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The Anniversary

Page 44

by Amy Gutman


  Jamison rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. There’s something . . .

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  I still don’t buy it, that Crain killed Massey.”

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  “But those gashes along her arms,” said Lambert. “How else 30

  could he have known?”

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  “How long was the body left at the scene?”

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  “I couldn’t say for sure. But you know the usual drill. It 33

  wouldn’t have been for long. Not long enough for Crain to read 34

  about the murder and get himself to the island.”

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  “You know,” Jamison said slowly. “He could just be guessing.

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  That’s how Gage cut the arms of his victims. He could have made 2

  the leap.”

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  Lambert looked at him doubtfully. “So you still think we’ve got 4

  two killers, both of them obsessed with Steven Gage? One of 5

  them copying his handiwork, the other claiming to?”

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  Again, the flicker of uncertainty. Was it possible he was wrong?

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  Years had passed since he’d retired. Had time dulled his instincts?

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  As if sensing Jamison’s hesitation, Lambert pressed ahead.

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  “We’ve linked Crain to the Kisch murder. We know that he’s 10

  been active. I know what you said about Crain’s signature, but it’s 11

  been a real long time. Maybe Crain’s an exception to the rule.

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  Most rules have exceptions.”

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  “I guess it’s possible,” Jamison said. It cost him some effort to 14

  say that.

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  Lambert clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s all I wanted to 16

  hear.”

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  Wednesday, May 17

  Ca l l i e woke up abruptly with a sense that something was 1

  wrong. She jumped out of bed and ran to Anna’s room. Her 2

  daughter was fast asleep. She knelt down beside Anna’s bed, 3

  drinking in her presence. The pink cheeks, the rosebud mouth, 4

  the faint soapy smell. Then, reluctantly, she pulled away. She 5

  didn’t want to wake her.

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  Heading back to her own room, she felt anxious again. She 7

  knew that Anna was safe in bed. What was wrong? What was it? It 8

  wasn’t even five yet. She had to get some sleep. But just as she 9

  climbed back in bed, the answer suddenly hit her. The reporters’

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  phone calls from yesterday. That’s why she felt so anxious. Had 11

  her silence managed to stop them, or had they run with what 12

  they had?

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  Her Walkman was still on her desk, where she’d left it early 14

  Sunday morning. She pulled on the headphones and turned the 15

  dial until she found the news. The announcer was talking about 16

  UMass budget cuts. A good sign, she thought.

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  Still in her nightgown, she walked downstairs to make a pot of 18

  coffee. The radio voice became a distant buzz, a backdrop to her 19

  thoughts. Anna hadn’t been to school this week. She’d be falling 20

  behind. Callie made a mental note to get homework sent home.

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  She was filling the coffee pot with water when she heard the 22

  words Lester Crain. The container dropped from her hand with a 23

  thud and rolled in the sink.

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  “According to state police, Crain was picked up on I-91 after 25

  running a traffic light. His capture brings to conclusion a man-S 26

  hunt that’s lasted for close to a decade. Crain escaped from a Ten-R 27

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  nessee prison while awaiting retrial for the torture-murder of a 2

  Tennessee teenager. State police detective Ed Farrell says there is 3

  substantial evidence linking Crain to the murder of Windham 4

  sophomore Posy Kisch. The young woman’s body was found early 5

  Sunday morning near the Connecticut River. Meanwhile, police 6

  are also exploring the possibility that Crain was behind the Sat-7

  urday night kidnapping of ten-year-old Anna Thayer. The Mer-8

  ritt fifth grader was released unharmed the following day.”

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  Leaning against the counter, Callie took deep breaths. Her 10

  thoughts were spinning wildly. They got him, was her first thought.

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  But with the euphoria came something else, a devastating knowl-12

  edge. The child she loved beyond everything had been in this mon-13

  ster’s hands. The thought was obscene, unbearable. She couldn’t 14

  comprehend it.

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  By the time she could think clearly again, the announcer had 16

  moved on, something about renovation plans for the Merritt 17

  public library. Callie found Lambert’s card where she’d stuffed it 18

  in her wallet. She pulled off the headphones, closed the door, sat 19

  down, and dialed his number.

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  He picked up on the second ring.

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  “Is it true?” she demanded. “I heard the news. You captured 22

  Crain?”

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  “I was about to call you,” he said. For the first time since they’d 24

  met, Lambert sounded tired.

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  “So it’s over now?” Callie pressed. “I mean, he’s the one?”

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  “We’ve linked him to Posy Kisch’s murder. We don’t know if 27

  he kidnapped Anna.”

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  The world seemed to tilt.

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  “But . . . I don’t understand,” said Callie. “I mean, how could it 30

  not be him? Two attacks right here in Merritt. The whole con-31

  nection to Steven.”

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  “We’ve got some . . . complicating factors.”

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  “Did you ask him about Anna?”

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  “Yes.”

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  “What did he say?”

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  “I can’t tell you that.”

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  “What do you mean, you can’t tell me? My God, I’m her 1

  mother.”

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  “Ms. Thayer, this is an ongoing investigation. As soon as we 3

  can make anything public, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

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  “So what you’re saying” — she picked her words carefully —

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  “is that the kidnapper may still be out
there.”

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  “It’s possible,” Lambert said. “We just don’t know.”

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  “What about Diane and Melanie? What about the notes we 8

  got? I mean, how could there be two different killers, both with 9

  ties to Steven? Unless . . . unless they’re working together. Is that 10

  what’s going on?”

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  “Ms. Thayer, I’m sorry, but I can’t say anything more. I prom-12

  ise to contact you just as soon as we know something.”

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  “And until then?” Callie asked angrily. “Until then, what do 14

  we do?”

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  “We have you under twenty-four-hour surveillance. You’ll be 16

  perfectly safe.”

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  “But how long? How long will it be like this?”

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  “I wish I could tell you that.”

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  It was after ten when Anna, still in her pajamas, finally straggled 21

  downstairs. She plunked herself down at the kitchen table, with 22

  a mumbled “G’morning.” Callie poured Anna a glass of orange 23

  juice along with one for herself. She’d have liked one more cup of 24

  coffee, but she’d already finished the pot.

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  “I thought I’d make pancakes,” Callie said brightly. “How does 26

  that sound to you?”

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  Anna rubbed her eyes. “I’m not really hungry,” she said.

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  “You want some cereal? A scrambled egg?”

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  “Maybe a piece of toast.”

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  Callie almost said, “You have to eat,” but managed to stop her-31

  self. In the big picture, what did it matter if Anna ate breakfast 32

  today? She stuck two pieces of bread in the toaster and found 33

  some strawberry jam. Outside, a thick gray cover of clouds hung 34

  low in the dusky sky. The air was heavy with humidity. Another S 35

  storm on the way.

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  When the toast popped up, Callie spread it with jam and 2

  handed the plate to Anna.

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  “You sure you don’t want anything else?”

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  “Not right now,” said Anna.

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  As she watched Anna eat, Callie wished that she could turn 6

  on the radio. Right before Anna had come downstairs, she’d 7

  scanned the stations again. There’d been more reports about 8

  Crain’s capture but no new details. Nothing yet about her own 9

  past life. For that, at least, she was grateful.

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  Still, Jamison was right; it was only a matter of time. She won-11

  dered if it would have been better to tell the truth from the start.

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  But even now she couldn’t imagine what she would have said to 13

  Anna. It was hard enough growing up, without this kind of bur-14

  den. She herself had had two loving parents, a devoted older sis-15

  ter. And still she’d had a profound sense of being inadequate.

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  Knowing that your father was a serial killer — she couldn’t imag-17

  ine that. She herself would have viewed such knowledge as con-18

  firming her deepest fears. She’d wanted to spare Anna this, which 19

  is why she’d never told her. Anna hadn’t chosen her father. She 20

  deserved a normal childhood.

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  Callie tried to imagine sitting down with Anna, setting out the 22

  facts. She tried to think what Anna would say, but her mind 23

  came up blank.

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  “Sweetie,” she said. “I need to talk to you. About something 25

  real important.”

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  Anna looked up, fear in her eyes. “Is it . . . about the man who 27

  took me?”

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  “No, honey, no. It’s about something else.”

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  She looked at Anna’s plate. “Are you finished?”

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  “Uh-huh.”

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  “Let’s go to the den.”

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  The den was usually just a place to watch TV or play board 33

  games. But the living room faced the front of the house. The den 34

  felt more protected.

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  The couch in the den was brown corduroy, worn and gently 36 R

  sagging. Callie sat down first and pulled Anna toward her. Nor-3 0 4

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  mally, Anna would have squirmed away. She was far too old for 1

  this. Today, though, she seemed just as happy to nestle in Callie’s 2

  arms.

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  Callie angled Anna into a cushion so she could meet her eyes.

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  “Okay. There are some things I have to tell you now. It’s okay if 5

  you’re mad.”

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  She kept looking into Anna’s eyes, the small, trusting face.

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  She’d have done just about anything to avoid what she had to say.

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  “You know a few weeks ago, how we were talking about your 9

  dad?”

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  “Uh-huh,” Anna said.

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  “Well, the thing is,” — and here Callie held her tighter —

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  “you have another father.”

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  Anna looked at her, confused. “You mean, I have two fathers?”

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  “Your daddy from back in Indiana, I met him after you were al-15

  ready born.”

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  Anna stared at Callie. “So he’s not my real daddy.” It wasn’t a 17

  question. She’d grasped the facts, but her voice was strangely 18

  blank.

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  “He would have been. He wanted to be. He was going to adopt 20

  you. But before that happened, we separated.”

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  But Anna hardly seemed to be listening. She was staring at her 22

  hands, twirling a finger round and round, over and over again.

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  “So where is he?” she whispered.

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  “He . . . he died,” Callie said. “He died a long time ago.”

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  “You mean before I was born?”

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  “No, after that.”

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  Anna’s mouth had started to tremble. “How come you never 28

  told me? Didn’t he want to see me?”

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  “He was too sick,” Callie said. “He was sick in his mind. I 30

  didn’t tell him when you were born. I didn’t want him to know.

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  But Anna” — and here she gripped her daughter’s shoulder —

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  “he really would have loved you. If I’d ever told him about you, 33

  he’d have fought until they made me let him see you.”

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  Anna’s eyes had drifted down again. “What happened to him?”

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  she said.

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/>   “He . . . he did some very bad things. He had to go to prison.

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  After that — this was in Tennessee — they decided to put him 3

  to death.”

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  “Who decided?” Anna asked.

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  “The jury. And the judge.”

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  “In an electric chair?” Anna’s eyes were huge.

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  “No.” Callie was rocking her now. “They gave him chemicals.

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  It was just like he had to go to sleep. Like before an operation.”

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  She didn’t believe that, not for a minute, but what could she 10

  say to Anna? The horror of it rolled back in on her, what he’d 11

  done, what they’d done to him. This was far worse than she’d 12

  imagined, the telling of this thing.

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  Anna looked up at Callie. “Did he kill someone?” she asked.

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  Callie met her daughter’s eyes. “Yes,” she said. “He did.”

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  “One person or more than one?”

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  “More than one,” said Callie.

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  “His name, it was Steven, wasn’t it? My real daddy’s name.”

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  A moment of shock before Callie remembered the kidnapper’s 19

  ramblings. That’s how Anna knew the name. She must have 20

  made the connection.

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  “Is your real name Laura, Mommy?” Anna’s voice was small.

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  “My whole name is Laura Caroline Thayer. People used to call 23

  me Laura.”

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  “Oh,” Anna said.

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  Callie waited for another question, but Anna sat quietly, as if a 26

  part of her were trying to absorb what had just been said. In her 27

  lap, she clasped a pillow, her arms wrapped tightly around it.

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  “I don’t want to talk anymore right now.”

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  “All right,” Callie said. As she stroked Anna’s hair, she wished 30

  with all her heart that everything were different.

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  h

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  Melanie’s home was immaculate, sun streaming through the win-34

  dows. Jamison could hardly believe that it was the same apart-35 S

  ment. He sat in a large armchair, Melanie on the couch. Both of 36 R

  the pieces were pristine white, either new or reupholstered.

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  “I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done,” Melanie was say-1

  ing. In the pale face, her eyes were the same bright blue he re-2

  membered.

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  Her bare feet were tucked beneath her, her toenails painted 4

  pink. She was wearing gray drawstring pants and a light pink 5

 

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