by R. Jean Reid
“How did you know he was a cop?”
“Had on a cop uniform.”
Nell considered calling Chief Shaun out in the swamp to tell him his little scheme to get rid of Boyce wasn’t exactly going as he’d promised. Apparently Boyce was not only still around, but still wearing his uniform and pretending to be a policeman.
“Did he do anything else, say anything else?”
“No, just that. I told him I was waiting for some of the guys on the wrestling team, to help them sew their uniforms. I just don’t like him. He was hanging around school a couple of weeks ago when he thought no one was watching him.”
“Why didn’t you mention this at the time?”
Lizzie shrugged as if this was a stupid question. “It was just one weird moment. There are a lot of them. I don’t tell you them all. It was seeing him again that creeped me out.”
“How did you see him?” Nell handed her daughter a glass, her hint that even under duress, drinking out of the milk carton was not okay. “The wrestling team and sewing was a nice touch,” she added. Lizzie’s idea of sewing was an iron-on patch.
“I was staying late practicing with this new jazz group some of us put together, and some of the guys were arguing about which piece to do next, so I wandered over to the window and there he was, watching the school.”
“Does Ms. Daniels know about this group?”
“Of course she does,” Lizzie returned. “Can’t exactly hang out in the band hall without the band director’s permission. And don’t worry, she’s usually somewhere around doing paperwork, so we’re properly chaperoned.”
“What did the guy do besides watch?”
“He just watched. Not the usual look-around-and-check-things-out. He stood in the same place for a while, looking off in the same direction—I think the place where the buses drop the kids off. Then he left like he was in a real hurry.”
“Anything else?”
“No, that’s it,” Lizzie answered before taking a long drink of milk, now out of a glass. “And I wouldn’t have been outside if you hadn’t locked the door on me.”
Nell’s questioning clearly wasn’t going to cause her daughter to forget what had happened. Nor should it, Nell thought. She hadn’t bothered to worry about Lizzie the entire time she was with Josh. She’d made a stupid mistake and her daughter had suffered.
“Lizzie, there have been some things that have me worried,” she began slowly. How would Thom handle this? she wondered. Then she thought, it doesn’t matter what Thom would have done. He’s not here and won’t be here and I have to learn to cope. How will I handle this is the question I have to ask myself. “A young boy was murdered recently.”
Lizzie paused in mid-gulp. “Murdered? Here? How? Was he bored to death?”
Nell saw her flip remark for what it really was: the reflex of protection against horrors that could escape the movie theater and enter real life. “He was strangled,” she replied slowly, wondering how much to tell her daughter. “He was sexually assaulted and murdered.” Jacko had seen the autopsy report. “Sexual assault” was as nice a term as she could use for what had happened to Rayburn Gautier before he died. His internal injuries alone would have killed him.
Lizzie was now looking directly at Nell, the milk and building-strong-bones forgotten. “That’s sick!”
“Yes, it is. It’s very sick and very scary. Today a boy from Josh’s bike trip is missing. That’s where I was, waiting to see if they found him.”
“Who was it?”
“Joey Sayton.”
“Joey? Little Joey? Josh’s friend?” Lizzie’s face crumpled into tears as she realized that the horror might be closer to her than she’d ever thought possible.
This time she didn’t pull away as Nell hugged her. “They’re still looking for him. It’s possible Joey decided to play a joke and hide, maybe got lost. Or he might have hurt himself, broken a leg and couldn’t get back. There’s a big search going on right now. Josh is with the police, helping them search the bayous where he and Joey explored.”
“Will Josh be okay?” Lizzie sniffed into Nell’s shoulder.
“Josh’s fine. He’s with a bunch of policemen. He’s probably … as safe as we are.” Nell almost said “safer than we are,” which might well have been true, but Lizzie didn’t need to be made aware of that.
Her daughter gave a final sniff and pulled away. “Well, locking me out is a good way to keep me away from mad killers. Maybe you should get me an extra cell phone charger and backup battery.”
“Maybe I should,” Nell admitted, not pointing out that Lizzie should be better about making sure her phone was charged. Cell phone use was an ongoing issue. Nell, of course, used the one that officially belonged to the Crier. She’d relented and gotten both Lizzie and Josh the most basic phones: text, email, and actual voice connections only. Her mother-in-law had done an end-around her at Christmas and bought the latest smartphones for Josh and Lizzie, enrolling the three of them in a family plan. Lizzie hadn’t done a good job of adjusting to how quickly the battery drained on hers and was hinting she needed a charger pack. Nell, piqued at Mrs. Thomas for giving her children something she wasn’t sure they were ready for (not to mention leaving her in the tech dust), had been reluctant to add anything to her mother-in-law’s gift.
“Really?” Lizzie asked, almost surprised that her ploy had worked.
“Maybe, really,” Nell said. “We can talk about it tomorrow. It’s past midnight now and way past your bedtime.”
“Okay,” Lizzie said, managing to put the milk back and her glass in the sink without being prompted. “But what about Josh? Are you going to wait up for him?”
“I’m not going to bed until he gets back,” Nell assured her.
Lizzie yawned in response. “Okay. Do you want me to stay up with you?”
“One of us should get some sleep,” Nell said, but she was touched by Lizzie’s offer. At times her daughter seemed lost in the self-absorbed world of a teenage girl, but every once in a while something hopeful peeked through. Nell knew that her request for the cell phone extras had more than an edge of self interest in it, but it could have made a difference tonight.
“Oh, and Mom?” Lizzie said as she started down the hallway to her room. “Can I have a house key?”
“Yes, honey,” Nell told her tired daughter. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll go to the locksmith and have some made. Now get some sleep.”
Lizzie nodded and headed off to bed.
Nell sat down to read, in the chair facing the street.
She was chagrined to realize she’d been nodding out when she heard the sound of an engine, then a car door slam, which she hoped heralded Josh’s return. She hurriedly went to the door, both out of anxiousness and to shake the sleep out of her features.
It was in fact Josh, brought home by one of the policemen. His dejected walk from the car to the house didn’t auger well for them finding Joey alive and healthy.
Nell waved a goodbye to the policeman. Josh noticed her wave and hastily added one of his own, his manners overcoming his dejection.
“Welcome home,” Nell said as he slipped into the house. “What happened?” She closed and locked the door behind him.
“Nothing. Couldn’t find him.”
In the light, Nell could see the tiredness in his face, the dark circles under his eyes. She was slightly relieved to hear that his despondency wasn’t from finding Joey and having to accompany him to the morgue.
“Maybe the sheriff already found him,” Nell said, then wondered why we so desperately want to hold on to hope.
“Yeah, maybe,” Josh tiredly replied. “But if this is some joke of his, I’m going to kill him.” Exhausted as he was, his frustration and worry burbled into anger.
“Do you want anything to eat, or do you want to just head straight to bed?” Nell asked.
Nell considered calling the sheriff’s office to see if there was any definite word, but chose to leave it to the morning that would soon be here. If they hadn’t found Joey yet, at least Josh would have some sleep before having that to worry about.
She puttered in the kitchen as she listened to Josh finish in the bathroom and then go back to his room. Somehow it seemed important that she be awake and vigilant until her children were safely asleep. Once the light under his door went out, Nell allowed herself to find her way to bed. Tomorrow, she was afraid, would be one of those long, waiting days, with nothing to fill the hours except both hoping and dreading that the phone would ring.
eighteen
Nell was wrong. She didn’t have to wait long for the phone to ring. Her sleep was so deep that at first she fumbled with the clock, thinking the alarm had truncated her rest. But it was still night outside, and the clock told her only an hour had passed since her head hit the pillow.
This time she chased the shrill ring to its source—the phone—and quickly picked up the handset to silence it.
“Hello?” she mumbled.
Silence answered, until she again said, “Hello?”
“Nell McGraw.” It was the same voice, she was sure of it. “Do I have your attention now, Nell?”
“Who is this?” she said, although she knew her question wouldn’t be answered.
“I’d help you sell papers, Nell, if you’d let me.” The voice had a friendly, almost cajoling tone to it.
“What do you want?” Nell demanded, a cold fury rising inside her.
“I like you, Nell. You’ve got spunk. I like that in a gal.”
He was baiting her. Part of Nell just wanted to slam the phone down as hard as she could, but she clenched her hand tightly around it, willing herself to keep it to her ear. What he said, and the more he said, might help stop his madness.
“Where’s Joey?” she said, with a tired certainty that he would know the answer.
“Spunk and to the point. Promise me you’ll sell a few papers with this one, Nell.”
She didn’t reply to that, nor did she repeat her question; instead just left a silence for him to fill.
He did. “In plain sight. That’s where Joey is. Just hanging around in plain sight. If you go back to the beginning, you’ll find the end.”
“Can’t you just tell me?” Nell demanded.
“You’re a smart girl and full of spunk. I know you like a puzzle.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” Nell retorted.
“But I do, Nell. I know a lot of things about you. And I’m learning more every day.” He paused to let his words sink in, then said, “Good night, Nell. Sleep well.”
“Why?” Nell almost shouted into the phone, to keep him talking. “Why kill … children?” she demanded, again expecting no answer.
“Why? Because I can.” The line went dead.
She sat in bed, staring at the phone in her hand as if it were some strange, unknown thing.
“Mom?”
She glanced up to see Josh standing in the doorway. “Yes, honey, what is it?” she said almost automatically.
“I heard the phone ring. I just wondered …” He trailed off.
Nell knew it was beyond her to explain to Josh the phone call that had just taken place—the implicit threat to her and the stark reality that Joey was dead. “It was a wrong number. Some drunk who couldn’t seem to understand he’d punched in the wrong digits. I know you’re worried, but try to get some sleep.”
“Okay, Mom.” Josh said, apparently satisfied with what seemed to Nell to be a glaring lie that shouldn’t have fooled a five-year-old.
He softly closed her bedroom door, and a moment later Nell heard an answering click from his door.
She got out of bed and went to the window, edging the curtain back so she could see out. The night was quiet, the usual scene one would expect in the deep of night in a small town. A few porch lights on, the street light at the corner the main illumination. There were no cars on the street, the houses mostly dark and shuttered. She wanted to be sure that Josh was asleep before she made the phone call she would have to make.
The approaching headlights of a car swept around the corner, illuminating the window for a second. Nell shrank back, as if they could see her through the crack in the curtains. As if they were even looking, she chided herself. But the car drove by slowly, taking its time passing her house. Nell felt the fear start to return until she realized it was a police car. Maybe Chief Shaun was doing something about Boyce and his threats. Or maybe they were still patrolling because of the call she’d received.
It was time to call the chief. She listened for a moment more to see if she heard the sounds of restless kids, then picked up the phone.
“Doug Shaun,” he answered on the first ring. He didn’t sound like he’d even attempted sleep yet.
“Doug, this is Nell McGraw. He called again.”
“The killer?” he asked quickly.
“The same voice. Taunting me this time about selling papers. And … hinting where to look for Joey … Joey’s body.”
“What did he say?”
Nell repeated the words the caller had left her with.
“Hanging around? Ends where it begins?” Chief Shaun repeated slowly after her, as if puzzling it out. “Any thoughts?”
Nell had thoughts, thoughts that she hoped were wrong. “Yes, ‘hanging’ could be just that, up in a tree. ‘Where it began’—probably at the picnic tables in the park, where both the bike trip and the search began.” She wanted to be wrong, not to be left with the possibility that Joey had been hanging above their heads all that time.
“Huh,” Chief Shaun let out, as if thinking about her guess. “That’ll really piss the sheriff off, if that’s true. Them looking all that time and not finding him right under their noses. Right over their noses, I should say.”
“I would hope the sheriff gets pissed off that Joey was murdered, not about a contest over who found him,” Nell replied.
“Did you call him?”
“Call who?”
“Sheriff Hickson.”
“No, I didn’t. I’ll let you do that. Tell the sheriff I was too tired to have more than one phone call tonight.” Then she added, “But I will talk to him tomorrow. Even if the two of you can’t cooperate, I intend to cooperate with both of you.”
“If you want to waste your time with him …” The chief trailed off, then said, “But he doesn’t have a clue how to operate a real murder investigation.”
He sounded far too awake for her, almost as if he was hoping she’d ask a follow-up question so he could rattle off all the things he’d do that the sheriff wouldn’t ever think of doing. Nell had no patience for this rivalry tonight. “I’m tired, Doug. I’m going to check on my children one more time, then try to get at least a little sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She didn’t even give him a chance to reply before gently putting down the handset, hanging up on him as politely as she could.
Her mind was debating just falling back into bed, but her body was already standing up, on some primal instinct to do what she could to ensure safety for her children. She first looked in on them, relieved they both seemed asleep, young enough to think that nightmares could be easily woken from. Then she checked the locks on both the front door and the kitchen door. Should I get extra locks for the doors? she wondered. Would a heavier bolt keep the nightmares safely outside? She shrugged, settling for the practicality that they couldn’t hurt.
Nell trudged slowly back to bed, wondering if there was anything else she needed to do tonight, anything that might make her feel safer. Tomorrow, she told herself as she lay down. Cell phone back-ups and locks tomorrow.
But ev
en as tired as she was, Nell still didn’t find sleep until the first light of dawn, as if the rising sun offered some safety.
nineteen
The sun had not been up long when the jangling of the alarm clock woke Nell. Groggily she fumbled for the phone before realizing it wasn’t the culprit this time. For a brief moment, she was a sleepy woman in a room filled with bright sunshine, then as she awoke further, she recalled the events of the previous day.
Another jarring ring interrupted her thoughts, and this time it was the phone.
Warily, she picked it up.
“Nell, why in tarnation didn’t you call me?” the sheriff asked without any preamble. “You knew that was my jurisdiction. I was already working on it. Now I’ve got Doug Shaun all over the place, puffed up and trying to call the shots.”
“Good morning to you, too, Sheriff,” Nell couldn’t help responding. Not wanting to give him much of an opening, she quickly continued. “Chief Shaun gave me a card with every single phone number he has so I could reach him at any time. I didn’t think it best to pass the message on to an underling deputy, and I had no way to reach you directly.” There, she thought as the excuse came out of her mouth. Make it his fault.
“Sorry, I don’t waste the taxpayers’ money on things like cell phones.”
“It was Chief Shaun’s personal phone,” Nell countered, even though she had no idea if that was true.
“My men always know how to contact me. Wouldn’t of taken but about five minutes or so for me to get back to you.”
“It was the middle of the night, Sheriff. I didn’t need ringing phones waking my children,” Nell replied tersely.
“You know that Shaun ain’t gonna call me,” the sheriff huffed back at her. “Did he promise you an exclusive if he got to be the one to cut the body down?”
“The body?” she found herself stupidly repeating.