Into the Light

by Bernard Burgess

  They meandered back toward the doghouse. The sky had turned from twilight to darkness and the stars were just beginning their nighttime brilliance in the cold winter temperature. The moon was just above the eastern horizon. Missy had caught up to them and circled loosely around them as they walked in the growing darkness. It was a setting made for lovers, and tonight it was made for Bert and Norah. The cold of that Nebraska night was no match for the warmth and depth of their devotion to each other. Side by side they slowly returned to the motel and the reality of an unsolved mystery.

  Chapter Nine: A Deepening Mystery

  The brisk wind had a bone-chilling effect at 6 a.m. when Becky left Cody Tuesday morning. Combined with the falling temperatures and increasing cloud cover of the approaching storm system, there was a sense of urgency as she hustled to get on the road to Red Lodge. Survival gear and travel bags all securely loaded, she cranked up the heat in her Dodge truck and headed north. The private investigator was back on the job.

  Her drive this morning was uneventful. Becky made it to Red Lodge ahead of her schedule and she popped into one of the local restaurants for breakfast and coffee. There were about two dozen patrons, several obviously skiers readying for the slopes, already sitting in the dining room. It didn’t seem unusual that a bearded man wearing a black hoodie entered about a minute behind Becky and took a seat at a distant table, facing toward a side wall. She smiled at a couple of the guys who made eye contact, but otherwise paid little attention to any of them. She needed this boost before meeting back up with Lizzie to continue the quest to find the reason for Summer’s torment.

  With some ham and eggs and a couple cups of coffee under her belt, a revitalized Becky left the restaurant and drove to the Hayden’s house. The heavy cloud cover, 20 MPH gusting wind, and plummeting temperature heralded the onset of the winter storm, now only a half-day away. She was definitely going to stay in their little cabin for the duration of this visit.

  Lizzie threw open their front door before Becky could even knock and gave her a warm hug and a hearty welcome back. She reminded Becky to get her bags in the cabin before the storm hit. Then Becky heartily accepted the offer of another cup of coffee. She knew that the Hayden’s coffee was hands-down better than that of the restaurants in town.

  Guy was at work for the day, and Summer was at her school. This would be a time for the ladies, the client and the investigator, to have time to talk. Becky said she wanted to take advantage of this storm time to get to know Summer better. Lizzie liked that and was enthusiastic to talk about her daughter.

  They talked for a couple of hours, mostly about Summer and how some of her behaviors seemed to be intensifying. Lizzie said the drawings were now pretty much a daily occurrence. It seemed like the additional attention being given to her by Becky was focusing the child’s attention onto her own feelings to a greater extent. Lizzie didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but she found it to be of concern.

  As they talked and the minutes became hours, Becky began to feel an odd sense of emotions coming from Lizzie. She had felt the mother’s concern and fears from the first meeting, but there was a strange feeling of guilt emanating from Lizzie’s persona. While most parents would wonder if they’d done something to cause their child’s behavior, this felt different to Becky.

  “Lizzie,” Becky said, “you’re a great mother to your little girl. Whatever is going on with her, I don’t see any reason to think it’s your fault.”

  Lizzie looked away and it was obvious she was trying to hide the sudden onrush of tears. She tried to discreetly wipe them from her cheeks, but the slight quiver around her lips gave away her emotion.

  “Lizzie,” Becky said. “What’s wrong? I have this new and overpowering feeling that something is really bothering you today.”

  Lizzie turned to face Becky, not making any effort to hide the tears flowing down her cheeks and falling upon her shirt. “You’re very perceptive, Becky. Yes, something sits in the background of my consciousness most of the time, but for some reason it’s taking center stage right now. I can’t seem to put it away.”

  Becky inhaled deeply, allowing her mind to relax and her senses to focus on her client and friend. “Do you need to talk about it, Lizzie? It’s my business if it has anything to do with Summer, so it’s a matter of strict confidence for that reason, as well as friendship.”

  “Yes, I think I need to get this out and share it with someone. I’ve never told anyone before, and I don’t think I can keep it to myself any longer, Becky. Are you sure you don’t mind being my confidant?”

  “Lizzie, I know you’re my client, but I already feel a good friendship developing with you. Your secret is my secret, if you want to talk about it.”

  Through a renewed gush of tears and with an emotionally strained voice, Lizzie blurted out the secret that had tormented her for years. “I don’t know if Guy is Lizzie’s father.”

  Becky sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, trying not to say anything that would give away the shock she was feeling. Finally, she found the words. “Well, what makes you wonder about that, Lizzie. That’s something you would know, isn’t it?”

  Lizzie composed herself and wiped away her tears. “When I first moved here after college, I became friends with the priest at the church I began to attend. We became close friends, very close. Shortly afterwards, I met Guy and began to fall in love with him. The priest and I started drifting apart.”

  “That’s just a natural way that it works, Lizzie,” Becky said. “There’s no harm in that.”

  Lizzie continued. “The night before our wedding, when Guy was having his bachelor’s party, I and my friends had a bachelorette party. I got a little drunk and decided foolishly to walk back to my apartment. My priest friend happened to drive by, saw me walking, and gave me a ride home.” She drew a deep breath, and then resumed. “One thing led to another, Becky. I didn’t know the depth of my feelings for him until he kissed me. We ended up in bed.”

  Becky shifted in her chair and adjusted her shirt. “So, you went ahead with the wedding to Guy the next day. That must have been a very emotional day for you.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Lizzie said. “I was a basket-case of emotion before and during the wedding. Afterwards, I became resigned to my decisions and began to make myself look only forward.”

  “Oh my God,” Becky said, “I can only imagine how conflicted you must have felt, Lizzie. I had this growing feeling that something was bothering you. I could sense your feelings of guilt, but I just didn’t know why. I am so sorry for you.”

  “To put it bluntly, the priest’s sperm had a day head start on Guy’s,” Lizzie said. She hung her head and stared blankly at the floor.

  Lizzie then sat upright and wiped her eyes and cheeks with a tissue from a nearby box. “Well, my friend, I made that bed and have to sleep in it. But most of the time I’m okay. I rarely even think about it until something starts to push it to the surface. Your investigation into Summer’s strange behavior has been pushing it into my conscious mind.”

  “Lizzie, the fact is that you don’t know for certain that Summer isn’t Guy’s child. She could be. You do know that he believes her to be his, and she sees him as her father. So, I think you should just go with that; believe it yourself, go forward, and try not to look back.”

  “Thanks for that; I needed to hear that, I think,” Lizzie replied. “I just want to go forward and focus on what’s bothering my daughter.”

  Becky felt the need to investigate a little bit more before they moved on. With Lizzie’s permission, she asked, “Where is the priest now.”

  “He got a reassignment a month later and left. He didn’t tell me where he was going, and I didn’t try to find out. We both just realized it was the only way.” Lizzie leaned back and let out a deep sigh.

  “What did he look like, Lizzie?” Becky asked. “The priest, I mean.”

  Lizzie said quietly, “He was slender and tall, quite a bit taller th
an Guy. Dark hair. Good shape. He was a nice fella.”

  Becky asked, “Have you thought about a DNA test.”

  “Oh yeah,” Becky said emphatically. “But that possibility is buried under a mountain of fear and hope that it will never happen. I don’t want to know; I don’t want to risk hurting Guy.”

  “But there really is a chance that Guy could be Summer’s father,” Becky reminded her.

  “Did he, the priest, ever try to see Summer? Or does he know that he might be the father of a child?” Becky asked.

  “No, we haven’t been in contact since he left. We did speak once during the second week after the wedding, when we agreed to not stay in contact for the sake of my marriage. The subject of a baby didn’t come up.”

  Becky then asked, “How do you think he’d react if he thought he might have a child back here with you.”

  “At the time we were dating, he was very family oriented. He really was a good guy, we just had strong feelings for each other and made a mistake. He was a very passionate man; that’s why he became a priest.”

  “Lizzie, if you don’t mind telling me. What’s his name?”

  Lizzie’s brow furrowed as she said, “His name is Marvin Finegan, with one N. Please don’t contact him or anything, though, Becky. I don’t want him brought back into this. Okay?”

  “I promise to not contact him, Lizzie. I just think as your PI that it might be prudent for me, and only me, to keep tabs on him. Nothing more.”

  Lizzie was okay with that. The two women changed the subject back to something more light-hearted for a while. They talked about their mutual love of downhill skiing and some of their favorite slopes, before shifting back to Summer. They couldn’t believe how fast the time had slipped by. The child would be home from school in just a few minutes.

  Outside, the approaching storm had the trees and shrubs whipping around like spirits on Halloween. Through the kitchen window, Becky noticed that the thermometer now read eight degrees. Half a block away, a dark pickup was visible through the light swirling snow as it sat with the exhaust fumes billowing out from the idling engine. It caught her attention for just a second because nobody parked on the street around this neighborhood. Summer’s school bus would be coming past it very soon. Becky turned away and gave it no more thought as she suppressed the chill that swept down her back. She shrugged her shoulders to spread the warmth within her flannel shirt, and asked Lizzie if she could have another cup of coffee.

  As the two ladies were stirring their coffee, Lizzie noticed the school bus coming down the street. She pointed out to Becky that Summer was home. Leaving her coffee on the kitchen table, Lizzie went to the front door to greet her daughter. Becky followed her.

  Becky watched as Summer made her way from the bus toward the door of the house. The strong wind gusts made it difficult for the little girl to walk, and she weaved somewhat as she moved in her heavy winter coveralls. The snow was already over her ankles in some places along the street. Glancing past the bus, Becky noticed that the pickup was still sitting on the street. She couldn’t tell for sure, but the nearly obscured driver seemed to be doing something; maybe taking pictures with a camera. That struck her as strange, or maybe even suspicious. Maybe he’s a reporter for the paper.

  They ushered Summer into the house as wisps of wind-driven snow spun happily inside with her through the open door. With Lizzie tending to her daughter’s clothing, Becky made one more look outside before closing the door. The school bus was making its way to the next stop, and the pickup had left. She could see taillights well down the street, and she assumed that was the vehicle. The snow made it difficult to identify it for sure, as it quickly faded from view. It was probably completely harmless, yet she was a paid investigator and she needed to be suspicious. She was suspicious. Something just didn’t feel right.

  Once Summer was out of her winter gear, Lizzie sat her down at the table for a hot chocolate and a talk about her school day. Outside, it was snowing more heavily by the minute. The storm had arrived. Winter storm watches had transitioned to warnings a couple hours earlier, and now a blizzard warning was repeatedly coming to their cell phones. Guy was due home in an hour, and Lizzie walked to the window and stared into the dancing whiteness. Darkness wasn’t far off and the storm clouds were already hurrying day into night. Becky knew she was wondering if Guy would be able to get home from the airport.

  Unable to do anything about the situation with the storm, Becky asked Summer if she would show her some of her schoolwork. The little girl’s eyes lit up as she eagerly agreed and pulled out her school bag.

  The first item out of the bag was Summer’s beloved doll, her Be-be. She moved the doll toward the center of the table as she pulled out her file folder of papers. She began to rifle through the papers to find her several math assignments. Math was one of her favorite subjects.

  While Summer was gathering her papers, Lizzie whispered to Becky, “Wow, I’ve never seen her take that Be-be doll out of her bag anywhere but in her room. That’s like her sanctuary. She makes sure the doll is near her when she’s in bed. You seem to have a magical influence upon her.”

  Becky just smiled and nodded. She rested her elbows on the table and watched Summer. The little dark-haired girl was a real cutie. Becky found herself looking for characteristics she could associate with Guy. The dark hair for sure, but then both Lizzie and her priest had dark hair, so that didn’t prove anything. Lizzie had blue eyes, so did Summer. Nothing particularly stood out as telling her that Guy was her father. Similarities for sure, but nothing you could point to.

  Summer had her math papers out and was ready to show her work, so Becky put her attention on the papers laid out neatly in front of the girl. It was obvious from the work, grades, and neatness that Summer was quite intelligent. Her artistic flair was evident in the care she took to make her numbers and letters almost pretty. The child moved on to her science work and was also very interested in the wildlife and plants around her. This was not unusual for a child of Montana.

  Becky asked Summer what her favorite class was. She, of course, already knew it was art and wasn’t surprised when the art papers were pulled out. Summer began showing her artwork and drawings to her friend and her mother. The crayon and pencil drawings were quite good for a 7-year-old child, and it wasn’t difficult to tell her subjects. The little girl needed more room to display her papers, so Becky asked if she could sit the doll upright and back a little so he could see, also. Summer was a little hesitant but nodded in agreement.

  Among the next ten pages of drawings suddenly appeared the familiar but mysterious circle drawing. Summer placed it in front of her and stared at it. Her demeanor seemed to change at that instant from a child actively engaged with her spectators to one totally focused on only one thing. The big red question mark at the top of the page indicated that her art teacher had no idea about this, either. For a while, the little girl just looked at the drawing. Then, her eyes shifted up to her doll, in a sitting position as if looking at it, too.

  Becky and Lizzie sat silently and barely breathing, just watching. Waiting to see how Summer would react. Becky wondered if this was the first time that circle drawing was shown to the doll. If so, how would that change the girl’s perceptions. It didn’t take long to find out.

  Reaching into her bag for a pencil, Summer remained fixated on her drawing as she began to trace the circle, slowly at first, then faster and more aggressively. She seemed to become angry. After a minute of threatening to tear her paper with the pencil, she began to mutter quietly at first, then rising in volume, “Be-be, Be-be, Be-be.” Her actions became those of a frantic child as she forced the pencil to the paper, tearing through her drawing. Her cries turned into screams. She went from sitting on the chair to her knees, bending over the paper as if attacking it. Her mother couldn’t take it any longer.

  Lizzie wrapped her arms around her daughter and picked her up, hugging her tightly. She softly told the girl that she was okay and was loved.
After about a minute of continued crying and screams, Summer gradually began to relax and settle against her mother, arms wrapped tightly around her neck. Becky took the cue to remove the circle drawing and folded it up on her lap. She would put it in her investigation file at first opportunity. Out of Summer’s view, Becky laid the doll on its back. It had seen enough.

  While the two women talked softly and soothingly as they had an early supper with Summer, Guy arrived home. He reported that many of the streets were nearly impassable from the snow, but he knew enough of the side roads to get through. His biggest challenge was the visibility, since they were in full-blown blizzard conditions. At times he said he could barely see past the front of his truck. He noticed the still tear-stained face of his daughter and asked what happened. Lizzie pulled him aside and brought him up to date. When they returned, Guy picked up Summer and held her lovingly on his lap while they talked about the weather. Becky couldn’t help but notice the love between the two of them.