined I was to leave work at a reasonable time, I got home well after nine o’clock that evening. As usual, the house was dark and quiet. I immediately peeled off my clothes to shower but couldn’t wash away the thoughts of Cora Landry and what happened to her in that train yard. The world was a dangerous place even for a little girl from small-town Iowa.

  I stepped from the shower, toweled off and put on my favorite pair of sweatpants and a University of Grayling Wolves sweatshirt. All I wanted to do was go to bed but instead I poured myself a glass of wine, opened my laptop and logged into the hospital’s secured online system. I pulled up Cora Landry’s medical records and learned that Cora was born at the hospital five weeks early. She spent some time in the NICU and m
ade several follow-up visits to the pediatric specialty clinic over the years.

  I jumped to the clinic visit just prior to her attack. Eight months earlier she saw one of the docs for a routine checkup and overall Cora appeared healthy. Height and weight measures indicated that Cora was quite a bit smaller than her peers. The physician wrote that Cora conveyed feelings of extreme anxiousness and worry when it came to school and relationships with her peers. When he broached the subject with her parents, they chose to forgo any sort of psychological or pharmaceutical treatment at the time.

  The doctor also noted that Cora had a series of scratch marks at various stages of healing on the inside of her forearms. Cora explained that they were from her cat and the doctor suggested an over-the-counter antibiotic ointment.

  I closed the laptop and flipped on the television. I scanned the channels in hopes of finding some mindless sitcom but landed on a video of a reporter standing in front of the emergency room of the hospital. The tagline read Urban Legend Main Suspect in Train Yard Attack on Preteens?

  I sat up and increased the volume. The reporter spoke into a camera while a flurry of insects buzzed around the bright red emergency room sign above his head. “Two twelve-year-olds are the purported victims of a decades-old urban legend known as Joseph Wither. Sources say that at least two Pitch girls were hospitalized early this morning after a brutal attack at the abandoned Pitch, Iowa, train depot.

  “Though police and hospital officials remain mum on the investigation and the condition of the girls, an anonymous source tells KQIC News that at least one of the victims pointed the finger at Joseph Wither.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” I murmured and increased the volume on the television.

  The reporter glanced down at the notebook in his hand and then back at the camera. “According to the legend, Joseph Wither began his crime spree back in the 1940s, over seventy-five years ago. While only a few disappearances of young girls have been officially credited to Wither, over the years Johnson County residents have reported sighting a shadowy entity matching the description of Wither corresponding to the time of a disappearance.

  “Tonight, the small community of Pitch is on high alert and eagerly waiting an official statement from law enforcement as to what happened to these young girls. Stay tuned to KQIC for the most up-to-date information on this bizarre, frightening case.”

  The news report sealed it for me. Ghoulish, I know. This case had it all: a vulnerable little girl, a crime apparently carried out by a fictional villain, a family in crisis. A challenge. I was up for it. In fact, I couldn’t wait to get started.

  Case #92-10945

  Excerpt from the journal of Cora E. Landry

  Nov. 10, 2017

  So all of a sudden there are now three people in our group and we have a completely different topic. Deanna Salas and her family suddenly up and moved to Saint Louis so Mr. Dover asked Violet and me if Jordyn could join us.

  Like we had a choice. Of course we weren’t going to say no even though I wanted to. Violet and I have become really good friends and having Jordyn work with us is not great news. She’s just really hard to figure out. One day she’s aiming volleyballs at your head and the next day she’s smiling at you like she’s your best friend.

  When Mr. Dover told Jordyn to work with us on our project she didn’t seem all that happy about it. She was like, “You’re really going with the Pop Rocks and Coke thing?” and she said it all snotty.

  Violet and I looked at each other, both of us not sure what to say. I wanted to tell Jordyn to go find another group if she didn’t like our idea but of course I just sat there. “Listen to what Deanna and I were working on.” She looked around to see if anyone else was listening.

  I rolled my eyes at Violet and she gave me a look that said, I know, she’s ridiculous. Jordyn leaned in so close that I could smell the tacos from the lunchroom on her breath. “Joseph Wither,” she whispered, like we were supposed to know what she was talking about.

  I’ve heard of Joseph Wither. I knew he was supposed to be some kind of ghost but I didn’t really know why everyone was supposed to be afraid of him. Thankfully, Violet was the one to speak up and ask who Joseph Wither was so I didn’t feel quite so dumb.

  Of course, just as Jordyn was going to tell us, the fire alarm went off and we had to spend the next fifteen minutes standing outside. By the time we got back to the classroom, the bell rang and Jordyn didn’t get a chance to tell us what his deal was.

  But get this! When Violet, Jordyn and I were going to our next class Gabe started walking with us. He made a point to walk between me and Violet. Jordyn was NOT happy. Gabe asked Violet how she liked Pitch so far and she blushed bright red and said it was okay. Then he said, “See you at lunch,” and I swear he was looking right at me! Jordyn huffed off and ignored us for the rest of the day, which was perfectly fine with me.

  Whenever Violet comes over, she lets me use her phone to text back and forth with Gabe. I try not to spend too much time on her phone, though. I mean, best friends don’t ignore each other because one of them has a boyfriend. Okay, maybe Gabe isn’t my boyfriend yet, but I think he might ask me. That’s if Jordyn doesn’t get in the way. I’ve never had a boyfriend before and Gabe is perfect. Things are looking up! It’s going to be a good school year. I can feel it.

  Interview of Jordyn Petit

  Pitch Police Department

  Officer Bree Wilson

  Thomas Petit–Grandfather of Jordyn Petit

  Monday, April 16, 2018

  OFFICER WILSON: Okay. We are at the Pitch Police Department and, um, I’m here with Jordyn Petit and her grandfather, Thomas Petit. For the record, Mr. Petit, you agreed to allow your granddaughter, Jordyn, to answer questions regarding the events of April 15 and April 16. Correct?

  THOMAS PETIT: Yes.

  OFFICER WILSON: You have waived the right to have an attorney present for questioning, correct?

  THOMAS PETIT: We want to do anything we can to help. Jordyn will answer any questions you have.

  OFFICER WILSON: So for the record, Mr. Petit. You have waived the right to have an attorney present for questioning?

  THOMAS PETIT: Yes.

  OFFICER WILSON: Also, I am recording our conversation. Can you please say your full name?

  JORDYN PETIT: (inaudible)

  OFFICER WILSON: Please speak nice and loud.

  JORDYN PETIT: Jordyn Ann Petit.

  OFFICER WILSON: And how old are you, Jordyn?

  JORDYN PETIT: I’m twelve.

  OFFICER WILSON: When’s your birth date?

  JORDYN PETIT: February 2.

  OFFICER WILSON: So you had a birthday not that long ago?

  JORDYN PETIT: Yeah.

  OFFICER WILSON: What did you get for your birthday?

  JORDYN PETIT: Some clothes. A cell phone.

  OFFICER WILSON: A cell phone? What a great present. Do a lot of your friends have cell phones?

  JORDYN PETIT: Some. What happened to Cora? Is she okay?

  OFFICER WILSON: Are you worried about Cora?

  JORDYN PETIT: You said she was hurt.

  OFFICER WILSON: Did I?

  THOMAS PETIT: You did. At the bar you said Cora and Violet were taken to the hospital.

  OFFICER WILSON: Please let Jordyn answer, Mr. Petit. There are no right or wrong answers here.

  JORDYN PETIT: You said that someone hurt Cora and Violet.

  OFFICER WILSON: Okay. You spent the night at Cora’s house?

  JORDYN PETIT: Yes.

  OFFICER WILSON: On a Sunday night?

  JORDYN PETIT: It’s spring break, so we don’t have school this week.

  OFFICER WILSON: What time did you go over to Cora’s house?

  JORDYN PETIT: Um. Around six, I think. My grandpa dropped me off at about six.

  OFFICER WILSON: And Violet Crow was th
ere, too? What time did she get to Cora’s?

  JORDYN PETIT: Later than me. Around six thirty. Her brother and his friends dropped her off.

  OFFICER WILSON: Violet’s brother?

  JORDYN PETIT: Yes. Max and his friends.

  OFFICER WILSON: Do you know the name of the friends?

  JORDYN PETIT: Clint something, I think.

  OFFICER WILSON: You don’t know his last name?

  JORDYN PETIT: No. And there was a girl in the car, too. Max’s girlfriend, Nikki.

  OFFICER WILSON: Do you know what kind of car they came in?

  JORDYN PETIT: I’m not sure.

  OFFICER WILSON: The color? Or number of doors it had?

  JORDYN PETIT: I don’t remember. Blue or black, maybe?

  OFFICER WILSON: Okay. After Violet got there, what did you do?

  JORDYN PETIT: We ate pizza and talked.

  OFFICER WILSON: What did you talk about?

  JORDYN PETIT: I don’t know. Just school and stuff.

  THOMAS PETIT: What does this have to do with anything? Jordyn, do you know anything about what happened to Cora and Violet? Did you see anything?

  OFFICER WILSON: Mr. Petit, again I’m going to have to ask you to listen without commenting. We’ll get to all that. I’m just trying to put together a timeline of events. Now, please... Jordyn, what did you do after you ate pizza?

  JORDYN PETIT: Played some games. Balderdash and Say Anything.

  OFFICER WILSON: Were Cora’s parents at home?

  JORDYN PETIT: Yes, and her sister.

  OFFICER WILSON: They were home the entire night?

  JORDYN PETIT: Her mom and dad were for sure. I don’t know about Kendall.

  OFFICER WILSON: Then what?

  JORDYN PETIT: We watched a movie.

  OFFICER WILSON: What movie?