“I’m afraid so,” says Angela. “There was a suicide note found.”
“But she was the most hopeful of the group. She had so much faith; she believed it would all work out.”
“I suppose that’s why I didn’t see it coming,” Angela says. “I feel terrible. I feel responsible.”
“How could you feel that way?”
“She was my responsibility. I’m trained to see the signs and…”
“And the signs just weren’t there,” Helen insists.
“Anyway, the funeral is tomorrow, and I have to go.”
“May I go with you?” Helen asks.
“Why would you want to go?”
“Because, despite what happened, she was a beautiful and fearless woman, and I want to honor her. Besides, from the way you sound, I think you could use a friendly shoulder to lean on.”
“You’re probably right. Where should I meet you?”
“I’m driving,” Helen says. “I’ll pick you up at your home tomorrow. What time is the funeral?”
“It starts at one.”
“Then I’ll see you at twelve.”
***
In a spacious gray room with drab green curtains blocking out the sun and rows of metal folding chairs is a small wooden casket at the front of the room. In it lies the body of Maria Alvarado.
In front of the casket sits the immediate family: her parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins. The sorrow they suffer is clear to see by the gloom that hangs on each of their faces, and the tears that run from their eyes.
Toward the back of the room are friends and neighbors of the deceased. Far-off in a corner is a small group of women who knew Maria perhaps better than anyone else in the room.
“Well, we need to go and pay our respects,” Angela says.
She starts toward the front of the room, the other women following – save for Carmen. Angela stops, turns, and looks at her. Not saying a word, she waits for an explanation.
“I can’t…” says Carmen, “I just can’t...”
Helen looks surprised. Carmen, who always is the more vocal, the hardest and strongest of the group, now reduced to a tearful and sorrowful individual, unable to move.
“It’s all right,” Helen says. “I’ll stay with her.”
The small group resumes walking to the front of the room.
Carmen and Helen stand near each other watching in silence. Then Carmen turns to Helen, “He got out, you know. That’s why she killed herself; they let him out.”
“Who…?” Helen asks.
“Maria’s guy…the one who raped and beat her…they let him out early on good behavior. Maria couldn’t live with that. …She was so afraid. They don’t understand what those bastards do to you! What they take from you! There’s no peace. It stays with you for the rest of your life.
“Remember, I told you…he becomes your guy and he lives with you in here for the rest of your life!” She points to the temple of her head.
“I just wish I could meet with my guy,” Carmen continues. “I’d know what to do this time.”
“Jab your fingers into his eye sockets?” says Helen.
“Oh, you remember me saying that?” smiles Carmen.
“I don’t think I could do something like that.”
“Most women can’t. And it’s not just fear stopping them; it’s ignorance. Because women don’t think…they just don’t think! While he’s raping and beating them…they just want to get through it alive. …They don’t realize it doesn’t stop there. If they knew of all the years it will haunt them. How the torture goes on. Then they could do it. Think of how much you’ve suffered because of him already, and then look out at the years that lay before you. …It with never change till one of you is dead. When you think of it that way…you could do it.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mothers and Brothers Everywhere
“Try to get him to talk. Once you do, ask him as many questions as you can.” Benson is giving some last minute instructions to Helen as they walk down the hall toward the visiting room.
Victor demands to talk to his cousin “one last time,” as he put it. When asked what he means by “one last time,” he refuses to comment.
“I don’t know exactly what advice I can give you,” Benson says. “Lately, he’s acquired a short attention span. So I advise you to ask as many questions as you can and as fast as you can. But then again, when you bombard him with questions, sometimes he freaks and refuses to say a word. Let’s just hope he’s in the mood to talk. He might be. After all, he’s the one who called this meeting.”
They stop just outside the visitor’s room. Benson holds the door open for Helen.
“We’ll be listening,” he says. “Good luck.”
Helen walks in alone. Victor is sitting in his place behind the Plexiglas, holding his phone. Helen sits down and puts the receiver to her ear.
“Hello, Victor, how are you?”
“How am I? What the hell kind of question is that?” Victor laughs. “I’m in prison. …What do you think?”
“I just meant I’m sorry for what happened to your mother,” Helen says.
“Why is everybody sorry about what happened to her?” He is still laughing. “She only got what she deserved. I knew it would happen someday.”
“Victor, how did you know it would?”
“He always said the days of the club were numbered…that he would break it up someday. So I guess you could say he’s started to make good on his word.”
“Who is he?”
“Don’t play games,” Victor says. “You know who.”
“Victor, did your father kill your mother and Joyce?”
“No, both mothers were killed by Bubba.”
“Both mothers?” says Helen. “I don’t understand.”
“They were both mothers…right? And Bubba killed them.”
“Bubba…? You mean Nicholas?”
“No, Nicholas is dead! Daddy killed him years ago.”
“But I thought it was an accident?”
“That’s what Daddy made it look like…an accident. Nicholas was getting a bit too rebellious at the time…saying he was going to tell everyone about the club. So Daddy killed him and made it look like an accident.”
“So, if Bubba isn’t Nicholas…who is he?”
Victor ignores the question and changes the subject.
“That’s why I’ve asked you to come here,” he says, “to warn you. Daddy is calling an end to the club. We’re all doomed, even you, Nancy. You’re an honorary member, but a member, nonetheless. He’s sure to kill you, too!”
Helen ignores Victor referring to her as Nancy and continues to ask questions.
“You still haven’t answered me, Victor. Who is Bubba?”
That madman smile comes over Victor’s face.
“They’re both mothers,” he says, “Daddy loved them both. Momma was mine and Nicholas’ mother, but Joyce was a mother, too.”
“Your father had a child with Joyce?”
“Bingo!” Victor laughs. “Mothers and brothers are everywhere. The club needed members…two would never do! The more the merrier!”
Helen’s eyes grow wild with fear.
“Victor, are you saying your father and Joyce gave birth to Kyle? Is Kyle your half-brother? Is Kyle Bubba?”
“Bingo!”
He will not stop laughing. He laughs as they usher him back to his cell.
***
Richard reaches across his desk to answer his phone.
“Richard Haywood speaking...”
“Richard…it’s me.”
Helen’s voice is unmistakable to him.
“Yeah?” he says coldly.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Richard, but I’ve just received the divorce papers.”
“Yeah, so what about it?”
“Well, according to this, I get possession of nearly everything!”
“So?”
“I just don’t understand. At first, I t
hought we were heading straight toward a major disagreement. Now you’re not even giving yourself a fair share?”
“Hell, I just want out, and as soon as possible. I’ve asked for a transfer with the company, and they gave it to me. I’ll be leaving the state at the end of the month.”
Helen knows it isn’t her place to ask; nevertheless, she does.
“Is Francis going along with this?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s all over between Francis and me. Seems I was only a wrung on the climb up the corporate ladder for her. She found someone with more clout and lots more money.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Richard.”
“What the hell, life’s a bitch. In fact, it’s one bitch after another.”
There is a moment of silence between them. Helen searches for something meaningful to say, but she can’t think of anything.
“Well, I guess that’s all there is?” she says.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he agrees.
“Richard, are you sure you only want half of the bank account? You’re entitled to half of everything we owned.”
“For what? I’ve got my car and enough money to start over. I’ve moved all my stuff out of the house. You can move back in anytime you like.”
“Richard, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry about what?”
“I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it.” There is a slight chuckle in his voice.
“Richard, is there anything I can do for you?”
“Yeah, there is something you can do.”
“What’s that, Richard?”
“Sign those papers!”
***
Based on the conversation between Victor and Helen, it is not difficult to gain a warrant to bring Kyle Adams in for questioning, as well as a warrant to search his home.
Goebel and Benson are en route with Dodson and his assistant, Myers, to Tannersville when they are informed over the police radio by Sheriff Gibson that Kyle Adams is nowhere to be found. The sheriff and Officer Wilson meet them outside Kyle’s home.
“You’re not going to try to pull rank on us like last time, are you, Sheriff?” Goebel voices his concern.
“No, this is your call, and it’s your warrant,” says Sheriff Gibson.
“So what’s the word on Kyle Adams?” Benson asks.
“Don’t know. As soon as we got the call, we came here to pick him up, but he was long gone. Neighbors say they haven’t seen him or his car in the driveway for days.
“We called his work; they haven’t heard from him in three days. They figured he was still in mourning over loss of his mother, so they didn’t press the issue.”
They all walk toward the house. Sheriff Gibson holds the door open.
“From the looks of inside the house, he packed some of his belongings and got out of here in a hurry. I’ve put his description, his car, and license number out on a tristate alert.”
They enter the house; nothing looks out of the ordinary. Dodson and his assistant get down to work, collecting fingerprints, fibers, hair and skin samples, and much more, while Goebel and Benson ferret through the house.
“We’re going to find something on this guy,” Goebel says. “He’s dirty as sin; I just know it.”
“What makes you so sure Kyle Adams is involved with anything?” asks Sheriff Gibson.
Goebel gets up from the floor after looking under the bed and looks the Sheriff’s in his eyes.
“Years of experience, for one. I can feel it in my bones; this guy is a nutcase! I mean…just look around!”
Sheriff Gibson does just that.
“I don’t know…it all looks normal to me.”
“Normal! You call this normal?” Goebel shouts. “Do you know what I just found under the bed?”
The Sheriff shakes his head no and shrugs his shoulders.
“I’ll tell you what I found under the bed – nothing, not even one dust bunny…immaculate! The kitchen looks like it’s never been used. All the knives in the silverware drawer are facing in the same direction. The bathroom…you could eat off the floor. This is supposed to be a bachelor’s pad, man! My old grandma’s house ain’t half as clean as this is!”
Goebel goes over to the clothes closet.
“The shirts are with the shirts, the pants are with the pants, the jackets are with the jackets, and everything is facing in the same direction. I tell you, this guy is as neurotic as they come. Look, all his shoes have been spit-shined. Say…what do we have here?”
Goebel bends down and moves a pair of shoes, exposing a loose floorboard.
“Jackpot!” Goebel yells. “Hey, Benson, Dodson, get your butts in here. I think I found something!”
Everyone is looking over Goebel’s shoulder as he removes the floorboard. He reaches down and rummages for a moment – he comes up with a handful of old photos.
“Oh, man, will you look at these,” Goebel exclaims. “Child pornography!”
“Oh, my God…oh, my God,” Sheriff Gibson seems in shook. “Oh, my God…that’s not child pornography!”
“Like hell it ain’t,” Goebel says. “Just look at this!”
He fans the photos out like a deck of cards and holds them in front of Sheriff Gibson’s face.
“That’s not what I meant,” says the Sheriff, sounding embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to say it’s not child pornography…it surely is! But what I mean is…that…that there…those boys in the pictures…that there’s Kyle Adams when he was young…maybe ten or eleven…and that’s Victor Russell…and the other boy is Victor’s brother, Nicholas!”
“Say, who’s the naked old guy?” Dodson asks.
“Oh, my God, I don’t believe it! That there is Jerry Reynolds…Victor and Nicholas’ father.”
“And Kyle Adams’ father,” Benson says softly.
“What are you saying? Jerry was Kyle’s father, too?” The Sheriff’s voice is trembling.
“Well, that’s if you believe Victor Russell’s story. …That’s what he says.”
“I don’t believe it,” says Sheriff Gibson, mostly to himself.
“Come on,” Dodson insists, “we can talk about this later. I’ve still got lots of collecting to do.”
Goebel hands the photos to Dodson and turns to the Sheriff with a wry smile.
“See, I told you,” Goebel says, “years of experience. I feel it in my bones. I can see a nutcase a mile away.”
***
“You call this coffee?” Dodson asks, placing his cup down on Benson’s desk.
“Never look a gift horse in the butt. Next time bring your own damn coffee!” Goebel says as he recovers the cup from the desk and wipes it before a ring forms on the wood.
“So what were the results from the Kyle Adams’ home?” Benson asks.
“Well, we didn’t get much from the house. The guy is a clean freak. Fingerprints…just his own, his mother’s…and of course Helen Haywood’s, who we already know spent the night with Kyle. But I did get enough hair, skin, and blood samples to run a DNA test.”
“Where the hell did you find blood?” questions Goebel.
“In the bathroom, on the razorblade of his shaver. Must have nicked himself. Anyway…hold on tight, the results of the tests are going to blow your mind!
“Kyle Adams is definitely Victor Russell’s half-brother…just like Victor said.”
“So, Old Jerry Reynolds was doing Joyce on the side,” Goebel interjects.
“It seems so,” Dodson continues, “and the semen sample on Carol Hastings undergarments…the one that we couldn’t identify next to the smear of Victor’s semen…that was Kyle Adams’.”
“Jeez, you think they did their thing on the underwear at the same time?” Goebel shutters.
“It’s possible…both samples are the same age,” Dodson replies.
He puts his hands up and waves them in excitement.
“Now here’s the clincher!” Dodson continues. “When I compared Kyle’s
DNA to Helen Haywood’s stillborn, the results came up positive, which makes him the father…which makes him the rapist…which make him…”
“Which makes him our man!” Benson concludes.
“Damn, that’s cold!” Goebel says. “How do we tell Helen Haywood, ‘the man who beat and raped you…got you pregnant…and has been terrorizing you for months is the same guy you’ve been sleeping with’?”
“We don’t,” says Benson. “We speak to Angela, Haywood’s doctor. She can tell her in the manner and time she thinks best.”
“I’m all for that!” Goebel agrees.
“Meanwhile,” says Benson, “we need to put out an all-points bulletin marked urgent to arrest Kyle Adams. …Approach with caution; he is considered dangerous.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Devil Calls for a Date
The day finally arrives. Helen stands at the front door of John Pierce’s home and rings the doorbell. A moment later, the door opens and she is greeted by Trent, John and Tina’s son. Behind him shyly stands his little sister, Lateasha.
“Good evening, Mrs. Haywood,” says Trent in a true well-mannered fashion. “My mother and father are still getting ready. My mother told me to ask you to wait in the living room. My father says my mother makes them late for everything, and she’ll probably be late for her funeral.”
“Well, I don’t think your parents really wanted me to hear that last part,” laughs Helen, “but no harm done. May I come in, please?”
“Yes, you may,” says Trent, backing from the doorway. “The living room is right this way,” he says, walking ahead, Lateasha still close by his side.
It is a lovely home, modern with hints of their heritage. African designs and artifacts are strategically incorporated into the decor. Helen has been there one time before, a Christmas party many years ago. She came without Richard who had to work late – or so he said. She tries to think if she ever invited John and Tina to her home, but they have never been. For her and Richard, their jobs took place over so many other parts of their lives; socializing was low on their priority list. But then again, maybe it was the way things were between them that made their jobs so important.
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