by Lorena May
Chapter 20
SHEA, 2005
Funny how when Mom was around Henry acted like he was our father or something. Chiding us. Correcting us. “Say please,” he’d say in his grating voice. “Listen to your mother …” He bought Julie stylish clothes and handed her money and candy all the time. Aunt Linda thought he was the cat’s ass. It was hard to know how Julie felt about him. Of course, she couldn’t say. She did as he asked. She was that kind of kid. But I noticed that whenever I was around she clung to me, and avoided him as much as she could. Until he called her to come, that is. “Hey, my baby doll! Bring your old man a beer, would ya?” and she’d scamper to obey. So she wasn’t deaf.
Ever since I’d kneed him in the groin he’d left me alone, but the “naps” he took with Julie seemed to happen more often. Whenever Mom or Linda were away at work or out with friends, he took Julie to the room he and my mother shared.
The whole thing was tying my stomach in knots. I became obsessed with the idea of getting her out of that mess. He seldom left the house, so it was hard to talk to my mom or Linda without him hearing. One day when he was having one of his infrequent showers I broached the subject with them. They sat at the kitchen table playing cards, drinking beer and, of course, smoking up a storm. My mouth was dry, and I could feel my heart beating as I sat down at the table with them.
“Henry takes Julie to your room for naps,” I mumbled, looking at my mom.
“What did you say?” she asked, sharply.
“Henry takes Julie to your room for naps.”
She looked at me as if I’d completely lost my marbles. “Yeah? So? She’s a little girl. Sometimes she needs a nap.”
Aunt Linda joined in. “Henry’s like a father to Julie. A father she’s never had. He’s so good to her.”
“I don’t think they’re just naps,” I stammered as I heard the bathroom door open.
“Go do your homework and mind your own business,” my mother barked, giving me a swat on the butt. And that was the end of that.
He became braver. One night Mom and Linda went to a stagette. One of their loser friends was getting married. Us three kids were in bed, and I could hear my sister snoring lightly. I was doing my typical tossing and turning, unable to sleep. From Julie’s corner there was no sound, as usual. The door creaked open, and from the hall light I saw the silhouette of Henry sneaking into our room. I froze in my bed. On his hands and knees – probably thinking he couldn’t be seen – he crawled to the mattress where Julie lay. I could hear the light flump! as he climbed into her bed. Slurping sounds meant he must be kissing her. From my half-closed eyes, I could see him rubbing against her and I heard little moans and grunts, the shaking of the mattress. How could Alyssa sleep through this? Plugging my ears, I squeezed my eyes shut. I pressed my whole body hard into a ball and waited it out. The horror of it gripped me in its clutches for days and days. I could not get it out of my head.
For Julie’s part she seemed to be wasting away. Dark rings were forming under her eyes. Her little white body became skeletal. She slunk around like a beaten dog. I knew she was feeling this even more than I. Hugging her tightly, I whispered in her ear whenever I got the chance. “Julie, we’re gonna get you out of this.” And I’d tell her, “You’re a good girl. This is not your fault.” But I know she didn’t believe me.
The next time Mom and Linda went to the bar with friends at night I was ready. Henry must’ve waited until he heard Alyssa’s snores. I lay still and quiet as the door creaked open and he slipped silently into the room. In the darkness that my eyes had grown accustomed to I saw him crouch by Julie’s bed, and bend to suck and smack his lips on her neck. He wore only underwear which he pulled off, crawling in next to her. I stiffened, my breath coming hard and fast. Beside me lay the solid, metal bat. I gripped it in my hand, wrapping my fingers around the narrow upper part of it. I could feel myself shaking. I waited for a moment until I knew he was beyond awareness, and I slipped my legs over the edge of my bed, stood there a moment, listening. Whump! Whump! Julie’s mattress thumped against the wall. Ooomph! Oomph! from Henry’s throat. I could see his body thrusting away mercilessly, completely covering her tiny, helpless one. A powerful vibration filled me, and I struck. Over and over again. I bashed his head. He never knew what hit him.
Chapter 21
SHEA, SEPTEMBER 15, 2018
Thanks to Darby I’m feeling a bit better. She’s assured me that they will find Cassandra. Kyle’s helped too, though I’m mortified that I can feel lust when I’ve just lost my child. The police have taken the letter and the picture to see what clues they can glean from them. And the bracelet. I wander into the living room, looking through the window, staring out onto the street for some sign. Something that will tell me where Cassandra is.
The phone rings. It’s Ben. I answer right away. “Shea? Is it okay for me to come home?” he asks.
“Yes,” is all I say.
He must have been nearby because only a few minutes pass, and he’s walking through the doorway. Suddenly my normally well-groomed, husband looks scruffy and beaten. I can’t help it. My heart melts a little looking at him. He’s a wreck.
BUT I DON’T SPARE HIM. I tell him about the letter and the picture, and find myself crying again. He holds me, kissing the top of my head. “Darby’s right. It doesn’t mean she’s dead. But someone is messing with us for sure, and they have to stop.” I look up at him. His jaw is set. His muscles tight. I want to tell him about the bracelet, but I can’t. Am I afraid of what I’ll find out? He takes me by the hand and leads me to the bedroom. He lies down and pulls me down beside him. He looks at me with eyes that are filled with tears. “Honey, please don’t shut me out. We’re both in this, and I need you now more than ever.”
I look up at him and the words burst from my lips. “Are you having a affair with Moira?”
His eyes bulge and his head jerks back. “What?!”
I repeat the question, but my voice is quivery as I now feel silly for asking it.
“No!” He almost yells it, but it’s not an angry yell. He is horrified. “Oh my God, No! What makes you think such a thing?” And then he strokes my hair and pulls my face to him, kissing me over and over. “Is it because I’m always at work? Because I’m never here for you? Oh, Shea … I’m so sorry!”
I wrap my arms around him and meld my body into his. I feel his pain. He feels mine. But we are here together.
And then I can do it. I tell him about the bracelet on the floor of his car. He moves his head back a little to look me in the face. “Cassandra’s bracelet? The one she always wore?”
“The police have it,’ I tell him. They’re finger-printing it. It’s the one she wore when I last saw her.”
He sits up abruptly, his head on his knees. “That doesn’t make sense,” he mumbles. “I had the car that day, so no one else could have used it. But I swear on everything that is dear to me – You. Cassandra. – I did not abduct our baby.” His chin trembles and his face is white. “I do not know how that bracelet ended up in my car.”
I stare at him a moment, trying to take it all in. But it’s too much. I feel light-headed and there’s a ringing in my ears. And then the phone rings. I answer.
“Shea? It’s Julie. I saw you on TV.” For the first time ever I hear her voice. I’ve never heard her speak. “I’m so sorry! I’m coming.”
Chapter 22
SEPTEMBER 15, 2018
Mel’s gasp was audible. “Manslaughter?”
“Her mom’s boyfriend, a real douche-bag by the sounds of it, named Henry Hauser,” Darby explained. “At the trial she admitted to planning it. He was abusing her cousin, she said. She got a year in a Juvenile Rehab facility, and was then placed in the same foster home as her sister, Alyssa. A decent one, apparently, but they only lasted a few months. Her sister, by all accounts, tried hard to keep her in check. They usually kept them together. Alyssa was the only stabilizing factor in Shea’s life. But they got bounced around a lot. Shea went wild during her teen-a
ge years. A lot of drinking, drugs … She ran away when she was eighteen and has been on her own ever since.”
“Wow!” Mel exhaled. “And her cousin?”
“Cousin was Julie Renn. She was only six at the time. Renn was also removed from the home and put into foster care. But she was adopted. A good match, apparently. Her adoptive parents were unable to have children and they doted on her. She’s attending University now. Social work.”
“So, probably not a suspect,” Mel said. “A happy-ending story for her, it sounds like. She in contact with Shea Anderson?”
“As far as I can tell Shea never saw Julie again. Not after the night of the murder.”
“So we know she’s capable of murder …” Mel was thoughtful. “Do you think there’s any connection?”
“Nothing turned up on the landscape inspection,” Darby answered. “No baby buried around the house. Could she have somehow gotten rid of the body far enough away that it hasn’t been found? She’d have had a couple of hours …”
“Let’s pay her a visit tomorrow morning.”
“All right. I’m fuckin’ bagged. Gonna call it a night. See you tomorrow!”
WHEN DARBY AND MEL walked up the steps to the house they were pleased to see police searching both the Taylor and Anderson residences. Numerous items were being carried out for further investigation, and a swarm of constables were hard at work searching the three premises; Diane’s, Shea and Ben’s and Kyle’s. No doubt Moira’s, Alyssa’s and the senior Anderson’s homes were under-going the same thing.
Ben answered when they rang the door-bell. His face registered surprise when Mel told him, “In light of new information we’ve gathered we’re going to need to ask your wife a few more questions.”
“Have you found more evidence?” Ben asked hopefully. When they didn’t answer he hesitated, then ushered them in, calling, “Shea? Detectives Greer and McDougall are here to speak with us.”
When the four of them were seated, once again, in the living room Darby pressed her hands to her cheeks. This was hard. “Shea, we’ve just learned of your juvenile conviction.” She pinned the young mother with her eyes.
Shea’s lower lip quivered almost imperceptibly. Then her expression closed up. She said nothing. All eyes were on her.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mel asked as Darby continued to gaze at the woman, leaning toward her. She exuded compassion. She has been through so much.
Shea spoke finally, a thin squeak. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”
Mel spoke gruffly. “You didn’t think that the fact you murdered someone – premeditated at that – was relevant?” Darby shot him a look of horror. I guess we’re playing good cop, bad cop now she thought.
Every muscle in Ben’s body tensed. A muscle in his jaw twitched but he remained silent. Just his hand reached out to touch his wife’s. Did he know?
Shea nibbled on her bottom lip and said nothing.
“I know that you were defending your cousin.” Darby spoke softly; calmly. “Would you tell us about what happened, Shea?”
Tears sprang to the younger woman’s eyes. “Do you think I killed my baby?”
“Did you?” Darby asks, almost soothingly.
A look of terror crossed Shea’s face. She pressed her fists to the sides of her head. Her breath came in rasps that shook her whole body. She shook her head. “I don’t know!”
Now her husband moved to console her, wrapping his arms around her delicate form. He held her tightly, her head pressed into his chest and he looked at the detectives. He wore his anger like a scar disfiguring his face. His voice remained cold and composed. “Get out of my house. Unless you have a warrant we’re done.”
They sat, staring at each other for a moment. Then, with a collective sigh they rose. Darby looked at the shattered woman before her. “Shea, I’m so sorry.” And they walked to the door.
“No!” It was Shea’s voice. She jumped up and stood there, her arms hanging limply by her sides; her body slumped. “I need to know.” Her voice cracked. “We need to know what happened. If I hurt her, we need to know.” And she wilted back onto to the floor to lean against the couch. Ben stroked her hair, looking down at her, affection glowing in his eyes.
She stared straight ahead, her eyes cold and flat. But her voice gained strength as she spoke. “When I was ten my little cousin, Julie came to live with us. She was mute. Probably because she’d been so neglected; never cared for. And she was the sweetest little girl you ever saw.” She stopped to wipe a tear from her eye. “She was only six years old … Then my mother’s boyfriend moved in. The way he looked at Julie …” Bitterness filled her mouth, and she wiped it with the back of her hand. “When my mother and aunt weren’t home he’d take Julie into the bedroom. I tried to stop him once and he whipped me with a belt. I tried to tell her mother and my mother, but they wouldn’t listen. And so it went on.” She leaned her head back and rubbed her arms. “One night when our mothers were out he sneaked into the bedroom we shared and he raped her. I had to lie there and hear it. I didn’t do anything.” She raised her hands to her face and blew into them, letting out a low moan. Then she looked up with determination. “I know I should have told someone else – a teacher, maybe – someone … But I didn’t. Then one night, the next time our mothers left the house, I took a metal bat to bed with me. When he came in to rape her again I hit him over the head with it.” Her body became rigid. Crossing her arms across her chest she gave the detectives a fixed stare.
Ben sat behind her, tears streaming down his cheeks. Mel lowered his head, breathing heavily. Darby, glossy eyes fixed on the young woman, rose from her chair and knelt to hug Shea.
“And you’ve paid for that. That took a lot of courage,” she murmured. “I do not think you hurt your baby. It’s an entirely different scenario.”
Mel looked up. He rubbed his hands together, bending toward Shea. “We have found absolutely no evidence to suggest that you killed your baby. You would have had to dispose of her body, and having taken a number of pills that morning, you were in no shape to do so. We’ve scoured the area. There’s been nothing like that.”
Darcy stroked Shea’s hair. “I’m convinced you fell asleep. You took too many pills and they knocked you out. You’re probably lucky to be alive.”
Ben spoke. “Do you think it could have been Alyssa? Meaning to help Shea? Knowing she was having difficulty coping?”
“She always thought she knew what was best for me.” Shea’s lips twisted into a crooked smile and she added, “She usually did.”
Darby gave her an understanding nod. “We’ve acquired a search warrant for her house. We’ll see if we find anything incriminating. Anything that might lead us to wherever Cassandra is.”
“And how about the green trench coat in Diane’s house?” Ben asked. “Or the bracelet in my car?”
Darby shook her head. “We’re baffled,” she admitted. But we’re searching everywhere we possibly can. There were no finger-prints on the picture or the letter in your mailbox, but the fact that it was placed there means that the kidnapper has been back here.”
Shea shivered. Fear clawed at her. No wonder I always feel like I’m being watched.
Ben and Shea saw the detectives to the door. As they left a young woman walked up the sidewalk and stood at the foot of the steps. She was slim and lovely with long, blonde hair, large, deep blue eyes. There was a powerful air of sweetness about her.
“Julie!” Shea shrieked, racing through the door and down the steps to embrace her long-lost cousin.
Chapter 23
SHEA, SEPTEMBER 16, 2018
Seeing Julie was like a balm on a raw, inflamed wound. She saw us on television, and finally knew how to find me. That night we sat up until all hours crying and even laughing a little together over everything. Our present and our past. Our short time together as children, and the night we last saw each other.
Maybe what I did helped her out, after all. But what I remember from that ni
ght is the sight of her crouched in the corner of her mattress, her wide, terrified eyes staring at me. It’s an image I’ve carried with me over the past thirteen years. Alyssa awoke and immediately took over, as usual. Henry’s inert body lay on Julie’s mattress, blood seeping from his crushed head. Alyssa had to crawl by him and pick Julie up to carry her from the room, yelling at me to come with them. I stood in a frozen daze. Alyssa came back and grabbed me by the arm. She called 9-1-1. I remember the strong smell of smoke as I buried my head while the three of us huddled on that old couch in the dark until the police came. “Can I come with her?” Alyssa asked as they took me away. But they took Alyssa and Julie somewhere else.
In my memory that night is a collage of screams, terror, sirens, paramedics, shuffling feet and the feeling of being protected, finally. Weird.
Julie, it turned out, was adopted by her foster-parents; a loving middle-aged couple who loved her more than anything in the world. Her parents, she calls them. They took her for intensive counselling, enrolled her in dance, swimming lessons, soccer and piano and gave her every advantage she could ever have wanted. I know that in return they had the sweetest, most appreciative daughter they could ever have hoped for. And now my little cousin is a young woman; accomplished, confident and absolutely lovely. She exudes a gentle goodness. It oozes from her.
My heart does a little skip just thinking about her as I putter around the house, half-heartedly tidying and gathering laundry. Ben has gone in to catch up at work, so I’ve got the day to fill with mindless tasks. I feel up to them today; a breath of fresh air.
The phone rings. I scurry to the kitchen to answer it. “Hello?”
“Shea?” It’s a strange, female voice.
“Yes?”
“I know where your baby is.”
I feel myself shaking, my stomach flutters. “Where?”
“Come to me and you’ll see.”
“What?” Do you have her?”
“Come and you’ll see.”