Twist of Faith

by Ellen J Green

  She wrapped herself in her jacket, slid her hands into her gloves, and donned her hat. Venturing out in the cold was the last thing she felt like doing, but she couldn’t get the thought of that stupid coat out of her mind. She slid behind the wheel of her old Hyundai and started the engine—it ran rough until it warmed up, rattling loud enough to bring faces to the windows of the convent. She pulled out of the parking lot and headed to her sister’s.

  She saw it as she turned onto the street. Her heart pounded; her palms, even in the cold, began to grow damp. Her throat closed. Ava’s car. It was in the driveway, like it belonged there. How was this possible? Marie pulled over two houses up and parked. She walked up the block, looking at the silver mirage, not sure if it was real or another delusion. Her fingers felt the solidness of the metal door. Frigid. She then touched her fingers with her other hand. There was a collection of pine needles stuffed down around the wiper blades, and some broken needles were embedded in the treads of the tires.

  She peered inside and then opened the door. The car was empty, the keys hung in the ignition. Marie straightened and looked up and down the street. Nothing was out of the ordinary. The car had been left deep in the Pine Barrens, where they’d unloaded Ava’s body. She pulled the keys from the ignition and popped the trunk. Empty.

  Someone knew what they’d done and had brought the car back.

  She raced up the steps to the house and unlocked the door. The house was cold and quiet. She’d turned the thermostat down to sixty to save money. The sound echoed against the walls when she shut the door.

  “Ava?” she yelled. Her voice bounded off the walls, making it sound hollow. Marie’s voice was met with silence.

  She raced from room to room, but the house was empty, as she knew it would be. Finally she flopped onto the couch and stared into the fireplace. Thin blue threads from the burned dress remained. How long was she going to have to cover up for this thing? Then, as if her memory had suddenly jostled her brain awake, she remembered why she’d come here in the first place. Claire’s coat in the closet. She took tentative steps to the door; her hand hesitated on the doorknob. She wanted to know but she was petrified to find out.

  A sharp intake of breath and then she yanked the closet door open. Claire’s coats lined the rod, some in plastic garment bags, some without. She went through them one by one, unzipping bags, pulling out items to examine them. And finally, there it was. One white bag remained. She knew this was it. Her hands were tingling. Her breaths fast and shallow. She unzipped the bag and stared at its emptiness.

  Her hands flew through the closet again, pulling out all of the coats. Marie ran up the steps to Claire’s closet in her bedroom and pulled open the walk-in. After a half hour of rifling, she came up empty.

  Her sister’s coat was inexplicably gone, and Ava’s car had mysteriously appeared. Marie tore from the room, down the steps, and out the front door. There was too much at stake to leave it alone now.

  CHAPTER 42

  Joanne parked her car half a block down on the opposite side of the street, positioning herself within good viewing distance of the house. Her thoughts were like mice in a maze, traveling down one path until they hit a dead end, then scrambling and going the other way. Her whiteboard was in her mind, all the facts scattered across it. The year 1996, crucial, written in the middle.

  She’d surmised that maybe Ava had been found or was kidnapped and acquired by Claire in that year. Before then, Claire’s life had been simple and ordinary. Then she abruptly left her job. The little girl would have been three. Or maybe just four. Certainly old enough to remember something. Joanne was hounded by that question: Did her friend remember anything about her life before then, and if so, why did she live in silence?

  Kidnapping would account for Claire moving around, having no employment, so she couldn’t be traced. But why would a single twenty-seven-year-old woman want to kidnap a baby when she had her entire life in front of her and could presumably marry and have children of her own? Unless she couldn’t? Joanne shook her head. No, wrong track. Claire’s life was too orderly and logical for her to do something like that.

  But people and the things they did continued to shock her over the course of her work in the courts. Women and men killing their own children so as not to lose a boyfriend or girlfriend, who usually turned out to be a drug-addicted loser; a father slitting his six-year-old daughter’s throat during an argument with the child’s mother. A woman biting off her infant son’s penis because the father was oppressive. And the list went on and on. A twenty-seven-year-old kidnapping a baby wasn’t even a blip on the crime screen, really, in the scope of human atrocities.

  Of two things she was certain. One, Marie was behaving suspiciously, and two, Ava remembered something—and whatever those memories were, they had shaped her into a weird, ethereal creature who, at her core, was unreachable.

  Joanne checked her watch. It was almost noon, and she was freezing. She’d imagined a stakeout as exciting, adventurous, but it was really just sitting in a cold car doing nothing. Her Dunkin’ Donuts coffee was half-gone, and her egg-white flatbread sandwich was but a few crumbs on her jacket sleeve. She’d been here for over three hours and she wanted to get home, make lunch, and stare at her whiteboard.

  The mailman came along the block, moving slowly from house to house. He was just part of the neighborhood scenery, like the cars or people walking their dogs, until he stopped at Claire’s house. He slipped an envelope into the box and went on his way. Joanne saw it but didn’t think anything of it for a few minutes. Then curiosity crept in and stayed long enough that she got out of the car, pulled the envelope from the box, and went back to her car. It was legal-sized, addressed to Occupant, computer printed. No return address. Maybe nothing, maybe something.

  When her finger hit the hard edge inside the envelope, her heart started to race. She pulled out a Polaroid, rectangular with white edges. Exactly like the others that were sitting on her kitchen table, black and white, of the front of a house. And now I am done was printed underneath. Her skin was prickling, and all she could do was drop the picture onto the seat and dial Russell’s number. He answered on the second ring.

  “Guess what?” she said before he could say anything.

  “Jack Quinn is dead,” he answered. “We just left his house. Maybe natural causes.” He heard her breathing heavy through the phone. “I was going to call you, ’cause we’re ten minutes from the Pine Barrens, service gets splotchy.”

  “Russell, I’ve been sitting here for hours. The postman just dropped off a letter. Guess what it is?”

  She heard Doug’s voice in the background. “Jesus,” Russell said. “Not another picture of the front of a house? Quinn’s? So it wasn’t natural causes. Who was it addressed to?”

  “Occupant, but obviously meant for Marie or Ava.”

  “What’s the inscription say?”

  “And now I am done. So I guess the killing is over and that’s good, but I’m freaking out. There’s a weirdo murderer on the loose.”

  The line started to get crackly. “Listen, Joanne, don’t worry. You’re not in any danger. Watch out for the nun. Keep your phone on and sit tight. I’ll call you when I can.” He hung up.

  Joanne sat staring at the house, the fear gnawing at the edges of her composure. Tingles started in her hands and worked their way up her arms. Did he say the killing was finished? Meaning Ava was really dead? Her heart dropped when the full implication washed over her. The weirdo murderer had killed her friend.

  She felt tears start in the corners of her eyes. When she looked up, the tall, dark-haired nun, bundled in her drab gray coat and little cream-colored knit cap, was making her way slowly toward Claire’s house. Joanne noticed she’d parked two houses back and chosen to walk the distance, though there was a spot right out front. That’s right, Marie, approach slowly. There might be an irate woman in that car, pissed off because you ditched her Honda in the boonies. Marie reached out her hand to Ava’s car, l
ike a man abandoned in the desert might reach to touch the illusion of a palm frond. She thinks she’s seeing things. Joanne watched her complete her inspection of the car and then tear into the house.

  Now we’re getting somewhere. Joanne got out of her car and approached the house cautiously. She wasn’t sure if Marie would remember her, and was counting on hiding in those folds of anonymity if they came face to face. She peered in the side window, which only afforded a limited view of part of the living room and the entryway. Marie was sitting on the ottoman, staring into the fireplace. Then she seemed consumed with the front closet and coats. Before Joanne could even make a guess as to what was happening, she heard the front door open. Marie was running like she was being hunted. By the time Marie reached her car, Joanne was ready to pull out behind her at a safe distance.

  Joanne knew where they were headed fifteen minutes after leaving Haddonfield. Bingo. Pine Barrens. She glanced out the window. It was a sunless gray winter day; the sky was the color of pewter, bordering on rain or wet snow. Damn it, Joanne thought. No gloves, and not the warmest coat, and she was wearing her brand-new boots. Not waterproof winter boots either. She thought stakeout meant sitting in her car, warm and dry, drinking coffee and observing, not traipsing through the woods after a psycho-nun.

  She reached out to her phone and rang Russell’s number. It went right to voicemail.

  Russell, you’d better be there waiting for me. That’s all I can say.

  CHAPTER 43

  “I can’t frickin’ believe the man’s dead. Did we just leave a murder scene? Is that what we did?” Doug asked.

  “I don’t know, but I’m not staying around to call it in.” Russell glanced at his friend. “Do you want to?”

  “Man, come on. Another picture shows up? We can’t—”

  “The last one said, Two other woes are yet to come. Two other woes. Then Ava goes missing and Quinn dies. Now they’re done.” Russell turned onto the access road into the Pine Barrens.

  “Start tracking here for eight miles,” Doug said. “Interesting the nun was left out of this now-you’re-dead loop. Wonder why.”

  Russell glanced at him. “Think she’s the killer? Of all of them? But why? And the envelope was mailed to Claire’s house. Makes no sense. No one would get it but Marie.”

  “So best guess, what’s this Polaroid killer all about?”

  “Four boys all grew up together. All four dead. Each had a photograph taken after death. How they all ended up with Quinn is a mystery. But he gets them all. But he’s not killed. Not yet. I thought he might have been the one doing it. Killing them all over something that happened way back when. That was my best guess.”

  “Not. Now he ends up killed and another picture shows up.”

  “Square one.”

  “I’m gonna ask. I don’t have a choice. What was going on with you and Ava?”

  Russell slowed the car. “I got dragged into this—”

  “I didn’t ask about the case. I asked about you and Ava. What gives?”

  “You mean, did she give?” He stopped the car. “This is eight miles. We were parked right here yesterday.”

  Doug put on his hat and gloves and grabbed his flashlight. “Did she? ’Cause you’re all wrapped up in this. Like it’s personal.”

  Russell opened the car door. “I wish I could remember.”

  Doug hit his arm. “Whoa, wait. You don’t remember? Remember what?”

  “We were together the night before she disappeared, drinking wine and looking at pictures. The girl can put it away. I remember some of it, but I don’t know what happened. I woke up in her bed, no clothes on, and she was gone.”

  “You’re leaving out a few steps there. What happened before you couldn’t remember?” Russell shook his head. “So all things are go with Juliette?”

  They started to walk into the woods. “Didn’t you get your save-the-date card yet? It should be coming any day now.”

  Doug pulled his arm and stopped him. “Most of the guys we know are divorced or screwing around. You know how it is. Don’t start off this way. Don’t get married if you don’t want to.”

  Russell was concentrating on the ground in front of him. “Nothing with Ava, if she’s alive, is going anywhere. She’s a mess.”

  Doug started walking and pointed his flashlight at Russell. “That’s two separate conversations, man. Ava might be a mess, but she’s a hot mess. Looks like a freak, maybe. Two totally different women. You ask me?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Too late. With Juliette, she’s gonna pull you, set the pace. That’s not all bad. Tuck you into the back seat with the child locks on. You might have a nice view of life along the way. But Ava.” He smiled. “Just from the little I’ve seen at the courthouse, that would be like a roller coaster. And maybe you’d be holding her down in the seat so she didn’t jump off. Both are good.”

  Russell flashed to a fuzzy image of Ava naked in his lap. “I can’t tell Juliette what I can’t remember. And instead of talking to her about it, I keep pissing her off.” The sky was getting darker. Russell felt a heavy drop on his head. “Great.”

  “’Cause you think she might make the decision for you. But hate to tell you, she won’t. So figure it out.”

  Russell shined his light at the ground and kept walking. “There’s nothing to figure out. We might’ve spent the last ten minutes talking about a dead girl.”

  “First rule, never arrive at an assumption without all the facts. Though it’s a shitty day to be collecting facts.” The raindrops had turned to sleet and they were pelted by bits that made their way through the trees.

  “So, this was where you found the letter opener and tape.” Russell shined his light down and pulled out the three sticks he’d shoved into the ground near a tree to mark the spot. “If she cut herself loose, then she probably would have kept going, away from them, away from the road.”

  “And if she were dead, why’d they bother cutting her hands loose at all? Why not just bury her near here? It’s off the road enough.” Doug looked around, hands on his hips.

  “Let’s keep looking. There’s more out here, I can feel it. Let’s stay on this side of the road. Yell if you find anything.” Doug nodded and they went their separate ways.

  The sleet was getting heavier and thicker by the minute. Enough was dropping through the trees that every few seconds he’d feel a freezing ping on his neck. Russell stopped and leaned against a tree. Sometimes he’d talk to dead victims or missing people, have a conversation with them, as if they could answer, as if it could help him get into their heads. More than once it had given him a new direction in a case or a new perspective. He took a breath.

  “What happened to you, Ava? After you left me. Where did you go? Where are you now?” He inhaled the cold, wet air and waited for an answer. Nothing came. “Did you run away because of me? Did you have a meeting with someone that morning? A meeting that maybe didn’t go well? Who brought you out here?” He listened to the plinking of ice hitting branches. Everything was cold and quiet.

  He’d never admit it to anyone he worked with, but he always felt like he could tell if someone was dead, just feel it in his bones once he got to know enough about them. He’d know if their spirit wasn’t around anymore. It made no sense. He wasn’t New Age or spiritual. It was just a feeling, a gut instinct that guided him. Though he knew he’d never hear the end of the ribbing if he whispered that to anyone—it might even end his career.

  He was completely still, waiting to get a feel for Ava, but nothing came. He started walking again, then stopped and listened. Quiet. The sky was streaked with deeply shadowed clouds. The sleet was still falling. The trees all looked identical. He shouted Doug’s name as loud as he could and then leaned against another tree. He heard moisture hitting the leaves above, and the scurry of a squirrel climbing a tree. He breathed deeply, smelling fresh and rotted pine in the same breath, but the sound of Doug’s voice was nowhere in the air. He shouted again until he reali
zed it might be better to head back while there was still light.

  These woods were different from most in that there were no markings, no differentiation in foliage or growth. It was all pine. One after another, and sandy soil. He had no way of marking his path other than to shove three sticks upright every fifty feet as he went. He tried to use the light to gauge his direction, but it was useless. No sun, only clouds and rain.

  He stopped to take a break, calling out again. When he looked up he noticed a dark spot in the dirt about ten feet from him. At first he thought it was a patch of earth that was wetter than the rest, but as he got closer he realized it was a strap. He reached for it, lifting it with his fingertips. A black leather purse emerged from the dirt. The main compartment was empty. There were two zippered inner compartments. He opened one and found a receipt and a pack of gum. The receipt was from Total Wine & More. A case of Pinot Noir had been purchased two weeks before. Middle Sister—a California wine and, coincidentally, the same wine they’d been drinking the night before Ava had disappeared. And she’d had plenty of bottles.

  He heard a noise and swung around. Doug was coming at him full force through the trees.

  “Russell, man. Oh my God. I heard your voice but couldn’t find you.” He looked at the bag. “What is it?”

  “A purse. Empty. No wallet or keys. Just a receipt for booze. I think it’s Ava’s.”

  Doug heard his words but his eyes were focused fifty feet away, over Russell’s shoulder. At a mound of dirt and pine needles that rose from the ground in the shape of a body.

  CHAPTER 44

  She tried to dodge heavy traffic by heading through Chatsworth to reconnect with Route 72, but it was taking longer than she expected. Marie jammed on the brakes and almost slammed into the white car in front of her. Damn it! The coat was gone. Ava’s car appeared. How’d it get back? She’d left Ava’s lifeless body in the car. Who’d been watching her in the Pine Barrens while she and Quinn took care of Ava? She could’ve asked Claire’s neighbors, seen if they might have been taking out the trash and spied whoever deposited the car back in her driveway, but there wasn’t time. She looked in her rearview mirror, paranoid that someone was following her.