Heart of a Runaway Girl

by Trevor Wiltzen

“But you treat the kids way too hard when you’re angry.”

  “And you’re too soft on them. Tough men are threatening this home. How can you stand up to them alone? Let me do it.”

  Mabel didn’t like where this was going. Sure, threats had been made from Frank Hudgens, from Petar, and now from Larson, but she handled them, and whatever Dan thought, she didn’t need Bill for protection.

  “I’ve been working and doing my best with the kids since you’ve been gone. I’ve handled things as best I can.”

  “Yes, because you kicked me out.”

  “Because you were too hard on the kids.”

  “Look, you are a kind-hearted soul, and I love that about you, but this is a tough, man’s world. Those boys need to know it.”

  “They do know it!” Mabel said. “Your boys know it. Hector is hurting because he has no friends.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have been following them like a lamb in the first place. He needs to be his own man.”

  “That’s the problem. He’s trying to be, but he’s just a boy. He needs a stable presence.”

  “Then let me come back! I miss you all,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “You asked me to stop drinking. I stopped drinking. What else do you want?”

  She started to regret letting him in the home but kept her voice gentle as she began getting dressed. “I know you’re trying. Getting off the booze is a start — a very good start. But there’s so much more. You need to tell Fred and Hector that you love them, and you’re sorry. Those boys need to hear that.”

  Bill sat there for a moment and then sighed heavily. He started to put on his jeans as he said, “My dad didn’t coddle me or say he loved me. I didn’t get no special treatment. My boys need to learn this world is hard. Those boys need to be made into men, too, like my dad did for me.”

  “Those boys need love.”

  “They got you.”

  “They need more — from you. I need more too, Bill. For the kids.”

  “Ugh! I don’t know what you want. You ask me to stop drinking, and I stopped. But I am who I am, and how do I change that?”

  “That’s it,” Mabel shot back. “I need you to change.”

  She glared at him from across the room, not wanting to put her kids through this fighting again. If Bill was going to come back, it had to be better than this.

  Bill looked at her for a long moment, and then his gaze shifted and fell. He put on his boots. “I suppose nothing’s changed between us.”

  Mabel softened, wanting him to stay. But it was not enough, she needed more.

  After another long silence, Bill nodded, went to the door, and then hesitated, glancing back but not looking into her eyes. “Tell them… I dropped by. Tell them… well, you know.” Then he left.

  He stamped down the stairs and out the front door, but she didn’t follow him. She collapsed on the bed, still warm and smelling of him, and had a good cry. Then she wiped her cheeks dry, stripped the top sheets off the bed, and went downstairs to put them in the wash.

  CHAPTER 34

  Friday, October 31

  Friday morning, a few days after Bill had left, Mabel was simultaneously talking to Lavi on the phone while baking cookies for a Halloween kids’ party later that night. And with only two weeks left to Winston’s trial, the news about the fingerprints wasn’t good.

  “It’s not a match.”

  She fiddled with the long phone cord and peeked inside the oven. “Are you sure?” she asked, followed by a muttered “shoot!” when Lavi confirmed it. “Well, what about the DNA sample?”

  “There’s no point.”

  “You’ve got to try.”

  “I know, but the test would take at least another week, maybe two, and we don’t have enough reason to ask the judge to delay the trial. He’ll think we’re desperate and fishing for options.”

  “Well, we are,” Mabel said.

  Lavi laughed. “Yes, but the judge can’t know that. If we’re going into this, I need to be strong and confident in our direction, or he’ll dismiss all of my arguments.”

  “What about Larson? That girl? She looked exactly like Karen.”

  Lavi sighed. “That’s not going to cut it.”

  “Did you talk to your DEA friends?” Mabel asked. She’d told Lavi about the drug operation and how the State Police had messed things up.

  “Mabel, you can’t be taking on a drug lord as well. We need to focus here.”

  Mabel reluctantly came back to the case. “I guess I’m just disappointed because I thought for sure the fingerprints would come back positive.”

  “I know, but who else is on your list? There’s Lee Wallach, Cole Smithson, and now Larson, or someone connected to him.”

  “Lee’s connected to him.”

  “Okay, focus on Lee then. Same thing, get his fingerprints, DNA, and find out if he has an alibi.”

  Mabel pressed her fingers into an aching temple, having no idea how she was going to do that, but she said only, “Yes, I’ll get it.”

  “Good,” Lavi said. “I’m going to reach out to the prosecutor as well. Float the idea of a deal.”

  Mabel’s mouth opened to protest but then thought of where they were at and stayed quiet.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to take it just yet,” Lavi said, reading into her silence. “I’m just saying that we need one of the other suspects to come through. Fastest is fingerprints. Then we get a delay for the DNA.”

  “Delay for the DNA,” Mabel repeated, trying to convince herself this was possible. “Okay, Luv.”

  “If you do that, I’ll help you with Larson and get the DEA agent to contact you,” Lavi said, then hung up.

  Mabel rubbed her forehead to ease the ache until she smelled the burning cookies. “Oh no!” The cookies were black and smoking, so she used a towel to grab a tray and burned a finger pulling the tray out. She turned on the faucet and soaked her finger. Then pounded her fist on the countertop as the tears came, but the pain was not why she was crying. She felt like a failure because she needed to get to Lee but did not know how.

  The flushing water soothed her finger and she looked over at the uncooked cookie dough.

  Then she had an idea.

  Within the hour, she had packed fresh-baked, Halloween-themed cookies into a basket, put on her Halloween costume for the day — the pink-haired pop star, Jem, from a popular kids’ TV cartoon Fred watched — and was on her way to the mill. When she entered the front office decorated with hanging skeletons and Friday the Thirteenth horror masks, Consuela purred, “Ha ha, perfect.” Consuela was dressed up too, like Madonna from an MTV music video.

  Mabel smiled. “Love yours too, dear.”

  The office was empty except for the two of them, rare for here, so Mabel got right down to business. “Don Sigmundson came up short, Luv.”

  “Oh, the fingerprints didn’t match?!” Consuela said. “I thought it was him because he sure doesn’t treat his girlfriend proper. I can tell you that.”

  “I know. So now I’m on to Lee Wallach or Cole Smithson.”

  Consuela frowned. “Lee’s also one of the new boys I don’t like.” And then she explained how Lee had been hired only six months ago as part of a new crew replacing the seasoned regulars, and most of these were not as good at their jobs as the men they’d replaced. But the mill was running three shifts for the lumber needs of one and even the laziest worker like Lee could scrape by without causing too much of a bottleneck. Consuela couldn’t understand it. How could a mill operate so poorly yet still be a money-maker? Management was debating in whispers whether this was becoming a money-laundering operation for Larson. But so far, Consuela didn’t know for sure. “And that boy is a really angry guy, I can tell you that,” she said about Lee. “Almost got into a fight with Jim Brown on the conveyor. And for nothing much at all, really.”

  Mabel shook her head in disgust. “Probably because he’s black, dear.” Consuela nodded. Then Mabel added, “I need the same as what I needed from Don. T
his DNA evidence, and don’t ask me what that’s all about. Mainly, I just need something he touched, so some lab tests of some sort can be done on it. Does Lee Wallach leave a lunch in the kitchen I could sample?”

  “No,” Consuela said. “Never.”

  “Does he drink coffee? Maybe raids the cookie counter?”

  “He rarely comes into the office. A bit of a loner. But if he hangs out with anyone, it’s with his fellow skinheads out on the mill floor.”

  Mabel put her basket of cookies down on the counter. “Okay, it’s like I thought. I’m going to have to go out to him. Do you have an extra coffee thermos and a pushcart?”

  Consuela nodded.

  “Let’s get the coffee going. I have an idea.”

  After taking Consuela’s mandatory worksite safety briefing, Mabel pushed a Halloween-decorated cart with coffee and cookies out into the mill where crews were hauling and stacking massive logs. Inside the building, each log was hoisted onto a conveyor and then violently sheared with a large saw. Lee Wallach worked the conveyor by himself.

  Mabel recognized the area where Karen Thompson had been found, broken and abused, from the crime scene photos Mabel had seen. Her resolve hardened to what she had to do: spout racist filth to get on Lee’s right side. Larson drew men like Lee in by perverting the grace and righteousness of religion to do wrong in God’s name. These boys were probably looking for a savior, and they’d found one in Larson, who promised money, women, wealth, and purpose. Larson suckered these boys in like the false prophets of Ezekiel’s days, and she was about to turn their hate against them.

  But to be tactical, she didn’t approach Lee right away. Instead, she chose a few men nearby — a couple of skinheads — to serve coffee and cookies to before getting them to sign a petition. The men admired her simple costume — probably because it showed off her ample cleavage. She kept her eye on Lee, who was watching what was going on. Only a few logs were running through the mill right now, and the men could afford to be distracted. Jim Brown approached, but Mabel waved him off, pointed to Lee, and pushed the cart over to him.

  Lee was leaning against the conveyer, using the tip of an oversized knife to clean his dirty nails, and she wondered if it was just for show. He had a sallow, scrawny complexion, but there was an intensity to his deep-set blue eyes that promised no pushover.

  “Good morning,” she said, with a false cheeriness. “I’ve brought some Halloween cookies and coffee for the boys.”

  He ignored her until she added, “A gift from Larson.”

  Lee glanced up, and his rude mouth formed a thin smirk. “Well, then, I guess I’ll have one.”

  She poured the coffee and forced the next words out of her mouth. “I can’t believe Larson lets him work here,” she said, nodding to Jim Brown in the distance.

  Lee took a bite of the cookie. “Yeah. I don’t get it.”

  “It won’t be for long,” Mabel said. “I got something I want you to sign. It’s a petition I’m giving to Larson, so men like the Jim Browns ain’t allowed to work here no more.”

  “’Bout time,” he said. “Sure, I’ll sign.” He wiped his hands on his pants and took the clipboard and Mabel pointed out where to sign so his prints would be the only ones on the page.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” Mabel asked, hoping it didn’t sound too practiced.

  Lee spat to the side and shook his head.

  “I can’t believe some of our women date those kind,” she added, nodding to where Jim Brown was working.

  “Beats me.”

  “You know the girl murdered? She was dating one of them. Died over there, I heard.” Mabel pointed in the distance where her body had been found, but Lee didn’t look.

  He examined Mabel but didn’t say anything. Mabel wondered if he was getting suspicious. He’d finished the cookie, so she took his napkin. “More coffee?” she asked, then poured it before he answered, feeling his gaze still on her. She carried on. “When the shift, uh, shut down that night cause of the break, did you, uh, head over to Curt’s too? With the rest of the crew? I heard a few had went.”

  Lee sipped his coffee as he stared at her. When he finished it, he handed it back and then finally broke the disconcerting silence. “Why ask about her?”

  “Who, hon?” Mabel asked absently, using a fresh tissue to take his used coffee cup and place it carefully away from the others.

  “Karen.”

  Bingo, Mabel thought, but kept acting casual. “No reason,” she said. “She deserved what she got for dating out of her race. Especially with good guys like you around.” Her skin crawled, hearing herself speak like that.

  “Hey, you’re the woman Larson warned us about.”

  “Ha ha, why would he do that, dear?” Mabel asked, nervous but trying not to show it.

  “You’re the woman who went to the farm.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Lee grabbed her arm with one hand. “You own the diner. You’re the waitress. I recognize you now.”

  “You’re hurting me.”

  He was up close to her now. “You lying bitch,” he said, touching the tip of his knife to Mabel’s arm. “You women,” he said, disgusted. “You’re all the same.” Then he released her.

  Mabel rubbed her arm, and they stared at each other until Jim Brown shouted over to Lee, “Get ready, I got a log for ya.”

  Lee waved off the man as he kept glaring at Mabel. “Be seeing you,” he said, then added, “Shame about Winston. He sold a lot of weed for us. But what do you expect from a guy like him.”

  He knows Winston! Mabel thought.

  “Was he here?” she asked.

  Lee smirked then shrugged. “Got work to do.”

  “Was he here?” she asked again.

  He ignored her by moving towards the log on the far end of the conveyor.

  Mabel wanted to chase after him and question him further about Winston, but the realization that Winston knew Lee and this mill had rocked her, and she got the cart moving and didn’t look back until she’d reached Consuela’s office.

  “You okay, darling?” Consuela asked. “You look pale.”

  Mabel nodded. “I got what I needed,” she said, showing Consuela the coffee cup and the signed petition.

  “Wow,” Consuela said. “Can’t see what all that is for. But you don’t sound too happy about it. Did Lee tell you anything useful?”

  Mabel thought about whether Winston had lied to her and had known the sawmill all along. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Because that night, most of the boys went to Curt’s so…” Consuela’s words trailed off as her eyes flashed with some kind of insight, and then without another word, headed into the office, leaving Mabel to pack the evidence into bags and label them carefully. Consuela returned with one of the Mexican maintenance men. “This is Manuel,” Consuela said. “He was at Curt’s that night.”

  Manuel was a family man with two kids. He blushed. “Beg pardon. I’m sorry for going to those places, but that’s where my boss goes.”

  Mabel stopped packing and briefly touched his arm. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Curt’s my friend. So, was Lee Wallach there that night?”

  Manuel glanced around. Since Larson bought the mill, men like Jim and Manuel seemed to lose their jobs, only to be replaced by Larson’s gang members. Consuela prodded. “We won’t tell. Was Lee there?”

  “Yes. But he left early — he told the boss he had a date.”

  “A date?” Mabel asked, not expecting that. “Who?”

  Manuel shrugged. “He don’t talk to me. I don’t talk to him. Is that all? I got work to do.”

  He was clearly uncomfortable being asked these questions, so Mabel thanked him, and he left.

  She turned to Consuela, who said, “I’ve never seen a girl wait in the office for Lee. He brought no one to the summer barbecue, either. You want to see if he’s got an alibi for that night, right?” Mabel nodded. “What if Lee was going
to see Karen?”

  Mabel frowned. “But Karen was with Winston.”

  “You said the black truck was parked in your lot, right? Just waiting? Was Lee a customer that night?”

  “Him? No. And I wouldn’t want him as a customer either.”

  “Was Karen expecting someone that night?”

  Mabel shook her head. “Winston told me what they were talking about. She wasn’t seeing anyone. But…” She paused. “He did say Karen thought she was being followed.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past a character like Lee to be watching a woman.”

  Mabel nodded slowly. “You mind if I use a phone? I’m going to call Winston’s lawyer about this.”

  “Sure, Luv. Use the phone in the side office there. You’ll get some privacy.”

  Mabel went over to the office, shut the door, and dialed the lawyer’s number.

  “Lavi, it’s Mabel.”

  “You know only my mother calls me Lavi,” he admonished gently.

  “I like it. It suits you. Now let me finish. I got the samples for Lee.”

  “Lee Wallach? Already?” His voice brightened. “That’s good work.”

  “You better believe it,” Mabel said, then described both what had just happened and her and Consuela’s suspicions about Lee, but nothing about what Lee had told her about Winston just yet — she had to think about that first.

  “It’ll be great to know who his date was that night.”

  “I know. I’ll find out somehow.”

  “Well then, I’ve got news for you,” Lavi said. She heard him flipping through files as he explained, “I got a hold of Lee Wallach’s record.”

  “And?” Mabel’s hopes went up.

  “Nothing criminal.” Mabel deflated, but Lavi wasn’t done. “But it turns out he grew up in Seattle, not too far from the Thompson family.”

  “Dear, lead with that, would ya?! That’s a connection. Have you found a confirmed link between the two? Have you talked to the parents?”

  “Well, Mabel. I was hoping you could.”

  Mabel hesitated, thinking about the grieving couple. “What’s their address?”

  He told her, and she wrote it down, all the while thinking of all she had to do for tomorrow: ask Sally to take the Saturday shift, organize dinner, leave a reminder note for Kerry to cook it, drive to Seattle in the afternoon, talk to Karen’s parents, get back to have dinner with Fred and Hector and let Kerry take the car to see her friends. My God, that’s a lot, she thought. In the meantime, Lavi had been talking to her, and she missed it. “What, sorry, dear?” she asked, flustered.