by Lissa Pelzer
‘You often get the midnight munchies?’ Caffey asked.
‘No.’ Chad knew what he was implying.
‘So, these days, you only occasionally smoke marijuana?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, so you smoke a lot?’
‘No.’
‘Well, which one is it?’
‘Neither. I don’t smoke.’
They exchanged another staged eye-contact moment and Caffey leaned over onto his knees.
‘But as you have a previous conviction for selling marijuana….’ He wrinkled up one side of his nose. ‘And as you deemed it worth the hassle to leave your house at four in the morning to go and get a burger, that kind of suggests, I would say, strongly suggests, that you had been smoking marijuana.’
‘I don’t smoke weed.’
‘Are you trying to say, you never smoked weed? Because you did admit to smoking weed in your statement dated…’
‘Back then, yeah, I smoked. But I got caught, right. I learned my lesson.’
‘I would have hoped so,’ Tanner said sadly.
‘I did.’
‘Well, for now, we’ll just have to earmark in the statement that you claimed to have not smoked on this occasion, but were incredibly hungry at four in the morning, for other reasons.’
‘I slept late on Sunday. I was awake later that night. I got hungry.’
‘Why did you sleep later on Sunday morning?’
Chad pressed his lips together to keep the ‘screw-you’ safely inside his mouth. ‘I was playing video games until late.’
‘Oh, you were? Who with?’
‘Me, myself and I.’
Caffey smirked. ‘Popular guy.’
‘Let’s carry on,’ Tanner said. ‘You were driving back on the County Road towards your home, your mother’s property at…’ He listed the address like it was a crime scene.
Chad leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his body, remembering the cops showing up there to ask him to come down to be interviewed.
The night of the accident, he’d gone to ER in the back of the ambulance and once they checked him over, he’d been let out. The black eye that Simon had given him with a cue ball and the cut on his face, were all attributed to the crash. He’d come home before his mom had woken up and gone straight to sleep, he’d laid low, not seen her in days after that and was still in his room when the cops came.
’This was your destination after visiting the burger place.’ Tanner looked up from his notes. ‘Where did you go? MacDonald’s?’
‘Yeah. I think it was MacDonald’s.’
‘You don’t remember?’
‘I eat a lot of fast food.’
‘Okay, fine.’ Tanner held up a hand. ‘On this occasion, you don’t remember which restaurant you visited, only that you did go to a fast food restaurant and you bought a burger of some description?’
And Chad blinked. No, he hadn’t been anywhere and while he’d planned on telling them he’d thrown the wrapper out of the window, now they were talking specific restaurants that probably meant they were going to ask around at some places. Maybe even check out the cameras.
‘You know,’ he said. ‘I hit my head on the windscreen when Officer Randal crashed into me.’
‘Watch what you say. This interview is regarding the accident involving your vehicle and the pedestrian Janine Kenny. The incident with Officer Randal will be dealt with in good time.’
‘But you know, that’s what they said at the ER. I had an injury consistent with my crash.’
‘I’m pretty sure Officer Randal has a few bruises from the accident too, but that’s a different matter.’
Chad held up a hand. He didn’t want to aggravate them. ‘I mean, I need to tell you, it just occurred to me. I didn’t get a burger. Sure, I went out for a burger, but I didn’t get one.’
‘Well, why the heck not?’ Caffey asked with a smile on his face.
And Chad thought back to that pulled over Freightliner and the two cop cars pinning it there like the guy was going to run.
He cleared his throat. ‘Because I didn’t have any cash on me. I’d forgotten it.’
Caffey and Tanner managed a millisecond long glance at each other.
‘Sure, I went out at four in the morning to get a burger, but it didn’t happen.’
‘Are you saying you just remember this now because you hit your head when you hit Miss Kenny?’
‘No. When Randal hit me!’
‘Officer Randal!’
‘When Officer Randal hit me!’
‘But that was after you’d been to the restaurant. How did a bump on the head make you forget your wallet before it had even happened?’
Chad opened his mouth to answer but couldn’t quite work it out either.
‘I guess, I guess…’
And Caffey leaned over. ‘Relax, Kid. You just tell the truth and everything will be fine.’
‘I am telling the truth! But it’s not that straightforward.’
And both Caffey and Tanner laughed before straightening up and carrying on.
‘Okay, let’s be square with one another. You would like to reiterate your original statement which says…’ Caffey picked up a photocopy of the sheet he’d written out and signed on Monday morning. ‘You headed out to get a burger and were returning along the County Road, when…’ Caffey paused and raised his eyebrows. ’While going through a stop sign, Officer Randal, and I quote, “...came at me from the right and ran into my truck, making it flip over.” That’s what you stated here.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, wait just a moment. You go on to say, you both got out of your vehicles and that while examining his vehicle, Officer Randal noticed the girl, lying in the road on his passenger side.’
‘Right!’ Chad edged forward. He wasn’t going to bring up that Randal pulled forward. His lawyer had advised him not to. Plus Randal had only done it to make it look like he hadn’t hit the girl. And he hadn’t, neither of them had. And once she came around, none of this would matter, she could say she found his truck and went to sleep in the back. It would all be straightened out.
Tanner pulled Caffey to the side. They exchanged a few words.
‘Okay, so in your statement, you don’t say Officer Randal hit the girl. You seem to have left that out.’
Chad looked down at his hands. He couldn’t say that he knew the girl was riding in the back because once he said that, everything would fall apart. It would lead to how he knew she’d been in the back, only after the accident. It would lead to him saying that she’d done it before. It would lead to the trailer park and Simon Snell, that so far, no one had mentioned.
‘An omission like that, in this case, might look like you’re trying to make a confession.’
‘I didn’t hit the girl.’
‘Then who, in your opinion, did?’
Chad sat back and rolled his eyes. He needed her to wake up and tell them she’d been in the back of the truck without his knowledge. And considering what information Chad had on her, he was pretty sure she’d be willing to do that.
‘God forbid, that young lady should lose her battle in there,’ Tanner said. ‘Then what? I’ll tell you what. We’re looking at a vehicular homicide case.’
Chad nodded.
Tanner leaned in ‘Do you understand me?’
‘Yes.’
There was a pause like the cops were waiting for something. Then a knock on the door and Caffey got up and stuck his head out, came back in and told the tape they were taking a break. He patted Tanner on the shoulder and gestured to the door and both detectives stepped outside.
Chad didn’t move from his seat. He tried not to look up either. This was a setup. He’d seen this on TV. They wanted to make him think she was dead and watch him on the other side of the one-way mirror to get his reaction.
Well, too bad because he knew what they were doing.
But, what if she really was dead? A cool sweat came up to the surface o
f his skin and prickled the pores. He should have told them. Maybe he needed to do it right now before they knew that he knew she was dead.
Chad glanced up at the mirror and tried to see if there were any shadows moving and if anyone really was back there, watching him. He couldn’t see a thing. Then the door opened and it was Tanner who came in alone.
‘You best go on home,’ he said. ‘Enjoy your evening.’
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘The girl’s awake.’
Chad sighed in relief.
‘Yeah, you better just hope she can tell us what happened and you better pray that she remembers it the same way you do.’
And he went out and left the door half open like a trap, but Chad went through it.
Janine
There was a face hanging over hers not six inches from her nose. A young woman with pink lipstick, blue eyeliner and a halo of blonde curls, beamed down on her.
‘Hello Janine,’ the face said. ‘You’re in the hospital. You had an accident. You hit your head, broke your collarbone and fractured your hip, but you’re going to be okay.’
‘Janine?’ she asked. ‘Who’s Janine?’
And another woman’s face came into sight, a much less colorful one with her hair pulled back and a pair of rimless glasses hovering on her nose. She pushed the one in pink lipstick out of the way.
‘I’m Dr. Mathers,’ this woman said dryly.
She came even closer towards her face, her rubber-gloved hand pulled at her cheek and she shone a bright light into her eye.
She cried out and tried to reach up to protect herself, but her hand felt heavy and numb. Half of the room descended into a firework show of explosions.
‘I’ll need to see the other one too,’ the doctor said and came at her again.
This time, she was ready and she let her.
‘Dilated,’ the doctor muttered. ‘Delayed reaction.’ She held her hand up. ‘Janine, can you squeeze my hand for me.’
Janine. The name meant nothing to her. Why were they calling her Janine? But she tilted her eyes to her chest and saw her body laid out under the sheets. There was a box above her stomach and a brace across her chest. She was in hospital. She saw the doctor’s gloved fingers in her hand and heard her repeat the request. She squeezed, but nothing happened. She tried again and then, as if as an afterthought, her hand closed.
The doctor started writing something down on a clipboard.
‘Janine. Can you tell me your last name, your family name?’
Janine opened her mouth to answer and the answer was on the tip of her tongue but it didn’t come out. ‘I…’
‘How about your birthday?’
Nothing.
‘Where do you live, Janine? Where’s home?’
‘I’m not Janine,’ she gasped. ‘Why do you keep calling me Janine?’
The doctor pressed her thin lips together. ‘Do you know your name?’
‘Of course, I do!’
‘Can you tell me your name?’
Now she had some feeling of there being an answer, but she didn’t know it. Her face stung. Her chest tightened. She began to cry.
Some more doctors came and some more left. They asked her questions and did pin prick tests. She was given something sweet and salty to drink and then offered Jell-O. Whatever they did, the blonde girl with the pink lipstick sat there with her, asking if it was okay. Then people came in again and asked her questions about the pictures they showed her. The pictures looked like drawings in a coloring book. They asked if she remembered seeing them before. She didn’t.
When the first doctor, Dr. Mathers came back in, she pulled a stool forward and leaned her hand on the frame of the bed.
‘Janine,’ she said. ‘We believe you are currently experiencing an episode of retrograde amnesia. Do you remember that I told you about the car accident?’
Janine said she didn’t and Dr. Mathers nodded.
‘That’s okay. You were in a car accident of some kind. We don’t know exactly what happened, but you hit your head. It’s quite common that people who hit their heads in car accidents have some memory loss. We call that amnesia. In your case, you have retrograde amnesia. That means you have forgotten things that happened in the past, and you are also having trouble remembering things that have happened more recently. The important thing is to not worry and to be positive. Most people start remembering once all the swelling goes down and the brain chemicals level out. We’re hoping that’s what happens to you and in the meantime, you’re going to stay here and we’re going to help you get better. Is that okay, Janine?’
Janine nodded, but she didn’t understand, not really. And outside her room there was the sound of voices, men’s voices, shouting and arguing.
‘For goodness sake!’ Dr. Mathers said, and she got up and opened the door.
Two men came in with their elbows out. They weren’t doctors or nurses.
The skinny one said, ‘We just need to ask one very small question.’
‘I’m sorry. No! Out!’ Dr. Mathers held out her arm.
But he didn’t go out. He stood there and looked at Janine like he wanted to eat her.
He pointed at her. ’She looks fine.’
‘She’s not fine. She’s far from fine!’ And a moment later, she ushered him out of the room.
The blonde woman, the candy striper, came to her side and took her hand. ‘Don’t worry, Janine. You haven’t done anything wrong. They just want to ask you about the car crash.’
And she squeezed her hand back as much as she could and said, ‘My name’s not Janine and I have done something wrong. I know I have. And you have to get me out of here!’
But the candy striper, Lauren was her name, she just smiled and stroked her hand and told her everything was going to be okay.
Davis
She had decided to get out of bed for the conversation with the local detective. He was a little shorter than she had imagined, but with regular, mid-western college-boy looks, he probably didn’t lose out because of it.
‘I’ve come to take a statement from you,’ he said. ‘I understand it’s a little awkward, given the circumstances. I spoke with your colleague.’
‘He said so, yes.’
‘You’ll no doubt be preparing a report for your own department, but up here in Ohio, we’ll be taking a statement.’ His lip curled a fraction of an inch.
Davis tried not to notice. She reached into the drawer where she had stowed her pad. ‘I’ve jotted down some notes.’
Kriegbaum laid the statement sheet between them and got up to look out of the window while she filled it in.
The statement covered her movements from the time when she left Carol Ann at the bus terminal until the moment at the truck stop when Carol Ann had shot her in the stomach. Kriegbaum read it over once without making a sound and then laid it down between them again.
He cleared his throat. ‘We released a tri-state-wide news bulletin on Sunday night, which was repeated Monday through Tuesday, showing this photo that your department had on file.’
He produced a printed off sheet and twisted it around for Davis to see. ‘Is this still a fair likeness?’
Davis knew the photo. She’d been standing to the side of the camera when it was taken after bringing her in as a runaway, but that was three years ago.
‘It’s fair, but not excellent.’ She shifted in her seat.
‘Would you be willing to work with an artist to create a better one?’
‘Certainly. Any leads? Any calls?’
Kriegbaum sighed. ‘Calls, yes, several, but I wouldn’t term any of them leads. We had one call on a Freightliner pulled over for the night at a motel. The motel owner claimed Baker was with the trucker. The Freightliner was stopped leaving the motel at 3am, but he was alone. He’d just been going out for a bite to eat, he said.’
‘Where was that?’
‘Western Indiana. Somewhere along I-70.’
‘You don’t remember the city n
ame?’
‘Sorry, I don’t. It wasn’t a positive hit or the only call we got. We had her supposedly walking on the side of the highway near Trenton, at a movie theater in Illinois, eating at The Olive Garden.’ Now he smirked. ‘This is the trouble with putting a pretty blonde girl’s picture on the TV. It attracts the wrong kind of calls.’
Davis waited, and wondered if he’d missed that part about Carol Ann’s changed appearance or if he’d not taken it seriously.
‘We did specify that she might have dyed her hair.’
‘Oh, you did.’
‘But folk mostly ignore the statistics.’
‘So these calls, were all for blondes?’
‘Correct.’
Davis pulled at the bandaging where it was taped to her skin. The flesh underneath was pinched and sore and still held together with staples. ‘Are you still actively searching?’ she asked.
‘She’s still wanted in connection with a murder and with your shooting.’
Davis knew it wasn’t necessarily the same thing. The public devoured wanted posters for the first two days, but soon lost their appetite for the target if they didn’t immediately show up.
‘So what’s your next move?’
He pushed the statement towards her. ‘To have you sign this.’
Davis complied. ‘And then?’ she asked.
Kriegbaum took the sheet and slipped it into his folder. He stood up. ‘I guess to wish you a speedy recovery and to let you know, we’ll be in touch. And of course, to remind you to contact us if you decide to go anywhere.’
Davis laughed. ‘Wham-Bam, thank you, ma’am?’
But Kriegbaum didn’t get it. He gave her a nod. ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he said. Then he turned around and left.
Janine
It was like some sort of trick question.
Every day, once she’d been awake for 20 minutes, someone would come into her room and ask her, ‘How do you feel?’
Whoever asked her, did so with the expectation that she would say something profound. They looked at her like she was a scratch card and they were the coin. Would they be the lucky one who got to tell everyone that Janine Kenny was recovering her memory? That said, her short-term memory was recovering. Now, when a medical student came in with those pictures and their clipboards, she remembered the last time she’d seen the picture. She remembered the medical student too and the things they had told her.