by Mary Stone
Helen froze in place, her mouth slack. She swallowed when she noticed Miss Trent watching her. “Where did you get that?”
The little redheaded bitch ignored her and kept reading. “Helen did not develop normally during her adolescence. For the sake of her two brothers, she cleaned house, cooked meals, helped her brothers with their homework, and so on. Eventually, her brothers graduated from high school. Dwaine began a family right away with his high school sweetheart, moving away and cutting off all contact with his sister and father, although staying in contact with his younger brother, Wilbur, until his death at the age thirty-six during a traffic accident. He had two children, and his wife, Angela, remarried three years later. Wilbur worked his way through college. He married a co-ed named Judy, and they had four children together. Wilbur remained in contact with his sister, but only distantly. After their father fell down the stairs and became paralyzed, he sent Helen money from time to time to help pay for their father’s care, but never visited either Helen or his father himself.”
“Where did you get that!” She shot to her feet, her shackled hands up and ready to strike. “Those are lies!”
Miss Trent didn’t cower or even bat an eyelash, though she thought Mr. Putnam was surely going to faint. Sheriff Morton was on her feet too, but the shrink pointed at a camera protected by a heavy plexiglass cover. “Don’t you think you have quite enough charges against you already, Mrs. Mathers? Or is it Matheson? It’s difficult to keep it all straight.”
The attorney was finally on his feet, his hand around Helen’s arm. She stared at the young woman for another few seconds and seated herself back on the chair but turned her face toward the wall. If Miss Trent was going to play dirty, Helen didn’t need to cooperate.
The woman couldn’t take a hint and shut up, however. “My guess, Mrs. Mathers, is that you resented your family, especially your mother for abandoning you, leaving you to shoulder the burden of caring for your father all alone.”
Helen stared at the wall. She hated the woman for bringing up such a sore spot, and she wanted to stay silent, she really did. But…she had to defend herself. She just had to.
“By the time I was free of him, I had no experience with boys,” she spat, ignoring Mr. Putnam when he raised a hand to stop her. “I wasn’t old, exactly, but they all wanted younger women. Prettier women. And I…”
Helen paused. Did she really want to share this last most hurtful part? She glanced at the psychologist. Maybe if she told her, then she would understand, and they would let her go back home where she belonged.
“I was…” She cleared her throat, trying to think. “I was born with a condition that didn’t allow me to have children.”
Helen lifted her hands to her face, gritting her teeth as the metal clinked together. She tried to force herself to cry. Tears would help, surely. But they wouldn’t come.
Miss Trent gave her a hard look. “That’s not true, is it?”
Helen just stared at her. She surely couldn’t know about that too. “I—”
“The truth is that you were unable to have children because of the abuse you received at the hand of your father.” Miss Trent’s voice was softer. Almost kind.
Helen looked away. “Of course not.”
Miss Trent pulled out another sheet of paper, her voice even softer now. “We were told by someone close to you that you lost your uterus because it was ruptured when you were only fourteen years old. What happened, Helen?”
Helen clamped her mouth shut. She would never tell anyone that she’d been pregnant with her father’s child. And her mother had known. Had let it happen. No one had protected her, and then they’d left her all alone.
How could this woman know these things? And why was she telling everyone Helen’s secrets?
Shame and guilt and hate and rage and sadness all surged through her. They collided in her belly and began to boil.
How dare this woman. How dare any of them!
“Is that why you became a foster mother?” Miss Trent asked. “Because you couldn’t have children of your own?”
Helen forced her voice to stay calm. She couldn’t let them know how much this hurt her. “I love children.”
“Is that why you abuse them?”
Mr. Putnam raised his hand again, and Helen knew that meant she was supposed to stay silent. Her hands curled into fists. She knew she shouldn’t react, but she would explode if the words didn’t come out.
“I didn’t abuse anyone! Those children need discipline. They need to know how to act. They need to know how to control themselves so they can keep their family together.” She finally looked at the redhead, stared directly into her green eyes. “I’m helping them learn how to stay together as a family, don’t you see? I’m helping them be strong and determined. I’m helping them to think before they act.”
Helen was breathing hard when she finished, and her heart was beating hard in her chest. She just wanted the bitch to go away and leave her alone.
The Trent woman just stood there, looking bored. “I think the Websters reminded you too much of your own family.”
Helen glared at her. “You’re jumping to some big conclusions. The children aren’t the only ones who need to be kept in line. The parents do too.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Helen,” Mr. Putnam warned.
Her glare fell on him. “They have to be punished!”
How did these people not see?
“Was Linus hard to convince to help you with your mission?”
Helen shook her head. “Not at all! He knows the same thing I do. The only way to free these children of their broken homes was to punish the ones who had wronged them. He’s a good boy.”
Instead of looking smug, Miss Trent looked…sad. “Helen, I’m sorry that you had to go through such a difficult life, that you were expected to be so strong without any support yourself.”
Helen was caught off guard. “I had plenty of support. I had my husband.”
Miss Trent’s eyebrows raised to her hairline. “What was his name? Where is your marriage license? When was the wedding? Where?”
“You’re badgering the witness,” Mr. Putnam claimed.
“This isn’t a court of law, and I’m not a judge.”
Sheriff Morton snorted, then coughed into her hand.
The redhead just stared at her with those green eyes. “Tell me your husband’s name, Helen.”
She knew.
It wasn’t possible. None of this was possible. She’d been so careful.
“I…I…I…”
She had dreamed up a past for herself that had never happened. She had never been married. Never been a widow. Never had love. Not even close.
When she had first applied to become a foster parent, they had asked her if she was married. She knew they’d never let a single woman care for children. Not in those days.
So, the lie was told, the forms were filled out, and her application was approved. She never would have been able to get away with such a thing these days, but back then, it was easy. But she had been a foster mother for over thirty years now, so surely such a little detail wouldn’t matter.
She was a good foster mother.
A mentor to other foster parents.
Helen looked directly into her lawyer’s eyes. “Mr. Putnam, I believe I’d like to take the fifth.”
Oh…that was exciting. Helen loved watching crime shows, and she’d always imagined saying just that.
Miss Trent’s nostrils flared. Good. The little bitch hadn’t liked that answer. Helen would see how many more nostril flares she could get out of her.
“Let me get this straight, Helen. You had a challenging childhood and weren’t lucky in love. Because you couldn’t have children and decided to foster, you lied on the application in order to do so. Then, for thirty years, you’ve been seen as the shining light of the foster parent world. What happened? Why only a few years ago did you decide to build your thinking box?”
; The evil woman pulled out some receipts. Helen leaned forward and snatched them out of her hands. It was for the soundproofing material inside the box. Where did they find all this information?
Helen lifted her chin and tossed the receipts onto the floor. “Because children are getting worse and worse as the internet and social media and video games take over their lives. They need a place to think about their behavior. It has worked very well, I would say.”
“Was Linus your first guest in the box?”
A younger Linus’s face flashed before her eyes. She clearly remembered the look of horror on his expression when she caught him…masturbating. Such a sin.
“He learned.”
Miss Trent lifted an eyebrow. “Learned what?”
“How to behave properly, of course.”
“How long did it take him to learn to behave properly? One day?”
Helen rolled her eyes. “It takes more than one day to break a habit, Miss Trent.”
The young woman looked horrified. “Twenty-one days?”
Helen rolled her eyes again. “Of course not. When a person is emerged into the behavior they need to practice, it doesn’t take that long.”
“A week?”
The woman wasn’t going to let this go. “More or less. I really can’t remember. The point is that Linus’s emergence changed his character for the good.”
“So, killing people is for the good?”
Helen slammed both hands on the table. “That boy is righting an upside-down world.”
“He’s murdering innocent people.”
“He’s giving those children justice!” Helen screamed at the top of her lungs. Maybe they would listen now.
“Was it Linus’s idea or yours to murder the parents?”
“Mine!”
“Helen!” Putnam clamped his hand around her arm, but the word was already out.
Helen was on her feet so fast she even surprised herself. Her hands were out, and she was reaching…reaching…reaching…
Then she was on the floor, and someone had their knee in her back.
Mr. Putnam was yelling. Sheriff Morton was yelling too.
Miss Trent knelt right beside her, her expression smug once again. “Maybe you should go back to your thinking box, Helen. If you’re lucky, the good state of Oregon will let you out in twenty-five years or so.”
Helen tried to spit on the woman, but the little bit of saliva she managed just dripped down her chin. “Let me up! Let me up!”
The door was opening, more footsteps rushing in. Then she was hauled to her feet in a single motion.
The same deputy that had led her here had her by the arm. She yanked, but he didn’t let her go. But instead of taking her back to her cell, he spoke directly to the sheriff.
“We just got a call. The man claims to be the killer.”
Helen began yanking again. “He wants to talk to me.” The deputy began dragging her from the room. “Let me talk to him!”
She was still screaming as he took off her cuffs and sat her firmly on the little cot. She didn’t stop until the door clanged behind him.
Linus had called.
That could only mean one thing.
The thought calmed her immediately.
He was a good boy. Such a good little boy.
And he was going to finish his mission.
By the time she lay back on the cot, she was smiling.
29
Where was she?
It was taking forever for them to put Autumn what’s-her-name on the line. I paced back and forth in front of the SUV. I had parked way out of sight of the closest road, just to be careful, even though I knew they wouldn’t be able to trace my burner phone.
Linus Careful Ashby. That should have been my name.
The engine was warm when I leaned against the hood, the tick, tick, tick soothing. My ears were cold, and I wanted to look in the back seat for my stocking hat, but they kept telling me that Autumn would be there any second, and I didn’t want to miss her.
Just when I was about to hang up, there she was. “Linus? Is that you?”
The use of my name was so surprising that it made me jump.
They knew who I was? How?
Everything had been so perfect.
When Kyle Murphy had pulled up the night I saved Gina, it was like it had been meant to be. I’d made his killing quick because, aside from him being Gina’s boyfriend when I wanted that title, he hadn’t hurt nobody that I knew of.
Collateral damage.
That was what the military called it. Fitting. I was in a war myself, so that label worked as good as any, I guessed.
“Linus?”
Had they found Kyle’s body?
I hadn’t been watching the news too much today. Been a little too busy for such amusements.
No. It couldn’t be Kyle. I’d been so careful. Sure, his arrival so late that night had been as much of a surprise as finding Gina still in the house. But I’d taken him down, then drove his Jeep right over the county line and sank it nice and deep in the lake. I’d been back at my SUV only five or so minutes later. Probably less if I’d timed myself. I’d been running like the wind.
Killing was an adrenaline rush.
“Linus!”
The tone of the psychiatrist’s voice made me jump again. It also made me mad.
“Don’t talk to me like that!”
She was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. I just thought we’d lost connection for a minute. Are you okay?”
“Never mind about me. Where’s Mrs. Helen?” I punched my thigh as I paced. I needed to talk to Mrs. Helen. “What did you do to her?”
I’d called her house last night, and someone who wasn’t her answered the phone. When I’d asked for Mrs. Helen, they’d asked for my name in return. Something was wrong, I’d known it.
Knowing this land like the back of my hand, I’d snuck in through the back woods, staying tight against other buildings until I had a line of sight of her house. It had been crawling with cars and vans. Some were local. Some said they were from Portland. Some said the FBI.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Mathers is safe.”
I let out a relieved breath and noticed a flock of geese flying in the distance. “Can I talk to her?”
“Not right now.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s been arrested, and she’s already had her phone call for today.”
I stared at the V formation in the sky. Surely, I hadn’t heard that right.
“Arrested? For what?”
“It’s an ongoing investigation, so I can’t say over the phone. But if you come into the station, I can tell you everything. I’ll even make sure that you get to see Mrs. Mathers.”
It was a trick. Why did everyone think I was so stupid?
I balled up my fist and slammed it down on the hood of my SUV. I did it again, and again, and again, but the rage still burned deep inside.
“Do you think I’m stupid, doc?”
“No. I actually think you’re incredibly intelligent. Do you know how many people could get away with murdering thirteen people?”
Thirteen? Was it really that many? I guessed so.
Thirteen was a bad number, though. I needed to do something about that right quick.
“Well, if you think I’m so intelligent, then you’ll trust my intelligence,” I slurred the word nice and long, “when I say that Mrs. Helen ain’t done nothing. And you can tell that stupid bitch Sheriff Morton that I said so.”
“That isn’t true, Linus. We know everything.”
What did they know?
“You got to let her out. Who else is going to take care of those kids? Nobody. Nobody is going to try. I know that her methods are a little different, but it’s a matter of life and death. If these kids don’t have nobody on their side, what’s going to happen to them?”
“Did Helen tell you to kill anyone, Linus?”
I shrugged. I didn’t mind lying in order to save Mrs. Helen
a little bit of trouble. “Hell, no. She doesn’t know anything about it. Why would she?”
“She seems to know a lot about you.”
“She’s a kindred spirit.” I rubbed a hand across my face. “She’s been through a lot herself. Can’t you see that? She took what she learned as a kid, which was how to keep her family together after her mom left her, and passed it on to all those kids of hers. She’s done more good in this life than you or anyone else with a stack of letters after their name is ever going to do.”
“Linus, I—”
“You know what? She could have blamed me for not being able to keep my family together, but she didn’t. She taught me what to do so that I’d never lose someone like I lost my dad again. She took pity on me. She taught me how the world worked. I’m grateful to her, can’t you see that? Too bad she couldn’t do anything with my mom. My mom’s a pile of shit. She always has been and always will be.”
I forced myself to stop walking. I was just getting myself worked up. Autumn was trying to get me worked up. That was why she was letting me go on like that.
I breathed in deep through my nose and held it. I needed to convince them to let Mrs. Helen go, that was all.
“I normally wouldn’t be talking about a woman like that.” I scratched the back of my neck. Every time I exhaled, a little of my rage left my body. “But my mom was the worst of the worst. She chased my dad off. She turned him into an alcoholic and kept him on edge all the time. She’d piss him off and he’d hit her. He’d be so upset about the fight that she started that he would turn to drink. Until she kicked him out of the house and told him never to come back.”
“I’m not sure that’s—”
“Shut up!” It wasn’t Autumn who was in charge of the conversation. It was me. I was the one she was supposed to be listening to. “You keep your opinions to yourself. You weren’t there, you don’t know how it happened.”