“No. She was quiet. But they… they put her in there, on her bunk, in handcuffs. When they found her in the morning, they took the handcuffs off before anyone got there to investigate, so they wouldn’t know.”
Everyone was quiet. Mrs. Sellers continued to cry, looking down at the photo album and stroking one of the pictures with her thumb.
“Sometimes when they arrest someone, and they lay them prone, with handcuffs on… it makes it harder to breathe… it’s called positional asphyxia. I’ve researched it…” Zachary explained, the guilt weighing heavily on him. “She was in that position all night…”
“All of these years,” Mr. Sellers said. “We’ve wanted to know why. If it really was just because she was… frail. Or if something happened. We knew about the arrest, but they said it couldn’t have had anything to do with her death. Just a coincidence.”
“Why didn’t they tell us?” Annie’s mother demanded. “Why didn’t they just tell us the truth from the start?”
“They were afraid of losing their jobs,” Mr. Peterson suggested. He rubbed Zachary’s shoulder, watching his face with concern. “Getting sued. The institution getting into the papers and losing their funding… there would have been a lot at stake for them, if it was determined that they caused or contributed to her death. Whoever made the decision to leave her there in restraints could have ended up in prison.”
“I never told anyone.” Zachary gulped. “I had to talk to one of the cops who came and investigated, but… I didn’t tell him she was left in handcuffs.”
“You were only a boy,” Mr. Peterson reminded him. “You couldn’t have known how important it was.”
“I did, though,” Zachary insisted. “I knew they were covering it up. I knew it would get them in bigger trouble if the cops found out.” He rubbed his eyes and arched his back, trying to loosen the tension in his shoulders. “But I was afraid to say anything. Berens… he’d beat the hell outta me if I did. I’d already gotten in trouble for making noise when they arrested her. Shouting and banging on the door. He’d already beat on me for that. I was just… I was too small to defend myself.”
His face burned. For years, he’d lived with his cowardice in keeping his mouth shut. He’d told himself that it didn’t matter. That it didn’t make any difference. When all along, he knew her parents deserved to know the truth. He’d balked when Mr. Peterson suggested he get in contact with them to make peace with his past.
But having gotten it out, finally letting the burden of his secret go, he felt the weight lifting from his shoulders. It was easier to breathe. He had thought that the pain in his chest was an aftereffect of the electrical shocks, but maybe there was more to it than that. The more he’d learned about Summit and the life children like Annie led, the worse he’d felt about failing Annie all those years ago.
“Thank you for coming,” Mrs. Sellers sniffled. “Thank you for finally giving us the answers.”
“I was worried… I would just be stirring things up.”
“No. We’ve never been able to let it rest. Maybe now… now that we finally know…”
Mr. Sellers nodded his agreement.
Mr. Peterson patted Zachary on the back. “You did the right thing, Zachary. Maybe now, you can let the past go too.”
“Let’s go see who’s at the door,” Ray-Ray’s mother said.
He didn’t like to leave his project, but she waited, holding her hand out for him, and eventually Ray-Ray got to his feet and took her hand and went with her to the door. The actors who came to the door didn’t ever want Ray-Ray, but his mother wanted him to be in the same room as she was. She said he got into trouble too fast if he was out of her sight.
“Who do you think it is?” she asked him.
“Jeremy Clarkson?” Ray-Ray suggested. Not because Jeremy Clarkson had ever come to his door. But that was who he would have liked it to be.
His mother laughed and shook her head. “What a silly boy.”
She opened the door and Ray-Ray saw immediately that it wasn’t Jeremy Clarkson. The man was smaller, his hair was darker, and he was not as old as Jeremy Clarkson.
“Hi, come in,” his mother said in a pleased voice. She tugged on Ray-Ray’s hand. “Aren’t you going to say hello to Mr. Goldman?”
The name triggered a memory in Ray-Ray’s brain. He blinked rapidly and tried to remember what it was.
The man he had met at Summit in a therapy session.
Give Mr. Goldman a hug.
He remembered the lines. Remembered the scene. Mr. Goldman was the man who had been kind to Ray-Ray. Had hugged him gently and made him feel safe. He had been there, in Ray-Ray’s therapy session. A special guest star.
Ray-Ray let go of his mother’s hand and moved toward Mr. Goldman. He stopped, facing him, and tentatively put out his arms. Mr. Goldman stepped forward and gently enfolded Ray-Ray, like two gears meshing together. Mr. Goldman patted him on the back, just like Ray-Ray remembered from the first episode. Ray-Ray did the same thing, patting Mr. Goldman on the back.
“Hey, bud. How’re you doing?” Mr. Goldman said in a soft voice.
Ray-Ray recognized the script. “I’m fine, how are you?” he responded, taking care not to run his words together.
His mother made a noise of approval and ruffled his hair. “Good job, Ray-Ray. How about showing Mr. Goldman what you’re working on?”
The two of them released their hugs and Ray-Ray took Mr. Goldman by the hand to lead him back to the kitchen. Mr. Goldman looked at the items scattered across the table.
“Well, this looks interesting. What are you doing?”
Ray-Ray looked at his mother. Before, he hadn’t been allowed to talk about cars. When he was at Summit, if he tried to talk about cars during therapy, Sophie got mad and yelled. But his mother nodded her head, which meant it was okay.
“Taking apart a carburetor,” he informed Mr. Goldman. “To clean it. See, this is the float,” he pointed. “These are the jets… that’s the choke.”
“Wow. That’s pretty cool!”
Ray-Ray looked back toward his mother. She was still smiling. He climbed up onto his chair and got back to work.
“He looks happy,” Mr. Goldman said.
“He is… much happier… and he’s still growing and progressing. I was always terrified that if we didn’t do all of the therapy we could, everything that was available in every aspect of his life, he’d stop his progress. They always told us the only reason he was learning was because of the therapy.”
“He looks like he’s learning plenty!” Mr. Goldman said with a chuckle. “I don’t know how to take a carburetor apart.”
Ray-Ray’s mother turned on the teakettle. Ray-Ray stopped and listened to it for a moment. He liked the way it ticked like a radiator when it was heating up.
“He’s learning more than just how to take cars apart. He was always good at that! But his speech is improving. Social skills. It used to take hours for him to unwind after getting home from Summit. He would be so stressed out and touchy. He keeps on an even keel better now. Our home life has really improved. Before… we were talking about when he would need to start residential at Summit. He was becoming so unmanageable at home.”
She paused for a long moment. Ray-Ray looked at her and saw her looking at Mr. Goldman with very shiny eyes. She touched Mr. Goldman on the arm like she might want a hug too. “Thank you. I never would have dared to pull him out of Summit before your investigation. I’m so sorry for what you had to go through, but without you, I never would have gotten my Ray-Ray back.”
Ray-Ray shook his head and picked up his screwdriver, pondering her meaning as he removed the air screw.
Zachary looked around the little diner and spotted the black woman and her daughter in the back, at a table near the kitchen. He could smell French fries and grilled cheese sandwiches. And ketchup. The good stuff.
Zachary led Margaret up to Ava’s table.
“Uh… hi.”
Ava had been talking to Ti
rza. She looked up from their conversation. “Oh! Mr. Goldman. I was watching for you, but then I got distracted.” She motioned for him to take a seat across from them. Zachary slowly sat down. He gave a nod to his companion.
“Margaret, this is Ava and Tirza.”
Margaret thrust her hand toward Ava before sitting down. She didn’t offer to shake Tirza’s hand, but gave a nod in her direction when Tirza looked up.
A slightly robotic voice came out of Tirza’s computer. “Hello Gold Man.”
Zachary grinned. “Hey. You got your voice back. How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Tirza spoke the word aloud immediately, as if cued, then shook her head and turned her attention to her keyboard, tapping something in. “No, not fine. Hurting,” her computer voice announced.
A couple of people sitting nearby turned to look at them, studied the computer and the girl, then eventually went back to their own conversations.
“I’m so sorry,” Zachary told Tirza. “How can I help?”
She shook her head. “Can’t… Not at Summit now… Done there… Thank you.” She raised her gaze from the computer and looked at him out the corner of her eye.
“You’re welcome… but I didn’t really do anything to help you…”
Ava reached across the table to grasp Zachary’s hand. “You did help. When I saw your video… I couldn’t leave Tirza there. Not one night. Not one more session. I don’t know what to do now…” She looked at Margaret and gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“We’ll talk it over,” Margaret assured her. “There are other options. If Summit closed tomorrow, there would be places for all of their residents to go. One way or another. I’d be out a job, but nothing would make me happier.” She turned her head to look at Zachary. “Not that I think they’re ever going to close their doors. But at least Zachary’s experience persuaded a few parents to pull their kids out. Maybe you can’t change the whole world… but you’ve changed the whole world for a few people.”
Zachary looked at Tirza, choking up. Physically, Tirza was completely different from Annie, but he could still see something of Annie in her. Maybe Annie’s memory would finally leave him in peace.
There were still too many Quentins and Angels trapped in Summit or other places they were being abused.
But maybe he had made a difference for just a few.
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ALSO BY THIS AUTHOR
Mystery/Suspense:
Zachary Goldman Mysteries
She Wore Mourning
His Hands Were Quiet
She Was Dying Anyway (Coming Soon)
He Was Walking Alone (Coming Soon)
Auntie Clem’s Bakery
Gluten-Free Murder
Dairy-Free Death
Allergen-Free Assignation
Witch-Free Halloween (Halloween Short)
Dog-Free Dinner (Christmas Short)
Stirring Up Murder
Brewing Death
Coup de Glace
Cowritten with D. D. VanDyke
California Corwin P. I. Mystery Series
The Girl in the Morgue
Looking Over Your Shoulder
Lion Within
Pursued by the Past
In the Tick of Time
Loose the Dogs
Young Adult Fiction:
Tamara’s Teardrops:
Tattooed Teardrops
Two Teardrops
Tortured Teardrops
Vanishing Teardrops
Between the Cracks:
Ruby
June and Justin
Michelle
Chloe
Ronnie
Medical Kidnap Files:
Mito
EDS
Proxy
Toxo (Coming Soon)
Breaking the Pattern:
Deviation
Diversion
By-Pass
Stand Alone
Don’t Forget Steven
Those Who Believe
Cynthia has a Secret
Questing for a Dream
Once Brothers
Intersexion
Making Her Mark
Endless Change
Preview of She was Dying Anyway
Z
achary Goldman?”
Zachary nodded distractedly at the man with the clipboard. The movers were wrestling his couch through the doorway of the apartment, turning and angling it to get it through. He wasn’t sure whether they were inexperienced or whether the door was narrower than a standard door. He hadn’t expected them to have any trouble getting his few pieces of new furniture inside.
“Mr. Goldman.”
“Yes?” Zachary’s eyes were drawn back to the bald, sweating man in a grey jacket, who was thrusting a clipboard toward him.
“I’m here to hook up the TV.”
Zachary had guessed as much from the crest on his uniform.
“Yeah, sure.”
“You need to sign the work order.”
Zachary pulled his eyes away from the movers again to scan the heading and the signature line of form on the clipboard.
“This says you’re done.”
“I am.”
“But you just got here.”
“I don’t need to do anything here,” the man said impatiently. “All of the wiring is done in the utility closet. I’m all done.”
“Oh… then I guess I need to test that it’s working.”
Their eyes were both drawn back to the movers as there was a crunch of the couch meeting the doorframe yet again and one of the movers swore angrily at the other.
“It is working,” the TV man said. “I’ve tested it all out.”
“But in here,” Zachary motioned to the apartment. “I should test it in here, make sure it’s hooked up to the right apartment.”
The bald man rolled his eyes at Zachary’s presumption. “Come on, buddy. I’ve got other jobs to do. This one has already taken longer than it should have.”
Since Zachary hadn’t even seen him until that moment, he had no way of knowing whether it was true, or whether it had been a two minute hook-up. He knew he really ought to check to make sure everything was working. If he signed the work order saying that everything was done, and then ended up having to call the company to get it fixed, it would be an extra charge. He looked at the movers in the doorway, wondering how much longer it was going to be before they could get the couch in through the door, so he could get in to test the TV and make sure he was getting all of the channels.
“Uh, if you’ll just wait for a few minutes…”
“Do you even have your TV unpacked yet?”
That was going to be another problem, Zachary realized. The TV wasn’t even out of the box yet. In fact, it was probably still down on the truck. He couldn’t remember it being brought in yet.
“No,” he admitted. “Could you maybe come back after your next job? Or take your lunch break now and come back in half an hour? I’ll get these guys moving and get it all plugged in…”
The man thrust the clipboard at him again. “Just sign the form, buddy. If there’s a problem, you’ll have to put in a call.”
“But how long would it take to get you back here?” Zachary had dealt with enough utility companies to know that it could be days.
“I’ve done my job. You’re not going to need anyone to come back. Just sign the form.”
Zachary sighed and took it from him. The form was dense with fine print, and he knew he should read it all, or at least skim through it before he signed it. There was another volley of swearing f
rom the movers, and a long creak of protest from the couch as they tried to bend it through the doorway. Zachary winced and looked over at them. He scribbled an unreadable signature on the form and handed it back to the TV guy, who took it, ripped off a carbonless copy for Zachary’s records, and left without a word of thanks. Zachary went over to talk to the movers about the couch.
“We’re going to have to cut it into sections,” the older of the movers said, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. “Otherwise, it’s never going through this door.”
Zachary looked at the damage they had already done to the doorway and the wall around it. The couch was obviously not going to fit. And he wasn’t sure how anyone was going to reassemble it if they cut it up to get it through the door. He imagined the pieces sitting in his new living room forever, unusable.
“It will have to go back to the store. I’ll have to get something smaller that will fit through.”
The two men looked at each other, rolling their eyes.
“Sorry,” Zachary apologized. “I’ll call them.”
At least his phone was a cell and didn’t have to be wired in at the apartment. He was sure that would have gone wrong too.
The movers left the couch in the hallway as they went down to bring the next piece of furniture in off the truck. Hopefully, the bed. He could live without anything else for a few days, but he was really looking forward to sleeping on a bed again, after the months of sleeping on Bowman’s couch. Not that the couch wasn’t comfortable. But it was a couch. He would have his own space back, out of Bowman’s way. A bed of his own. His own TV.
Zachary looked around the small apartment. He had viewed it in the evening a couple of weeks before, when the lighting had been softer, and it hadn’t looked quite as dingy as it did in the late morning sun. The landlord had said that he would repaint it, but it was obvious he hadn’t.
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