And Then She Was Gone

by Noonan, Rosalind

  “You are a gifted artist,” Rachel murmured, as if she were in church. “We always knew that. We saved every sketchbook you filled, every nursery school glitter star and grade school art project.”

  Sis tugged both sleeves over her hands, wishing she could vanish inside the hoody. This was embarrassing, but part of her was relieved that they liked her paintings in the house. The artist inside was always hungry for validation. “So the police chief wanted you to see my artwork?”

  Rachel nodded. “He thinks it’s important to let you decide what should be done with it. If you want to keep it, we can probably make arrangements with the farm’s owner to remove it. If you want it destroyed, we’ll respect your decision. Either way, it looks like the buildings of the compound will be razed in the next year or so.”

  So the compound would be flattened . . . that scared her. Where would she go, if she couldn’t go back there?

  “You can think about the artwork,” Rachel said, leaning toward her with tenderness in her eyes. “There’s time. But there’s something else we need to ask you about, something that can’t wait.”

  Sis looked down at the sodden grass, not wanting to face the inevitable question. The answer was no. No, she was not going back to live with them.

  “I don’t want to upset you, but we have to ask about the plot of land in the corner of the compound. There was a little plaque there that said R.I.P. Mac. You know what I’m talking about?”

  Sis glanced up sharply. “Yeah. Mac’s grave.”

  “Only it’s not really her grave. The FBI dug up the area and they didn’t find Mac’s body. Just a shoe box that seems to be filled with her things.”

  “Well, yeah.” Sis’s mouth had gone sour, and she took a quick sip of cocoa, which was growing cold. “We couldn’t bury Mac there, not really. When she got sick, Kevin took her to the hospital. He said they gave her medicine and oxygen and stuff, but she was just too far gone. When it was all over, people started asking a lot of questions, and Kevin got nervous. He didn’t want anyone coming around the compound, snooping around, and besides, he didn’t have the money to pay those medical bills.”

  Rachel’s eyes glimmered. Were those tears? In the dying light, it was hard to tell. “So he left her body at the hospital. Is that what he told you?”

  Sis nodded. “He said they would do the right thing. Respectful and everything.”

  “Do you know what hospital he went to?” Paula asked.

  Sis hated that she never had the details. These people probably thought she was an idiot. “He never told me stuff like that. He said I couldn’t be trusted.” It had been a terrible time. Sis had been sick, too, with a raging fever and thick pain in her throat that had made it hard to swallow. Kevin had blamed her for getting Mac sick, blamed her for not getting up to take care of her girl, but how could she when her head weighed a ton and the room spun around her? He took Mac away sometime in her delirium. She had dozed off with a wheezing baby girl in her bed and awakened to velvety silence.

  “I was sick when he took Mac away. I’ll never forgive him for that. Yes, she was sick, coughing and wheezing, crying and fighting for every breath. But at least he could have let me come along to the hospital. I could have kept Mac calm, held her hand and rocked her.” It still haunted her to think of her little girl leaving this world without her mama at her side.

  Rachel shook her head. “That must have been so hard for you. Especially when you needed a doctor, too. Did he ever take you to see a physician?”

  “No, but that time he brought me some pills. Said I had scarlet fever, and if I didn’t want to die, I’d better take them.”

  “Oh, Lauren, I’m so sorry.” Rachel leaned closer, and this time Sis didn’t feel the need to back away. “You know, today when I found out that the grave was empty, I actually had a moment of hope. Maybe it’s crazy, but I started to wonder, what if Kevin lied about her dying? What if Mac recovered and she’s out there somewhere.”

  The breath caught in Sis’s throat. This idea—this was a dream she had spun in her mind a thousand times but had always tamped down as a wild wish. “I’ve thought about that. Hoping and praying. But then I realized that it didn’t make sense. If Mac had gotten better, Kevin would have brought her back to the compound. I mean, what else would he have done out there with a three-year-old girl? Besides, Mac was attached to me. She would have wanted to come home.”

  “But would Kevin have cared about what Mac wanted?” Rachel’s voice still held sympathy, but there was a flame of conviction that seemed to light the space between them. “He had already separated one girl from her family. I don’t think he would have hesitated to do it again.”

  “Rach, let’s not go down that road.” There went Dan, playing the dad. “It’s wrong to build false hope.”

  “We don’t know that it’s false,” Rachel insisted.

  Paula held up one hand to stop the conversation. “Before we jump to any conclusions, let’s hear what Kevin Hawkins has to say. Chief Todd is going down to the prison tomorrow to try to find out what he did with Mac’s remains. When we get more information, we can proceed from there.”

  With that, Paula wrapped up the visit. It was nearly dark as the four of them rose and headed into the lake house, where the row of yellow-lit windows on the bottom floor and the two windows upstairs made a smile pattern. A big, bright, shining grin. It reflected the tiny wiggle of hope inside Sis, the crazy idea that her little girl might still be alive and breathing and even laughing somewhere on this planet. It was something good to hold on to, something to pray for when she closed her eyes tonight in bed.

  As her new white sneakers shuffled on the path, Sis watched clouds and mist wander in front of the milky moon glow. How many times had she sent a message to the moon, hoping it would bounce back from her parents and wake them into coming to find her? At the time, she hadn’t known they were looking for her. Had they stared at the moon and sent her a message, too? When she had scrubbed dishes in the slop sink and sung that song she used to sing with Mom, maybe it wasn’t just silliness she was feeling. Maybe Mommy had been thinking of her at the same time. She wanted to believe that her parents wanted her back, but Lauren couldn’t get past the invisible wall between them—the constant reminder that her parents had not saved her. They’re not even looking for you anymore, Kevin had told her. You’re a lost cause.

  Chapter 24

  The sound of steel doors slamming in a concrete chamber in the Clackamas County Jail chipped away at Hank’s composure. He had already surrendered and vouchered his gun with the property clerk, and now he sorely felt the loss of that familiar weight on his waistband. He never liked this part, locked in with men who had killed, raped, and sold their souls at the altar of crystal meth or heroin. Generally, Hank’s job as Mirror Lake’s police chief kept him away from prison corridors. His time was spent in the precinct, out on the streets, and in schools and communities. The grip and grin, Lieutenant Dillon called it. Hank was in his element when he was reassuring business owners about crime stats or reviewing safety precautions with grade-schoolers. But here, in the county jail, he was out of his element.

  “You should let me do the talking.” Bradley mopped his brow with a handkerchief as they followed the guard down the corridor. “I sat in on Elliot’s interview with him, and this guy is a sociopath. Did you know he refused a lawyer? He was going to defend himself. He’s that good. Or, at least he thought so.” Bradley Troutman seemed more nervous than Hank to be inside the prison. An assistant district attorney for Clackamas County, maybe Bradley was jittery to be entrusted this interview by the big cheese, DA Elliot Gustin. Or maybe it was just the finality of those doors sealing shut behind them.

  “How are you planning to play it?” Hank asked.

  “No games. I’m a straight shooter. Elliot told me to ask him the questions and keep it at that. In and out and back to the office.”

  “What if he doesn’t answer your questions?” When Bradley squinted at him, Hank went
on. “I’m just saying, men behind bars like to be cajoled and indulged. Especially sociopaths. Sometimes if you humor them, you can make a connection. Get them to talk. In the end, it’s all about saving face.”

  “Shit, Hank. I don’t want to have beers with the guy. I just want him to tell me where the kid’s body is buried.” Bradley’s heart was in the right place; he couldn’t help that he was young and inexperienced. Elliot should have known better than to send someone so green on a case this important.

  “It doesn’t work that way. He’s got no reason to give you what you want. Especially if it means he’s giving us evidence to charge him with a homicide. He hasn’t even confessed to the kidnapping yet. He’s still standing by the story that he saved the girl from homelessness. He thinks he’s a hero because he gave up her location at the farm. He figures that, otherwise, she would have died there while he was spending a stretch in jail for the attempted robbery.”

  “A real humanitarian,” Bradley muttered.

  “Did he finally lawyer up?”

  “The court assigned him someone. Elliot said this case is too big for the judge to risk a mistrial. Whether or not Hawkins takes the attorney’s advice, that’s his loss.”

  Even before Hank and Bradley were seated across from Hawkins and his lawyer, Hank sensed that the lawyer would not be an obstacle.

  It was Hawkins who was the problem.

  “I can’t help you with that one, man,” Hawkins answered when Bradley asked him the location of the little girl’s grave. “I don’t know anyone named Mac. Is that a girl or a dude?”

  Bradley’s lips curled in a bitter smile. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. The three-year-old girl who died this past February. Your daughter. Or do you not have an ounce of compassion for your own flesh and blood?”

  “Whoa.” Hawkins held his hands up in defense and mock shock. “If I’d wanted a sermon, I would have asked for the prison chaplain.”

  Although Hank wasn’t surprised by the suspect’s broad denial, the bravado and smugness irked him.

  “We know about the little girl. Mackenzie?” Bradley stood his ground, but the sheen of sweat on his upper lip revealed his uneasiness. “You kidnapped Lauren O’Neil when she was just a girl. You raped her, and she bore your child, who died, we think of natural causes. I’m asking you to help us out here.”

  “Why would I want to help you?”

  “If you give us the body, we’ll knock down the homicide charge for Mackenzie Hawkins. Lauren says you tried to get her help at a hospital. Tell us where you took her and we could bring it down to negligent homicide, if you help us locate the body.”

  “You’re so generous.” Kevin Hawkins’s smile softened his face, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Hank read sarcasm. Kevin was a good-looking guy, with those blue eyes, an enviable head of hair, and a smile that could have won him a toothpaste commercial. The kind of smile women liked. Even the candy-cane striped uniform issued to the highest risk of the county inmates did not emasculate this guy. You had to wonder why Hawkins didn’t go for a real relationship with a woman instead of a heinous transgression with a child.

  “It’s a good offer,” Bradley said. “You want a few minutes to talk to your lawyer?”

  “I would like to confer with my client.” Leon Marino, a fiftyish guy with an East Coast look—maybe it was the suit, maybe the salt-and-pepper curls that seemed to be jelled and coiffed—turned to gauge Hawkins’s reaction.

  But the suspect did not acknowledge Marino’s existence. “Here’s what I’m going to tell you. That girl is crazy with a capital C. First of all, I never kidnapped her. She came to me, asking me for a ride. Begging me to take her away from the shit going on at home.”

  Hank’s vision glazed with annoyance as Hawkins spun a tale of abuse in the O’Neil home. An obvious lie. After Lauren had gone missing, Dan and Rachel had been checked out thoroughly, and the firefighter and teacher had proved clean as a whistle. From his relationship with them over the past six years, Hank knew they were solid, good people.

  “She was running for her life,” Hawkins went on. “A runaway, not a victim. I just helped her by giving her food and a place to stay.”

  “And raping her when she was eleven?”

  “That word—it hurts my ears.” Hawkins winced. “Did she tell you that? I mean, is that the story she came up with? Because it’s a lousy lie. First of all, you can’t prove that I laid a hand on her, can you? I mean, in the biblical sense?”

  “I’m not going to discuss our case with you.” Bradley folded his arms and leaned back, a sign that he was closed for business.

  Probably because Hawkins was right about proving the statutory rape. Hank thought of the doctor’s report, the gray areas there. Even if the hymen wasn’t intact, it did not prove that a woman had engaged in sexual intercourse, let alone born a child.

  But the fractures in Lauren’s leg were very real.

  “She’s wearing a cast from the multiple fractures in her left leg,” Hank offered. He kept his voice low and calm, so low that Hawkins had to lean forward slightly. “I’d say that’s pretty good proof of physical abuse.”

  “She’s clumsy.” Hawkins’s blue eyes iced over as he looked at Hank. “She used to trip and fall all the time. Not my fault.”

  “Leaving all that aside for now, what about the little girl?” Bradley asked, reentering the conversation. “This is your chance to redeem yourself, Kevin. Tell us where you put Mackenzie’s body.”

  Scratching the bristle on his jaw, Kevin squinted at the assistant district attorney. “Mackenzie, who?”

  Chapter 25

  It wasn’t so bad, doing the interviews all day long. With Paula, her silver angel nearby, Sis felt protected, as if her own guardian angel had finally arrived after all these years of praying and wishing on stars. Also, with each story she told, new memories came bounding back, like a big dog racing across a field. It was good to get everything out, and the quiet room decorated like a nice living room gave Sis a chance to see herself in a different way, as if she were looking down into the compound from a cloud in the sky, watching the years go by in a fast-moving reel of film.

  In her second day at the Children’s Center, Sis was beginning to understand what a good idea this place was. Since they had taped her interviews with her social worker and the police chief, she would only have to go through most of these questions once. That was good, when it came to the embarrassing things like Kevin riding her and the sad things about losing Mac. It was okay to spill the details to Paula, but she couldn’t imagine talking about that personal stuff in front of strangers like the cops and the people in suits from the district attorney’s office.

  The only problem was the closed-in feeling of being trapped by four walls. Sis has learned to like being outside. It was her escape. When things weren’t going well, she needed to let her mind squeeze out the window and float off in the clouds. Paula understood that. She let Sis take lots of breaks so that she could go out in the back, on the swings, to get some fresh air. In Sis’s mind, this was day two of freedom, and her body was relaxing into the comfort of sitting in a soft chair and sleeping in a real bed. And the textures of clean clothes and sheets, of a buttery croissant still warm from the bakery, of a fluffy, sweet-smelling towel to bury your face in.

  The textures of this world could be soft and calm as a summer sky. This was one thing Kevin had lied about; it wasn’t all condemnation and shame out in the real world. There were plenty of wonderful things that she had been missing.

  Today, Wynonna was helping Paula ask questions, and though Sis felt a twinge of shyness around the lean, strong therapist, there was also a glimmer of admiration. Wynonna Eagleson reminded Sis of a Wild West hero like Annie Oakley, except instead of shooting guns Wynonna was an expert horsewoman. Wynonna had promised Sis that she could learn to ride as part of her therapy. Sis had always wanted to be around horses, mostly to study the musculature so she could draw her unicorns bett
er, but to think that she might get better by falling in love with a horse, well, that warmed her heart.

  The sun was out today, having burned off the marine layer of the morning. Sis closed her eyes and let her hair dip into the warm light as she stretched back on the swing.

  “Who was your favorite character in all the shows you watched?” Wynonna asked, pumping her legs on the swing beside Sis.

  Sis knew that answer right away. “Ruthie on Seventh Heaven. She’s honest and she says what she thinks, like me. When I was pregnant, I hoped for a daughter like Ruthie, a little girl with a heart of gold. That’s what I prayed for. And that time, I guess God was listening, because he gave me a little baby girl. At first I wanted to name her Ruth, but Kevin said it sounded too biblical, and that creeped him out. So I named her after the girl who plays Ruthie. Mackenzie is the actress’s real name.”

  Wynonna had slowed her swing to a gentle sway. “Kevin controlled every aspect of your life. Do you see that? He even made you change the name that you wanted to give your baby.”

  Sis shrugged. “Yeah, but Mac did fit her.”

  “Even if it did, I’m wondering if you’re aware of the way Kevin made you depend on him. It’s typical of kidnappers; I want you to know that. They take away the subject’s autonomy. You came to rely on him for food, clothing, shelter, and a place to sleep. For a prolonged period of captivity, you couldn’t wash up or use the bathroom without his permission and instruction. It was his way of taking away your freedom and control.”

  “I know that. I couldn’t stop him from controlling me.”

  “I know. For some people there’s a safe feeling in letting someone else take care of everything. Other people hate to be controlled.”

  The metallic click of the stun gun made her quiver inside. She blinked and squeezed the chains of the swing. It was just a sound in her head, but it was embedded there, cold and vivid. Sis would never forget it.