“What?” Addison repeated.
“You can’t tell me that somebody who sleeps with every goddamned guy I work with and spends money like she’s goddamned Princess Grace is sick and all she needs is a pill. Well, it’s not! What your mother did was a conscious choice. It wasn’t some mental illness crap. She was a slut and a whore, plain and simple!”
“Dad, it’s mania! It’s a symptom!”
“It’s not a symptom!” Walt hooked his fingers in the air. “It’s self-indulgent crap. If you were crazy, you’d be doing something other than f—” he stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts, to control his language, but the rage still burned in his eyes. “I almost lost my job—it was five years before we had all those bills she ran up paid off! That’s why we lived here!” Walt gestured at the room around him. “With your grandmother, so I could pay off all those bills from her spending sprees!”
“But what if she was sick, Dad? What if she couldn’t help it?”
“Oh she could help it all right. She knew exactly what she was doing. She was a goddamned whore who thought she was made of money—my money!”
“Dad, you can’t be serious!”
“Is this the thanks I get? I work my ass off out there on the beat, keep my daughter fed and clothed and away from bad influences like that crazy bitch and you come here to tell me this?”
“And my daughter is lying in a hospital bed after trying to kill herself and you’re jumping in my shit for asking a few questions? For God sake Dad, all I’m asking is that you go talk to the goddamned doctor about what Mom was like.”
Lost in his own rage, Walt ignored her. “You don’t remember what it was like! She’d wander in after a few days of being gone—God knows where—and she’d smell like booze and then she she’d—” He sank back against the kitchen counter and was silent for a moment. He continued, subdued. “We had to lead tidy little lives, you know, keep the wife and kids under control, be an example to the community we lived in. Nothing messy—and June was messy.”
“Messy?’” Addison’s voice began to tremble. It was mid-afternoon, she’d had three hours of sleep since the Jensen fire the night before and, between the fire, Isabella’s suicide attempt and Lyndzee Thorn’s kidnapping, her nerves felt frayed and ragged. “Messy?”
“Penny—” Duncan laid a cautionary hand on her arm.
“You couldn’t let your life get messy?” The sarcasm in her voice made Walt wince. “I try to figure out why my baby wants to die and you won’t tell me because you think it’s messy?”
Walt wasn’t backing down. “Your mother wasn’t sick. She was a drunk and a whore and pissed through money like—”
“Yeah—and I damned near lost my daughter,” Addison slammed her hands on the table and stood up, knocking the dinette chair over behind her. “Life is messy Dad. You of all people should know how messy life is! You were a cop, for Christ sake! C’mon, Duncan, we’re leaving.” A strangled sob tried to break from Addison’s throat. Holding her hand across her mouth, she pushed open the back screen door and ran for the truck.
Walt hung his head and didn’t try to stop her as the old wooden screen door slammed shut.
Duncan stood. “Walt, whatever you believe about June is your business. I’ve never taken sides between you and Penny. As a father, I know you thought you were doing the best thing for your daughter. But I think this time you might just be a little off base. Just go talk to Dr. Fairfax at the hospital—she wants to talk to you about June. I think that would go a long way toward patching this up with Penny.” He fished in his flannel shirt pocket for the doctor’s business card, handed it to his father-in-law and left.
Chapter 15
The drive home was long and silent. Addison, emotionally beaten and exhausted, watched out the passenger window, as the traffic crawled through town. The familiar country roads seemed longer, too, and filled with farm equipment that Duncan either couldn’t or wouldn’t go around. It felt like hours before they pulled into the gravel driveway.
At the back porch, Duncan shoved the gearshift into park and looped his strong, brown arm across the steering wheel.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep? I’ve got Marcus Henning coming by tonight with your car. I know you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in three or four days. Things will look a little different after you’ve had some rest.”
Addison was silent.
“You OK?”
“I think I’m going to throw up.” Without another word, she jerked the truck door open and, flinging open the kitchen door, ran up the stairs to the bathroom.
“Penny! Wait!” Duncan followed her up the stairs. He wanted to beat her to the stairs, keep her from opening that bathroom door.
Too late. A horrible wailing scream told him she’d seen what he hadn’t had time to clean up.
“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!”
Isabella’s blood tinged the now-cold bathwater pink. On the blue rag rug in front of the toilet, an Exacto knife from Duncan’s graphics studio lay in a reddish-brown circle of dried blood.
***
Hours later, the sun was midway through the summer sky when Addison, still wearing the smoke-infused clothes she’d worn to the Jensen barn fire, rolled over in bed. She’d fallen asleep immediately after she hit the chenille bedspread. Looking through the bedroom window, she could see the tops of trees and light fluffy clouds skirting across the sky.
Still groggy from sleep, she smiled at the peaceful scene outside. Then the events of the last few days came back and the smile vanished from her face. Addison rolled over again, toward the sound of Duncan’s footsteps coming up the stairs. The old door creaked as he opened it carefully; stepping lightly, he sat on the side of the bed.
“Hey, sleepy head.” He patted her shoulder.
“Hey.” She smiled groggily at him and sat up, reaching for the cigarettes in her bedside table. “God, I stink. I need a cigarette and a shower.”
“Well, before you do, I got some news.”
“Oh God, not Izzy!”
“It’s OK. Izzy has come to and they’ve moved her up to the psych ward. She’ll be there until we get everything figured out. We’re supposed to meet with some of the staff later this afternoon.”
Addison nodded as she tapped a cigarette from the pack. “OK. Anything else?”
“Marcus Henning and his wife Kay are here. They brought the Taurus home for you.”
She nodded and lit her cigarette, sucking the calming nicotine into her lungs. “Great. That was nice of them. Give me a few minutes to get showered and changed before I come downstairs. Can they wait that long?”
“I think so. Marcus said he had a story on the Thorn kidnapping he wanted to show you. You aren’t planning on going into work, are you?” It was a plea more than a question: for once, Penny, think about your family and not your newspaper.
She exhaled into the ceiling and stubbed out the cigarette. “I don’t know, Dunk. Give me ten minutes.”
Her short brown-and-gray hair was still damp when she came downstairs into the kitchen a few minutes later, trying to straighten out the end of the extinguished cigarette as she walked. Marcus and Kay Henning were sitting at the old wooden table, Kay talking earnestly with Duncan over a couple of sodas.
“Addison, I’m so sorry to hear about your daughter.” Kay Henning stood and clasped Addison’s hand. “I understand what you’re going through.”
Do you really? Addison wanted to ask of the perfectly coiffed woman in front of her. Do you know what it’s like to have a kid who tried to kill herself? Have you ever doubted everything you ever did as a mother, questioned every expectation you ever had for your child? I don’t think so.
Kay Henning was a brittle, reserved businesswoman, corporate all the way. Addison had always wondered what Marcus saw in her, but then always stopped when she considered what an unlikely match others thought she and Duncan were.
“Thanks.” Addison shrugged and went back to trying to straigh
ten her cigarette. In a moment, it was relatively smoke-able; Addison pulled her lighter out of her pocket and lit up.
“The police made a statement yesterday on the Lyndzee Thorn case. They’ve talked to all their remaining suspects, and don’t think any of them are involved,” Marcus said as he handed the morning edition to her. “I caught the press conference for you since Dennis said you had a family emergency.”
Addison exhaled toward the ceiling and smoothed the paper across the table. “Holy shit!” she exclaimed.
Pat’s main photo was Gary McGinnis escorting a dazed and bewildered Talley Lundgren into the Plummer County Jail. His hands were handcuffed behind him and he was surrounded by a phalanx of Jubilant Falls' cops and Plummer County Sheriff’s detectives. On Talley’s right was a young deputy carrying a plastic bag containing a small Winnie the Pooh sneaker.
It was Lyndzee Thorn’s other shoe.
Police clear all suspects in kidnapping case
By Marcus Henning
Staff Writer
Two suspects wanted for questioning in the kidnapping of 6-year-old Lyndzee Thorn, have now been interviewed, according to officials, but neither has offered clues as to the girl’s whereabouts and police no longer believe they had anything to do with the missing girl.
The body of a third suspect, Harmon Ripsmatta, was found in the burned-out remains of a barn fire on Old Youngstown Road two nights ago, reportedly clutching one of the missing girl’s shoes, police said.
Lyndzee, daughter of Golgotha president Dr. Seaford Rochambeau Thorn and his wife, Jaylynn, remains missing, despite intense ground search by law enforcement and local volunteers.
The announcement was made at a press conference yesterday.
Police will not say if these suspects were the only leads they have in tracking down the missing girl or if their search is now at a dead end.
“The search is never at a dead end,” McGinnis stated. “The case will be over when we have Lyndzee Thorn back at home and a suspect in custody.”
Talley Lundgren, address at large, was brought in for questioning after police spotted him searching for food in a Dumpster behind the Mandarin Moon restaurant on Detroit Street.
Police had named Lundgren as a suspect, along with two others, after they were all seen in the carryout at the same time of Lyndzee Thorn’s disappearance.
Lundgren was also questioned about his possible involvement in a suspicious barn fire last week. Police would not say if that investigation is continuing.
Lundgren was released after it was determined he was telling the truth that he had seen the missing girl but did not currently know of her whereabouts, McGinnis said. Investigation is still continuing on the fire.
Sheriff’s deputies, searching the woods near Canal Lock State Park, came upon Lundgren’s camp, where the missing girl’s shoe was found sitting on a log by a small campfire.
FBI agents from the Cincinnati office also have been called in on the case and assisted with the search of Lundgren’s campsite, police said. No FBI agents were present at the press conference.
Lundgren maintained that the girl wandered into his campsite in a remote corner of the state park early this morning, that he provided food for the girl, and then left her alone to go find more food, McGinnis said.
She was reportedly alone when she came into Lundgren’s campsite, but McGinnis would not elaborate any further.
Preliminary autopsy reports indicate Ripsmatta was shot twice at the base of the skull at close range with a small-caliber weapon, according to Plummer County Coroner Dr. Rashid Bovir.
Ripsmatta was a registered sexual predator, according to police records.
The third suspect, Roy Castlewheel, was cleared after police questioned him early this morning.
At the time of Thorn’s disappearance, Castlewheel, who has two convictions for drug possession, was seen on in-store video purchasing beer, which he claimed he then took to a residence on Elm Street and consumed with two other people, a male and a female.
The friends have verified Castlewheel’s story, McGinnis said.
Following the questioning, Dr. and Mrs. Thorn issued the following statement through college spokesman David Horatio:
While we continue to pray for our daughter’s safe return, we also realize local law enforcement is doing everything humanly possible to bring Lyndzee back to us. We are also keeping them in our prayers and urge anyone with information regarding our daughter’s disappearance to tell police immediately.”
Lower on the page, there was a sidebar story by Marcus set within the main story detailing Ripsmatta’s murder and both barn fires within Plummer County.
Addison shook her head in disbelief. “Three men are suspects in Lyndzee Thorn’s disappearance, a sexual predator, a crazy homeless man, and a drug dealer. The pervert somehow has her shoe, but he’s shot in the head and burned to a crisp. The homeless man sees her, feeds her, and somehow winds up with her other shoe, while the drug dealer and his buddies are drinking beer.
“I don’t get it. If one of these three guys doesn’t have her, then who does?”
***
The path that once seemed such a direct route back to her Mommy and Daddy didn’t lead back to the parking lot at the park, as Lyndzee thought. Instead, the path turned and spiraled back on itself, till the tree branches grew thick and green, their long bark-covered branches like arms, reaching down into Lyndzee’s path to caress her hair and shoulders with their green finger-like leaves. The leaves blocked out the May sunshine, keeping her cool in her quest for home, but made the woods seem dark as early evening.
Lyndzee couldn’t tell how long she’d been walking, but she knew it had been a long, long time. Her bare feet were dirty from walking through the path’s soft dirt, and hurt from the occasional sharp rocks or protruding tree roots she’d stepped on. The sweet baked beans were now just a memory and her stomach growled and rumbled in hunger.
Maybe Talley was right, Lyndzee thought, stopping to catch her breath and her bearings. Maybe I should have waited for him to come back. She leaned forward, her hands on the knees of her jeans, waiting till her breathing slowed down.
The piercing crack of dry wood cracking behind her made Lyndzee gasp. She swiveled around sharply to see where the sound was coming from, but she couldn’t see anything through the dark woods.
“Maybe it’s just an animal,” she whispered to herself, starting to walk again. She wiped her hands, suddenly wet from perspiration, on the sides of her pants legs. She turned from the sound and started to walk, concentrating hard on the path in front of her. “It’s OK. There’s all kinds of animals in the woods and none of them hurt you before,” she tried to convince herself. “Just keep walking.”
Another twig snapped, this time closer, and the hair on Lyndzee’s neck stood up. Ignoring the sticks and rocks in the path, she started to run, her heart pounding in her thin chest as the heavy footsteps came closer and closer behind her.
Mommy! Mommy! I’m trying to come home to you! I am! I am! The words filled Lyndzee’s head as she ran. I’m trying to get home and I’m so, so scared!
Suddenly sharp pain burst across her shins and she cried out, falling to the ground. A large log, too dark to see in the heavy woods, lay at an angle across the path. Her palms stung with the thistles she landed in and she could feel blood from her scraped shin soaking into her jeans. She wanted desperately to cry, to call out, but knew if she did, it wouldn’t help. She was too deep in the woods for anyone to hear except whoever was chasing her. Biting her lip, Lyndzee tried to rub the thistles out of her palms and onto her shirt. Unsuccessful at that, she scrambled to her feet as the footsteps came upon her and she looked back long enough to catch a glimpse of her pursuer.
He was short, with legs that bowed almost into a circle, like pictures of cowboys Lyndzee had seen in books.
Running now, she felt the air whoosh past her back as the man tried to reach for her, then tried again. His grasp fell short, but Lyndzee wasn
’t going to give him another chance. She ran faster and faster, blood and terror pounding in her ears. Then in just a few steps, he was close enough for Lyndzee to hear him breathe. His hand stretched out toward her and she tried to run even faster, but suddenly he had a fistful of her thin blonde hair, using it to pull her to a stop like the reins on a runaway horse.
She screamed as he jerked her around to face him. His brown hair was cut extremely short and plastered wetly onto his forehead from running after her. His flattened nose and one bent-down ear made his face look cartoon-like. One cheekbone seemed to hang lower on his face than the other and as he chased her, Lyndzee saw he had, like her, one missing front tooth.
“Well lookee who I found. Miss Lyndzee Thorn, right in front of me.” He cackled at his own humor. “This time girlie, you’re not getting away.”
Chapter 16
The sun was just peeking across the soybeans in the McIntyre’s eastern fields the next morning as Addison sat on the front porch steps, nursing her first cigarette of the day. She’d left Duncan in the barn to finish that morning’s milking, promising she’d start breakfast, right after this needed morning ritual.
At the end of the lane rose a cloud of dust, tinged orange and pink from the rising sun and rumbling toward the house. It was a black Lincoln Navigator barreling up the drive, spewing gravel and dust behind it.
“Who the hell is that?” she asked herself. “God, don’t be somebody from the hospital.” She sucked in her breath, fearful for Isabella, as only mothers can fear for daughters.
Then, as the vehicle got closer, she exhaled, only slightly calmer. “That’s a college car! This early in the morning? God, I hope it’s nothing with Lyndzee!” In two steps, Addison was at the edge of the drive as the black Navigator, the Golgotha College logo painted in white on its door, ground to a sudden stop. Jaylynn Thorn, her normally perfect hair tied back in a bandana and wearing jeans and a tee shirt, was at the wheel.
Barn Burner (Jubilant Falls series Book 1) Page 12