In a few minutes, Ben joined them, and for a time they sat in each other’s presence, not having anything they wanted to say. Suddenly, Ben burst into tears and left the house to go outside and stare at the woods. Megan started to get up to go be with him, but Deidre gabbed her arm.
“Give your father some time to be alone. He’s where he should be right now, letting nature console him. The woods has always been his refuge. I think it speaks to him, and he hears its voice.”
She and Megan climbed the stairs and gently woke the boys, Megan hugging one, Deidre the other.
“Time to wake up, guys. We’ve got to be to the church by nine thirty, and it’s already eight. Get up and shower. Oh, and don’t forget to brush this morning. Come on. Let’s go.”
Both boys grumbled and pulled their quilts up. The early morning chill made them shiver. Eventually, they were awake enough for the women to leave, confident the twins would make it out of bed.
As a parting shot, Deidre reminded them, “I set out the clothes I want you to wear today. No substitutions. Okay?” The boys mumbled something unintelligible, and Deidre took that to mean they had heard her.
*****
HARDLY ANYONE WAS at the church when they arrived, and for a fleeting moment Deidre felt a pang of fear. What if no one cared enough to show up for her daughter’s funeral? She put that thought out of her mind. It was early.
The hearse was parked outside the main entrance, and for the first time that morning the reality of what was going to happen hit Deidre. She averted her eyes, slipped her arm inside Ben’s, and together they entered the church, Megan ushering Jack and Steve behind them.
The smell of the sanctuary was familiar, the silence was not unexpected, and the sight of the altar was what she was used to, but nothing was the same. In the front of the altar, propped on a stand, was the wooden casket they had selected only three days ago. Flower arrangements, too many to fit, were placed in an ordered profusion, and the solemn-faced funeral director was standing beside them.
“Guests will begin to arrive soon.” Deidre looked at him and thought, Guests? What do you mean, guests? This isn’t a party!. This is my daughter’s funeral. I don’t want any damn guests here.
The director offered some advice. “The people who’ll be gathering are here to grieve with you. They’ll be coming because they love you, loved your daughter, and they want to help. Many will not know how, but let them hold you up today. That’s why they will be here, to support you as only your friends can.”
His words surprised Deidre, and she wondered if the others had been listening. His message didn’t change anything, but they didn’t hurt, either.
By ten o’clock, friends, relatives, and a few gawkers, Deidre thought, began to file in, each offering words of condolences. By ten thirty, Deidre was numb, hardly aware of who had passed by or who waited in line to say, “We’re so sorry.” She looked at Ben, who was greeting each person as though their words were the most precious gift he had been given. She wished she had his ability to accept their kindness.
Chapter
Fifty-Five
THE DAY AFTER MAREN’S funeral, Deidre sat alone, looking at the shriveled flowers hanging over the edge of a pot on the deck. Life, she thought. So strong and at the same time so fleeting. She sighed deeply, knowing that life would never be the same for any of her family.
She tried to remember Megan’s funeral, and was shocked to discover she remembered hardly anything. Not what Pastor Ike’s homily was about, not what was sung, not who had attended, not even what she had done. It was as though her mind had erased the service from her memory. She was both saddened and angered by that realization.
She remembered meeting with her family and Pastor Ike before the service, and he had said something about there being a time for something or other. That part was a blank. She remembered following him down the aisle in the church and the congregation rising. She remembered following Maren’s casket out of the church, and congregants’ eyes meeting hers, tears trickling down their cheeks. She remembered her knees sagging and catching herself before she fell when the pallbearers slid the casket into the hearse.
She didn’t remember the drive to the cemetery, or the walk to the gravesite. She didn’t remember plucking a rose from the casket spray or bringing it home. She didn’t remember draping her body over the casket and sobbing “No, I won’t leave her!” when the graveside service concluded. She didn’t remember Ben gently lifting her away and leading her back to the car.
Today, all she remembered was that Maren would never be coming home again.
*****
A WEEK AFTER the funeral, Jeff stopped by in the middle of the day. He knew Ben had taken a leave from work and would probably be home with Deidre. After a few minutes of chit chat, inquiring about the boys and Megan, asking how they were doing, Jeff gave the real reason for his visit.
“I was able to get a court order to open Maren’s medical file at the clinic. On the chance that she had visited a doctor concerning her pregnancy, I thought she might have gone to one of our local physicians. She had.” Jeff took a sip of coffee from the cup Deidre had given him.
“It made for interesting reading,” he added. “Maren saw Doctor Marjorie Phelp two days before she went missing. Until then, she hadn’t sought medical attention. The doctor’s notes indicated that she was four months along, just as Judy’s autopsy revealed. Maren requested that an ultrasound be performed, and guess what? Like Dave said, she was carrying a baby boy.” He let his words sink in.
“I wouldn’t share news like this with just anyone, but we worked too long together and have been close friends too long for me to keep it from you. The doctor noted that Maren seemed upset with the news, and upon being questioned revealed that the baby’s father was not going to be thrilled by the news.”
Jeff stared at the tabletop, while Ben and Deidre sat silent, feeling stunned and betrayed.
“I know that S.O.B. did it, but I can’t prove it.” Jeff slammed his mug down on the table without realizing he did it. As he tried to rub out any mark he may have made in the wood, he said, “Sorry. I lost it for a moment. I’ll be in touch as soon as we find out anything else.”
In his embarrassment, Jeff caught the leg of his chair as he stood up and created more of a commotion. He apologized again and let himself out.
“Poor Jeff,” Deidre commiserated. “He’s taking this pretty personally. I hope he doesn’t let it cloud his judgment.”
*****
A COUPLE OF DAYS after Jeff’s visit, and after Deidre and Ben had time to process his discovery in Maren’s medical records, Deidre was basking in what would be one of the few warm days of autumn. It was the last week of October, and as she sat outside nursing a cup of hot cider in her hand, she recalled the frightful Halloween snowstorm that had hit the North Shore sometime in the mid-nineties. By the time it had subsided, almost four feet of snow buried the ground, and it didn’t melt until April. With that thought, and considering the balminess of the day, she decided to visit the site of Maren’s burial in the woods one more time. She left a message on Ben’s voicemail, and drove to the Drummond Road.
She took her time walking to the tree under which her daughter’s body had been buried, taking in the sights and smells of the forest. She discovered a downed tree near the grave, one she hadn’t noticed before, and used it for a bench. The flowers she and her family had left were withered, browned by repeatedly freezing at night and thawing during the day. A red squirrel hopped erratically, stopping every few leaps to assess anything dangerous. Deidre sat motionless, and the furry animal came close enough that she could see its whiskers wiggle as it tested her scent. Suddenly it bolted up a nearby tree, perched on a limb, and aggressively scolded her for invading its territory. For a moment the little creature brightened her day, but a deep melancholy soon wiped out the pleasure it brought.
Deidre picked up a piece of hazelnut brush that had been broken off by the recovery team, and began to a
bsentmindedly move dried leaves around, flipping them one at a time into the air. As she gradually cleared a small area of the detritus of fall, her mind became blank, and she was in a different place. She flipped one more leaf and started to stand, but froze. A glint of something caught her eye. She got down on her hands and knees to look more closely at it. Under that last leaf, and pressed into the ground by someone’s foot, was a small brass button. As insignificant as it might be, Deidre’s heart beat wildly as she fumbled in her coat pocket for her phone. The first thing she did was to take a series of pictures of her discovery, then she dialed Jeff.
She was relieved to hear his voice. “Jeff, get out here right away,” she demanded without realizing it.
“Deidre? Is that you? Calm down a second. Where the heck are you?”
She took a deep breath so she could speak. “I’m sitting here by Maren’s grave, and I’ve found something.”
For a moment, Jeff thought Deidre was losing it. What could she possibly have found in the cemetery? Then it dawned on him. “You’re out by the snowmobile trail?”
“Yes, yes,” Deidre answered excitedly. “I’ve found what we’ve been looking for.”
*****
JEFF ASSURED HER he’d be out right way, but it would take at least twenty minutes for him to get there. Deidre waited impatiently, and eventually heard the unmistakable swish of dried grass as he half walked, half jogged up the trail.
“I hope what you’ve found is as important as it sounded,” he said, trying to regain his breath. “What is it?”
“There.” Deidre pointed out the shiny button. It was somewhat tarnished, but still retained enough luster to reflect the mid-afternoon sun. Jeff looked closely at it before taking a series of pictures with his cell phone.
“Don’t know what we did before these things,” he said. He pulled a pair of rubber gloves from his jacket pocket and stretched them over his bony hands.
As Jeff dusted off the dirt that clung to the button, Deidre looked over his shoulder. “Damn, I’ve seen buttons like that before. Where?” She tried to conjure up the information stored somewhere in her memory, but to no avail. Still, it looked so familiar. Jeff bagged the evidence, and together they walked back to the road.
“I’ll check with the rescue crew to see if any of them lost a button like this, but finding where it came from will be a long shot. It’s something, though.”
They said goodbye at their cars, Jeff telling Deidre to call anytime she or Ben needed to talk. She promised she would.
Chapter
Fifty-Six
By the time Ben and the boys came home from work and from school, Deidre had made supper, washed and folded a load of clothes, answered a few e-mails, and prepared a grocery list of things to pick up the next morning.
The men in her life were hungry and dinner was rushed. Everyone gobbled down the food she prepared, and too soon, she thought, they were ready to head into town for the last high school football game of the year. Deidre declined their invitation to go, making the excuse that she wanted time alone to think. Only after they left did she realize she hadn’t told them about finding the button.
For the next hour she rambled inside the lonely house, first trying to read a magazine, then watching five minutes of a TV program, and finally deciding to put away the summer jackets still hanging in the hall closet. As she took them out and folded them, her mind wandered to the red squirrel that had chewed her out that afternoon. Without thinking, she reached into the back of the closet and took out a coat she didn’t immediately recognize. Then she remembered it was Dave’s, the one he had forgotten at their house the day Maren’s car was found on the Spooner Road. She froze.
*****
“JEFF? THIS IS DEIDRE. I’ve got it!” she shouted into her phone.
“Got what?” Jeff asked, puzzled.
“I’ve got it, the proof we need!”
After a very brief explanation, Jeff told her to sit tight. He’d be to her place as fast as he could make it through town and out into the country. Less than fifteen minutes later, she heard his steps pounding up the stairs to the deck. Jeff knocked but didn’t wait for a “Come in.” He burst into the kitchen, where Deidre sat, still holding the forgotten jacket.
“Look,” was all she said as she held out its sleeve. Two brass buttons on the coat’s sleeve remained, but it didn’t take a trained eye to see that one was missing, where ragged threads were still attached to the fabric. “This is where I saw buttons matching the one I found near Maren’s grave,” she exclaimed excitedly.
Jeff pulled up a chair and sat down, looking as though his legs couldn’t support him. He fingered the buttons without saying a word, contemplated the find, then took a plastic evidence bag from his pocket. Inside was the button Deidre had found in the woods. It matched exactly.
“You know what a good lawyer would say about this?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “He’d say you planted the button. It wouldn’t take too much digging to find someone who’d testify that your relationship with Dave wasn’t, what should I say . . . cordial? And surely he could find a number of people who would say that Megan plain didn’t like him. Do you see the problem we have with this?”
Deidre’s heart sank. What could she have done differently? She knew the truth, but the truth could sometimes be hidden under layers of doubt.
“What are we going to do?” she asked dejectedly. “We can’t just let him walk away from this and go on living his lie, can we?” Before she could begin to cry out of frustration, Jeff took her hand.
“He’s not going to walk. I can guarantee that. But I’m going to need your help. Where’s Ben?”
After Deidre explained that he and the boys were at the football game, Jeff said he would wait, if Deidre had something to go with a cup of coffee. He smiled at his attempt at levity, and she smiled back.
The game ended at nine thirty, and by ten, the trio of fans stomped into the kitchen, and the boys wondered if they could make hot chocolate. Ben looked quizzically at Jeff. Deidre helped Steve and Jack make their drinks, and then hustled them off to bed while Ben filled Jeff in on the game. Two Harbors had won a nail biter.
Finally, the three adults could talk.
“Dave has played us like a pro. All his shock, his anxiety, his sorrow, it was all an act,” Jeff began. “Some people are so skilled at lying, I think they actually believe they’re telling the truth. My guess is that he’ll never admit to what he did, even if he’s confronted with all the evidence to the contrary. We once had a man in custody, awaiting trial, who killed his ex-wife’s boyfriend and then held her hostage. She was set to testify against him, members of the SWAT team that rescued her were set to testify, and the SWAT team member who observed his behavior through a sniper scope gave his testimony to a grand jury. Still, he continued to adamantly declare his innocence. We need a plan to get Dave to incriminate himself on tape.”
Neither Deidre nor Ben had given any thought to such a plot. For one thing, Ben’s mind was still reeling from the recent knowledge about Dave’s jacket with the missing button. Deidre was too busy wondering what she might have done differently when she found the button near Maren’s makeshift grave. Jeff, however, had formulated a plan, which he laid out for them.
“Dave doesn’t know you found a button that matches those on his jacket. In fact, I’m sure he has forgotten about the jacket being in your closet. Otherwise, he’d have collected it long ago. We have to get him to come get it. That’s where you’ll help, Deidre. Somehow, you’ve got to lure him out here and get him talking.”
Ben held the jacket in his gloved hands. Ever since Deidre had made her discovery, she had worn rubber gloves when handling it in order to prevent contamination, but she thought it was probably too late for that. Ben and Jeff believed the same, but were taking no chances.
“Anything you think I can do?” Ben asked. To Jeff, he didn’t seem too anxious to allow himself near Dave.
“I’d like you to stick c
lose to me,” Jeff said. Ben knew Jeff was afraid of his inability to control himself if he came face to face with his daughter’s murderer.
Deidre wanted to know if she would work off a script.
“I don’t think that would be possible, because we don’t know how Dave’s going to react. I’m afraid you’ll have to play it as it goes,” Jeff said a little apologetically. “Can you do that?”
Deidre thought hard on that question before answering. “Hopefully I can be a better actor than he’s been.” She hesitated. “It looks like this is our best bet.”
Jeff ’s plan was to place a recorder on Ben’s and Deidre’s phone before she called. They doubted Dave would answer, but Deidre would leave a scripted message on his voicemail to make him wonder if he had left evidence on the jacket. Even if he picked up the call, Deidre would have a starting point and could go off-script as the conversation unfolded. Together, they composed the message, reading it aloud and rewording it to make the message concise yet intriguing.
They all agreed they would have only one chance at getting to Dave, and decided to not rush into the sting operation. Jeff suggested they give him two days to get everything set up. The house would be wired for sound, recording devices would be set up in the basement, where they would be monitored by deputies and Jeff, and tests could be run on the jacket and button before allowing Dave to handle it again.
After Jeff left, Deidre and Ben sat up until the early morning hours, mulling over their feelings, wondering about Dave’s reaction and willingness to come for his jacket, and debating what the possible outcomes could be.
Even after going to bed, Deidre couldn’t sleep. I’ll say this. He’ll say that. Then I’ll say . . . but if he says . . . then I can say . . . She carried on hypothetical conversations until finally drifting off to sleep, but even then, her mind kept working, and she dreamed she was having a disjointed conversation with a stranger.
An Iron Fist, Two Harbors Page 26