by Stacy Green
A demanding yowl greeted me. Mousecop wrapped himself around my ankles, purring loudly. I scooped him up and snuggled him, listening to the sound of his motor. “Hi, fat one.”
He twisted in my arms, his tail slipping around my neck. I knew his game. I carried him to my small kitchen, cradling him like the spoiled baby he was. His food bowl wasn’t empty, but I could see the bottom, and that was a no-no in Mousecop’s world. I poured him some expensive food and left him purring and chowing.
My eyes drooped from the early morning, and I checked my messages yet again hoping to have something from Kelly. She’d managed to log into Kailey’s email address and was painstakingly going through every contact. The police would do the same, but I wanted the information for my own investigation. She also found Slimy Steve on yet another disgusting website, with a new screen name and trying to meet up with a young girl. I needed to take care of him.
The phone pulsed, rattling on my miniscule end table. I slouched in the chair when I saw my mother’s name pop up on the caller I.D. If I didn’t answer and deal with her now, she’d keep calling.
“Hello?” I’m sure I didn’t sound pleased to hear from her.
“You were supposed to call me three days ago.”
My chin dropped to my chest. I didn’t need this right now. “Sorry. I’ve been busy.”
My mother heaved a sigh, and I pictured her sitting in the kitchen, sipping her iced tea. Once a raven-haired beauty, age and bad choices marked her face with deep wrinkles. Her makeup only made the lines more visible. No longer lustrous, her hair hung limp to her shoulders. “You’re always too busy for me.”
“I’ve got a backload of cases, Mom.” Not true, but I certainly had plenty of crap to muddle through.
“I know. But you’ve only got one mother. And who knows how long I’ll be around?”
“You’re only sixty-seven.”
My mother sighed with the imagined weight of the world. “I’ve had a hard life, Lucy.”
“I remember. How’s Mac?” Asking about my stepfather was the only way to keep from hanging up on her. The three of us had dinner together the other night, and Mac wound up with chest pains. I spent hours stuck with my mother in the emergency room, half-wishing she was the one in peril. Thankfully Mac was all right, but I still worried about him. He worked too hard and refused to retire.
“He’s fine,” my mother said. “But I have to force him to take it easy. It’s so hard when he won’t listen to me, Lucy.”
Never mind how tough it is for an aging construction worker and lifelong outdoorsman to admit he needed to slow down. It was always about Mother. “Tell him I’ll stop by to see him as soon as I can. I’ve picked up a case, and it’s pretty urgent.”
“Your job is so sad,” my mother said. “I’ll never understand why you chose to work with these kinds of people when you could have been anything.”
“These kinds of people, Mom? As if they’re any different from us?” Hypocrisy was one of my mother’s star attributes.
“That isn’t fair.”
“Fair? Do you actually think life is fair?”
My mother sighed. “I didn’t say that.”
“You just said it.” I tried not to snap. It would only cause an argument I couldn’t win. “And I do important work. I help families, and every once in a while I help put a piece of trash behind bars. I’m sorry my work puts me in contact with “those kinds of people.’”
“You’re twisting my words. I never said there was anything wrong with the type of people you help.”
A familiar ache pulsed in the back of my neck. I knew better than to get sucked into this game. “Fine. So what did you call for?”
“Because you never call me. Here I am, with only Mac and my daughter as family, and you choose to ignore me.” My mother sniffled. I imagined her dabbling her nose with a scratchy tissue. She never bought the name brand. “What if something happened to me? How terrible would you feel then? Would I finally get some attention?”
My tired body sagged into the chair. I hated that after all she’d done–and all the things she didn’t do–my mother still had the ability to make me feel like the bad child.
“I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”
Another sniffle. “I hope so.”
My throat knotted. The blades of a thousand knives dug into the back of my neck. Life would be so much easier if I didn’t love my mother. If some part of me still didn’t long for her approval. For her affection.
She cleared her throat and sighed–a signal the conversation was taking a turn. “Are you seeing anyone?”
I groaned. My mother fit the passive-aggressive, yet excessively nosy cliché mother mold perfectly. And we’d had this conversation the last time we saw each other. Did she really think I’d met some Casanova in a few days’ time? “Not seriously, no.”
“What happened to the doctor?”
He wasn’t a doctor. He was the chemist who provided me the cyanide. But my mother couldn’t know that, so I said he was a pediatrician. Wasn’t a total lie, as he did have a doctorate.
“I see him occasionally. We’re both busy.”
“You’re thirty-four years old,” my mother said. “A couple more years, and pregnancy will be a bigger risk for you.”
“Women in their forties have babies all the time, Mom. Besides, I’m not sure I want kids.”
Vigilante killer of pedophiles and mother. Somehow those two ideas didn’t gel.
“Lucy, I’d like to have grandkids, and you’re my only hope.” The self-indulgent, whiney tone made my teeth grind.
“And why is that, Mother?”
“Please don’t bring up your sister’s death now.”
“I didn’t. You did.” Twenty-two years ago, my sister had taken her own life because of our mother’s sick boyfriend. Anger burned inside the usually hollow pit of my heart. I tasted it in my mouth, felt it in my pounding head. The same anger that fueled my extracurricular activity threatened to overwhelm me.
“You know, I lost a child.” Now Mother sounded petulant. She probably looked like she was sucking on a lemon. “I suffered more than you can imagine.”
“I think you forget it was Lily who suffered the most.”
“You know I did the best I could.”
The best she could was turning a blind eye to all the obvious signs her live-in boyfriend was abusing her oldest daughter. Even when I insisted something wasn’t right, Joan ignored me. And then my sister was gone. As I got older, I could have forgiven my mother’s ignorance. I couldn’t forgive the way she used my sister’s suicide to evoke sympathy and manipulate everyone around her. She excelled in an argument, never failing to make herself the victim regardless of the barbs she dished out. Debating with her was a waste of energy.
I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just really stressed out right now. A little girl went missing after school yesterday, and I’m afraid one of my former cases might have taken her.”
“The little girl from Poplar?” Joan sucked in a whistling breath. “I saw that on the news this morning.”
“Remember Justin Beckett?”
“Yes. You were obsessed with that kid. I didn’t hear from you for nearly a month after he was arrested.”
“Right. Well, he lives across the street from the missing girl.”
“What do the police think?”
I wasn’t about to get into an ethics discussion with my mother. “They’re looking at everyone.”
“Well, I hope they find her. What her mother must be going through.”
“She’s a mess.”
“I’ve no doubt,” she said. “You know I’ve been having those heart palpitations again, ever since Mac’s incident the other night.”
Typical. No one could direct a conversation back to the topic of herself better than Mother. “Have you gone to the doctor?”
“I don’t want to. You know I’m afraid they’ll find something serious.”
“Better they find it than to j
ust hope nothing’s wrong. What does Mac think?” I’ve yet to figure out how my stepfather put up with my mother’s emotional manipulation. He was a decent, hardworking guy, perpetually optimistic. He deserved more than melancholy, damaged Joan.
“He thinks I should go to the doctor.” Her tone cheered up the way it always did when Mother talked about herself. “I suppose I should. But I don’t know what I’ll do if they find something serious.”
“You’ll let them treat it.” I checked my watch. Almost time to head to school. “I’ve got to get going, Mom. I have an appointment. I’ll call you.”
“No, you won’t.”
I forced myself to smile in hopes I’d sound semi-pleasant. “Of course I will.”
8
My fingers dug into the steering wheel as I answered Kelly’s call. I sat a few blocks down from Kipling Elementary, ready to head into the school when she called with a double whammy.
Kelly didn’t bother to say hello. “Kailey’s Internet access has definitely been restricted because a lot of the stuff in her email is from game sites and whatnot. But, if you look in her trash folder, there are five emails from a RRangerFan1, and every single one of Kailey’s replies came when she was at the babysitter’s, within a half an hour after school.”
“Did you trace the email back to anyone?”
“It took me a while because I had to trace the email back to an online forum for Mighty Morphin Power Rangers fans.”
“Say what? Didn’t that show end a long time ago?” I was never much of a cartoon kid, but my oldest friend Kenny loved the Power Rangers. He still had a bunch of toys he insisted were valuable memorabilia.
“Yeah, but there are still people who love it and do role playing stuff. Anyway, I found our guy. And guess who it is?”
Stinging air rushed up my esophagus. I didn’t want to be right about this. “Justin Beckett.”
“Yep. He’s not very smart because he registered that email to the message board under his real name. From what I can tell, he and Kailey have been emailing for a few weeks.”
“What do the messages say?” Part of me didn’t want to know. As much as I was driven to stomp out the filth of this world, I constantly fought the urge to stick my head in the sand and pretend humanity was wonderful.
“Here’s the weirdest part. He’s not hiding who he is,” Kelly said. “He signs it Jay, but he’s not trying to talk to her like he’s a kid. He clearly talks like an adult trying to cheer up a lonely little girl.”
“Of course he does.”
“Sounds like Kailey had been bullied at one point, and Justin may have stuck up for her,” Kelly continued. “I can’t get the whole story from emails, but it’s definitely enough for the police to get a warrant.”
“If you found this, so will they. As long as Todd Beckett plays it straight.” That could be a big if. Stalwart cop or not, Todd was also human and fell into the messy tangle of loyalty versus responsibility. He wouldn’t be the first cop to choose loyalty.
“I thought his partner was handling Justin.”
“Yeah, but Todd doesn’t want his little brother to go back to prison. You don’t think he might try to cover up evidence? What if he thinks he needs to convince Justin to let her go and take off or something? Anything would be better than another round of prison.”
“I don’t know, Lucy. Todd’s been pretty decent to you so far, and he’s got a really good reputation.”
“Which is on the line because he vouched for his brother and promised to keep an eye on him. Did you find out anything else?”
Kelly cleared her throat. “Yeah. One other thing, and it’s worst of all.”
I braced myself, pushing my feet into the car’s floorboards. “Hit me.”
“Justin Beckett started working at A&M Sanitation three weeks ago.” I swallowed back the shock. Justin had access to dumpsters all over the city. The perfect place to drop little Kailey’s used body.
My head bounced against the back of the seat. “God Almighty.”
With ten minutes until dismissal, parents were already lining up to pick up kids. A whiteboard at the main entrance–the only one unlocked–announced a strict sign-in policy. I didn’t expect to get past the office, but I just needed an excuse to be milling around when the kids came out. If I were lucky, I’d manage to talk to some parents.
Although one of the older buildings in the district, Kipling Elementary had the standard security cameras on all the doors, with a second set of alarmed interior doors acting as a barrier for unwanted visitors. The inside of the school showed its wear, scuff marks decorating the tile in long streaks. Yellow, textured walls boasted scratches, and I envisioned kids trying to claw their way out of their imagined prisons.
Inside the office, a grim-faced secretary greeted me. “May I help you?”
I plastered a smile on my face and hoped I didn’t look like a hyena.
I leaned against the tall counter, which was cluttered with various signup forms and pens with ugly flowers taped to the ends. “I’m Lucy Kendall, and my husband and I are looking at a house in the area. I’d like to check out the school.”
The secretary, whose nametag announced her as Mrs. Harris, was unfazed. “We don’t give random tours. It’s a matter of student safety, which I’m sure you can understand.”
“Of course. I just thought I could maybe talk to the principal, get a feel for the place.”
“He doesn’t take walk-ins unless your children actually attend Kipling,” Mrs. Harris said. “And he’s in a meeting right now. But I can certainly schedule you an appointment.”
I cleared my throat and checked my watch. “I’m not sure I can schedule that right now. I took today off work to check out the area. I’ll have to look at our calendars and call for an appointment. Sorry to have bothered you.”
Turning up the collar of my coat, I headed out of the office and into the hall. Outside, uniforms milled around, watching for someone suspicious. With Jenna’s permission to look for Kailey, I had every right to be here. But I knew Todd wouldn’t appreciate it.
Near the entrance, a janitor with a jingling key ring fiddled with the latch on a worn-looking display case. I gave him a wide berth, not wanting to disrupt his work.
“Ouch.” He cursed under his breath and dropped his screwdriver. The tip of his index finger was red from being pinched in the uncooperative latch.
I quickly bent down and grabbed the screwdriver. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He shot me a cursory glance, and then he froze, the tool clutched in his hands. His face was cherubic, although his expression distinctly hostile. Beneath a shock of blond hair was fair skin that looked like it hadn’t seen the sun for a while. Sallow came to mind, ravaged with the dark shadows of either drug use or insomnia. Darkness flashed through his eyes, and his fist clenched. I swear he started to step toward me.
I stepped out of the stranger’s reach. “Excuse me.”
The janitor said nothing, looking at me with such hate I wanted to run. I hurried outside, my skin burning from nerves and the heavy sensation of being watched.
My throat felt swollen, caked with anxiety. Students began to trickle out, and their voices were muted, as if I’d thrown a thick towel over them. I didn’t know the janitor. I’d remember that face. But he thought he knew me.
More students burst happily out of the doors as the bell rang. I took a deep breath and tried to focus. After Kelly heard about the older girls fibbing, she’d scoured the school website in the hopes of finding a picture of one of them. Turned out Josie was quite the actress and had the lead in the fourth-grade play last year. Her picture was front and center on the fine arts page. Now I waited for her to exit.
She trailed out with the last group of students, looking tired and sad. She walked alone.
“Josie?”
The girl stopped and eyed me suspiciously. “Yeah.”
I quickly showed her my badge. “I’m helping Jenna Richardson look for Kailey, and I have some q
uestions.”
Josie’s eyes flooded with tears. “I already told the detective I was sorry. He yelled enough.”
“I’m not here to scold you. We all make mistakes.”
“I’m not supposed to go with anyone.”
“Of course you aren’t.” I stepped out of the way of the milling kids and settled near the bushes adorning the school’s front. “We can talk right here. I just have a few questions.”
“Okay.” Josie came close enough to hear but maintained a safe distance. Good girl. “I know I wasn’t supposed to be in the lot.”
“That’s between you and your parents. Can you tell me about Kailey? Did she ever mention any adults or older kids who scared her?”
“No. And I told the cops that, you know.”
“I know. What about anyone in your neighborhood? You ever notice any adults hanging around when they shouldn’t be?”
Josie shrugged. “I don’t pay that much attention. But no one’s ever freaked me out.”
“Good.” I opened the browser on my smartphone to the picture of Justin. “Do you know him?”
Josie flushed. “Sure. That’s the boy who lives across the street. He’s really cute. My mom says he’s out of high school, so I shouldn’t be calling him a boy.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Justin.” She managed a small smile. “He’s nice to us. Sometimes we see him when we’re coming home after school. He likes to sit on his porch and draw. He’s really good.”
I nodded. “But if he lives across the street, you probably don’t get to talk to him much.”
Josie’s cheeks flamed brighter. “Well, he’s really cute. So…me and Bridget like to walk home on that side of the street in case he’s out. When he is, we get to talk to him. But we don’t stay long. Bridget always tries to get him to draw our picture, but he never will. She’s good at drawing, too, and yesterday morning she stopped to give him a picture she’d drew for him. We were almost late to school.”
I sucked in a hard breath and hoped Josie hadn’t heard. “Do you know if Kailey ever hangs out with Justin?”