Chickasaw County Captive

by Paula Graves

  Four bodies. Julie. Tammy. David. Kevin. All beyond help. And her mother was nowhere to be found.

  The dry heaves ended and she slithered to the floor, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. She tried to think. What should she do? Who should she call now?

  “Kristy?” Mama’s voice was soft and bewildered.

  Kristen looked up. Mama stood in the kitchen doorway, still in her pale blue nightgown. Blood painted a grotesque abstract pattern across the nylon fabric. She held a large chef’s knife at her side. Blood dripped from the blade to the linoleum in slow, steady drops.

  Kristen’s heart slammed into her rib cage.

  Mama walked past her to the sink. She laid the knife on the counter and reached for the paper towels hanging on the wall by the stove. On one of the eyes, a pot of oatmeal was boiling over, making a mess on the stovetop.

  Mama wet a couple of paper towels under the tap and wiped up the overflow. Pulling open the utensil drawer, she pulled out a steel serving spatula, shaped like a diamond with a fleur-de-lis cutout in the middle, and started stirring the oatmeal.

  Kristen stared at the spatula, her overloaded brain latching on to that one small incongruity. Why would Mama use a cake spatula to stir oatmeal? That was crazy.

  Mama turned to look at her, her eyes widening as if she were surprised to see Kristen. “When did you get up, baby?”

  Kristen stumbled backward. “I need to go get dressed.”

  “Have breakfast first.” Mama scraped the spatula on the edge of the pan. “It’s almost ready. Go get yourself a bowl.”

  Afraid to disobey, Kristen crossed to the cabinet next to the stove, her knees shaking, and retrieved a plastic cereal bowl. She started to set the bowl down beside her mother, but Mama grabbed her hand, leaving a smear of blood on Kristen’s wrist.

  “Hold it still while I scoop.” Mama’s voice was unbearably calm. Kristen’s hand shook as Mama scooped up hot oatmeal with the spatula. Chunks of hot cereal spilled through the fleur-de-lis cutout, splashing on Kristen’s hand.

  “Ow!” She tried to jerk her hand away but Mama’s grip tightened.

  “Why are you such a big baby?” Her mother’s voice rose hysterically. She shoved the pan off the eye and set the spatula down over the flame. Oatmeal caught fire and burned to carbon, blackening the spatula.

  “Mama, no-”

  “Miss Kristen?”

  The tiny voice caught her by surprise. She looked away from the madness in Mama’s eyes and saw Maddy Cooper standing in the kitchen doorway, dressed in blue Winnie the Pooh pajamas and carrying a battered gray stuffed raccoon.

  “Maddy-” Terror gripped her, crushing her heart until she could barely feel it beating. She had to get Maddy out of here, away from Mama, before-

  Pain seared the back of her hand. She cried out and turned to look at Mama. But Mama was looking at Maddy, a gleam of excitement in her mad blue eyes.

  “You brought her to see me, Kristy. Just like I asked.”

  Kristen pulled her aching hand away and grabbed for the knife. But Mama reached it first.

  Kristen threw herself in front of Maddy, covering the child with her whole body.

  “No, Mama. Please!”

  Maddy wriggled against her. “Miss Kristen, wake up!”

  KRISTEN JERKED AWAKE, her heart scampering like a jackrabbit in her chest. A shaft of light poured in from the half-open door, illuminating the dim room.

  And her arms were wrapped tightly around a flailing Maddy Cooper.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kristen loosened her grip, and Maddy looked up at her, a comical look of surprise on her face. “You squeezed too tight!”

  “I’m sorry, sweetie.” She stroked Maddy’s hair, relief washing over her in enervating waves. “I must have been dreaming. What are you doing here?”

  Maddy cuddled close, her sweet baby scent enveloping Kristen, as tangible as a touch. “I heard you crying. I brought Bandit to make you feel better.” She held up the well-worn plush raccoon that was her favorite toy, as Kristen had quickly learned.

  Kristen kissed the little girl’s warm forehead, closing her eyes against the lingering images of her nightmare. She could still feel the bone-deep pain of the burn on the back of her hand, but she ignored it. It was a phantom, long gone.

  Right here, right now, she was safe. And so was Maddy.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Sam Cooper’s tall, broad body filled the doorway. He wore only a pair of black silk boxer shorts and a white T-shirt that he’d apparently just thrown on, if the twisted fabric was anything to go by.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, his blue eyes dark with worry.

  “Everything’s fine,” she assured him.

  He entered the bedroom. “Maddycakes, time to get back in your bed.”

  “Let her stay a little longer,” Kristen blurted, as surprised by the words as Sam seemed to be.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Maddy was already starting to get drowsy-eyed. She’d be asleep in no time, and Kristen could take her back to her bed. Right now, however, she needed to feel Maddy’s warm little body tucked safely next to her to drive away the last, lingering wisps of her nightmare.

  “I’ll take her back to her bed when she falls asleep,” she added softly when Sam made no move to leave the bedroom.

  He hesitated a moment longer, his gaze appraising. “Okay,” he said finally. “Night again, Maddycakes.”

  “Night, Daddy!” Maddy snuggled closer to Kristen.

  Kristen watched Sam leave, understanding his reluctance. She hadn’t given him much reason to trust her maternal instincts, and he had to be worrying that Maddy would get hurt in the long run.

  Kristen had worried about that herself, knowing that the child was already becoming attached to her. But the case would be over soon-possibly was over already, if they could tie up all the loose ends of the case against Darryl Morris. Then she’d move to another case and be out of Sam’s and Maddy’s lives for good.

  Hot tears hammered at the back of her eyes at the thought of saying goodbye to them, but she fought the emotion, knowing a clean break was the right thing to do, no matter how painful. If her visit with her mother had done anything, it had convinced Kristen that she’d been right all these years to avoid motherhood as though it was a disease.

  Except she was the disease, not motherhood. She was the one with insanity in her genes and a maternal role model wretched enough to make the very notion of having children an unbearably bad risk.

  “Miss Kristen, do you know any songs?” Maddy’s sleepy voice pulled her out of her bleak thoughts.

  She pasted on a smile. “I’m not much of a singer. Why don’t you start, and if I know the song, I’ll sing along.”

  “Okay!” Maddy smiled and propped herself up against Kristen’s arm. She thought a moment, then started singing “Old McDonald Had a Farm.” By the time they got to the sillier farm animals, Kristen found herself laughing as hard as Maddy.

  “Okay, next one’s gotta be a lullaby, bug,” she told Maddy as the little girl’s giggles finally subsided. She put her arm around Maddy and tucked her close. A tune from the distant past drifted into her mind, a reminder of a simpler, sweeter time. As Maddy snuggled against her, she started singing.

  “River rolls closer, near the green hills. Reaches for the moon, but the moon stands still. Moon stands still while the river runs, waiting in the dark for Mr. Sun.”

  Maddy’s eyes closed as Kristen repeated the same verse, the only one she could remember. It had been a silly song she’d made up to sing Julie to sleep. She’d forgotten it until just now, maybe because she’d spent so much time trying to forget the horrors of that last day with her brothers and sisters that she’d buried the good memories, too.

  Maddy drifted off to sleep just as a flood of emotions started to break through the fortifications Kristen had built up in her mind over the last fifteen years. A hundred images swam through her thoughts, for the fir
st time in a long time more sweet than bitter. Blinking back tears, she picked up Maddy and carried her back to her room, settling her under the covers.

  Maddy turned over, her sweet face burrowing into her pillow. Kristen felt a smile breaking through her sadness as she slipped from the room, closing the door behind her.

  “She asleep?”

  Sam’s voice, emerging from the darkness of the hallway, was a shock to her system. She pressed her hand over her chest, acutely aware that she hadn’t even bothered to throw on a robe over the tank top and silk shorts she’d worn to bed.

  “Yes,” she answered, starting to sidle past him to her room. But he caught her arm, keeping her in place. Sparks ignited along her spine, radiating out from where his big, warm hand closed over her bare arm.

  “Good,” he said. “Because we need to talk.”

  She eyed him warily. “About what?”

  “About where you went this afternoon.” Sam caught her chin, forcing her gaze up to meet his. “You went to see your mother, didn’t you?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “What makes you think that?”

  “Carl Madison called to check on you while you were in the shower. He was worried he couldn’t get you on your cell phone and wondered if seeing your mother again had been too much for you.” Sam ran his thumb over the curve of her chin. “Was it?”

  Kristen glanced at Maddy’s bedroom door. “Do we have to talk about this tonight?”

  He dropped his hand. “Not if you don’t want to.”

  She threw him an exasperated look, hating how much she wanted to tell him everything she’d been through that day. Right now, a pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around her seemed like the most necessary thing in the world.

  She settled for admitting, “I didn’t think I wanted to.”

  “But now you do?”

  She made a growling noise deep in her throat and walked away, heading for the darkened living room. Her shin made contact with the end table by the sofa, sending pain shooting up her leg. She uttered a quiet, heartfelt curse and fumbled for the lamp switch. A twist of the knob later, lamplight flooded half the room, illuminating the sofa.

  With a sigh of surrender, Kristen turned to look at Sam. “A couple of days ago, my mother’s doctor called Carl, asking for me. He told Carl my mother wanted to see me.”

  “And Carl called you,” Sam guessed correctly. “That was the call you took the day Norah arrived, right? The one that had you so upset.”

  She briefly considered arguing with him about his assessment of her mood that day, but he was right. The call had scared the hell out of her, among other things.

  She slumped onto the nearest sofa cushion, wrapping her arms around herself. “I told Carl I didn’t want to see her.”

  “I remember.”

  She licked her lips. “But the doctor called me today.”

  Sam sat beside her, careful to leave her plenty of space, she noticed bleakly. Apparently she was giving off major “don’t touch” vibes.

  “Is it the first time you’ve seen her since she was committed?” he asked gently.

  She met his curious gaze, her lips twisting in a wry smile. “Yeah. Probably the last, too.”

  “Why did you decide to see her after all this time?”

  She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to tell him about Bryant Thompson. She reached for the jacket she’d left draped over the arm of the sofa and pulled the clipping from the pocket. “Because of this.”

  Sam frowned as he took in the article. “I thought you said it wasn’t related to the attempted kidnapping.”

  “I don’t think it is. Someone visited my mother yesterday, out of the blue. He brought her this photo.”

  Sam looked puzzled. “Who would do that? And why?”

  “That’s what I’m going to have to find out.” She took back the clipping and put it in her pocket. “But that’s my mystery, not yours.” The last thing she wanted to do was involve Sam in her life any more than he was already, not when she was on the verge of walking away for good.

  A clean break would be better for everyone, right?

  “You helped me with mine. Maybe I could help you with yours,” he offered.

  She had to smile at the offer. “How do you plan to do that, Sherlock?”

  He brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. Her smile faded, replaced by a tremble in her lips that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the crackling heat simmering low in her belly. “Maybe we could start with why seeing your mother after all this time bothered you so much,” he murmured.

  She grimaced, trying not to lean any closer to him. “That’s not really a mystery, is it?”

  “Do you ever talk about what happened to you?”

  She shook her head. “Not if I can help it.”

  “But you still think about it.”

  “Every day.” She sighed. “Look, Sam, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. But there are some things I can’t-” She broke off with a wince, unable to find the words.

  In his eyes, she saw his internal struggle. He wanted to help her-she saw the urge so clearly that she found herself feeling sorry for him. Poor Sam, trying to break through a decade and a half of walls she’d built to protect herself, she thought. She loved him a little bit for it, even though she wasn’t sure she’d ever let those walls fall completely.

  Silence stretched between them, taut and uncomfortable. Kristen closed her fingers around her knees, squeezing tightly as she struggled against the tears burning behind her eyes. She felt words hammering the back of her throat, struggling to find a voice, but she had no idea what to say.

  When she finally opened her mouth and let the words spill out, they were the last thing she expected. “My mother asked me to bring Maddy to see her.”

  “What?”

  She turned to look at him, hating herself for putting that look of horror on his face. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to see her again.”

  “Why did she want to see Maddy? Why did she think you’d ever do such a thing?”

  Kristen scraped her hair away from her face. “She’s crazy, Sam. She looked at that newspaper clipping and that’s what she got out of it. That I had access to your four-year-old daughter and I could bring Maddy by to see her.”

  She could see Sam floundering for a response to such madness. “How-what-?”

  She gave a huff of brittle, mirthless laughter. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly.” Her laughter died in her throat as the nightmare of her past swooped in like a vulture, feeding off her pain. “She said she missed her little ones so much.”

  Sam looked sick. “My God.”

  The tears she’d been fighting reached critical mass, spilling over her lower eyelids and trickling down her cheeks in hot streaks. “She thought-” She had to stop, swallowing hard before starting again, her voice low and choked. “She thought I’d bring Maddy there to her because she missed her babies. The babies she stabbed to death and left bleeding where they lay.” She broke off with a soft, bleating sob.

  “Oh, honey.” Sam wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. She turned, burying her face against his throat, needing the warm, solid strength of his body against hers more than she’d expected.

  She cried wordlessly a few seconds, then pulled back, wiping at the tears with her knuckles. “I don’t know how much you know about what happened-”

  “Just a few things people told me,” he admitted.

  “She’d always been, I don’t know…scattered. Not very dependable. I don’t really remember if she was always that way or if it just started after my father left us. I just know I was eight years old and suddenly I was the mommy of the household.” She’d been so scared, as the days turned into weeks and she realized that her mother’s little “spells” weren’t going to go away. “I made lunch for the little ones, and if there were dishes to be washed or clothes to be laundered, I did most of that, too. Mama would do things if I asked her to, but she never seemed to
think of them herself.”

  Sam made a low, murmuring sound of encouragement. “That must have been so hard for you.”

  She pushed her hair back from her damp face. “She kept telling me that I had to help her keep things together or the government would take us all away from her and split us up.”

  “There was nobody to look out for you and your brothers and sisters?” Sam asked, his voice unspeakably sad.

  “My grandparents on my mother’s side were dead, and I never had anything to do with my father’s parents. I couldn’t even tell you their names.” She unclenched her fingers, flexing them in front of her. They felt cold and numb. “I did everything I could to keep the neighbors and our teachers from finding out how bad it was, because I was terrified the social workers would separate us.” She gave another soft, defeated sob. “I should have let them. We’d all still be alive.”

  He shook his head. “You were a kid. You didn’t know how bad it would get. Apparently nobody did.”

  “I should have gotten help for us. I should have-” She ended on a little noise of frustration, just as she always did when she thought about the past, about the mistakes she’d made. “I should have done something.”

  “You did. You took care of your brothers and sisters when nobody else did.”

  “I didn’t protect them from the one thing I should have,” she whispered. “I didn’t protect them from her.”

  Sam took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently. “Whenever someone you love dies unexpectedly, you wonder what you could have done differently.”

  She shook her head, frustrated. “It’s not the same-”

  “Isn’t it? My sister-in-law died eight years ago. Murdered. J.D. was in the navy at the time, away at sea. I know he wonders if being here instead would have changed things. My brother Gabe was late going to check on her when she called him with car trouble. He got there a few minutes after she was killed, just in time to find her body. He’s still working through his guilt about that.”