by Mira Gibson
There were stitches along her lower abdomen sealing what appeared to be stab wounds, which resonated Candice’s account. The wounds appeared to be healed, now merely streaks of pink scar tissue. Again, the same medical precision had been employed.
Upon further inspection, he confirmed she’d received no lethal blows to her chest.
What the hell had killed her?
Cody heard tires crunching over gravel and glanced over his shoulder to discover his Chief pulling in along with the medical examiner and coroner, which meant forensics couldn't be far off.
When he returned his gaze to Kendra his heart gave a start then pounded hard against his chest cavity.
Her eyes were open.
Suddenly, she gasped for air, failing her arms and trying to dig her heels into solid earth that wasn’t there.
“Get over here!” Cody yelled over his shoulder without taking his eyes off her. “Kendra, Kendra, I’m Detective McAlister. Can you hear me?”
She kept failing, eyes wild with terror, as she jerked this way and that, panicking to take in her surroundings, understand where she was.
Gently, he held her and again asked if she could hear and comprehend him. “I need you to stay calm. We’re going to get you to the hospital.”
She was whimpering and gasping in a fitful display of terror and utter confusion.
“You were abducted-”
She frantically nodded then grasped hold of his forearm just as the medical examiner breathed his astonishment, setting a gurney down into the mud with a clank.
“Holy fucking hell, it’s a God damned miracle,” Chief Marley blurted out as soon as he saw her. He dropped his two hundred pounds of pure muscle to the mud, police hat slipping off the side of his head on impact, and the men were soon lifting her onto the gurney and hoisting it to stand.
Miracle was too small a word.
As they rolled her towards the driveway, Cody shifted his gaze from Kendra, whose hand he held tightly, to the house. If Dale was behind this, the last thing Cody wanted was for him to know the unlikely turn of events.
In the form of a statement, he asked the Chief, “Let’s keep this quiet.” Marley cocked a brow at him. “Keep it between ourselves until we catch the son of a bitch.”
Seeing the strategy, Chief Marley frowned his agreement. “Admit her under Jane Doe.” Then he stared, wide-eyed at Kendra as though he still couldn’t believe it. Glimpsing the ambulance turning into the drive, Marley angled the foot of the gurney towards it, while Cody jogged up to the driver, barely an adult and toting a Red Sox cap sideways.
Immediately, he asked him not to use the siren.
“Get her to Sanbornton Mercy fast,” he added. “She’s alive.”
The driver responded with “Copy that” as though he’d chosen the wrong profession.
Reaching the rear of the vehicle, Cody assisted Marley and the medic by forcing the gurney’s legs to collapse as they slid Kendra into the vehicle.
When the Chief shut the doors, Cody banged the side of the ambulance, prompting it to back out, swing around, and start off for the hospital.
“We need at least two officers outside the ICU for her,” Cody told his Chief.
Demonstrating his uncertainty, Marley worked his jaw some. “We’re spread thin. Already got two officers on Gerrity and Abbott.”
“Chief.” Cody stepped in close to illustrate the severity of the situation, but it came off as overbearing or so Cody gleaned judging the way the Chief sidestepped him. “Kendra was supposed to be dead. We don’t know who this guy is. We won’t have any way to see him coming. And he will if he catches wind she’s survived.”
Marley drew in a deep breath and clenched his jaw. “I’d have to pull my guys off the kids.”
A vehicle crawled towards them, which Cody briefly glanced at. Trees swaying over the sun were the stark reflection that danced across its windshield, but Cody was able to spy Hannah through the glass.
“We’ll catch him, son.” Marley grasped his shoulder like an olive branch, making up for his past recoil. “I’ll go to the hospital, stand post, pull the others off the kids. Hell, I’ll put Sandy outside them kids room. We’ll be spread thin, but we’ll make it work.”
The thought of Sandy, frumpy and frazzled, standing post with a shotgun outside of Dalton and Blake’s room both worried and filled Cody with an overwhelming sense of travesty, but he thanked his Chief and smirked when Marley jabbed his shoulder as a parting gesture.
After he took off for Sanbornton Mercy, Cody met Hannah at her car just as she was climbing out.
If the essence of misery could be personified, it’d look like Hannah - pink, puffy eyes filled with loss, mouth clenched and quavering, posture frail as a paper doll. He could almost see the thoughts in her head tormenting her.
She wasn’t looking at him, but at the lake, searching for her mother, as she folded her arms against the gusting wind.
“Hey.” It didn’t draw her attention.
“Where is she?”
“Ambulance took her.” He squeezed her shoulder, which drew her gaze to him. “I’ll tell you what’s going on, but you can’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”
Her expression broadened, eyes wide, breath quickening. She didn’t even blink.
“I got a couple officers with Dale in the house. The girls are at school?”
“Yeah,” she responded on a shallow breath then her gaze wavered. “Mary cut, but I’m sure she’ll be back in time for me to pick them up.”
“She cut?” Decisively, Cody filed his curiosity in the lower priority quadrant of his brain. “Dale said he noticed her body on the shore.”
Hearing as much, Hannah’s hands slapped over her mouth to stifle a sob so he spoke quickly.
“He thought she was dead. So did I.” Cody leaned in and spoke low. “She’s alive.” Then he eased back, reading her reaction.
A moment passed before the information took hold. He watched her rise up out of despair into brief incomprehension, pass through a state of understanding, and arrive at unbridled exultation like she’d just been saved by the rapture.
Her hands were over at her mouth, this time muffling fits of laughter that soared on the wings of relief.
“She’s alive?” she whispered. “Alive.”
“Hannah, listen to me. This is extremely important.”
In an instant, every part of her was alert, listening.
“No one can know she’s alive. Not Mary, not Candice, not Dale. I don’t care if you’re alone in the forest and get the urge to tell a tree. No one.”
“But the girls-”
“No one, Hannah. She’s in critical condition and we’ll have officers standing guard, but she’s vulnerable. If whoever this guy is finds out... We can’t risk it.”
“Okay.” She looked as though she was wrapping her mind around how she might lead on in front of the girls. “What do I do?”
Sensing someone might be coming, Cody glanced over his shoulder at the house, but they were alone.
“Dale thinks she’s dead. You’re going to proceed as though she is.”
“Christ, Cody.” She closed her eyes, wincing. “You want me to tell Mary and Candice their mother turned up dead?”
“And I want you to proceed with a memorial. I want an obituary in tomorrow’s paper. The whole nine yards. Hey, hey,” he said, catching her by the shoulders as she folded in on herself, head hanging with the weight of a lie that was too great. “It’s only until I get him.”
When she returned her gaze, she asked, “How am I supposed to pull off a memorial without a body?”
“Body’s in evidence,” he supplied. “Simple as that. Make arrangements with the church Dale likes so much.”
“Okay.” She seemed to ride a swell of apprehension then asked him, “It's Dale, isn't it?”
“Once I talk to Kendra, I'll confirm.”
Chapter Twenty
Cody planned to stay with Kendra in the hospital, watch over her th
rough the night to ensure she wouldn’t be attacked, and God willing, pull as much information out of her as soon as she was stable, which left Hannah to deliver the harrowing lie to her sisters.
She knew it was a Band Aid on a bullet wound, but she picked up a case of Coors and two gallons of ice cream for the girls, and a jug of whiskey for herself, feeling like a traitor all the while.
As she drove to the school, she reminded herself it was only a matter of time before the girls would know the truth and be reunited with their mother. They’d understand why Hannah had no choice but to lie. They’d forgive her.
She kept her eye on Mary the entire drive home, thoughts of the black Saab and her strange dealings in the park causing her brain to burn.
When they reached Cody’s house she sat the girls down at the dining room table, provided Mary a cold can of beer, and passed Candice a gallon of Rocky Road with a spoon, then struggled through the lie she knew would break their hearts.
Mary quaked, tears erupting from her eyes, though her expression turned to steel. Candice’s eyes widened and she seemed to recede into her mind, gaze turning vacant, pupils dilating, until she was tucked so deep in there Hannah feared she'd never again come out.
“I’m going to make some calls,” Hannah softly explained. “Reserve the church for tomorrow. You might want to write down some nice words to read at the memorial.”
So badly she wanted to tell them it would be okay, show some hint things weren’t as they seemed, but she’d only come off looking callous and detached if she did.
They sat in silence, the air thick with despair, walls rising between them, isolating each to their grief.
Hannah felt herself slipping away as well, consumed by thoughts of the lake. Just days ago, she’d lost herself to its icy waters. She’d floated like a corpse on its surface as though she were a living promotion. Yet, she’d lived and so had Kendra. The watery grave had claimed neither. Parents and children undergoing fates so similar she wondered why God had seen it fit to create two people instead of one.
Resonating the notion, Mary took a long haul from her beer, lifting her chin and letting the cold liquid fill her mouth, so like Dale that Hannah couldn’t help but stare - parents and children, one in the same, everywhere she turned.
She was jarred from her reverie when Candice, suddenly sour, lunged across the table at Mary, grabbing for her beer that splashed and sloshed as Mary jerked away yelling “Fuck off!” But screaming, Candice stole it, hurling the can against the wall. On impact, it exploded, mirroring the rage she couldn’t contain.
In delayed reaction, Hannah rushed to Candice and held her, but she slapped back, fighting to be freed.
With resignation, Mary said, “Leave her alone.” Her voice sounded hollow, as she crossed to the kitchen. “I’ll just get another one.”
Hearing her sent Candice into another screaming fit. “It’s killing us!” But Hannah held her back.
Mary glared at her younger sister as she passed through to the sliding glass door to let herself out.
“Candice, honey, it’ll be okay.” Hannah was kneeling, looking up at the girl, whose blue eyes were raw and fiery.
Her face scrunched into a snarl and she seethed, “You shouldn’t have come home.” Then she tore through the living room heading for the den where she vanished with a plop to the sofa.
She glimpsed the can of beer on the floor from the corner of her eye, its contents still gurgling out, pooling across the shiny wooden floor, but she couldn’t deal with it. Rounding the kitchen islet, she trained her gaze on the whiskey jug that was resting on the marble counter then when she reached the cabinets, grabbed a glass and poured generously.
When she joined Mary on the porch with her drink, the girl was staring out at the lake, dusk falling over smooth water. She was tempted to ask about the black Saab, the junkie Mary had courted so easily, the driver whose face she hadn’t seen. She wanted to ask about the luring letters, Mary’s signature, how it could’ve possibly come to pass that her name had been woven throughout this nightmare.
But Mary said, “I followed you.”
“What are you talking about?” She met her at the banister, but Mary didn’t acknowledge her.
“It was so long ago, but nothing’s changed.” She drank and Hannah studied her as though she could pinpoint where in her mind this memory stemmed from. “You looked so pretty.”
“When?”
“The night of your prom.”
Hannah’s stomach dropped.
“Your dress was yellow. It had no sleeves. It was too short.” She smiled faintly. “When you were showering I put it on. It was swimming on me.” She glanced at Hannah then returned her gaze to the lake. “I wanted to be just like you. I had all these fantasies in my head about what you’d do that night, what it would be like. I went there. Walked to the school through the dark.”
“You were only seven.”
“I knew where it was. I climbed a dumpster outside, watched you through the window. I never took my eyes off you.” Mary paused to drink then set the can on the banister so she could cross her arms to ward off the cold wind. “I heard Cody suggest the church. I knew where it was.”
Hannah breathed, “God.”
“It took me so long to get there. I didn’t even have a flashlight. It was drizzling.”
Hannah found herself praying hard that her sister hadn’t seen the worst of it.
“When I stepped through the door…” Mary cringed as though the memory was stealing her. “Those horrible sounds. What they did to you...” she trailed off. “I was petrified. I barely understood what I was seeing. I didn’t know what to do, what I could do. I felt so small. My mind kept screaming kill them.” Mary locked eyes with her, as shadows fell all around them. “I took to hiding in the bushes outside. Watched them boys take off. Waited for you to come out. I followed you home, walking yards behind you and feeling some small sense of duty like I could protect you on your journey home.” She swallowed hard, resting her gaze on her beer. “I just want to keep you safe, Hannah.”
Hannah fought deep, internal trembling. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold. Tears stung her eyes.
“I don’t know if he knew or he sensed it of if Daddy had been waiting for his moment to pull me into darkness, but later that night was the first time he handed me a beer. And it worked, Hannah. I drank and felt funky and tried not to look at his bloody knuckles; he’d gone after Cody hadn’t he?”
Her voice was a thread. “Yeah.”
“But it worked, drinking. It buried it, my rage, the hatred I held against myself. Candice doesn’t understand.” Again, Mary met her gaze. “But you do. Don’t you?”
Her response was a breath. Had it been more she would’ve shattered.
“It doesn’t make you forget, though. That’s where he lied.”
Witnessing what she had, warped Mary, weakened her, stripped her of hope. Had it filled her with delusions of grandeur? Had Mary staged all these horrors that had befallen Kendra in order to get Hannah back home just like she'd staged her own shooting? She couldn't see the answer in her eyes, though she searched.
“When you finally left us I knew that was the reason. Sure, Dale contributed and Kendra contributed, living in a shitty shack in the woods played its part. But it was that night, what you suffered, that drove you away. And I know if I could’ve stopped it if I could’ve saved you, or gotten their earlier and made Cody stay, you would’ve never walked out on us.”
It broke Hannah’s heart, because it was true.
Hannah mustered her voice. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“Yeah,” said Mary, defeated. She knocked back her beer. “I got you here. No matter what happens, I’m not letting you go.”
Comfort and trepidation twisted through her. Mary had been guarding so many secrets. Suddenly, her heart sank. Had Mary orchestrated this entire tragedy as a means to get Hannah back?
“I’m going to write up a little something for Mom,” she sa
id, pulling the sliding glass door open. “Maybe you can read it over, help me make it good?”
“Sure.”
She feigned a smirk in thanks then told her, “I don’t give a shit she’s dead so long as I have you.”
As soon as she was alone, Hannah sank to the porch; stunned.
***
The memorial was bizarre.
All over Sanbornton, people had crawled out of the woodwork and piled into the little, white church; every resident in attendance eager to pay their respects to a woman whose body wasn’t there. They’d crammed the pews, stood along the walls. Children sat in the aisle. There were even people looking in through the windows, straining to hear the pastor who had far too much to say about heaven, the final resting place.
Hannah was seated in the front row between Candice and Mary who clutched her hand as if doing so would give both of them strength. For what Hannah feared to imagine. Not to get through this, that was for sure. Mary had made herself clear Kendra’s murder had no effect on her.
Candice was staring through her eyebrows at a blown-up photo of Kendra - brown curly hair framing her face, eyes wide and mouth frozen in an awkward smile as though she hadn’t expected the click; which was rested on an easel, flanked by flowers to the left of the pastor.
Across the aisle, men dressed in duck hunting gear surrounded Dale whose tear-stained face kept shifting from his girls and the pastor. He’d already interrupted the proceedings several times to shout, “Make us whole, Jesus Christ!” To which his buddies had gripped his shoulders and aided him in quietly letting out his emotions.
Hannah couldn’t look at him.
Mary’s warm hand, her tight hold, made her uneasy.
And the way Candice didn’t blink, glaring through her eyebrows like a rabid animal as she took in her mother’s photo, set Hannah’s teeth on edge.
When it was the girls' turn to say a few words they approached the podium in soft, solemn steps. Candice tripped before she reached it, which the congregation found adorable, and though Mary righted her sister's balance she got zero credit for it. She kept her arm around her as they spoke. The fact that Kendra was recovering across town made their speeches all the more gut wrenching.