Keri Locke 05-A Trace of Hope

by Pierce, Blake

  “You can tell me anything, sweetie.”

  “I hate sleeping,” she said. “Every time I do, the nightmares come back.”

  “Do you want to talk about them? It might help.”

  “There are so many. Most of them blend together. After a few years, I learned to block a lot of what happened out, to just make myself go numb. But a few stick out.”

  “Like what, sweetie?”

  “I still sometimes have nightmares of the day I was taken in the park, of that man running off with me and you chasing us, trying to catch up.”

  “I still have nightmares about that too,” Keri admitted quietly.

  “And sometimes I flash back to a few months ago, when I saw you for a second as that old guy shoved me in the van in the middle of the night. Do you remember that?”

  “I do,” Keri said, remembering the night she’d come so close to saving Evelyn, before having her ripped away once again.

  “For a second I thought I was safe—that you would rescue me—and then he smashed his van into your car and sped away. And I thought you were dead.”

  “I’m so sorry about that, sweetie.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Evelyn said. “I was just worried for you. It took a long time to find out you hadn’t died. That was rough. But it wasn’t the worst.”

  “What was the worst, sweetie? You can tell me.”

  After a few seconds, Evelyn decided to.

  “There was one man. I guess he considered me a favorite because he kept coming back. No matter where I got moved, no matter who I was living with, he’d always show up every few months.”

  “Could you identify him?” Keri asked before she could stop herself, realizing too late that this wasn’t an interrogation, it was a confession. But Evelyn didn’t seem to care. She continued, staring off at some distant spot on the far wall.

  “No. He always wore a mask. I don’t think he wanted me to know who he was. But he was old. I could tell from the wrinkles at the edge of the mask on his face and because of…his body. And I think he was rich. He always wore fancy suits and had on strong cologne. But that wasn’t what stuck with me.”

  “What then?”

  “He would bring this needle with him and inject something into me. It would make it so I couldn’t move. I would be awake. My eyes were open. I could…feel things. I just couldn’t move my body at all. And while he did things to me, he would hold up his phone in front of my face so I couldn’t look away and show me videos—videos of you. From the press conference after I was taken. From interviews you did after saving a kid. He always had something. And while he did what he wanted to me, he’d whisper things about how you didn’t love me, how you were never coming for me, how you’d moved on to other kids, how this was the closest I’d ever get you. I could feel the tears streaming down my face and he’d giggle at it. He’d say you didn’t want some crybaby for a daughter.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Keri said, overwhelmed at the emotional abuse her daughter had suffered on top of the all the physical brutality she’d endured.

  “I thought I had gotten over it. But I guess what that lawyer, Cave, said on the balcony that night opened it all up again.”

  “What Cave said?” Keri asked.

  “About me always having to look back at my degraded face in the mirror for the rest of my life…”

  She stopped talking and looked Keri in the eyes.

  “That’s why I can’t sleep.”

  *

  Evelyn’s third visit to her dad’s was the worst.

  He was late getting home because of a work meeting so she was stuck hanging out with Shalene and Sammy. The little boy, whom Evelyn had never seen be pleasant, was screaming about not getting a third rice cereal bar when she arrived.

  Shalene handed him off to the nanny and tried to make small talk but her heart clearly wasn’t in it. Part of Evelyn felt a little bad for her. She was married to a workaholic, had a horror of a child (although that was partly her own fault), and now had to contend with a damaged stepdaughter who had shown up out of nowhere. Even so, Evelyn could feel the chill coming off her from across the room.

  When her father arrived home, he announced that the two of them would be seeing the latest movie from one of his clients, whom he described as the “hot new young hunk of the moment.” Evelyn agreed to go, happy for the excuse not to talk.

  The actor was indeed cute, although it turned out he was more like the seventh person in the credits than the star. And the movie, about a group of FBI trainees who take on a sea monster that rises out of the ocean for some confusing reason, was a loud waste of time.

  When it was over, they went for ice cream and Evelyn could tell right away that her dad had something unpleasant he was preparing to say. She kept her mouth shut, enjoying him squirm a little bit.

  “So, Evie,” he said. “I have some exciting news I want to share with you.”

  “It’s Evelyn now,” she reminded him.

  “Right. Anyway, Shalene and I have decided that we’re going to pursue getting primary custody of you.”

  “What?” she demanded, feeling a ball of panic form in her chest. “Have you talked to Mom about this?”

  “Not yet. I wanted to let you know first.”

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked incredulously.

  “Isn’t it obvious? Your mother does her best, Evie. But her circumstances aren’t the greatest. She lives in that place over a diner.”

  “It’s a restaurant.”

  “Whatever. It’s not the best environment for you, with people coming and going at all hours. And her job doesn’t have the most stable hours. Sometimes she’s working all night on a case. Is she just going to leave you in that apartment by yourself?”

  “Dad, not every detail has to be worked out this second. I’ve been back less than a week.”

  “I understand that, Evie. But I want to establish the right patterns up front, the right lifestyle, and I just don’t think she provides it. Her living situation isn’t…appropriate.”

  “Are you talking about Ray?”

  “Yes, Evie,” he replied. “I don’t want you exposed to them…shacking up.”

  “Are you kidding me, Dad? I’ve been raped hundreds of times in the last year alone, thousands since I was taken. I’m being treated for multiple sexually transmitted diseases. The doctors aren’t sure I’ll ever have kids because my insides are so torn up. I’ve been beaten and drugged and used as a human sex doll. I’ve seen girls murdered in front of me for saying the wrong thing to the wrong guy. And you think me seeing Mom cuddling with her boyfriend is bad role modeling?”

  “Jesus, Evie,” he said, looking around nervously at the now silent ice cream shop. “That’s not what I…”

  “No, just stop,” she said, holding up her hand. “It’s not like you really want me anyway. I know you gave up on me a long time ago. I know you thought I was dead. I know part of you hoped I was dead because it was easier than dealing with the mess that is the real me. I know having me back is an inconvenience to your perfect little life with your ice queen wife and your spoiled little prince of a son. You don’t want me. You just don’t want to look bad by not going through the motions.”

  “That’s not true, Evie!”

  “I told you, it’s Evelyn! Just take me home.”

  She didn’t speak to him on the ride back to Playa del Rey. Nor did she say goodbye when he dropped her off on the street in front of the apartment. She got out and slammed the door without looking back, taking the stairs two at a time.

  *

  Keri returned from the hospital just as the sun was setting around 5 p.m. The doctors had taken off the walking boot, giving her permission to put her full weight on her leg, as long as she didn’t overdo it.

  She saw the text from Stephen saying he’d dropped Evelyn off at the apartment around 3:30 that afternoon. Apparently, the visit hadn’t gone very well and he wanted to talk. She didn’t feel up to it at the moment and decided to
wait until after she’d had a chance to hear Evelyn’s version of events.

  She knew something was off the second she unlocked the door and stepped inside. All the lights were off but she could hear the water running in the bathroom. She pulled out her personal gun and edged into the living room. Nothing seemed out of place.

  Slowly and quietly, she moved past Evelyn’s empty room. The bathroom door was slightly ajar and she could see what looked like the flicker of candlelight emanating from inside. She took the safety off the gun and shoved the door open a bit with her toe.

  Multiple candles were lit, sitting on the shelf above the sink. Evelyn’s clothes from that day were lying on the floor, soaked. Then Keri noticed that the entire bathroom floor was covered in a thin layer of water. She pushed the door open all the way.

  Evelyn was lying in the tub with her eyes closed, her arms resting on the sides. The water in the tub, more red than clear, was spilling out onto the floor. Blood was dripping down her daughter’s fingertips from deep cuts in both wrists. A kitchen knife rested on the tile below.

  “No!” Keri heard herself scream as she dropped the gun and rushed to her baby’s side. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around Evelyn’s right wrist as she looked for any sign of life.

  “Evie!” she screamed. “Evie, wake up!”

  She grabbed a second towel and wrapped it around her daughter’s left wrist before lifting her naked body out of the tub and laying her on the bathroom floor. She took out her phone, dialed 911, put it on speaker, and placed it on the edge of the sink before kneeling down and listening for breath sounds. Hearing none, she began CPR.

  The phone rang and after about four minutes of a recorded voice telling her to continue to hold, a voice came on the line.

  “Nine-one-one emergency. What are you reporting?”

  “This is Detective Keri Locke, LAPD. I need an ambulance at the 400 block of Culver Boulevard in Playa del Rey. My daughter has attempted suicide. She slit her wrists and has lost a lot of blood. She’s unconscious. I’m performing CPR but she’s not responding.”

  “All right, Detective, Stay calm. An ambulance will be there very soon.”

  “Get it here now, God dammit!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  Keri stood at the front door for a long time before she finally knocked. She forced a smile onto her face even though she found it hard to remember how to form one. Her stomach twisted up in a knot despite her best efforts.

  Breathe. Remember to breathe, Keri.

  After a few seconds, a familiar raspy voice on the other side of the door shouted “Hello,” calming her a little even before she saw the accompanying face.

  Rita Skraeling undid the multiple locks and pulled the door open. It dwarfed her tiny, wizened frame, and the bright April sun cast an unflattering spotlight on her wrinkled, spotted skin. She adjusted her tight bun of gray hair and stared at Keri through her thick glasses.

  “How’s it going, pretty lady?” she wheezed.

  “You tell me,” Keri replied. “Is she ready?”

  “Are any of us ever truly ready?”

  “Okay, Yoda,” Keri said, rolling her eyes. “Is she ready to get in the car, I mean?”

  “I think they’re just finishing up Book Club. Want to come in?”

  “Yes, please,” Keri said, trying not to sound too anxious as Rita closed the door behind her. “How’d it go last night?”

  “Not too bad, I think. They spent most of the evening chattering away in Susan and Darla’s room. I mostly left them be.”

  “Did she seem, you know, pretty well adjusted?”

  “All things considered, I’d say so,” Rita said as they walked down the hall.

  “All things considered,” Keri repeated, considering the weight of those words.

  “Well, you have to keep some perspective, Keri. Three months ago, your daughter tried to kill herself. To be where she is now is pretty impressive.”

  “You don’t think I’m rushing her?”

  “Personally, I think waiting any longer would be coddling her. After getting out of the ICU, she spent how long in the psychiatric hospital?”

  “A month.”

  “Where she got intense therapy,” Rita noted. “And how many days did you visit her there?”

  “Every day.”

  “And after they gave her authorization to leave, you decided to ease her transition back into the world by having her stay here with us for a while. How long was that again?”

  “Another month,” Keri reminded her.

  “That’s right,” Rita said. “I thought that was a pretty good idea, by the way. Getting to talk to other girls who went through what she did offered a whole different kind of therapy from what she got at the hospital. Plus, she got to eat lots of s’mores. Who doesn’t love s’mores? How often did you visit her here by the way?”

  “Every day?”

  “Oh yes, now I remember,” Rita said wryly. “I couldn’t get you out of here. So after we finally sent you two on your way, you took her home. And things have gone okay there, with the homeschooling with the tutor and the tour of the school she’ll be going to and play dates with the neighbor girl?”

  “I don’t think they call them play dates when they’re fourteen,” Keri said. “But I take your point. Things have gone pretty well. Fewer nightmares, medication seems to be working. It was kind of a bummer to celebrate her birthday in a psychiatric hospital. Still, the therapist says she’s making progress.”

  Rita stopped walking just before turning the corner of the hallway.

  “And you’re concerned that you’re rushing her?” she asked skeptically.

  “You have to admit, it’s a lot in a pretty short amount of time. And then she asks to spend her last Saturday night before starting school back here. I didn’t know if she was maybe backsliding.”

  Rita smiled. Keri was surprised at the warmth of it. Very occasionally this woman who seemed so hard and tough let her guard down. It felt as rare as an eclipse and it usually meant something significant.

  “First,” Rita said, “it is a lot. But Evelyn’s been through far more than this. She’s tough. She can take it. Second, maybe she is a little nervous about starting school tomorrow. But I consider it healthy that she decided to seek out her support system when she started feeling that way. These girls are part of that support system now.”

  They rounded the corner and Keri saw four girls seated in the sun room that served as the library. Susan Granger was leading them in a discussion of their most recent Nancy Drew book club entry.

  Keri was amazed at how healthy and self-assured the girl looked, nothing like the teenage prostitute she’d found on the street last year. She was wearing sweats, with her blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Her face, free of heavy makeup and fear, appeared almost serene.

  Evelyn sat in a beanbag chair by the window, her head down in concentration, studying a page and nodding in agreement at something Susan was saying. She seemed to sense eyes on her and looked up.

  “Mom,” she exclaimed happily, her face breaking into a smile. She dropped her book on the floor and leapt up, rushed over, and wrapped her arms around Keri.

  “Nice sleepover?”

  “It was really great,” she said. “Have you ever heard of ‘Mad Libs’?”

  “I have. Wow, that’s borderline educational. I’m impressed.”

  “Not so much,” Susan said, walking over, “especially when you use ‘fart’ as your noun every time. Hi, Detective Locke.”

  “Hi, Susan,” Keri said, pulling her in for a hug. Then assuming a mock angry tone, she added, “I hope you didn’t teach my daughter that word.”

  “Me? Never.”

  “No, you, never. Well, I hate to cut book club short but Evelyn and I have to do some last-minute clothes shopping before the big day tomorrow.”

  “Oh yeah,” Susan said. “Don’t you start back as a detective tomorrow too?”


  “I do. I feel like it’s the first day back at school for me as well.”

  “So they cleared you in that investigation and everything?” Susan asked.

  “My goodness, Susan Granger, I didn’t know you had time to read the metro section of the Times in addition to all your book club selections. The situation is a little complicated but the short version is that my suspension is lifted for now and I’m allowed to go after the bad guys again.”

  “They better look out!” Susan said.

  “Yes,” Rita agreed. “I think they’d better.”

  She saw them to the door and gave them both hugs as they left.

  “Bye, Ev!” Susan called to Evelyn from down the hall, using the nickname she’d enthusiastically embraced.

  “Bye, Suze!” Evelyn called back, waving.

  Keri smiled involuntarily at the nicknames and kept the grin plastered on her face even after she saw her daughter’s waving hand and caught a fleeting glimpse of the ugly red scar that ran horizontally along the inside of her wrist.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  Despite everything, Keri was nervous. On the surface, there was no reason to be. Everything had gone well that morning. She had gone into Evelyn’s room to get her up for school and found her already awake, dressed and reading.

  School didn’t start until 8 a.m. but that’s when Keri’s shift started so she’d arranged to drop Evelyn at a neighbor’s house at 7:45. Keri knew this kind of arrangement wasn’t unusual for working parents. But this one was a little out of the ordinary.

  The family she had dropped Evelyn with was the Raineys. What made the circumstances different was that their then twelve-year-old daughter, Jessica, had been abducted by a religious fanatic who planned to kill her. Keri had managed to find and save her just in time. That all happened only days before Keri rescued Evelyn.

  It just so happened that Jessica and Evelyn were the same age, would be attending the same school, and lived half a mile from each other. Tim and Carolyn Rainey had insisted on having Keri and Evelyn over for dinner a few times in recent months. The girls had bonded, partly over ridiculous TV shows and partly, Keri suspected, because they had both experienced horrors few other kids their age could even imagine. So the Raineys had no problem taking Evelyn to school.