by Terry Keys
**
I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and looked up to find my mother standing in the doorway. She wore a black dress, and her makeup did little to mask her red, swollen eyes and flushed cheeks.
“Good morning, son. How are you holding up?”
“About as well as possible with what we have to do today, I imagine.”
“The girls ready?” She held out her arms, and Karen went to her, tears flowing anew. “Where’s Hilary?”
“In her room. We’re all moving pretty slow this morning.”
I scrambled to my feet and brushed the wrinkles from my pants.
“The limo will be here in about five minutes,” my mother said.
I stopped by Hilary’s room to get her, and in a matter of moments, we all stood downstairs, silent.
The limo arrived and we stepped outside. It was a beautiful day; the weather was perfect. The contrast between the beauty of the day and the fact that I was soon to bid my wife farewell hit me hard. How could such an awful day be so beautiful? If Miranda was alive, we’d probably go biking with the girls or take a hike together, enjoying each other’s company.
I had already asked the preacher to keep the service short and sweet. This would be hard enough on me and the girls as it was. No need to drag it out.
I looked around the church and saw many familiar faces. Miranda’s coworkers from the station had shown up, as had a large contingent from the police department. They wore their dress blues and stood in a long row at the back of the church. As my gaze passed over the mourners, my heart gave a jolt. There, in the far back corner, I made out the almost totally shielded face of Carter’s wife. She wore a floppy hat and sunglasses, but I recognized her. My heart froze, though I applauded her bravery for showing up. The few choice words I had for her would have to wait.
We sat in the front pew of the church our family had attended for years. As the organist played “Amazing Grace,” people walked by, shaking my hand, patting the girls on the head, and murmuring words of condolence. I tried to understand how I had gotten here. My family was in shambles, my wife gone. It was surreal, and it had all happened so quickly. This wasn’t the vision I had for my life.
I stopped feeling sorry for myself for a moment and realized it was not the way Miranda had planned it either. All she wanted was to be a good mother and wife. She’d wanted to be a good reporter, too. She’d been ambitious. It had cost her—and us—dearly.
The service began, but it seemed a blur to me. While the preacher spoke, photos of Miranda scrolled on a projection screen behind him. I had gone through all the steps of grieving once. I was now back to the point of being angry. I was angry with God for allowing this to happen. I was angry at myself, angry at Carter and his men, and on some level, even angry at Miranda for doing this investigation. Why couldn’t it have been me? I remembered having the conversation with Miranda the day she disappeared, when I wondered how I’d gotten so lucky. Now it seemed my luck had run out.
After the ceremony, I played the role of a good host and reminded the friends and family in attendance that food would be served and everyone was welcome. I faked it well. My mother had finally convinced me I needed to eat.
It had been nearly a week since the night of Miranda’s murder. I had lost a lot of weight and knew I looked frail and sickly. I would be no good to anyone if I allowed myself to fall apart. Still, as I went through the serving line, nothing looked good to me. I forced myself to put a few things on my plate and moved to the table where my daughters were nibbling on fried chicken legs. I sat down and stared at my plate.
“Dad, you gotta eat something,” Karen said.
“Normally I’m fussing at you about eating,” I said, forcing a smile.
As we picked at our food, I noticed a short-haired blonde woman about my age walking our way. She had full, pouty lips, almond-shaped eyes, and delicate features. I couldn’t help but notice her well-toned arms and shapely legs. I tried not to pay attention to the fact that the woman was gorgeous, considering I had just endured my wife’s memorial service. Her choice of clothing didn’t help. A skin-tight, low-cut black dress showed off her ample breasts and every curve, which may have been her goal. I’d seen her type before.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Hilary looked at the woman and rolled her eyes as she approached the table. Hilary muttered something, but I only caught the word slut.
“Excuse me,” the woman said. “You probably don’t know me, but I went to school with Miranda.” She held out her hand. “I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. Do you mind if I sit down?”
I gave her hand a polite shake and glanced at Hilary and Karen. “No, go right ahead. Have we met before?”
“Miranda actually called me a few weeks ago, and we caught up a little,” she said. “She told me she had a wonderful husband and two beautiful girls. But no, we never met.”
“Hilary and Karen, right?” She extended a hand to each of them as she introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Stacy. Stacy Demornay.”
Hilary faked a smile, but I caught the roll of her eyes again. I’m sure Stacy also noticed, but she graciously ignored it.
“She left out the part about her husband being so handsome, though,” Stacy said, flashing a mouthful of perfect, cosmetically whitened teeth at me.
I didn’t respond and quickly changed the subject.
“So how did you know Miranda again?” “Can I be excused?” Hilary rudely interrupted.
“Sure Hilary.” I nodded. “Don’t stray too far.”
“College. We went to school together,” Stacy said as Hilary gave her one more piercing glare and stomped away in a huff. “I just graduated from nursing school. I’ll be working at the new hospital in town.”
I began to feel a little uneasy, so I also excused myself from the table, making the excuse that Karen needed to see her grandmother. Stacy merely nodded, a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. The woman had made herself a little too comfortable with me. Real over-the-top flirty. In another setting it might have been okay, but not here and not now.
“Well, it was nice meeting you . . .”
I paused as I rose, momentarily forgetting her name.
“Stacy.”
“Stacy. That’s right. You’ll have to forgive me; I’m terrible with names.”
Remembering details was my job, remembering names was second nature. Maybe this would let her know just how uninterested I was.
“No problem. I understand. You’ve been through a lot the last few days. I understand—firsthand, actually. I lost a longtime boyfriend last year. He died in a motorcycle wreck. It’s hard to let go. I’ll leave you my number. Perhaps we can talk again soon. Feel free to call if you need something. Is that okay with you?”
I hesitated.
“Sure.” I had to be polite but had no intention of calling her. “Thanks again for coming by, and I’m sorry about your loss, too.”
Stacy handed me a card with her number on it. I slipped it into my coat pocket as I walked away.
She seemed like a nice enough lady. I could see how she and Miranda had been friends. As I walked away from the table, I saw Jill Carter heading my way. I knew trouble was brewing when Miranda’s mother leapt from her chair and stalked toward her.
“What are you doing here?” Grace demanded.
“I’ve come to offer my condolences,” Jill said.
“Well, you can keep your damn condolences!”
I placed my hand on my mother-in-law’s back. The anguish on her face stunned me.
“Please,” I said, urging her to return to her husband. “Now’s not the time.”
“David, can I talk to you for a moment in private?” Jill asked.
I hesitated and then whispered to Miranda’s mother, “It’s okay. Let me talk to her.”
Jill and I walked to a room down the hall from the main room.
“Look, I don’t know why I came here,” she said in a rush. “I’m just so sorry about what happ
ened, and I feel guilty, in a way. I’ve heard most of the story. Enough to know John was no doubt the catalyst here, and I’m sorry. We may not have the same background or friends, but none of that matters. What he did was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for him. I’m sorry for what your family is going through. I love John and I always will, but what he did to you and your family was wrong.”
I said nothing for several moments. “It took a lot of guts for you to show up here. I’m sorry for what I did a few days ago as well. I was angry, and I wanted to get even. I should have remembered my roots, though. Vengeance is for the Lord.”
“No need for you to apologize. I can imagine how much pain you and yours girls are in. I know you probably think I’m a rich, spoiled little bitch, but I don’t condone what my husband did. Maybe one day you’ll be able to forgive him.”
“You coming here showed me a lot more about your character than I would have given you credit for. And honestly, on different levels, we’ve both lost a spouse. He took mine and I took yours.”
Jill turned to leave. “You take care of those girls. They will need you more than ever now.”
After she left, I looked around for Hilary.
People continued to stop me to offer their condolences as they left. I felt a calming sense that everything would eventually be okay. It would be a long process, but it would be okay.
I finally spotted her near the doors that led outside. She stood in the corner, gazing out the window. She heard me as I approached and turned around.
“There were times when I was so mean to her,” she said, her voice soft and filled with pain. Tears pooled in her eyes. “All she ever did was try to love me and help me grow up. Even the day she died, when she dropped us off at school, it’s like I was always trying to one-up her, to prove her wrong, make her mad.”
“It’s okay, Hilary,” I said.
“I loved her, Dad.” Hilary wept, her face crumpling. “I really did.”
“She knew that.” I wrapped my arms around my daughter. “She loved you, too. Very much. All you can do now is use what she tried to teach you and learn from your own mistakes. No one is perfect. No one does it right all the time. Your mother did love you.”
I released her, intending to find my parents and Karen and say our goodbyes to the remaining guests. Hilary had never been one for emotional scenes. I respected that and moved away.
“No, Dad, can you just stay here for a few minutes? Please?”
It was the first time in a long time that Hilary had shown any interest in me. I was shocked—pleased, but shocked. I tried not to let it show on my face. I placed my arm around her shoulders.
“I’ve been pretty ugly to you, too, Dad. I’m sorry.” Hilary buried her face in my shoulder.
“Let’s put all that behind us, Hil. Start over. It will be rough, but we’ll make it. We can both learn something from it. The teenage years are tough. I’m not too old to remember how trying it can be at times.”
Hilary and I held each other for a long time. I knew she didn’t need more words of advice or wisdom. She just needed a shoulder to cry on. Shortly, my mother-in-law approached with Karen, who ran to join us.
I wrapped my arms around my daughters and held on for dear life. They were all I had left now.
“Girls,” I said, my voice choking up, “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect your mother. I loved her so much.” I took a deep breath. “But I promise you I’ll do everything in my power to be the best dad I can.”
The words had barely left my mouth when Hilary spoke.
“Dad, we have each other. We’ll make it.”
As we rode home in the limo, we passed the spot where Miranda had her accident. I noticed both Hilary and Karen staring over the railing, perhaps hoping—maybe praying—to catch a glimpse of their mother, while knowing all too well it wasn’t possible.
When we got home, I told the girls I needed to rest for a few hours. I went to my room—our room—and climbed into bed. The presence of my wife was everywhere. Her bra hung over the shower curtain rod and her clothes filled the closet. Her housecoat draped the chair by the window.
I wondered how many more nights tears would precede my falling asleep. The Miranda- sized hole in my heart would be a long time in mending.
24
“Hello? Who’s there?” Miranda called out.
“Oh, it’s just me again, Miranda. It’s time for you to eat. I was able to bring you some food from your lovely memorial service. That sounds kinda unreal, but it’s true. After seeing your daughter again today, the little one, I’ve decided to stop killing kids. At least for the time being. I’ve got my prize now anyway.”
Miranda felt a frisson of shock surge through her.
“Your husband and kids are nice,” the woman continued. “Your honey bunny, David, is already thinking about giving me a chance. I could tell that much. I’m going to keep his number right here in my purse. He’s put on some muscle over the years, hasn’t he?”
“You leave them alone!” Miranda screamed, tugging on her bindings.
“Well, now, we only met today, but it seems he’s taken a liking to me already. How else do you get the phone number of a guy who just lost his wife? Huh? Any guesses? I suppose looking like this doesn’t hurt. You think he liked your body? Well, he’s going to worship mine. He’s going to need me. He’s going to want me. He’s going to adore me. He’ll never even remember you existed.”
Miranda cringed as her captor’s evil laughter echoed around the room.
“He’ll dream about me. He’ll father my kids. Your daughters will love me, too, before I get rid of them. If you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll make you a video or two of our lovemaking sessions.”
“David would never do anything with a two-bit skanky bitch like you!” Miranda snapped.
“Miranda, please . . . Bitch? Such an ugly word. We’ll see, dear. His eyes didn’t call me that today, and a man’s eyes never lie. Besides, I always get what I want. I got you, didn’t I?”
It took every ounce of strength Miranda had, but she remained silent.
“Well, enough about that. I actually came down to feed you. You do want to eat, don’t you? I mean, I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re thinking. If that were my goal, don’t you think you’d be dead already? And since your family thinks you’re dead, eventually you and I will have to help them change that perception. We’ll toy with them . . . give them a reason to believe you could still be alive. It’ll be more fun that way.”
Miranda seethed. This skinny bitch had stolen her life and now maybe even her husband and kids. She tried to calm down. After all, David was too good at figuring people out. Certainly he would see right through this ploy. And she was sure the entire Houston Police Department was working hard to find her. She would be rescued in no time.
25
Several months later . . .
Life goes on; that much is true, though adjusting to life without Miranda was hard on all of us. I still had not captured the child killer who had terrorized our city. The killings had stopped suddenly—almost too suddenly to make any sense. Six months had passed since Miranda’s death, but I’d been too preoccupied with my loss to think clearly enough to focus on the case. I strongly believed the killer was still out there, blending in, watching. Pleased with how his work had forever changed the lives of so many. Everyone was still afraid.
We had not officially closed the case due to lack of evidence, but because the killings had stopped and other cases emerged, it had gotten pushed into the background. I scoured the net often for reports of similar killings being committed elsewhere in Texas or surrounding states, but came up empty.
Why had he stopped so suddenly? Did he have a new goal or objective? Or had he, as Wilcrest hypothesized, died in some unrelated accident or even been incarcerated for some other crime? There was no way to know for sure.
“Run… run! Go, Karen, go!” Hilary yelled as we watched Karen score the go-ahead run for her Little Lea
gue T-Ball team. It was Karen’s first year playing, but she’d quickly picked up the game. Baseball was all Karen could think about now. She had always been fearful of trying the game, even though Miranda had talked to her about playing. Since her mother’s death, she had decided she would give it all she had and dedicate her efforts to her mother.
“Dad you should go out with Coach Stacy,” Hilary said, sliding beside me in the bleachers. “She really seems like a nice lady. I mean, I know I didn’t like her at first, but I do now. She’s really good with Karen, too.” She glanced up at me to see if I was listening. “And I’m pretty sure she’s into you.”
Stacy was strikingly beautiful indeed but I still couldn’t get over the out-of-nowhere feeling I got about her. She was a coach now and the little league always performed background checks on perspective coaches.
Hilary hit me on the shoulder. “Dad? Are you listening to me?”
I snapped back into it. “Really?” I glanced over at Stacy, who was offering advice to a batter. She didn’t look anything like she had at Miranda’s memorial service. Today, she wore tight-fitted skinny jeans and a loose T-shirt. “I don’t know, Hilary. It just seems too soon.”
“When will it be long enough, Dad? You have to have a life, even if you are old.” Hilary laughed as she patted my knee. “Seriously, you should think about it. Mom would have wanted you to move on. She would not have wanted you to be lonely. I know when a girl is into a guy. I’m a girl, Dad, remember?”
I sighed. “Okay, well, maybe you’re right.” I didn’t think so. “I’ll think about it.”
“Well, she’s a beautiful woman, Dad, and she isn’t going to wait on you forever.”
Cheers erupted from proud parents on the home side of the bleachers, and I turned to watch a little boy round home base, followed by Karen, for the winning run. I’d thought about the possibility of dating again, even making an attempt with Stacy. Every time I did, images of Miranda flashed in my mind. I watched my girls, pleased that Hilary had seemed to take more interest in her big sister role since Miranda died. Her attitude and demeanor had turned a one-eighty. She was helpful around the house, looked after her little sister when I had to work late, and was once again getting good grades in school. But it had only been six months, which seemed a little too soon to be grazing again.