by David Bell
“Our attorney?” I said.
“Why would she need an attorney?” Abby asked.
“Caitlin isn’t guaranteed access to a lawyer during questioning,” Ryan said. “We may allow her to have one present, as a courtesy. Some kind of advocate. I can decide on that-”
“She has fewer rights than this guy in the jail?” I asked.
“Hold it, Tom.” Abby held her hands out for silence. “Hold it.”
“Abby, he doesn’t care about Caitlin. .”
She kept the hand up in the air between us, and I stopped talking. Abby looked calm and determined, so I yielded. “Who is this man?” she asked Ryan. “And are the things Tom is saying true? Did he hold Tracy there?”
Ryan shifted his eyes between the both of us. “Late last night, police in Union County pulled Mr. Colter over for speeding. Do you know where Union County is?”
Abby nodded. “About seventy miles away.”
“When they ran him through the system, the warrant for the arson came up, so they took him in and called us. We collected him in the morning and brought him back here to have a little talk about the house fire. Let’s just say we caught a lucky break. Caitlin’s story has been in the news, so our officers have seen that composite sketch on an almost daily basis. One of our officers raised the question, and we put it together with the house with the room in the basement.”
He held his hands out. There you go.
After four years, a speeding ticket wrapped it up.
“What did he say?” Abby asked.
“Nothing yet. When we brought up Caitlin’s name, he said he’d read about her in the paper. But that’s it.”
“And witnesses?” Abby asked. “The girl from the club? Tracy? Is it true he took her too?”
“She’s gone,” I said.
Abby whipped her head toward me.
“She’s disappeared,” I said. And my voice was quieter, distant even to my own ears. “No one can find her. Not her mother, not Liann. Two weeks and no sign of her.”
“She’ll turn up,” Ryan said. “They usually do. Like I told you, that girl has problems, drug problems. She’s not reliable.”
“Who is this guy?” I asked. “What does he do?”
“He’s on disability. Some kind of knee injury. He used to work at the Hearn plant, but it’s been about ten years since he did that. He hasn’t been in much trouble with us. One assault arrest about fifteen years ago. Otherwise, nothing.”
“How old is he?” I asked.
“Fifty-three.”
The number stabbed me like a knife. Fifty-three. Older than me.
Ryan leaned back and worked his hand into his pants pocket. He brought out a Polaroid photo. “I’d like you to look at this and tell me if you know this man.”
He held it out in the air between us, but neither Abby nor I made a grab for it. Finally, she moved and took it. The corners of her mouth turned down with revulsion.
“I don’t know him,” she said.
She passed the photo to me. My hands shook as I took it.
I looked down at a stunned face, one that didn’t appear prepared to have its picture taken. His surprisingly blue eyes were open wide, his lips slightly parted. He bore a strong resemblance to Tracy’s description and the sketch the police had created. There was the same long, greasy hair, the wide nose. His skin was ruddy and pocked, like twenty miles of bad road, as my stepfather used to say. I didn’t recognize the man from anywhere in my life, but I continued to stare, searching for something. A mark of evil, a sign of malicious intent. But I couldn’t find the marker that would tip me off, the thing that told the world this man aimed to destroy lives. It was an ugly face, not an evil one.
“Do you recognize him?” Ryan asked.
“No,” I said.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I held on to the picture, and Ryan reached out and took it back. He didn’t put it in his pocket, but held it in his hand. He tapped it against his thigh a few times. “I need to talk to your girl,” he said.
“You said you don’t need our permission,” I said. “Are you just going to drag her out of here while we watch?”
“I don’t need your permission, but I’d like it.” He continued to tap the photo against his leg. “I’d also like to talk to her away from here. Since it didn’t go so well the last time, I thought we might try it at the station. She might take it more seriously.”
“Will she have to see him?” Abby asked.
Him. We all knew who she meant. The man. John Colter.
Ryan shook his head. “No way,” he said.
“But she would have to see him at a trial?” I asked.
“That’s why we’d like her to talk now. Maybe this guy agrees to plead to something and save us all a lot of trouble. If we can get to the bottom of this sooner, it might save Caitlin some grief.”
Abby looked at me. “Tom?”
I recognized my cue. “Ryan, I-we-were a little concerned about the way you spoke to Caitlin the last time. It seems as though you were treating her like she had done something wrong. She’s the victim here, remember?”
“Of course, Tom.” Ryan shrugged, and the gesture seemed too large, overexaggerated. “We all have the same goals here, to understand what happened and to get Caitlin the help she needs.”
“She’s only sixteen now,” Abby said. “Sixteen is so young. .”
Her voice trailed off, fading like the wind through the trees.
Ryan stood up. He slipped the photo back into his pocket. “We’re still tying some things up from the morning,” he said. “But if you could bring her to the station in an hour or so, that would be great.”
“Are you going to get this guy, Ryan?” I asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“And will we know what was said, what she tells you?”
Ryan nodded. “I will keep you in the loop.”
“Tom?” Abby asked. “Are you sure you want her to do this alone? I’m really not. Caitlin is so fragile right now. She’s been so hurt by this.”
What happened to me.
“That’s exactly why she needs to do this,” I said. “Don’t you think?”
Abby didn’t respond, so I pressed on.
“Because she’s been hurt, she needs to tell the story,” I said. I felt the need to convince her. “This man has hurt other girls. He needs to be put away. Caitlin can do that.”
“You just want to hand her over to be questioned?” Abby asked.
“A crime’s been committed, Abby,” Ryan said. “I have to find the answers, and Caitlin has them. I’m not trying to harm her, but we need her to try to help us as much as she can. Even if it’s just a little.”
“There are a lot of people involved in this, Abby,” I said. “Not just us.”
“Is that who you’re thinking of, Tom? All the other people?”
“It’s necessary, Abby,” I said.
“Right.” She stood up and folded her arms across her chest. “I guess I better be the one to go tell her she’s being handed over to you men.” She nearly spat the last word at us, like it was a stone she’d found in a loaf of bread. “You two have such a good rapport with her these days.”
She whisked away, leaving the two of us on the porch. We didn’t have anything else to say to each other, so Ryan turned and went, reminding me as he left that we should bring Caitlin to the station in an hour.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Abby stared out the cloudy front window of the police station at the traffic passing on the street. She didn’t appear focused or fixed on anything. I sat down beside her, and she pretended not to notice me. I waited a few moments, not sure if I should even bother to say anything. Finally, I decided to try. “I’m not trying to hurt Caitlin,” I said. “Or you.”
She didn’t say anything, but I saw a muscle in her jaw twitch.
“I think this is our last, best chance, letting her talk to Ryan today.”
&n
bsp; Abby turned to me. “You talk about last chances, Tom. Caitlin is the one who matters. Our focus needs to be on her. She’s what matters-to both of us.”
I stared at the floor. Then my phone rang. I stood up and took the call.
“Hey,” a voice said through the line. It sounded flat, almost unrecognizable.
“Buster?”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“What’s wrong?” I said.
“Where are you? I came by the house.”
“We’re at the police station,” I said. “They made an arrest.”
“Look,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For everything you’ve been through. You and Caitlin.”
There was something about his tone, something off.
“Where are you?” I asked.“What are you doing?”
“We’ll talk soon, I think. Okay?”
“Buster. .”
But he was gone. I called right back, but it went to voice mail immediately. Three times in a row.
Ryan appeared again and summoned the two of us with a quick wave of his hand. He led us to the conference room. No Caitlin.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Ryan pointed to the chairs. “She’s fine, Tom. I wanted to talk to you alone.”
“Did she have to see him?”
“No,” Ryan said. “Please. Just sit. You can take Caitlin home in a minute.”
Abby nodded at me. It’s okay. So we sat.
“We really didn’t make much progress today,” he said. “At least not with Caitlin.”
“Talking to her alone didn’t help?” Abby asked.
“She told us a few things,” he said.
I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Like what?”
“She didn’t so much say anything,” Ryan said. “But she did ask something. Over and over again. She asked to be allowed to see John Colter. She asked to see him multiple times. Repeatedly and passionately. Finally, I told her to stop asking because it wasn’t going to happen.” He sighed, shifted his weight a little. “And then Caitlin said that she’d tell me whatever I wanted to know if I would just let her see Colter again and spend a few minutes with him. I told her that we couldn’t allow that to happen, that the victim of a crime couldn’t speak to the alleged perpetrator.”
“How did she respond?” Abby asked.
“Like a pouty teenager.” Ryan rubbed his hand across his chin. “You asked me to let you know everything that was said in there. If you still want to know all of that, I can share some more details.”
“Yes,” I said.
Abby moved in her seat, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t object.
“Caitlin told me that she’s in love with John Colter. She said he didn’t do anything wrong, that no one did anything wrong, and she wants the police and the two of you to drop all of this and let her life go back to the way it was before.”
“Meaning. .”
“Meaning she wants to go back to her life with him, not with you.”
He let that settle over the table, a deadweight dropped into our lives.
“We’re going to hold Colter on the suspicion of arson charge. We’re still talking to witnesses and waiting for the arson investigator’s report.”
“So he’ll stay behind bars,” Abby said.
“We need Caitlin’s story,” he said. “She’s the only lead-pipe witness we have. Without that, and without the evidence that went up in the fire. . Have the two of you thought any more about that picture I showed you of John Colter?” He dug in his pocket and brought the photo out. “Why don’t you look at it again?” He slid it across to us. I didn’t look.
“Do you know something else?” I asked.
“Do you?” he asked. “Are you absolutely certain you’ve never seen that man?”
Abby picked the photo up and looked it over. “How can I answer that?” she asked. “Maybe I passed him in the grocery store. Maybe he came and fixed our plumbing. How can I remember every face I’ve ever seen? But, no, I don’t know him, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t. Do you, Tom?” She held the picture out to me, but I didn’t take it.
“Is there something you’re not telling us?” I asked.
Ryan held my gaze, unblinking. I didn’t look away either. He was digging for something, pushing. I couldn’t imagine what it was. He took the photo back.
“Nothing,” he said. “But we need to be sure.”
“Nothing?” I said.
He stood up, hitched his pants. “I’ll have Caitlin brought right out to you,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-eight
I really didn’t feel like dragging ourselves back to Rosenbaum.
But we all climbed into the car, our jackets zipped against the cooling fall weather, and backed out of the driveway.
Then Abby surprised me. She turned to me while I was still backing out and said, her voice casual and effortless, “How would you feel if I went to the church today?”
“Now?”
“I just. .”
She didn’t finish her thought. But I understood. “You want to talk to Chris. I mean, Pastor Chris.”
“It’s not that simple.”
I didn’t drive away. The car sat in the middle of our street, idling. No traffic came either way, and Caitlin sat in the back quietly. “What is it then?” I asked.
She looked back at Caitlin, then shrugged, as if to say, Who cares if she hears? “It’s been a difficult time, and I get something out of being at the church,” she said. “It’s not just Chris.”
“Not just.”
“Let’s just go to Rosenbaum’s,” she said. “I should be there.”
When I came to the turn that would take us to Rosenbaum’s, I went right instead of left. We didn’t say anything else about it, but I headed for the church. We passed a couple of strip malls and a long, low building that manufactured machine parts. Then I turned into the church lot.
“Head toward the back,” Abby said. The complex of buildings went on and on, like a small corporation. “Stop by this door,” Abby said. I did. It was a nondescript side entrance flanked by some evergreen shrubs. Ten cars were scattered through the lot, most of them later models. Abby sat with her hand on the door release. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go?” she asked.
“It’s fine.”
“We could take her in there,” she said, nodding toward the door. “She could talk to Chris again. The last time. . Do you really think she talked to Chris just to get back at you?”
I turned and looked into the backseat. Caitlin stared at me. “Yes, I think so,” I said. “Isn’t that right, Caitlin? You talked to Chris just because you were mad at me? Because I slapped you, right?”
“You have it all figured out, don’t you?” Caitlin said.
Abby turned around now, too, letting her hand slip off the door. “Did that man at the jail hit you?” she asked. “Did he hurt you? What about that bruise on your stomach? I’ve never asked, but I worry that he abused you.”
“You don’t know,” Caitlin said.
“What? What don’t I know?” Abby asked.
“Anything,” Caitlin said. “You just don’t know anything. Either one of you. You’re both a couple of fucking idiots.”
Abby let her eyes linger on Caitlin a moment longer; then she turned back. “I guess I don’t know anything, do I? I want to. Very much, Caitlin. But I’m trying to remind myself that there are things in this life I just won’t know or understand. And I guess I’m okay with that. I’ve tried to accept it.” She turned a little, back toward Caitlin. “But the less you talk to us, the more you have to talk to the police. And you know how that’s been going. So really it is your choice. I hope you understand that.”
With that, Abby climbed out of the car. We sat and watched while she disappeared into the building. When she was gone, I dropped the car into gear and headed out of the lot.
“How do you feel about skipping out on the shr
ink today?” I asked. “Seriously. Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“Where?”
I was out in traffic now, heading back toward town. “To see a friend of mine,” I said, trying to sound normal, almost cheery.
“You have a friend?”
“It’s either the friend or the shrink,” I said, an edge creeping into my voice. “You pick.”
“I pick neither.”
“Then it’s Rosenbaum.” I paused. “But she’ll be disappointed. She wants to meet you.”
“Your friend’s a woman? Is she your girlfriend?”
“I thought you weren’t interested.”
She clammed up and sat back against the seat. I kept driving, leaving her to her own devices. After a few minutes, she spoke up. “I did talk to him because I was pissed at you,” she said. “You’re right.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Is it weird for Mom to have a boyfriend?” she asked.
“You think he’s her boyfriend?”
“He is. She told me.” She waited a beat. “She said she loves him.”
“Bullshit.”
“She does. I can tell she loves him.”
“You mean the way you love John Colter?” I asked.
She looked out the window. “It’s not like that at all,” she said, almost dreamy. “You’ve never been away from someone you love.”
“Yes, I have.”
“Who?”
“You.”
I waited for a response and again looked for one in the mirror. This time, I thought-hoped-I saw something there, some registering of emotion. A slight swallow, a blinking of her eyes, a flush to her cheeks.
But she said nothing. She stared out the window, silent.
I called Susan from the car and explained what I wanted to do and who was with me. We agreed it wouldn’t be a good idea to meet in public again, so she gave me directions to her house. Susan lived in a small bungalow not far from campus in a neighborhood dominated by run-down student rentals. Her house was the nicest and best kept on the street.
When I parked in front of the house and turned the car off, I said to Caitlin, “We’re here.”
“Who is this?” she asked. “Someone you work with?”