Before She Was Found

by Heather Gudenkauf

  My blood ran cold. Had Cora been hiding the fact that her best friend was the one who stabbed her? Had a twelve-year-old girl really tried to kill her best friend? In my few sessions with Violet I hadn’t got the sense that she was the perpetrator. Was I wrong? My first impression of Violet was that of a very frightened, confused little girl, which was perfectly understandable given the circumstances. But what I wasn’t clear about was the source of Violet’s fear. Was she afraid of the attacker or was she afraid of being caught?

  “Was Violet the one who hurt you, Cora? Is that what you are saying?”

  She didn’t respond and I noticed that her face had gone a shade paler and a thin sheen of sweat had appeared above her lip and her eyes had a glassy glint.

  “Cora, are you feeling okay?” I leaned forward and laid the back of my hand against her forehead and was met with surprising heat. “You have a bit of fever,” I told her, though I was worried that it could be much more than that. “Let me go get your nurse and have her take your temperature.”

  “Okay,” Cora said as she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. It’s easy to forget how exhausting it can be carrying on a conversation after a significant injury.

  I stepped out into the hallway and flagged down a nurse. “I think Cora Landry may have a fever. Could someone check her temperature?”

  After a few minutes, a young woman wearing pink scrubs breezed in. Cora’s nurse. “Hey there, Cora,” she said. “I hear you’re feeling pretty crummy. Let’s check you out.” She smoothly pressed a thermometer into her ear and after a few seconds it beeped. “One hundred and three. You don’t mess around, do you?” Cora managed to open her eyes to narrow slits but they fluttered shut.

  “Infection?” I asked.

  “It looks that way. I’ll call the doctor and I imagine she’ll order another course of antibiotics.” To Cora she said, “I’m going to take a peek under your dressings, Cora, okay? I promise I’m just looking—I won’t poke around.” Cora nodded weakly.

  The nurse carefully began to peel away the bandages that covered the left side of her face. “Ahh, it looks like you’ve developed a bit of an infection, Cora. You just hang tight now and we’ll get you all fixed up, okay?” I looked over the nurse’s shoulder and could see that Cora had developed more than a bit of an infection. The entire wound was seeping with green discharge.

  “Do you know where her parents are?” I asked.

  “The mom went down to the cafeteria so you could have privacy for your session with Cora and I haven’t seen her dad yet today. I’ll give her mom’s cell phone a ring,” the nurse explained.

  I sat down next to Cora as the nurse left the room. Cora murmured something that I didn’t quite catch.

  I leaned in closer. “What did you say?”

  “Violet was there but he didn’t stay,” Cora said. “I thought he would stay.”

  “Who didn’t stay?” I asked. Cora reached up to touch her face. “No, no, Cora.” I reached for her hand. “Don’t touch it. Who didn’t stay, your dad?”

  Her uninjured eye opened while the other one remained closed, glued shut with pus. “Not my dad. Joseph Wither.”

  Case #92-10945

  Direct message dated February 5, 2018,

  via DarkestDoor.com

  JW44:

  YOU’VE SEEMED SO SAD LATELY. ARE THINGS STILL BAD AT SCHOOL?

  Corareef12:

  Yeah, it’s pretty bad. No one talks to me, which is almost worse than people being outright mean. At least when they’re mean they know I’m there. I stayed home sick twice this week. My grades suck and my mom is starting to talk about getting me a tutor. I can’t wait until spring break.

  JW44:

  I’LL LEAVE YOU A PRESENT AT THE PRIMROSE. WILL THAT CHEER YOU UP?

  Corareef12:

  The Primrose?

  JW44:

  THE BOXCAR. THE ONE WITH THE FLOWERS.

  Corareef12:

  Why can’t we just meet in person? Why won’t you just let me see you at least?

  JW44:

  NOT JUST YET. YOU HAVEN’T TOLD ANYONE ABOUT ME, HAVE YOU? THIS HAS TO BE OUR SECRET.

  Corareef12:

  I haven’t told anyone. I promise. When?

  JW44:

  BE PATIENT. PEOPLE WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND. YOU’RE JUST A KID.

  Corareef12:

  I’m not just a kid.

  JW44:

  YOUR PARENTS WOULD NEVER LET YOU GO TO THE TRAIN YARD LATE AT NIGHT. THAT’S WHEN I COME OUT. JUST COME FRIDAY. THE PRESENT WILL BE THERE FOR YOU.

  Corareef12:

  Promise?

  JW44:

  I PROMISE.

  Excerpt from the journal of Cora E Landry

  Case #92-10945

  Feb. 6, 2018

  I decided to call Mr. Dover over the weekend. Everyone was out of the house. I mean, he said I could but I was still nervous. My palms were sweaty when I picked up the phone and my fingers shook while I dialed the numbers. The phone rang and rang and I almost hung up when he answered but I didn’t.

  I started crying when he said hello and Mr. Dover just sat on the other end and waited for me to stop. “What’s the matter, Corabell?” he asked. “Having a bad day?”

  I told him that I was sad and lonely and not sleeping very well. I asked him about what he told me about not giving up on friendship. I told him that I really missed Violet. That I’d been saying hi to her in the hallway and she always says hi back.

  Mr. Dover told me that it sounded like I had already made up my mind to talk to Violet and that I should go for it. I thanked him and he said, No problem. But remember not to say anything about this call, okay?

  I emailed Joseph, too, and told him what I was thinking and he told me I should just forget about Violet, that she’s not worth my time. He told me I should spend my time thinking about important things—him!

  On Monday, I chickened out and went to eat lunch in Mr. Dover’s room again. The principal walked by and peeked in the room. Then she called Mr. Dover over and they whispered for a few minutes. I overheard her saying something about how it isn’t appropriate for him to be alone in a classroom with a student. That people might misunderstand.

  So after lunch Mr. Dover told me that I should probably start eating lunch in the cafeteria again.

  Today, when I walked into the lunchroom, I felt like my heart was going to explode I was so nervous. Nobody even looked twice at me, which was just fine with me. I sat next to Joy Willard and we even talked a little bit but I kept looking over at Violet. She was sitting at the same table as Jordyn but they weren’t sitting next to each other. Jordyn was actually sitting next to Gabe and they were talking and laughing. Violet wasn’t talking to anyone.

  I feel like if I can just get Violet by herself I’ll be able to explain that I’m really sorry about the cell phone. I know that Joseph said I should forget about Violet, that she’s not my friend, but I’m so lonely that some days I don’t even think I can get out of bed. If I had just one friend, just one besides Wither, I know I’ll feel better.

  Tomorrow morning before school starts I’m going to wait by Violet’s locker and beg her to talk to me. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t think I could stand coming to school anymore if I thought everyone hated me.

  Case #92-10945

  Excerpt from the journal of Cora E. Landry

  Feb. 7, 2018

  I did it! I talked to Violet. I told her I was sorry about the cell phone and about how I freaked out the day of the presentation. That I shouldn’t have started yelling at everyone the way I did. That I shouldn’t have slapped Jordyn. It felt so good to finally talk to her. I asked her if she would please just come over to my house. I had to show her something.

  At first she said no, that she didn’t think
she could. I know she was thinking about Jordyn and that it would be social suicide if she got caught hanging around with me. I told her Jordyn wouldn’t have to know, no one would. She thought about this and then said okay.

  Joseph keeps telling me to make sure I come to the train yard on Friday, that he’ll leave something there for me. I want to go, but I’ll admit I’m scared. I casually asked my sister if she knew where the Primrose Sugar boxcar was and she got all upset and started yelling at me to stay away from the train yard, that hobos and druggies hang out there, and if she found out I was going there she was going to tell Mom.

  I told her to relax, that I heard some kids talking about it at school and I just wanted to know what it was. She calmed down after that but said that she would seriously kick my butt if I started hanging out there.

  So Violet is coming over on Friday and then I can explain everything and maybe she’ll go with me to the train yard. I know that Wither said I shouldn’t tell anyone about our emails but Violet can keep a secret. I just hope she’ll keep mine.

  Excerpt from the journal of Cora E Landry

  Case #92-10945

  Feb. 10, 2018

  So Violet and I went to the train yard yesterday. I didn’t tell her that we were going to go to find the present that Wither left for me. I don’t know if I didn’t tell her because she wouldn’t believe me or if I didn’t believe it myself.

  She kept asking me what was so important that I needed to tell her, but I started to lose my nerve, so I told her I would tell her later, after we ate supper.

  We told my mom we were just going to the park for a little while and she offered to give us a ride but I told her no thanks, that we wanted to walk. I asked her if she would hold on to Skittles so that she wouldn’t get out but she just rolled her eyes and kept on chopping up the vegetables for supper and told us to be home before six.

  It was freezing out. It snowed all day so I had on my winter boots and I lent Violet an old pair that my sister used to wear. Violet said she forgot hers at home but I don’t think she has any. I’ve never seen her wear any before, but most kids don’t wear snow boots to school, anyway, so it’s not a big deal.

  It took us about fifteen minutes to walk to the tracks. It looked like we were the first people there in a while—at least since it snowed. The ground was glittery and perfect with no footprints. I almost hated to walk across the train yard and mess it all up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Skittles run by. Her golden fur was like a streak of sunshine against the snow. She must have followed us. “Sweet, silly girl,” I said. Violet thought I was talking to her and we both started laughing.

  We looked for Skittles’s footprints in the snow, but the wind was blowing and we couldn’t find them. I wasn’t too worried, though; she always finds her way home.

  I asked Violet if she believed that Wither was real and she laughed and said no way, so I laughed, too. We walked along the tracks, our boots sinking deep into the snow, until we were both out of breath. Then Violet said sometimes she thought Wither might be real and she wondered where he would go when it was so cold out like this.

  I watched her for a minute. I couldn’t tell if she was making fun of me or not. But then she said that maybe he slept in one of the boxcars at night. I guess that makes sense, though I don’t think it would be much warmer inside a boxcar than out.

  I told Violet that I thought that Wither probably snuck into people’s houses at night and hid under the stairs or in a closet. Violet wanted to know how Wither got inside the homes. I wanted to tell her that he scratched at windows and came through vents. Instead I told her that I guess he gets in and out the same way Skittles does—whenever someone opens and closes a door.

  We walked toward the boxcar that had a faded flower painted across the side of it. There weren’t any tracks around it, either, but the wind was blowing pretty hard and when I looked back at the footprints that Violet and I had made they were already almost invisible.

  “I’m getting cold,” Violet said. “Let’s go back to your house.”

  “Just a minute,” I told her. “I want to see what’s inside here.”

  “Why?” Violet asked. “It’s just an old boxcar. There’s probably a coyote or other wild animals hibernating in there.”

  “I don’t think coyotes hibernate,” I said but I hadn’t thought of animals. The door was slid open only a little bit but it wasn’t hard for me to get inside. “Are you coming?” I asked Violet.

  She shook her head no and said I was crazy. But she didn’t say it in a mean sort of way. More like as if I was brave.

  It was dark in the boxcar and smelled like the sour pickles my dad likes to eat straight out of the jar. The boxcar was empty except for a wooden box with a glass jar sitting on top of it. No Joseph Wither. I didn’t really expect him to show up but I was still disappointed. I walked over to the wooden box and saw that the glass jar had something inside it. A piece of paper and a wrapped piece of butterscotch candy.

  “Are you coming?” Violet called from outside.

  “In a minute,” I called back as I took off my mittens and twisted the metal lid. I set aside the lid and reached inside the jar. The piece of paper was folded into a tight square and my fingers were so cold it made it hard for me to unfold it.

  My eyes went right to the bottom of the letter. It was from Wither. My stomach flip-flopped and suddenly I wasn’t cold anymore. I unwrapped the yellow candy and for a second I heard my mom’s voice in my head telling me not to eat it—that it might be poisonous. But I put it in my mouth, anyway. It tasted like sunshine.

  Case #92-10945

  DEAR CORA,

  I KNEW YOU WOULD COME! I HOPE YOU LIKE THE CANDY. DON’T TELL ANYONE!!! THIS HAS TO BE A SECRET OR WE WILL BOTH GET IN TROUBLE. IT WON’T BE LONG NOW AND WE CAN SEE EACH OTHER IN PERSON.

  LOVE,

  JOSEPH

  Beth Crow

  Wednesday April 18, 2018

  Somehow I’m able to doze here and there but the chair in the family waiting room doesn’t make sleep easy. Across the room from me Max is curled up in an awkward ball on the room’s one couch. He looks cold but I’ve got nothing to cover him with.

  What am I going to do about work? I’ve already missed two days and I haven’t worked there long enough to get any vacation time. If I don’t work, I don’t get paid.

  I watch Max sleep, his hands tucked beneath his chin, which sprouted a shadow of a beard overnight. I blinked and he grew up on me. I blinked and my daughter went from a nice, quiet twelve-year-old girl to being in a locked ward of the hospital, accused of being crazy, of trying to kill her best friend.

  My stomach growls loudly and I can’t believe my body is betraying me at a time like this. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning and the thought of food makes me want to be sick but I know I have to at least attempt to take care of myself for the sake of Violet and Max.

  I stand and stretch, my muscles aching from sitting for so long, and I go over to where Max is sleeping and give him a gentle shake. “Max,” I whisper and his eyes open. “I’m going to find something to eat. You stay here and I’ll bring you something.” He nods and his eyes close again.

  I take the elevator down to the main floor and follow the signs to the cafeteria. The smell of scrambled eggs and bacon fills my nose and my stomach rumbles again. The cafeteria is nearly deserted and I grab a few bagels and donuts and two bottles of orange juice and carry them to the cash register. As I pull my cash from my pocket I see Cora’s dad at a table, sitting by himself, a cup of coffee in front of him.

  I think about what Violet told me about Jordyn pushing Cora down at the train yard. I wonder if the police have told him anything more about the investigation.

  “Ma’am? Ma’am?” The cashier looks at me with eyebrows raised. “That’ll be eight dollars and forty-two cents.”

  “Sorry,” I say and
hand him the money and don’t wait for the change. I decide to take the cowardly way out and, with head down, try to leave the cafeteria without Jim Landry seeing me. No such luck.

  “Hey,” Jim calls. I stop and turn to face him. He’s not a tall man, but burly and strong, and from the way he’s glaring at me it’s obvious the police have told him their theory. The cashier’s eyes flick back and forth between us.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to Cora, but they’re wrong.” I keep my voice low and steady. “Violet didn’t do this.”

  He takes a step toward me and it’s all I can do not to run away. “Why isn’t your daughter helping the police?” he asks through clenched teeth. “She knows something—I know she does. Cora could have died. She could lose her eye.”

  Part of me wants to tell him what Violet said about Jordyn pushing Cora to the ground but I know it’s not a good idea. That will only seal his belief that Violet was part of the attack. I know my daughter and I’m not going to let anyone change what I believe about her.

  I straighten my spine and lift my chin. “You’re wrong. I don’t know what happened at the train yard, but I know that Violet had nothing to do with it. She is trying to help the police. She’s just scared.”

  “And Cora isn’t? She’s terrified! Why was Cora the only one who got attacked? Strange coincidence, don’t you think? There were three girls in the train yard and only one got hurt?” Jim shakes his head. “I know they had been arguing, that Violet and Jordyn were freezing Cora out for months. I know more than they’re letting on.”

  “What about the teacher?” I ask, desperately wanting to get the focus off Violet. “Mr. Dover? The police questioned him, right? What are they saying about him?”

  Jim glares at me as the cashier comes out from behind the register. “Everything okay?” he asks nervously and he pulls his phone from his pocket.

  “We’re fine,” I tell him. And without a backward glance I leave the cafeteria.