"Thank you, Sheriff. We'll take that into consideration," Thomas said.
"Do you think she was murdered, Sheriff? Did Bubba kill my baby?" She almost yelled the words as the two biggest questions she had jumped to the front of her mind.
"I'm sorry, Charlotte, I wish I could answer those questions," he replied. Seeing her reaction, he continued, "Were you aware that Bubba's been locked up down in Texas since 1990?"
"No, I didn't. What'd he do?" she asked desperately while holding her breath. If he had done something to harm a child, she wouldn't know what to do with herself.
"Seems he got himself in with a burglary ring. He was driving the getaway vehicle one night when things went wrong inside the house his partners were working over. The homeowner was shot, almost didn't make it. Bubba got a pretty stiff sentence. He should have gotten out a while back, but he hasn't exactly been a model inmate. His temper got the best of him, and he stabbed his cellmate. That sealed his fate with the Texas Parole Board."
He spoke of a man Charlotte didn't know. But had her daughter known him? If she had, Charlotte felt she was to blame.
"I tried to contact him to see if he had anything to say for himself in light of these discoveries. He'd filed for an emergency release due to the pandemic; compassionate release they're calling it," he said with a scoff. "Bubba's paperwork wasn't processed in time. After I got through the red tape and arranged to speak to him, I was informed he'd fallen ill. Tested positive. When I checked back a week later, he'd died. The virus got to him before I could."
Charlotte could see the sincere disappointment in the man's face. She wanted to tell him he probably wouldn't have confessed to killing her if he had, but she wasn't sure that was true and couldn't bring herself to comfort someone while she was hurting so badly.
"No one claimed his belongings, so I asked for them to be sent to me. Maybe there's something there that will tell us more. It's a long shot, but I don't want to leave anything unchecked. I'm sorry to put all this on you at once, Charlotte."
Charlotte couldn't find her voice, but Thomas spoke. "Thank you, Sheriff. It is a lot to take in. Please let us know if you learn anything new."
The two men finished the call like people who weren't processing thirty-six years of devastation in a matter of minutes. She shut down again and Thomas took care of her.
Thirty-Seven
Dad was having a hard time believing he had just taken a call from the actual Mayor of Stillwater, but he was having an even harder time believing he was looking at a very official check in the absurd amount of fifty-thousand dollars. It was made out to none other than Maxwell and Carin Weizak. It was the reward for information leading to the recovery of Laura Combs, and he had signed for it earlier that morning.
It had never occurred to him that they might be presented with the reward fund. None of it seemed real anymore. Receiving the phone call and the check had occurred within hours of each other. Mayor Wills asked him if his family would like to attend Laura's service.
Mom insisted that they couldn't keep the money. It wasn't right. She was just starting to believe that they could put this all behind them, and maybe remodel the house and learn to love it again. They all agreed that changing the exterior of the home would take priority, hoping that it wouldn't forever be recognized as the house in the news reports.
Holden and Hazel didn't learn about the windfall until after the decision had been reached to donate the money to a charity chosen by Charlotte Combs-Childers. Emotions were high still, but the twins had recently learned that a decision about their first year at Stillwater High School was also made without their input. They tried not to focus on the knowledge that they would be doing distance learning, again.
There was a calm in the house. No longer were any of them struggling with the unknown, or the tightly coiled tension that left them doubting themselves constantly. Hazel was able to sleep again and tried to soak in the rest of the summer while still wondering how the remainder of her high school days would play out. She longed for life to return to normal.
Dad would joke, "Your generation will have the best 'back in my day' stories to come along in a long time."
To which she would reply, "Too soon, Dad. Too soon."
Thirty-Eight
The morning of Laura's homecoming was calm and sunny, but cool. The hot, oppressive days had come to an end, just in time for most Oklahomans to doubt their ability to take another day of hot weather and suffocating humidity. It was that tenuous time when most were hopeful that the cooler temperatures would stay for a while. Fall in Camelot Crossing was breathtaking. The leaves were beginning to turn, painting colorful reflections off the ponds that dotted the neighborhood. Shades of green surrendered to a myriad of orange, red and yellow. Still, summer would be missed by most, even a summer as ridden with strife as 2020.
Sparkling dew clung to webs along the tree-lined streets of Sheffield Court and Range Road, betraying their weaver's normally hidden art as the Weizaks made their way to Laura's funeral. All of them tugged on waistbands and collars and shifted in their too-tight shoes as they made their way into town.
Mom wondered out loud, "How did I wear this stuff every day? It feels so weird."
A line of cars wrapped around The City of Stillwater Community Center when the Weizaks arrived to follow the procession to the cemetery. The stately building had been the junior high the last year Laura attended school. The Weizaks sat in silence waiting for the escort to begin the slow crawl down Main Street and 6th Avenue to the place Laura would be laid to rest. Groups of people lined the streets in clusters and traffic pulled to the sides of the roads as the procession snaked its way through town. Some bystanders were crying, holding signs with messages of homecoming and grief.
Before Charlotte and Thomas had left the ranch that morning, Charlotte had quietly taken a pair of scissors to the yellow ribbon that circled the Mossycup Oak. She held the faded bow as she sat in the swing and cried before walking to the trailer and placing it on Laura's bed. Now from the limousine that traveled in the shadow of the hearse, she tried her best to read all the signs. The outpouring of community was still fashionable in the small town.
Charlotte searched the masked faces, struggling to recognize the mourners as they exited their cars at the grave site. Time often made familiar faces more vague, but the masks made them almost ambiguous.
Their heads lowered in mourning, the guests were directed to clusters of chairs that matched their carload's number of occupants. The seats were too far apart for any to speak to others. A camera was set up near the grave site to live stream the funeral, allowing the town to watch. Charlotte believed she picked out the Weizaks the moment they passed by her. She found herself fixated on the family, wishing she could speak to them but having no idea what she would say if she could.
Thomas read the words that Charlotte wrote. She was unsure of her voice and didn't want to break down. It was important to her that her words were heard by all. He did her tribute justice as he spoke of Laura's love of animals and music and reading, as well as her beauty, kindness and sweet disposition. Thomas told his own stories of Laura, of her days as a youngster on the ranch.
The Weizaks sat in stunned silence as Thomas spoke of Laura's pet cemetery. Mom squeezed Dad's hand as he described how Laura lovingly cared for the barn cats in life and in death.
Hazel closed her eyes as emotion crashed upon her. She felt as if she had known the girl, and now realized she would miss her despite the upheaval she had caused. Something tickled her hand and when she opened her eyes, she found two ladybugs had landed—one on her hand and one on the face smiling at her from the front of the memorial pamphlet. Not a loveliness, but enough to assure her that a part of Laura would always be with the Weizaks.
Coming Soon!
DEEP WATER
Shadows of Camelot Crossing
A Haunting in Stillwater
As Lula Clarkson lay dying in the dwindling days of 2020, her daughter Wren paid her
a visit. Lula’s youngest girl hadn’t aged a minute since Lula had last seen her that bitter winter day ten years past. Wren held in her arms a bundle of pink blankets and swayed gently in the corner of Lula’s dark bedroom. No words were spoken. It was just a quiet visitation to convey goodbye, or perhaps, hello.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my family for supporting me and my dream; my friends for cheering me on, and an amazing team of editors who helped me make this happen.
About the Author
Lisa Courtaway lives in Stillwater, Oklahoma and is married with four children. An entourage of four dogs and two cats follow her everywhere. She has worn many career-hats, from advertising to insurance to education. But her most rewarding title was Medical Paraprofessional to a fabulous bunch of kids at a middle school in Littleton, Colorado.
She loves a good ghost story, and has lived in several homes that spoke to her in mysterious ways. True crime stories, watching a binge-worthy series, reading, and taking care of her family are her favorites.
Since she was young, people have often told her she should write a book … so she did.
You can find out more about Lisa, including her social media links, at her website www.lisacourtaway.com
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