Not that I was any expert on serial killers. As Detective Dun had said, I was relying on what I’d seen on TV and what I’d read about Ted Bundy and Arthur Gary Bishop, both Mormons, in the days when I’d been an atheist and looking for reasons to stop believing in the church.
I stood up and tried to meet the detective’s eyes. “What makes you think that there are any other bodies?” Had they found something in the garden that we hadn’t heard about yet? Were there unclaimed murder victims in Draper from the last thirty years they think could be linked to Tobias?
“We don’t know if there are, but a man who has killed once and gotten away with it is more likely to try again,” said Detective Dun.
“Now aren’t you the one who is making assumptions?” How pompous that sounded. He was the detective here. I was just a stay-at-home mother and a bishop’s wife. That was my life. It just so happened that this one murder had impinged on my world. Well, two murders, I suppose.
The detective reopened his notebook and wrote a few scrawled words. I imagined they were warnings about not talking to me again.
“He wasn’t a dangerous man,” said Anna. “If you’d known him, you’d have seen how carefully he controlled his temper.”
“Then he had a temper? You saw that?” asked Detective Dun.
“Well, we all have feelings that we can’t control,” Anna said. She was still seated on the couch and had to look up to talk to him. I wished she’d stand up and not let him intimidate her like that. “But we control how we act on those feelings.”
“So you’re saying he often suppressed his feelings?” said Detective Dun. “He was a very controlled person?”
“Tobias was a good man. A good husband and father,” said Anna.
“Have you considered the fact that you were in danger every day of your life with him?” asked Detective Dun.
Anna put a hand to her throat and shook her head.
Detective Dun seemed to realize finally he had gone too far. But the burden his sister’s death had left on him was heavy. I could understand that.
“If you could guide me through the rest of the house,” he said.
Anna stood at last, and led him through the house then, showing him every little corner or cubbyhole she could think of. She insisted she had cleaned them all when she moved, but then the detective pointed out a wall that was strangely placed, considering the footprint of the rooms overhead. While Anna and I waited in uncomfortable silence, Detective Dun went up to Tobias’s shed and got a pry bar. Then he came back and used it to break through the wall with a few well-placed taps. There was only sheetrock there, no studs.
“What do you think you’re going to find?” I asked.
He shrugged. “You never know. But sometimes people keep things they shouldn’t. They don’t want to let go.”
Then the space was open, dust flying all around, and I saw him lean in and pull out a book and some papers. The book, when he opened it, was clearly a diary written by Helena Torstensen, more than thirty years ago, beginning the day of her wedding. The papers were her wedding certificate and other legal documents and photos.
Detective Dun turned to the last entry in the diary.
“Does it say something about being afraid of Tobias killing her?” I asked after watching him try to read it in the dimly lit basement.
He shook his head. “Not that I saw. But I’ll read through all of it.” Then he leaned into the space again and pulled out some clothes. I didn’t know why Tobias had kept the other dress in the shed when he’d kept all these clothes here.
The detective packed everything up, keeping notes on it all. “What happens now?” I asked.
“We still have to prove the identity of the woman. And then the autopsy will have to show us conclusively how she died. But even after all that, I don’t know if we’ll ever be absolutely certain about who killed her at this stage. We may leave the case open,” he said.
“And what about the body?” I asked.
“After we’ve finished the investigation we can release her remains to the family to bury.” He nodded to Anna. “That would be your sons, I assume.”
“Yes,” said Anna quietly. She looked at me.
“I’ll make sure the arrangements are made for that, Anna. If it happens.” Another funeral for the Relief Society to put on. I could make sure this part was done right for the long-dead woman, even if we had done so much else wrong.
CHAPTER 28
We had a big celebration for Joseph and Willow at the family dinner in late April. We’d skipped the March family dinner. Kurt had slept through his non-meeting times because of the pressure of the tax season, even on family Sabbath.
I made a cake and everyone brought presents to go with the one I’d already bought.
“We’re having a girl!” Joseph announced.
My stomach dropped and I did my best to conceal this reaction. Why wasn’t I happy? We needed a girl in the family. This should feel like my real chance to fill the hole that my daughter had left in my life. I should be able to let go of Kelly and Carrie Helm now, shouldn’t I?
Kurt was listing everyone’s guesses about the birth date, and promising a “significant” prize to the person who guessed it right. He looked like the father of the bride, the way he was strutting around. Too bad he couldn’t hand out cigars.
“They’re so happy about this, maybe you should start having kids, too,” Zachary said, nudging Kenneth.
“I think your mother and I would prefer that you were married first, Kenneth,” said Kurt.
Kurt still hadn’t talked to Kenneth about his problems with the church, and I hadn’t talked to him about my suspicions that he might be gay. How do you ask your son that? By the way, are you gay? If he’s not, does he ever get over your asking him? Maybe it was best for me to wait for Kenneth to come out of the closet in his own good time. If he was even in a closet.
“Prefer?” I said sternly. “If any of my sons has a child without marrying the mother first, I will make sure you suffer significant pain,” I said sternly, looking at Samuel and Zachary more than Kenneth.
“Oooh, we’re scared!” said Zachary.
“Don’t mock a mother with a thirst for vengeance,” said Kurt.
“I thought Mom was all about forgiveness,” said Samuel.
“I’m about making sure that I get to know my grandchildren. And if there is any chance that I will end up missing out on the life of one my grandchildren, you will all pay for it,” I said.
We ate the cake and then the boys had a wrestling contest, which ended with me losing one glass vase I didn’t care much about and two plates I did. Apparently, what was most important about this was that they had proven their masculinity to their own satisfaction, and to the satisfaction of everyone else. Including Kurt, who joined in at the very end, and lost to Kenneth, which I could see made him grin fiercely.
Finally, they all went home, leaving the house very quiet. Samuel went upstairs to get ready for Monday classes, and Kurt put on an apron and helped me do the dishes.
“Do you want to talk about the baby?” he asked.
Which one did he mean? Joseph and Willow’s or ours? I sighed. “What is there to say?” What had there ever been to say?
“That is what I always thought before now, that talking would only cause pain and heartache, Linda, but I don’t know. The grief seems to be affecting you more and more lately, instead of less and less.”
“It was an important moment in my life. In some ways, it defines me and what I have become since then.”
“Then why don’t you want to talk about it?” asked Kurt.
“Because you and I think so differently about it. I think we’d just argue over it.”
“We’re both hurt by what happened. Why can’t we find similarity in that?”
I handed him a dish to hand wash. “I think you want answers more than I do. I think the questions are more soothing to me.”
“Questions aren’t soothing. By definit
ion, they demand answers.”
I pressed my lips tightly together. There it was, the difference between us, the reason that we never talked about this together.
We got through the rest of the week as usual. Kurt had his meetings. I was on autopilot mostly, dishes and laundry and making sure that Samuel had what he needed for the last term of his senior year.
He’d been accepted to the University of Utah and BYU. He and Kurt would soon have to talk about whether he needed to defer his acceptance for a mission or if he planned to go to a semester or two of college first—if he went on a mission at all. Joseph’s not going on a mission had nearly destroyed his relationship with Kurt, and that was back before Kurt was a bishop.
ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON the first week in May, Kurt called to tell me that the police had more information on the Carrie Helm case.
“Do they know who did it?”
“It doesn’t sound like they’re much closer to that, but they wanted me to warn the two families involved that they will be releasing the information that she was found naked and it appears that she had sexual intercourse within an hour of her death. There is no physical evidence that it was rape.”
Why had they taken so long to release this information? Why hadn’t they done anything to find her killer since her death? Was it because they, too, thought she’d deserved what she got? “Do they think it was this Will she was staying with in Las Vegas?” I asked.
“Apparently, Will has an alibi for the time of her death and he was hundreds of miles away in Las Vegas. But they claim they are still looking for the man involved and they’re hoping this press release will bring a witness forward who might identify the killer. The reason they called me was because they don’t know how the information is going to affect the Westons in particular. It seems that Carrie was soliciting sexual partners for money on this Will’s computer while she was staying with him. She posted photos of herself that aren’t very, shall we say, tasteful?”
I felt my throat constrict. What experience with sex would have made her treat her own body so badly? Was this yet further evidence of how terrible her marriage to Jared had been?
“I thought you might be the best person to talk to the Westons about this,” Kurt was saying. “Make sure they’re not blindsided. I don’t know if there’s anything you can really do to make it hurt less, but you can try.”
“All right, I’ll call them,” I said. I couldn’t even blame this chore on his being bishop. I had kept on with this even when he’d told me not to.
“Maybe you should go over and talk to them in person,” said Kurt.
“Obviously. Kurt, I meant I would call and ask them if I could come over to visit. I just want to make sure they’re both home.”
“Oh, yes. Good,” said Kurt. “Thank you. I’ll see you tonight?”
“Or maybe not, if I end up spending a lot of time with them.”
“Right, of course. Then I’ll call Samuel on his cell and see what he wants to eat.”
I thought about asking him to get something somewhat healthy, but didn’t. Kurt was proud of his refusal to eat rabbit food.
The last time I had talked to the Westons had been when they had told me that they were giving up the custody battle. After a minute of prayer that I would say the right thing, I called the number the Westons had left with me. A male voice answered immediately.
“This is Linda Wallheim,” I said. “Is this Aaron?” I was surprised that he was home during the day.
“Yes, Linda, it’s me.”
“I was wondering if I could come over and talk to you,” I said. “You and Judy both. Would you be home in about thirty minutes?” It would take me twenty minutes to drive north to Sandy.
“Yes, we’ll be home. We don’t do much these days, either of us.” There was a short silence. “I lost my job when Carrie disappeared, and I couldn’t go into work for several weeks. I haven’t started looking for a new one yet. I can’t find the heart for it and there’s no guarantee that I would be able to get anything like the same level of position in management at another company.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize that.” What kind of company would fire a man for having trouble working after his daughter disappeared?
“This is about Carrie, isn’t it?” asked Aaron.
“Yes, yes it is,” I said.
I left a note for Samuel atop a plate of fruit suggesting that any of these would be an excellent choice for an after school snack. Then I got into the car.
As I drove by the Helm home, I could see Alex Helm through the front living room window. I cringed at the sight of him. Jared and Alex seemed to be sharing childcare responsibilities for Kelly now that the press had disappeared. I didn’t think Kelly had gone back to school, and I hadn’t seen her at all since the argument Alex and I had had back in March on his front lawn. How much of what her mother had done would Kelly ever understand? I didn’t know. But for now, I had to deal with her grandparents, and the reality of her mother’s death.
The drive did not take long enough. I tried to make myself appreciate the beautiful mountains on either side and the outline of the Great Salt Lake in the distance. Whenever friends from other parts of the country come to Utah, the first thing they mention is the feeling they get from the mountains. Some people feel oppressed by them. Others feel safe, like they are wrapped in a cocoon. But I am so used to them I take them for granted. If I go elsewhere, somewhere without mountains, that’s when I realize how much I miss them. I don’t know how anyone can tell what direction they’re headed without mountains around to help.
I was dreading the conversation I would have to have with the Westons, who had already been forced by the law to virtually walk away from their granddaughter. Their lawyer claimed that even demanding a monthly visitation would be impossible unless they could prove that they had had frequent contact with their granddaughter before Carrie’s death—which they hadn’t. I arrived at the large house in a tract of large houses, and turned off the engine. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and stared out at the immaculate lawn. The flowers weren’t as spectacular as Tobias Torstensen’s, but it was clear that the lawn was treated with chemicals often and never allowed to go brown.
The three-car garage was dwarfed by the rest of the house. It was grey stucco and the columns in front rose to the third story. Inside, there were marble floors in the foyer, stained-glass windows in the dining room, and the kind of carpet so thick you can feel it even through your shoes.
With hardly a word, Aaron Weston led me to a small office that seemed completely unused, despite the huge oak desk in the center and the leather chairs. Judy was waiting for me there, as well.
I kept thinking about Carrie Helm. She’d come from this. How did any of her subsequent choices make sense, knowing that? Why would a woman who realized her marriage had failed run away to Las Vegas with a lover, and then feel forced to sell her body online, when she could have come home to this? Why hadn’t she made frequent visits with Kelly to her parents? I knew she was afraid of her husband and likely her father-in-law, but to go from this to that—there was something I was missing.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my mind whirling.
“Oh, dear,” said Judy. “That doesn’t sound like a good beginning.”
Aaron held her hand. “She’s gone now. There’s nothing more that can hurt us,” he said, but there was a catch in his voice.
“It’s going to be on the news tonight or tomorrow, but Kurt learned from the police that she was found naked and that she had had sex—most likely consensual—within an hour of her death.” Putting it so baldly made me want to cringe. I wished I had thought of a better way, but really, what was going to make it sound better? I wanted to get the facts out quickly, so that I could get on to comforting them.
Kurt would really be better at this than I would. He would be able to tell them with far more confidence that they would see their daughter again, that she would rise again in the resurrectio
n to her perfect form. All I knew was that these parents must be feeling the same way I had felt after my daughter died, and there was a part of me that was cowardly enough that I wanted to shrink away from them.
Judy let out a long breath, and I stared at her. For that one moment, I thought that she was faking her sadness. I don’t know what it was about her, but something seemed false to me. Too many tears. Too much ultra-feminine hand-wringing and weakness.
But what right had I to judge other women for their unique responses to their own situations? I shook myself. Judy Weston had the right to act as over-the-top as she needed to. A mother wasn’t supposed to outlive her children. She was supposed to lay herself down and take the blow instead. But we didn’t always get that choice.
“Is it this man Will?” asked Aaron. “Do they think he did it? Are you telling us there will be an arrest soon?” There was a fierce look in his eyes.
“No,” I said. “It isn’t Will. He was far away at the time.” I took a breath and steeled myself for the rest. “There’s more, I’m afraid.”
“Oh,” said Judy, gripping her husband’s arm more tightly.
“She apparently met a stranger near to where she was found, to trade sex for payment.”
There was no sound from either parent.
“She had put photos of herself online. Asking for men who wanted to meet her,” I said. “For money.”
“Oh, my poor Carrie,” said Judy. She put a hand to her heart.
There it was again. My sense that she wasn’t really feeling the emotions she was putting on. What was going on here?
“So the police are following up on this lead? This man she met for sex? They think he’s the killer?” asked Aaron, who was pale but composed, his hands resting gently in his lap. He was very well dressed for someone who didn’t have a job. He was wearing a full suit and a white shirt that had probably been professionally cleaned and starched. His tie was expensive silk, better than anything Kurt had ever worn. I realized, thinking back, that he’d always been dressed well—I just hadn’t noticed before, because of the context of our meetings.
The Bishop's Wife Page 25