by Nancy Roe
I stopped at the front desk and asked how to get to the library. The same man from the night before was still behind the counter. White tank top, snake tattoo, greasy hair.
“Take a left out of the parking lot. Turn right at the stop light. Library’s on the right a couple blocks up.” His teeth were crooked and yellow. He barely looked at me as he watched television.
“Thank you.” I’m not even sure he heard me.
I walked up the stairs to the library’s front door. Straight ahead was a large counter. To the right, several children sat at a table. A young woman was reading aloud.
Behind the counter, a gray haired woman, round glasses said, “Can I help you?”
“I hope so. My aunt and uncle live in the country. Do you know Mae and Kenneth Ponder?”
“They have a big acreage a couple miles south of town. I play cards with Mae once a month. Lovely place. Let me get you a map.”
She used a highlighter to mark the route. “Tell Mae that Bridget says hello.”
My timing was perfect. I was almost to their driveway when I saw a man and woman get in a tan Buick Skylark and back out of the garage. They couldn’t see me or my plan wouldn’t work. Half a mile up the road, I parked the car.
It always amazes me that folks in the country never lock their doors. I checked out the layout of the house, then went outside and waited.
The sun had set by the time Kenneth and Mae Ponder pulled into the gravel driveway. I listened as the garage door went up. As soon as I heard footsteps, I ran from behind the garage.
I was breathing heavily. “Can you help me, please?” I took a few deep breaths and swallowed hard. “I stopped to let my dog out for a potty break. The leash broke and he ran away.” I held up a frayed leash. “His name’s Blacky. Black lab. Saw him run up your driveway five minutes ago. I have to find him!”
“I’ll get the flashlight and look to the east. Mae, you take the groceries inside. And you—what’s your name?” Kenneth asked.
“Sam.”
“Sam, you head west, toward the barn.” He pointed.
“Thank you so much. Sorry for the trouble.”
“Kenneth will find your dog,” Mae said. “I’ll turn on the yard lights.”
My plan was working perfectly. I watched Kenneth walk past the house toward the machine shed. When Mae walked to the garage for the last bags of groceries, I slipped inside, hid under the bed in the small bedroom.
Ten minutes passed before I heard Kenneth walk into the house.
“Have you seen Sam or the dog?” Kenneth asked.
“No. Been busy putting away groceries. Guess Sam found the dog.”
“Could’ve knocked and told us.” Kenneth raised his voice. “I should’ve been helping you carry in the groceries.”
“I’m fine. Go fix yourself a drink and relax. The news will be on soon.”
Liars and drinkers, I thought. I listened to their chatter and the news. Someone turned the TV off. I heard footsteps, muffled sounds, silence. I waited an hour to make sure they were both sound asleep.
At eleven-thirty, I slowly crawled out from under the bed. I reached in my pocket, pulled out a vial of morphine and two needles, prepared the overdoses. I slipped off my shoes and walked to the next room in my socks.
I wasn’t sure how many days it would be before someone found them. People would think they fell asleep and never woke up. The paper would turn their deaths into a love story. I made sure it looked like they died peacefully in their sleep together.
I went through Kenneth’s wallet and Mae’s purse, took some money. I looked through the closet and took a couple of shirts. I pulled a grocery bag out of the garbage and filled it with bananas, oranges, and apples.
My plan was on schedule. One more night in Dysart before moving on to my next target.
34 Friday, February 29, 1980 (Mason)
“You look like crap,” George said. “Sure you’re not sick?”
“Didn’t sleep well. Leaky faucet.” It was the best lie Mason could come up with.
“Guess you’ll be doing some home improvement this weekend.”
“Yeah. The joys of home ownership.”
Mason watched Georgette walk up to his desk. “I found this on my desk. Someone must have dropped it off when I got coffee.” Georgette handed an envelope to Mason.
OFFICER PIERCE. Mason quickly got out of his chair and walked out the front door. He stood on the sidewalk looking up and down the street. He didn’t see anyone.
“Georgette, are you sure this note was left this morning?” Mason asked.
“I organize my desk every morning when I get to work. Wasn’t there when I first arrived. What’s got you so huffy?”
“Sorry. Has to do with a case I’m working on.”
“You sure you’re okay? You don’t look very good.”
Mason wanted to scream I feel fine. “Didn’t sleep well. Leaky faucet.”
“My dad’s a plumber. In case you need someone to fix it for you.”
“Thanks. I think I can handle it.”
“Okay.” Georgette turned and started typing.
Mason went back to his desk and opened the envelope.
DID YOU ENJOY YOUR HONEY CHICKEN?
35 Thursday, August 9, 1979 (Sam)
Birds chirped outside the window. It was six o’clock and I hadn’t gotten much sleep. I grabbed the other pillow, covered my ears, tried to fall back asleep. The birds kept chirping. Apparently, they didn’t think I needed sleep. Checkout wasn’t until noon. I had six hours to figure out where I was going next.
I propped the pillows against the headboard and read yesterday’s newspaper. No mention of Harold or Connie Riley. Kenneth or Mae Ponder’s names wouldn’t be in the paper yet. I suspected it would be a few days before anyone found them. Reading the obituaries was a habit I picked up from Grandmother. She always said she had to read the obituaries to make sure her name wasn’t listed.
The map of Iowa lay open on the bed. I wasn’t sure where to go. I needed to get a job and have a stable life for a while before killing my next lying family member. I flipped a quarter above the map. Estherville—my next destination.
The drive would take about four hours. Once I arrived in Estherville, I’d go to the library and ask them if they knew of any job openings, places to stay. I was hoping they were as friendly as the librarian had been in Dysart.
36 Saturday, March 1, 1980 (Mason)
“Mason, wake up! Are you okay?” Sophia shook Mason’s arm.
“What?” Mason yawned. “Why are you here?”
“You scared me.” A tear ran down her face. “You didn’t answer the phone last night or this morning. I thought that crazy mystery man hurt you. What happened? Why are you on the couch?”
“Quiet voice, please.” Mason’s head was throbbing. “I’m fine. I’m sorry. What time is it?”
“It’s eleven.”
“Oh, man.” Mason sat on the edge of the couch. “I found out some disturbing things this week, and took the pain away with a few beers.”
“Don’t ever do that to me again.” Sophia sat on the couch, gave Mason a big hug. “I imagined the worst.”
Mason held her tight. “Don’t cry sweetheart. It’s okay.”
Sophia stood. She grabbed a tissue from her purse and wiped away her tears. “I was so worried about you.”
“Please forgive me. Let me take a shower, then we’ll talk.”
“Ruth and I have lunch plans, dress shopping for the spring festival. I’ll bring Chinese for dinner. You can tell me your story then. How does seven sound?”
“That’d be great.”
Before Sophia walked out the door, she turned to Mason and said, “I’m glad you’re okay. I love you, sweetie.”
Mason sat on the couch and surveyed the mess. Beer cans scattered on the coffee table, kitchen counter, living room floor. One of the living room chairs was out of place. Moved in front of the end table. His research papers neatly stacked in the chair.
When he stood up, the room swirled. He noticed a picture of his dad and him from a camping trip two years ago. The chair blocked his view of the picture. He wondered why he didn’t just move the picture. But, he realized men don’t always make smart decisions when they’ve been drinking.
He thought about Sophia, realized he’d have been furious had Sophia not returned his calls.
Mason went to the bedroom and set his alarm for three. He needed more sleep before he could deal with the mess, talk to Sophia. He had some explaining to do.
The phone woke Mason. 2:55. He turned off the alarm.
“Did you just wake up?” Carl asked.
“Yeah. Drank too much last night and I’m seeing Sophia later so I needed some rest.”
“Well, at least your love life is going okay. I haven’t heard from Katrina in three days.”
“Three whole days. Really? You want me to put out an APB?”
“I thought you said you couldn’t do personal favors?”
“I’m kidding.” Mason slapped his hand on his head. “You need to get a grip, Carl. This woman is driving you crazy. You need to cut her loose.”
“I have been acting a little goofy lately, haven’t I?”
“Just a tad. We’ve all been there.”
“She was just so interested in me, my friends.”
“Look, Carl. I tell you what. Give her an ultimatum. Next time you talk, tell her you want her to meet your friends, in person. If she gives you another reason why she can’t, then end it. Have I ever given you bad advice?”
“In junior high you told me Karen Dickens liked me. I made a fool of myself when I asked her to the winter dance.”
“Sorry, buddy. It was funny in seventh grade.”
“I still need to get you back for that.”
“Yeah, whatever. Look, I gotta get ready for my date. When Katrina calls, you tell her your next date is with all your friends. After the conversation you’ll either have a girlfriend or you won’t.”
“Okay. Catch you later.”
“Are we having an indoor picnic?” Mason asked.
“It was easier to carry everything in the picnic basket. Pretty soon we can have a picnic by the lake.” Sophia put the basket on the counter then wrapped her arms around Mason. “You look a lot better than you did this morning. Let’s eat first. You can tell me what made you drink later.”
Mason helped Sophia unpack the basket. She’d picked up two eggrolls, egg drop soup, spicy shrimp, and vegetable fried rice from China Buffet. For dessert, a strawberry cake.
Sophia talked about her day with Ruth, said she’d found the perfect dress for the spring festival. Mason made a mental note that he’d have to get a suit cleaned.
“You’re the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Mason winked at Sophia. For the first time he thought about proposing. Maybe he would at the spring festival.
“You’d have a messy house, for one thing.” Sophia laughed. “Let’s clean up the dishes. I want to hear what happened.”
Mason sat next to Sophia on the couch. He took her hands and held them tight. He explained the note he’d gotten at the police station and the phone call with Abigail.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Do you think your sister is still alive?”
“I’ve no idea. I don’t even know how I’d track her if she were alive.”
“You’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out. I’m here to help any way I can.”
“I appreciate that.” Mason sighed. “I can’t believe my dad lied to me all these years.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m conflicted. I love my dad. But right now I feel betrayed. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to trust him. There are so many thoughts running through my mind.”
“Just know you can talk to me about anything. I’m here to help you get through this.”
“I keep thinking it’s odd that my grandmother died in her sleep, just like the Ponders. I don’t think it’s hereditary. I think those people were murdered.”
37 Monday, August 20, 1979 (Sam)
Working at the supermarket served its purpose. I got a paycheck while listening to conversations. Sometimes I felt invisible as people would chat about their lives while I stocked cans of beans or corn a mere two feet from them. I kept a pen and paper in my apron to make notes.
After my shift, I walked the two blocks to my basement apartment. Bertha Hampton needed someone who could cook and clean and, in return, I could live in the basement rent-free. My plan was to be in town a few months so I could save money and research names from the family tree I found at Harold and Connie’s.
I kept my car parked in Bertha’s two-car garage. The other side of the garage she used for storage. Her kids had made her give up driving after her last accident. Bertha had tried to drive on ice and spun into a ditch. She had knee surgery two months ago and wasn’t doing well. She complained every time I saw her.
“You know how much I hate doing these exercises?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “They’re dreadful. If I don’t do them, the doctor will know. He’ll tell my kids. There’ll be an argument. I should be doing them because I want to get better, not because I don’t want to argue with my kids. Don’t you think that’s silly?”
A moment of silence. She finally wanted an answer.
“A little, yeah.”
“Yeah, I agree.” Bertha glanced at the TV. “Cubs lost again. Can’t believe it. Their coach needs a good talking to. Players, too. I’m sure they want to win, don’t you think? I mean, what team would want to lose.”
“Soup is ready.” I said, hoping this would shut her up a few minutes.
Bertha spent most of her time in the living room and it showed. Boxes of cookies, crackers, and magazines were scattered around her chair. She even ate in the living room. I moved the folding tray in front of her chair. Little House on the Prairie would be on in five minutes. I’d have an hour of quiet. Bertha didn’t like interruptions during her favorite TV shows.
I sat at the kitchen table and read the paper, now that I could concentrate.
38 Sunday, March 2, 1980 (Mason)
Mason went shopping at Ogaard’s Five and Dime to purchase colored index cards, colored markers, masking tape, and a card table.
He moved the bed in his guest bedroom, set up the card table, and cleared pictures from one wall. The blank wall would become his case board. He was going to take all the information he had on his family and set up his own investigation.
Yellow index cards represented each member in his immediate family, blue cards—grandparents, green—their siblings, red—non-blood relatives, and orange—non-related names. Every time he came upon a missing piece of information, he wrote it on a white card.
By six o’clock, his family history was in plain sight to review. He also had a list of questions. Too many.
Mason took a short break. He ate leftovers while he watched 60 Minutes. He went back in the guest bedroom and double-checked his work. He needed to be accurate not only personally, but as a cop.
He wasn’t ready to face his father and tell him what he’d learned. His father had lied to him too many times in the past. He needed to find more evidence. And find his sister.
39 Friday, December 7, 1979 (Sam)
I dedicated every Friday morning to finding out more about my family—the family I never knew I had. My family had kept many secrets from me and I needed to know why. I’d become a liar, fitting situations to best suit my interests. I wasn’t happy with the life I was living. I wanted to be a better person and knew I would be, one day. More work needed to be done before that could happen.
Every time I went to the library, I stopped to see the famous Estherville Meteorite. The meteor landed two miles north of Estherville in May of 1879, separating into three large pieces. One piece landed with such fury it was buried fourteen feet below the surface. Its destructive force, rough edges, metallic glitter fascinated me. A part of history right wh
ere I lived. Maybe one day I’d have a place in history. That would depend on how many family members I had to kill—my destructive force.
I’d alternate visiting the library, the genealogy room, the courthouse. I’d read books on how to search for ancestors. My obsession was finding more relatives. If they had secrets, they’d ultimately meet the same fate as Grandfather, the Rileys, the Ponders. I couldn’t allow liars in my family.
My notes filled several spiral notebooks. In addition, I had the letters and photo albums. I kept all my possessions in a box in my room, making sure to put my important research away before I left my room each morning. I covered the box with a tablecloth, two books, a box of tissues. I made sure to put the things in a certain order so I knew if someone had been snooping. I trusted Bertha, but she had two nephews that came by occasionally, and them I didn’t trust. I kept my door closed, but they looked like they could pick a lock.
By four, the weather was so severe that the town sent out an emergency broadcast. Snow, ice, wind, and single-digit temperatures created a nasty mix. Only necessary personnel were to be on the roads. Most of the staff had driven home an hour ago. I stayed and helped the store manager close the store. We both lived within walking distance.
I hadn’t realized how bad the weather was until we walked outside. I could barely see five feet in front of me.
Covered in snow when I reached the back door at Bertha’s, I brushed myself off and tapped my boots before stepping inside. I’d never been so cold. Even when Grandfather shut off the heat in my room in the middle of winter, I couldn’t imagine ever feeling that cold.
“I thought you got lost in the snow. The radio said they closed the stores an hour ago. Where have you been?”