“Phoenix, you have to come up with a story about Halloween night. They’re going to want to know at approximately what time you separated from your friends.”
“Seven-thirty on the dot. I had to get home and begin studying for a chemistry test.”
“Is that true? Did you actually have a test coming up?”
“Yeah, and I aced it.”
“That’s good,” I muttered as I drove along the highway.
Before going home, I had one more stop to make.
“Why’re we stopping here?” Phoenix asked as I pulled into a Food City parking lot.
“Have to get rid of the plastic that you wrapped around Taylor.” I gestured toward the Dumpster at the back of the lot.
“Oh,” Phoenix said disinterestedly as he gazed at the screen of his phone.
Clearly, he didn’t have a care in the world, and I’d be the only one losing sleep for weeks, months, and maybe years to come.
• • •
I watched the news every chance I got. When I wasn’t actively watching and waiting for the body to be found, I was on high-alert to hear the dreaded news from another source. Each time someone called my name—an employee, a client, Sasha, or Zoe—I’d brace myself and prepare to arrange my features into a look of surprise.
My nights were plagued with nightmares that featured Taylor. In one dream I was able to save her from Phoenix, but as I pulled away the shirt he used to smother her, she told me in a frantic voice that she was dying. I reassured her that she was fine, but her body began to stiffen and mummify right before my eyes. Experiencing a living and breathing child quickly turning to stone while in my arms was horrific, and in the dream, I could feel nausea rising and burning the back of my throat.
In another dream, she was holding the matching red boot, and when I awakened in a cold sweat, it occurred to me that the body I’d left in the cornfield was barefoot. Panicked, I rushed to Phoenix’s room and gruffly woke him up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, aggravated as he sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes.
“Where’s the other red boot?” I hissed.
“I have it. It’s safe.”
“You have it?” I was incredulous. “Where is it?”
“I’m not giving it up, so don’t try to make me.”
“Do you want to get caught? You can’t hold on to a murder trophy, you reckless piece of shit!” I hadn’t meant to resort to cursing and name-calling, but I wasn’t my normal self. I was sleep-deprived, frightened about the future, and constantly on edge.
He pointed to his closet. “It’s on the shelf,” he muttered.
I glared at him. It was inconceivable that our family had been unwittingly sharing our home with an item that was connected to the worst crime that had ever been committed in Springfield Hills.
I was a few feet from the closet when I heard Sasha’s footsteps approaching. I froze and turned toward the open bedroom door.
“What’s going on, honey? Is everything okay?” she asked with suspicion coating every word.
“Everything’s fine,” I said, guiding her back toward our room. I looked over my shoulder at Phoenix and could have sworn that I saw a smirk on his face.
Back in bed, Sasha cuddled close to me. She placed her palm across my shoulder blades and gently rubbed, allowing her hand to meander down the length of my arm. “You know you can talk to me if there’s a problem between you and Phoenix. I want you to know that I’m here for you, and I’ll listen without judgment whenever you’re ready to talk.”
“Nothing’s bothering me, Sasha.”
“Why were you arguing with Phoenix in the middle of the night?”
“I wasn’t arguing with him. I went in his room to remind him that Thursday is trash day. Lately, he’s been forgetting to take the cans to the curb.”
“You reminded him about trash day on a Tuesday night? That sounds really anal, Malik. You need to relax a little.” She kissed my chest as her hand found its way to the crotch of my pajamas. “Do you want me to help you relax?” she whispered in a sultry tone.
It was the last thing that I wanted, but I didn’t want to hurt her by telling her that I preferred to sleep. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my teeth as she caressed my flaccid appendage, trying to bring it to life.
But it wasn’t working. Knowing that the dead girl’s red boot was right down the hall killed any desire I might have had to make love to my wife.
“I’m sorry, babe,” I said in a voice filled with shame.
“It’s okay.” She leaned over and kissed me on the lips, and I tried to put all the love I had for her into the kiss, but she suddenly went stiff and pulled away, informing me that she was painfully aware of my lack of passion for her.
“Goodnight, Malik,” she said in a hurt tone of voice, and then turned her back to me.
Trying to make up for being unable to perform, I caressed her shoulder and murmured, “I love you, Sasha.”
She eased away from my touch and tightened the covers around her slender frame.
• • •
“Why do I have to give it to you? It’s mine!” Phoenix squawked in a cracking voice, clutching the red boot tightly in his hand.
“That boot is evidence that could come back to haunt you if we don’t get rid of it while we have a chance,” I said in a hushed voice. I was mindful that Sasha and Zoe, downstairs in the kitchen, could get an earful if either of them chose to suddenly come upstairs.
“But no one is even looking for it.”
“Not at this moment, but as soon as the body is discovered without the boots, the authorities are going to start searching for them.”
“I’ll keep it safe and make sure no one can ever find it.” As he spoke, his face was contorted in a way that expressed a mixture of rage and desperation.
For a moment I thought that we might possibly come to blows over the boot, and I was relieved when he gave up and angrily threw it against his bedroom wall.
Getting the boot from the house to the car was nerve-wracking, and I felt like Sasha was watching my every move as I crept to the front door. After wedging it in with the spare tire in the trunk of my car, I went back inside the house and half expected Sasha to ask me what I’d hidden in the car.
After rushing through breakfast, I told my family that I had to get to work early. But that’s not where I went.
Filled with anxiety, I drove to a dense wooded area that was fifty miles outside of Springfield Hills. Along the way, my heart took a dive every time I spotted a police car or a state trooper’s vehicle. Super-cautious, I made sure that I didn’t exceed the speed limit or switch lanes without signaling. The last thing I needed was to be pulled over and—God forbid—searched.
I finally made it to my destination, which I found on Google Maps, and I hastily pulled a lighter out of my pocket and lit the plastic bag that contained the damning evidence.
Under a blue sky, while birds chirped and the sun glimmered through the top of the trees, I burned the little red boot, adding destruction of evidence to my growing list of crimes.
I went to work afterward and tried my best to avoid getting into a lengthy conversation with the manager of the furniture store that I was servicing. However, the woman who ran the place was extremely chatty and kept finding reasons to come into the server room.
I listened to her bitch about the customers, the state of the country, and the unseasonable heat wave we were experiencing.
I was perceived as a family man and an upstanding citizen. Someone who was perfectly normal. Yet my involvement in covering up such an atrocious murder would render me as guilty as my son—if not more so since I was the adult.
Later that evening, hoping that a change in scenery would help steady my nerves, I attended a recovery meeting. Unfortunately, getting together with a group of ex-addicts didn’t help ease my mounting tension.
Ahiga waved at me from across the room. He could always be relied upon to provide a great deal of support and comfor
t, and I quickly moved in his direction, hoping to draw strength from him.
“Hello there, Malik. Long time no see,” Ahiga greeted. “You promised to start attending meetings more regularly. What happened, my friend?”
I mumbled an excuse about family obligations, but when I looked into Ahiga’s wise and all-knowing eyes, I could tell that he wasn’t buying my excuse. The two dark orbs seemed to peer into my soul, unearthing my darkest secret, causing me to squirm.
“What’s troubling you, Malik?” he asked with a light pat on my arm.
“Is it that obvious?” I did my best rendition of a smile, a grudging curve of the lips that was more of a sneer than a smile. I felt tortured inside and it showed on my face, making it pointless to try to conceal my true feelings from Ahiga.
“You can confide in me, Malik,” he said.
“It’s Phoenix…as usual. We’re always at each other’s throats, and Sasha is getting tired of the tension in our home,” I said with a sad shrug. “I’ve tried, but I can’t seem to make a connection with him.”
Ahiga folded his arms. “I’m hosting a pow-wow next week. Why don’t you bring Phoenix. I’m sure it would be a great opportunity for you two to socialize without actually being stuck with each other. Native American pow-wows are elaborate events with a lot going on: singing, dancing, and various competitions. And the youth turnout is tremendous. While Phoenix interacts with other kids, you two still get to enjoy a shared experience.”
“Sounds good. Thanks for the invite, Ahiga. Text me the information…the time and place and where I can purchase tickets.”
Ahiga scowled. “You don’t have to purchase tickets; you two will be my guests.”
Someone beckoned Ahiga and pointed to the microphone. It was time for him to make the closing remarks and bring the meeting to an end.
“Hang tight for a while. I’d like to tell you more about the pow-wow.”
I nodded, but my feet had already begun moving toward the exit sign. There wasn’t a chance in hell that I’d bring Phoenix around throngs of young people in such a large setting where there’d be numerous opportunities for him to kill again. Having to deal with another missing child would push me over the edge, and I would never forgive myself for recklessly endangering lives.
My son clearly needed to be institutionalized, but I was putting together a plan that might prevent me from having to take such a drastic measure. Besides, now that I was involved in the crime, I couldn’t hand him off to a mental health facility nor could I turn him over to the police without the risk of being implicated. I’d be able to think clearer and make more rational decisions once the body was found and after the uproar of the murder finally died down.
For now, I was in limbo, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
CHAPTER 30
Hardly a moment passed without me thinking about Taylor Flanagan’s body being discovered. I had imagined numerous circumstances where I learned of the news, and I practiced my reaction for each one. I had the most practice with the scenario that involved Sasha and me finding out together while watching the evening news. In that situation, I played the role of consoler when Sasha’s emotions got the best of her. She would shed tears of anguish for little Taylor and also tears of relief that our children were safe.
Tending to a distraught wife gave me something to do. Grabbing tissues and offering pats on the back to Sasha along with soothing words was busywork that disguised my culpability in the crime and spared me from having to confront my guilt.
In my mind, I had practiced the different situations so often that I didn’t leave room for any other scenario, and I was taken completely off guard when I stopped in a 7-Eleven to pick up a Triple Cheese Pizza and a Blue Raspberry Slurpee for Zoe. I wanted to surprise her with her favorite snack—my way of making up for being so distant and preoccupied lately.
As I pulled the door open and heard the store’s doorbell chime, I felt kind of cheerful, a big change from the angst and worry that had been plaguing me for the past week. But the moment I stepped inside the store, my jovial mood vanished.
Standing in line at the register was none other than Heather Flanagan, holding a red basket filled with snacks.
Heather was the last person on Earth that I wanted to run into, and I reflexively stopped in my tracks. My uneasiness quickly built into full-blown panic, and I considered making backward steps out the door. But the thought of surveillance cameras capturing me as I avoided her, gave me a change of heart. Although it was a stretch to think that law enforcement would ever view the footage and question me about my motives for rushing out the door, I watched enough crime shows to know that you could never predict what the police would look at and consider as evidence during a murder investigation.
With my legs feeling like they’d turned to lead, I trudged over to the Slurpee machine. I hoped that no one was paying attention to me and noticing how badly I was sweating, but it seemed that everyone in the store had eyes on me. I was so self-conscious, I had to will my hand not to shake as I grabbed a cup and flipped the lever to dispense the fizzy beverage.
A sudden loud shriek, seemingly from hell, pierced the atmosphere. The sound was so disconcerting, I accidentally knocked over the cup, splashing blue sludge all over the counter, my hand, and the front of my pants. Jerking my head in the direction of the awful cry, I wished I could have instantly disappeared when I witnessed Heather Flanagan collapsed against the counter. The items she’d been holding in the red basket were scattered on the floor, along with her rhinestone-encased cell phone.
“No! No!” she repeated as she thrashed and flailed.
“What’s wrong, ma’am?” said the store clerk as he rushed from behind the counter and attempted to assist Heather.
“They found her! Oh, God! They found my baby’s body in a freakin’ cornfield,” she wailed.
“She said they found her daughter’s body. You know, the missing little girl,” another customer translated to the patrons that stood nearby, gawking.
“They found Taylor Flanagan, and she’s dead,” blurted a grinning teenager. He promptly held up his phone and began to record the devastated mother in the throes of grief, capturing what should have been a private moment, and no doubt uploading it to the Internet for the world to see.
The store was abuzz with activity and excitement as Heather’s wails reached a feverish pitch. Some jackass must have called the police because within minutes, two patrol cars sped into the parking lot.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that this would be the way that I learned that the body had finally been discovered. Sharing the same environment as the grieving mother at the exact moment when she was told that her daughter was dead was quite ironic. Many would say that it was poetic justice for me to have to endure the discomfort of viewing the pain that my son and I had caused.
Customers stepped aside when four uniformed officers rushed inside the store, their faces tense, hands near their weapons, as if a crime were in progress.
“Do you need us to escort you home, ma’am?” asked one of the officers as they approached the grief-stricken mother.
Heather’s face contorted in outrage. “No, I don’t need an escort. I need you assholes to find the bastard that murdered my child. Why the fuck are you wasting time in here? He’s out there somewhere, and you guys are bumbling around like Keystone Cops. I want justice! I want you to find him!”
In her hysteria, Heather shoved the cop closest to her, leaving the officers no choice but to arrest her for assaulting an officer.
The same teenaged boy that had filmed her meltdown, now began to film her arrest.
A few moments after she was hauled off in handcuffs, I sheepishly exited the store. Never had I felt more like a worthless piece of shit. My actions in covering up my son’s crime had caused additional emotional trauma to the mother of the murdered child.
• • •
Somehow I made it home. Miraculously, my car ended up parked in the driveway, yet I h
ad no conscious memory of traveling the familiar route from the convenience store to my home. It was as if the car was on automatic pilot and brought me home without any assistance from me.
As I sat at the wheel wondering if I should mention to Sasha that I’d witnessed Heather Flanagan getting arrested inside the nearby 7-Eleven, the front door opened and Sasha hurried toward my car. She jiggled the handle of the passenger side, indicating that she wanted to get in. I didn’t have to ask what was wrong; I could tell by the distressed expression on her face that she’d also heard the news.
I hit the switch that unlocked that door, and she slid inside.
“They found the girl,” she said grimly.
“I know.” Showing respect for the situation, I spoke in a low voice that was barely above a whisper.
“We should talk to the kids together. We need to be a united front in assuring them that they’ll be safe as long as they adhere to the rules we’ve laid out.”
“Sasha, we’ve pounded those rules into their heads. If we go over them again, it’ll be overkill, and they’ll probably tune us out.”
“I don’t care if it’s overkill. Until the police catch the madman that’s responsible, you and I have to do everything in our power to protect the kids. If that means being repetitious, then so be it.”
“All right, Sasha,” I said wearily.
“Don’t patronize me, Malik,” she snapped.
“I’m not patronizing you; I’m agreeing with you.” There was so much on my mind, the last thing I wanted to do was get into an argument with Sasha.
“I’m agreeing, babe, that’s all,” I reassured her, squeezing her hand.
“Maybe I’m overreacting. I’ve been jumpy ever since I heard that they found the poor child in a cornfield. What kind of monster would discard a child’s body like it was trash?”
Wearing a miserable expression, I shook my head.
“The kids are in their rooms, doing homework. Let’s go inside and talk to them.” In an attempt to make up for snapping at me a few moments ago, I could tell that she was making an effort to speak in a calmer tone.
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