by Tami Hoag
“I don’t know. Isn’t that your department?”
“That’s a very personal offense,” Mendez said. “First, the murder. Stabbing is a very personal crime. Sending the breasts to your mother, also a highly personal gesture. It’s a big Fuck You, if you’ll pardon my language.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Have you been in Lompoc recently?” Hicks asked.
“No. Why would I go there?”
“You’ve got a car dealership up there.”
“Yes, but we’ve got a good manager. There’s no reason for me to go there when I can pick up the phone. I divide my time between here and Santa Barbara.”
“Where were you last Sunday night?” Mendez asked.
“The night Marissa was killed?” Bordain tried to laugh. “You want my alibi?”
No one laughed with him.
“We need to know where you were.”
He stalled, lighting another cigarette. His hands shook a little. “I was at Gina’s house.”
Mendez exchanged a long look with Hicks.
“You were with Gina Kemmer?”
“Not in the Biblical sense. She had a couple of friends over. Marissa called and said she was busy. We ate a pizza and watched a couple of movies. I was home by eleven thirty.”
“Have you heard from Gina lately?” Mendez asked.
“A couple of days ago.” He looked increasingly uncomfortable with the pace and nature of the questions. “You asked me that last night. Why?”
“Where were you this past Wednesday from, say, five o’clock on?” Hicks asked.
Bordain sighed impatiently, tapped off his cigarette, took another drag, and blew the smoke out his nostrils. “I worked until about six, had a couple of drinks at Capriano’s, ate some dinner ...” His memory seemed to start failing then. “I don’t know. I went home. I don’t account for every hour of every day of my life, do you?”
“I’m pretty much here,” Mendez said. “You didn’t see Gina Kemmer that day?”
“No. She called me that afternoon about a funeral for Marissa. I didn’t see her. Why?”
“Gina Kemmer has been missing since late Wednesday afternoon,” Hicks said.
“Missing?” Bordain said stupidly, as if he didn’t understand the meaning of the word.
“Right,” Mendez said. “She won’t be able to corroborate your alibi for the night Marissa died because no one has seen or heard from her in two days.”
Bordain looked from one detective to the other.
“I think I should go now,” he said, standing up abruptly. “I don’t like the turn this is taking.”
Mendez sat back in his chair and spread his hands. “If you haven’t done anything wrong, there’s nothing for you to be uncomfortable about.”
“Look,” Bordain said, snatching up his cigarettes and lighter. “I had nothing to do with Marissa’s murder. I did not send severed breasts to my mother in the mail. I did not try to run her off the road. Wherever Gina is, I didn’t put her there.”
“Would you be willing to take a polygraph?” Hicks asked.
“No, I would not,” he said. “And you have no reason to keep me here, so—”
“You’re free to go at any time,” Mendez said. “We just need to get a quick photo of you before you leave.”
“For what?”
“For Haley. We’ll be showing her photographs of all the men in her mother’s life to see if she has a reaction—”
“Absolutely not,” Bordain said, angry. “You’re going to put me in a lineup for a four-year-old child who’s been traumatized and is probably brain damaged? Go to hell.”
They watched him go to the door and stand there. Mendez got up and made his way over to let him out.
“Some people who come in here aren’t as free to go as others,” he said.
Bordain said nothing, but walked out and wasted no time getting to the end of the hall. Vince came out of the break room to watch him go.
“He didn’t take that well,” Mendez said.
Vince shrugged. “Go figure.”
62
Halfway up the ladder the world went silent. Gina had no idea how much time it had taken her to get this far. It seemed like days must have passed. Each step up was more difficult than the last, her body was more exhausted, her mind drifting in and out of reality. With each step she had to rest longer, and with each rest she felt more inclined to just go to sleep and fall into the next dimension.
She thought she might be crying, but it was as if all aspects of her—body, mind, spirit—were drifting apart and losing the connection to one another. Marissa had stopped talking to her. Silence rang in her ears.
She was close to giving up. The little bit of rotten food she had eaten had come back up from the pain and the effort of moving. What adrenaline she had used to start the climb was spent.
Starving and dehydrated, she had no energy reserves to draw on. Unknown to her, the concentrated acid in her empty stomach had begun to eat through the stomach lining. She was aware of that pain because it was new and sharp. The pain in her broken ankle was so enormous and had been so continuous that in a weird way it had become like deafening white noise in her head. The pain in her shoulder where she had been shot throbbed now like a bass drum. Infection had begun to set in.
I just want to lie down.
No one told her not to.
She couldn’t remember how long she had been standing on this rung. She had hooked her good arm through the iron loop and put her head against the dirty concrete wall to rest. Just for a minute ... and then another ... and another ...
In one tiny corner of her mind she was very afraid, but that little voice wasn’t strong enough to wake her. It tried to shout, but seemed so far away.
I don’t want to die!
Her pulse was shallow and quick. She wondered dimly if that meant not enough blood was getting to her brain.
If she could just lie down and rest. If the pain would stop for just a while ...
If she could just let go ...
Then she did let go, and her body felt weightless, and it seemed to take forever just falling and falling.
NO!!!
“No!”
And BANG! Like that, all the disparate parts of her being slammed back together, and her body jerked as if she had been given an electrical shock. She grabbed tight to the iron rung as her good foot started to slip.
Climb! Marissa’s voice shouted. Damn it, G., climb!
Dry wracking sobs shaking her, Gina forced herself to reach up for the next rung.
Even as she did it, she was thinking, I can’t do it. I can’t make it. I’m so tired. I feel so weak.
You can do it, Gina! You have to. Do it for me. Do it for Haley. One more. Come on. Come on!
One more.
And then one more.
Her head hit the rotten door. She pushed it open.
And then she was lying on the ground, in the mud, the steady cold rain drenching her to the bone.
63
“I love a school holiday,” Franny said, pouring the coffee. He made himself at home wherever he was, particularly in Anne’s kitchen. “Thanksgiving, Christmas, Sixth Graders Putting Cherry Bombs Down the Toilets Day.”
The resulting plumbing catastrophe had given the children and teachers of Oak Knoll Elementary an unexpected long weekend.
“I’m glad for the company of another adult,” Anne said. “The mind of a four-year-old can be exhausting to keep up with.”
“They haven’t been dumbed down by society yet at that age,” Franny said, doctoring the coffee with cream and cinnamon. “Everything is possible.”
They went into the family room with its big bank of windows looking out on the backyard. The rain was still coming down. Haley and Wendy were busy with dolls at one end of the room. Franny and Anne each took a big stuffed leather chair near the windows.
“Haley asked me if I would be her mommy until her mommy is done being an a
ngel,” Anne said.
“Oh!” Franny’s eyes filled with tears. “That should be in a children’s book!”
“A children’s book about death?”
“They take it better than we do. What did you tell her?”
“Yes, of course. I’d keep her forever,” Anne admitted wistfully.
“Maybe you will.”
“I can’t think that way. I’m sure she has relatives somewhere. Everyone does, right?”
“That doesn’t mean she should go and live with them,” Franny said. “What if her relatives are toothless rednecks living in travel trailers in one of those fried food states in the middle of the country? Oh! What if they’re carnie people?” he asked, getting carried away with himself, as usual. “Next thing you know Haley’s in a sideshow as the Bearded Baby.”
Anne chuckled, appreciating the distraction that was her friend.
“This is a nice way to spend a rainy afternoon,” she said. “Good company, a hot drink, watching kids play.”
Franny smiled at her until his eyes disappeared.
“What?”
“You’re going to be such a good mom!” he said.
“If Vince and I ever get to sleep together again,” Anne said dryly.
“You’ve been staying with Haley?”
Anne nodded. “She’s having some pretty scary nightmares.”
“You know all about that. Has she named the k-i-l-l-e-r yet?”
“No. She calls him Bad Daddy. She says he was dressed all in black. Vince is going to bring home some kind of photo lineup of men who knew her mother. Maybe she’ll pick one out. But there’s always a chance the killer wore a mask.”
“Don’t you think he tried to k-i-l-l Haley because she could identify him? Why else?”
“Maybe he’s just plain evil,” Anne said. “How about that?”
“Mommy Anne!” Haley called as she came running from the other end of the room. “Look at my dolly Wendy gave me!”
“That’s a really special doll, isn’t it?”
“I’m gonna call her Kitty,” Haley announced, “because I want a kitty.”
“Okay! That’s a good name!”
Anne rolled her eyes at Franny as Haley scampered away. “We’re lobbying heavily for a kitty.”
“She couldn’t be cuter if she was my child,” Franny said.
The front doorbell rang and Anne jumped like she’d been given an electric shock. She could almost feel the blood drain from her face. This was part of her post-crime sentence, to panic at the sound of the doorbell when she wasn’t expecting anyone.
Franny frowned. “I’ll see who it is.”
Anne followed him at a distance to the front of the house, trying to calm herself, to tell herself there was no reason to panic. Peter Crane was sitting in jail. He wouldn’t be on the other side of her door ready to attack her.
No. It wasn’t Peter Crane at the door, but a whole other kind of threat Anne realized as she heard Franny say, “Maureen Upchurch. How’s your nephew? Has he been incarcerated yet?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Unlike some people, I have friends,” Franny said.
Anne moved around him to see Maureen Upchurch and Milo Bordain on her front step.
Because of her aversion to surprise guests and because of Vince’s background with the FBI, she and Vince had taken great pains to keep their address private. But of course Maureen would have access to her address because of Haley. And here she was, looking as put out as always.
“This is a surprise,” Anne said. “What can I do for you ladies?”
“And she uses the term loosely,” Franny whispered behind her. Anne stepped back on his foot.
“It’s just a formality,” Maureen said, “but I insisted to Judge Espinoza that I make the obligatory home visit so my office can retain some kind of record of this situation.”
“A phone call would have been nice,” Anne said.
“The visits are drop-ins for a reason,” Upchurch countered.
“Oh my God!” Franny exclaimed, slapping his cheeks. “I’ll go hide the sex toys!”
Milo Bordain, impeccably turned out in a Burberry plaid raincoat, turned to Maureen Upchurch. “Who is that person?”
Franny stepped around Anne and offered his hand. She didn’t take it. “Francis Goodsell, three-time California Teacher of the Year in the kindergarten division. Love the scarf. Hermès?”
Milo Bordain touched a gloved hand to the scarf wound around the throat of her camel cashmere turtleneck as if she were afraid he might try to strip it from her.
Anne focused on the Child Protective Services supervisor. “And did you tell Judge Espinoza you’d be dropping by unannounced with a third party in tow? Because if you’re such a stickler for the rules, Maureen, I’m pretty sure tagalongs aren’t in the book.”
“That’s my fault,” Bordain said. “Maureen knows how badly I want to see Haley. She was kind enough to invite me along. I hope you don’t mind, Anne.”
“I do mind,” Anne said bluntly.
“But Haley is like a granddaughter to me,” Bordain went on, tearing up. “I’ve lost her mother—”
“Yes, I know,” Anne said, “and I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Mrs. Bordain. Really, I’m not trying to be difficult. But as Haley’s guardian I’m trying to maintain a certain amount of structure for her. Having people just show up can be overstimulating to a small child, especially to a child who’s already had a sudden traumatic upheaval in her life.”
“But Haley knows me,” Bordain argued, the tears threatening to spill over. “I’ve been worried sick about her! Thinking about how frightened she must have been, wondering what kind of terrible memories must be plaguing her. I would have tried to arrange something with you myself, but I didn’t have any way of contacting you. And I brought her a little gift,” she said, holding up a shoebox-size package wrapped in rainbow paper with a big pink bow.
Anne held fast for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. She saw Milo Bordain as a threat to her custody of Haley, but it was probably smarter to have the woman for a friend than an enemy. And she did know what loss was. Anne knew what a hole her mother’s death had left inside her. Milo Bordain was suffering the loss of a surrogate daughter. That loss was clearly taking a toll on her. Even the most expensive makeup couldn’t conceal the dark circles under her eyes or the deepening lines on her forehead and around her mouth.
Finally she sighed. “Let me go tell Haley you’re here so she isn’t taken by surprise.”
She walked toward the back of the house with Franny right beside her.
“I’m going to the kitchen,” he whispered. “To make a crucifix out of garlic to ward them off.”
Anne went into the family room.
“Haley, sweetheart,” she said, sitting on the ottoman next to the couch where Haley was busy tucking her new doll in bed. “Someone is here to see you.”
Haley’s eyes got big. “Is it my mommy?”
“No, sweetie. It’s Mrs. Bordain. Do you remember her?”
Haley scowled and shook her head.
“Maybe you called her something else. Wendy, did you ever meet Mrs. Bordain at Marissa’s house?”
Wendy, now engrossed in a Brady Bunch rerun on television, shook her head.
“Haley! It’s Auntie Milo!”
Bordain and Maureen Upchurch had invited themselves inside. They came into the family room, a formidable duo—Bordain as tall as a man, Upchurch as big as a house in a black tent for a raincoat.
Haley, already overtired from playing with Wendy, immediately started to cry. Bad Daddy was big and came in black clothes.
Anne picked her up and turned so Haley couldn’t see them.
“Maureen, please take your coat off. The black coat is scaring her.”
“My coat? Why would that scare her?”
Anne glared at her. “Take off the coat.”
Understanding dawned on Milo Bordain’s face.
“The at
tacker must have worn a black coat,” she said, then snapped at Upchurch. “Take your coat off, Maureen.”
Anne ignored them both, trying to quiet Haley.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Your auntie Milo missed you so much she had to come see you, and she brought you a present.”
The flow of tears stopped, one big one dangling on the edge of her eyelashes. She took a shuddering breath and looked at Milo Bordain.
“Hi, Haley!” Bordain made her voice higher and softer. “How are you?”
“My mommy is an angel now,” Haley said.
“I know, darling. We miss her, don’t we?”
Haley nodded, thumb zeroing in on mouth. She rested her head on Anne’s shoulder.
“She tires easily,” Anne explained. “Have a seat.”
She settled herself on the sofa with Haley on her lap as Milo Bordain chose the ottoman. Anne gave her a point for that—sitting as close as possible instead of choosing a chair six feet away. Upchurch was busy checking the tables for dust and looking with envy at the quality of the furniture.
“Haley,” Bordain said, leaning forward with the gift. “I brought you something special for you to have here at Anne’s house.”
Haley took the present and tugged on the bow.
“We’ll keep that for you to wear in your hair,” Anne said, setting the ribbon aside.
Her bout of tears forgotten, Haley had moved on to the box, dispensing with the rainbow paper in short order.
“It’s a kitty!” she exclaimed, pulling the stuffed toy out of the tissue paper.
“I thought you were probably missing your kitties at your house,” Bordain said. “This is a kitty you can take anywhere.”
Anne felt her heart soften a little more toward Milo Bordain. She had actually put some thought into the gift and had clearly paid attention to Haley’s obsession with cats and kittens.
“What do you say, Haley?” Anne prompted.
“Thank you, Daddy Milo!”
“Auntie Milo,” Anne corrected her.
“It’s all right,” Bordain said. “Haley tells me I should be a boy because I have a boy’s name.”
Haley was through with the adults, off the couch and taking her new treasure to show her friend. “Wendy, look at my kitty! I got a kitty, but it’s not a real one. It just looks like one.”