by Stacy Green
“I don’t understand,” I said. “This is what we do. We can find this person. You know we can.”
“Maybe. But then what? What will you do when you find him? You think you’ll just be able to call the police and move on?”
I tried to keep my tone even. “I assume Justin isn’t within earshot.”
“I’m at my apartment, alone.”
“Small favors, I guess.”
“Don’t be like that,” Kelly spoke as if she were coaxing a small child out of her hiding spot.
“Why are you pushing me away from this?”
“Because I’m trying to protect you,” she said. “Going down this rabbit hole is too close to all the things you’re supposed to have left behind. It’s a mistake. Especially with all the information you have at your fingertips now.”
I sat up straight in my chair as Kelly’s words slammed into my sluggish brain. “I guess you’re right. I should just let Todd and Investigator King handle this.”
“Thank you,” Kelly said. “I just can’t stand the thought of your getting caught up in something that will drag you back down.”
As if I were an addict. And maybe that was the truth because I had just lied to my best friend.
5
In a normal missing or endangered child case, NCMEC employed a very structured plan. My job as Case Manager meant facilitating everything, including any communication with law enforcement and the missing child’s family.
But it also meant I had unlimited access to our private search engines.
Sitting in my cubicle in plain sight of everyone else, I couldn’t start searching the intricate web of child pornography sites. NCMEC housed a private section for those jobs, with meticulously screened employees. But I didn’t think photos from Lily’s crime scene would have ended up on a child porn site.
She’d been fully clothed. A small subset of pedophiles did enjoy looking at dead kids, but the pictures were usually staged and sexually suggestive. I didn’t need the child porn sites. I just needed the dark web in a safe place.
Kelly was right. Crime scene buffs liked to gather every damned thing, and the Internet was their storage reservoir.
As my colleagues said goodbye and left for the night, I hunched in front of my computer. More than half the lights in our section had been shut off and the blinds were all closed, leaving me in a dusky room with the white light of the computer shining on my undoubtedly pale face.
Search parameters came easily–I’d been right next to Lily, crouched in her blood. I knew what to look for.
Still, I didn’t expect results to come so quickly.
But they beamed out at me like a gaudy neon sign. Not scene specific details like ‘wrists cut,’ ‘suicide,’ ‘blond hair, teenager,’ but by name.
I didn’t need the dark web after all.
I could have Googled my sister’s crime scene. Six photos had been scanned and uploaded on a site called “Mourning Our Young–Gone too Soon.”
My chest grew heavy as if I’d stayed underwater too long and was only seconds away from my mouth bursting open and sucking water into my desperate lungs.
God, I didn’t want to look. I couldn’t look. I couldn’t see her again.
But I had to.
The first picture nearly destroyed me. Someone started crying–a deep, painful yowl of a wounded animal.
Me. It’s me.
The black and white quality of the picture only enhanced its brutality. The blood surrounding Lily seemed darker, thicker. Her skin even whiter than I’d remembered.
Her small hands open and slack. Submissive to her death.
And the eyes–the opaque, vacant look that haunted me every night of my life.
I wanted to be angry. But the emotion wouldn’t come. Instead the very same shock and sorrow that had struck me that night over twenty years ago attacked. I pushed my chair back, stumbled away from my desk.
Everyone had gone home.
No one around to hear my anguish.
The sun was setting by the time I finally left the building. Completely drained and dried up, I robotically set off on my walk home. Normally I enjoyed the walks. I lived close enough that driving seemed silly, especially when I spent the day sitting on my butt. Usually, I made it to my place in less than fifteen minutes. But my legs moved slowly as if they were tied together at the ankles. Other people gave me a wide berth, averting their eyes.
I couldn’t decide which cut more deeply–seeing the pictures or reading that five years ago, Joan Kendall had been the one to upload them.
My mother had an entire sympathy thread discussing the terrible suicide of her daughter, with complete strangers fawning over her unimaginable suffering. Joan ate it up, even discussing at length how she’d felt so hurt that her daughter chose to reach out to her sister in her final moments instead of the mother who’d sacrificed so much for her. The message. Joan had talked about the message from Lily to me on the message board.
Not a single word about why Lily had killed herself. Each time the question had been asked, Joan deflected like the master she was, bringing the conversation back to her.
She’d exposed my sister for the entire Internet to feast on and couldn’t even tell the truth about why she’d died.
A hatred unlike anything I’d ever known rushed through me.
I should have known. The biggest betrayers were always the people who were supposed to be closest to you. Only the people who’ve witnessed your worst moments and tasted your same pain and fear can use those things against you.
Joan would answer for her lies this time.
I reached Royal Street in Old Town without remembering the route I’d taken to get there. The historic heart of Alexandria hadn’t been my first choice to live in considering it was also among the most expensive places to live in the area, but the location was near great restaurants and shops, and even more importantly, within walking distance to both work and the King’s Street Trolley.
The brilliant sun from today had disappeared, replaced by bulbous clouds. The earthly smell of distant rain followed me as I drifted down Royal Street to the renovated building that now housed eight apartments. I lived on the ground floor–not ideal, but slightly cheaper, with the bonus of the small patio surrounded by the fenced in communal courtyard on the corner of Royal Street. After a long day of work, I loved to pop open a bottle of wine and sit in the tiny space, listening to the sounds of my new city.
Tonight I just wanted to burrow in and think.
Plan.
Pretend that I could actually kill my own mother.
Mousecop’s yowl welcomed me home, with the fat cat zigzagging between my feet and then theatrically flopping to the floor. I tossed my things in the nearest chair and dropped to my knees to rub his belly.
Tonight even my apartment felt like an enemy. Original, slightly scuffed hardwood floors no longer held character. They were just old. The updated kitchen pretentious, the bay window with its cozy seat a miserable trap. The same furniture I’d had in Philadelphia no longer vintage and chic but just cheap crap I’d bought on consignment.
I hated it all.
And now I was stuck in a new life I wasn’t meant for. Because if I was meant to change, then why had the urge to drag my mother into the street and beat the hell out of her consumed me? I could do it. I had the means to kill her and make it look like an accident.
My stepfather would move on.
I dragged my short fingernails through my hair, feeling it come loose from the bun. What did I do now? How did I go back to my regularly scheduled life knowing what she’d done?
The apartment had gone completely dark when Todd called. I still sat in the same spot, revenge and confusion paralyzing me.
“Hello?” Did my voice sound different? It must, because I was different now.
“No dice on the trip,” Todd said. “My Lieutenant caved into the jurisdictional pressure. Personally, I think he was intimidated to be dealing with National Park Police. King�
��s going to work the murder, and we’ll work the stuff from our end.”
The disappointment rushed over me with the force of a tidal wave. No words could escape my swelled vocal chords. The idea of seeing Todd had been the only thing getting me through the day.
“Lucy?”
I finally managed to breathe. The next step was forming words. “I really wanted to see you.”
He must have caught the change in my voice. “What’s wrong?”
“My mother. That’s how the guy found Lily’s death photos. She somehow got her hands on them, and now they’re online. All he had to do was Google her name.”
“Jesus.” Todd’s disgust did little to appease my anger.
“She uploaded them five years ago. Has a whole message board of people feeling sorry for her. And since the last entry was just a few months ago, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s communicating with one or more privately.” Talking about what Joan had done helped to unclutter my head.
“One of them might even be our bad guy.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Joan’s too self-absorbed to catch on to something like that.”
“Any chance you can take a couple of days off and go with me to talk to her?” Todd sounded shy, and I pictured the blush on his plain face and the way he tugged at his lip when he was nervous. Had he grown his mustache back? “She might tell me more if you’re there.”
He wants to see me too.
She wouldn’t. But that wasn’t the issue. “I can’t.”
“Yeah. Probably too soon for you to take personal days.” It was his turn to sound deflated. I didn’t even take the time to wonder if it had more to do with the case or with the chance to see me.
“That’s not it. I can’t see that woman, Todd. Nothing good will come of it.”
“I understand.”
“No, you really don’t.” How could he? His parents weren’t the best life had to offer, but his mother had been good to him. Joan had no maternal instincts. “But that’s okay. You’re just going to have to talk to her by yourself.”
“I’m sorry about all this,” Todd said. “I should have told you Shannon was missing. But I didn’t want to distract you. Not when things were going so well.”
“Afraid I might go down the wrong path?” I didn’t care how rude I sounded. We both knew it was true.
Todd didn’t answer right away, and I started laughing. The bitter sound rattled through my dark apartment and pushed me further toward the edge. On hands and knees, phone tucked against my shoulder, I crawled to the end table and flipped on the lamp. The yellow glow did little to pacify me. “What can you tell me about the investigation? Do you have any leads?”
“A few,” he said. “A couple of friends of Jake Meyer’s who made vocal threats against you after he died. I don’t think they’re involved, but we’re checking. Beyond that, we’re waiting for the task force to get their shit together and get us the data. We’re going to have to cross check every known contact on that list, and it’s going to be a bitch.”
“Then you definitely need to talk to Joan. She might be able to give you something to narrow things down.”
“I’ll go over there first thing in the morning. You talked to Kelly?”
“She’s going to be careful,” I said. “I told her you’d have a car drive by and keep an eye on her building.”
“I’ll do my best,” Todd said. “But her building is secure, and she’s very cautious.”
“And she has Justin.” Did I sound jealous? I didn’t want to be jealous. Kelly had a right to have someone other than me in her life.
He sighed. “Are you upset about that? Because I’m telling you, it’s a good thing.”
“I hope so.”
Seconds ticked by, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say. My mind had drifted too far down into the dark temptations I thought I’d let go. Try as I might, I couldn’t shake the idea that had taken root earlier.
“I’m sorry I won’t get to see you.” Todd’s voice sounded gruff. “Even if the reasons for the trip are shit.”
“Me too.” I wanted to say something more, but anything else felt too personal. No matter how much I wanted to see him, Todd needed to steer clear of me. Bad news all around.
He promised to call if he heard anything.
After he hung up, I spent more than an hour in the same spot, fighting the temptation.
I couldn’t do this terrible thing. It was immoral and went against everything I’d convinced myself I stood for.
Everything I’d put in the past.
But I could no longer allow Joan to escape the accountability of what she’d done to Lily. Not just to her life, but her memory.
Tomorrow morning, Todd would interview her.
And then I’d come out of the shadows and put the fear of God into the woman who’d ruined my and my sister’s lives.
6
I called my boss at home that night, and he graciously gave me the time off to deal with Shannon’s murder. I called Kelly next, hoping her excitement at my visit soothed some of the anger.
“Okay,” she said when I finished. “I’ll be here.”
“Wow. Don’t get too worked up.”
“Sorry.” Her far away sounding voice told me she had the phone balanced on her shoulder. “I’m excited, I promise.”
I curled into a ball, jamming my head into the pillow. “Is Justin there?”
“What? No. I’m just working on something.”
“It must be a juicy case if you’re this distracted.” Kelly’s job as a consultant for the Philadelphia Police Department usually came second to our work. But I supposed my leaving changed all that.
Kelly laughed. “No. Just a bunch of fact checking on a backlog of robbery cases. I want to get it finished. It’s a nightmare.”
Pacified, I told her goodbye. “I should be there by noon tomorrow.”
“Perfect. I’ll be back from the grocery by then.”
It still sounded odd to hear her talking about going out alone, but it put a small smile on my face. Two Tylenol PMs and a shot of bourbon gave me a few hours of sleep, and by seven the next morning I was on the road to Philadelphia. Home.
I even left a message for Todd letting him know I was coming into town. But he could go ahead and talk to Joan without me.
As the miles passed, futility began to set in. Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t be able to confront my mother. She was the one monster I’d never been able to stand up to. I’d storm into her perfect house and demand to know how she’d gotten the photos and why she was so selfish. And then she would start in, making herself the victim. I’d anticipate each move, but I wouldn’t be able to counter it. Some sort of twisted sense of duty or respect for my elders. No matter how they’d treated me.
By the time the Philadelphia skyline began to emerge from the horizon, I felt stupid. I didn’t want to see my mother. Nothing would change, except my own feelings of inadequacy would triple.
The trip wasn’t a waste, I reminded myself as the thunderclouds began to roll in from the west. I’d see Kelly and regroup. Maybe even spend a few hours with Todd. Pretend all was normal.
Five miles outside Philadelphia, the rain unleashed. Kelly had mentioned excessive amounts of rain this summer, so I should have expected it. The weather hadn’t let up by the time I reached the Rittenhouse Square area and found a parking spot. My umbrella was no match for Mother Nature, and my sandals were drenched by the time I rushed into the entryway of Kelly’s building and rang the buzzer.
She didn’t answer. Paranoia slashed through me, but I was several hours early. I thought about calling Justin, but then I remembered the “Find A Phone” application. She’d emailed me directions on how to use it yesterday, but I hadn’t gotten around to setting up my account. Five minutes later, I had my username and password and access to the location pinging from her SIM card.
She was at Whole Foods, one of her favorite places.
I’d just have to make us a fresh p
ot of coffee while I waited for her to come home.
The familiar smell of Kelly’s apartment set me at ease. Her vanilla candles had been recently blown out, and the vague scent of her perfume lingered. I dropped my things onto the counter and wandered to her fridge. A child of habit–an essential part of her recovery–she kept her weekly list on the refrigerator. Today’s afternoon meant the walk to the corner health food store, and true to her routine, the list was gone. I sat down on her couch to wait, relaxing against the comfortable cushions and taking in the normalcy of Kelly’s apartment. Her desk area was its usual mess, covered in files and loose sheets of paper, with post-it notes lining her computer monitors.
To hell with confronting Joan. Being with Kelly was good therapy. Even though I’d needed to start over, the isolation that it brought had taken its toll. I didn’t long for friends. Just the good ones I’d left behind. Maybe one day Kelly would be healed enough to leave Philadelphia altogether. Start over with me.
But now she had Justin, and that complicated things. In a good way, I reminded myself. Jealousy still pricked at me, like picking at a scab that wasn’t ready to come off. She needed someone. She deserved someone. And Justin could very well be that person. He had the capacity to understand her. God knows I wasn’t the right person to discuss any sort of romantic relationship with. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been with a man, let alone considered dating one. Too busy using my excuses to save the world.
Rain still pouring, thunder cracked outside, loud enough the lightning must have struck somewhere in nearby Rittenhouse Square. As a kid, lightning had scared the hell out of me. Lily used to tell me it was God pissed off and smiting the bad people. I’d been foolish enough to believe it and made sure to be extra good. Storms still set me on edge, as if the lightning acted as some sort of key to open a well of bad memories. The first storm I’d endured in Alexandria, I wound up beneath the covers in a cold sweat, deluged with all the mistakes I’d made after finding out about Lily’s abuse. I gritted my teeth and hoped this one would pass soon.