The Devil Made Me

by Lorena May

  She speaks into the speaker as she scans the pages on her desk in front of her. “Mel, I’ve read the reports on the Anderson case. There are a few things that grab me. So much so that I had to call.”

  “I’m listening.” She can hear the curiosity in his voice.

  “Well, the sister is a theology professor; very highly regarded at the University. Driven, impersonal, above reproach. An unlikely pair, Alyssa and Shea!”

  “Huh!” Mel registers his surprise.

  “Shea’s mother, it seems, is a street person living in San Francisco. Not likely to have made her way here to snatch a grand-daughter that she probably doesn’t even know exists.”

  “Yet she raised a Professor of Theology!”

  “WTF, eh?!” Darby laughs. “Ben’s parents are rich, respectable – and away in Europe right now. He runs a prestigious building company, and they travel a lot. Ben spent his life mostly in private schools.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “Diane, the neighbour, is divorced, close to her family, works as a banker from home. Nothing suspicious there. But she has been taking fertility treatments for the last year or so. Guess there are boyfriends around . . . ”

  “She wants a baby bad,” Mel murmurs.

  “She does. Then there’s Moira. She’s a gifted barrister, partner to Ben. They’ve just started their partnership in the past year, but are beginning to see success. She graduated with top honours, and seems to be admired by everyone around her. A baby is not likely to be on her radar. There is no concrete evidence to show that she and Ben are having an affair.”

  “But they may be very good at hiding it.”

  “True,” Darby agrees. “It wouldn’t be that hard. Now for Kyle, the renter in the basement. He’s moved here recently so not a lot on him. He works as a social worker for the city, has few friends and seems to keep to himself. His co-workers say he seems ambitious and is a nice guy.”

  “So nothing that jumps out at us,” Mel muses. “No one with a record.”

  “Just one. Ready for this?” Darcy hesitates a moment. “When she was ten years old Shea was found guilty of manslaughter.”

  Chapter 19

  Shea, 2005

  Funny how when Mom was around Henry acted like he was our father or something. Chiding us. Correcting us. “Say please,” he’d say in his grating voice. “Listen to your mother . . .” He bought Julie stylish clothes and handed her money and candy all the time. Aunt Linda thought he was the cat’s ass. It was hard to know how Julie felt about him. Of course, she couldn’t say. She did as he asked. She was that kind of kid. But I noticed that whenever I was around she clung to me, and avoided him as much as she could. Until he called her to come, that is. “Hey, my baby doll! Bring your old man a beer, would ya?” and she’d scamper to obey.

  Ever since I’d kneed him in the groin he’d left me alone, but the “naps” he took with Julie seemed to happen more often. Whenever Mom or Linda were away at work or out with friends, he took Julie to the room he and my mother shared.

  The whole thing was tying my stomach in knots. I became obsessed with the idea of getting her out of that mess. He seldom left the house, so it was hard to talk to my mom or Linda without him hearing. One day when he was having one of his infrequent showers I broached the subject with them. They sat at the kitchen table playing cards, drinking beer and, of course, smoking up a storm. My mouth was dry, and I could feel my heart beating as I sat down at the table with them.

  “Henry takes Julie to your room for naps,” I mumbled, looking at my mom.

  “What did you say?” she asked, sharply.

  “Henry takes Julie to your room for naps.”

  She looked at me as if I’d completely lost my marbles. “Yeah? So? She’s a little girl. Sometimes she needs a nap.”

  Aunt Linda joined in. “Henry’s like a father to Julie. A father she’s never had. He’s so good to her.”

  “I don’t think they’re just naps,” I stammered as I heard the bathroom door open.

  “Go do your homework and mind your own business,” my mother barked, giving me a swat on the butt. And that was the end of that.

  He became braver. One night Mom and Linda went to a stagette. One of their loser friends was getting married. Us three kids were in bed, and I could hear my sister snoring lightly. I was doing my typical tossing and turning, unable to sleep. From Julie’s corner there was no sound, as usual. The door creaked open, and from the hall light I saw the silhouette of Henry sneaking into our room. I froze in my bed. On his hands and knees – probably thinking he couldn’t be seen – he crawled to the mattress where Julie lay. I could hear the light flump! as he climbed into her bed. Slurping sounds meant he must be kissing her. From my half-closed eyes, I could see him rubbing against her and I heard little moans and grunts, the shaking of the mattress. How could Alyssa sleep through this? Plugging my ears, I squeezed my eyes shut. I pressed my whole body hard into a ball and waited it out. The horror of it gripped me in its clutches for days. I could not get it out of my head.

  For Julie’s part she seemed to be wasting away. Dark rings were forming under her eyes. Her little body became skeletal. She slunk around like a beaten dog. I knew she was feeling this even more than I. Hugging her tightly, I whispered in her ear whenever I got the chance. “Julie, we’re gonna get you out of this.” And I’d tell her, “You’re a good girl. This is not your fault.” But I know she didn’t believe me.

  The next time Mom and Linda went to the bar with friends at night I was ready. Henry must’ve waited until he heard Alyssa’s snores. I lay still and quiet as the door creaked open and he slipped silently into the room. In the darkness that my eyes had grown accustomed to I saw him crouch by Julie’s bed, and bend to suck and smack his lips on her neck. He wore only underwear which he pulled off, crawling in next to her. I stiffened, my breath coming hard and fast. Beside me lay the solid, metal bat. I gripped it in my hand, wrapping my fingers around the narrow upper part of it. I could feel myself shaking. I waited for a moment until I knew he was beyond awareness, and I slipped my legs over the edge of my bed, standing there a moment, listening. Whump! Whump! Julie’s mattress thumped against the wall. Ooomph! Oomph! from Henry’s throat. I could see his body thrusting away mercilessly, completely covering her tiny, helpless one. A powerful vibration filled me, and I struck. Over and over again. I bashed his head. He never knew what hit him.

  Chapter 20

  Shea, September 15, 2018

  Thanks to Darby I’m feeling a bit better. She’s assured me that they will find Cassandra. Kyle’s helped too, though I’m mortified that I can feel lust when I’ve just lost my child. The police have taken the letter and the picture to see what clues they can pick up from them. And the bracelet. I wander into the living room, looking through the window, staring out onto the street for some sign. Something that will tell me where Cassandra is.

  The phone rings. It’s Ben. I answer right away. “Shea? Is it okay for me to come home?” he asks.

  “Yes,” is all I say.

  He must have been nearby because only a few minutes pass, and he’s walking through the door-way. Suddenly my normally well-groomed, husband looks scruffy and beaten. I can’t help it. My heart melts a little looking at him. He’s a wreck.

  But I don’t spare him. I tell him about the letter and the picture, and find myself crying again. He holds me, kissing the top of my head. “Darby’s right. It doesn’t mean she’s dead. But someone is messing with us for sure, and they have to stop.” I look up at him. His jaw is set. His muscles tight. I want to tell him about the bracelet, but I can’t. Am I afraid of what I’ll find out? He takes me by the hand and leads me to the bedroom. He lies down and pulls me down beside him, looking at me with eyes that are filled with tears. “Honey, please don’t shut me out. We’re both in this, and I need you now more than ever.”

  I look up at him and the words burst from my lips. “Are you having a affair with Moira?”

  His eyes bulge
and his head jerks back. “What?!”

  I repeat the question, but my voice is quivery as I now feel silly for asking it.

  “No!” He almost yells it, but it’s not an angry yell. He is horrified. “Oh my God, No! What makes you think such a thing?” And then he strokes my hair and pulls my face to him, kissing me over and over. “Is it because I’m always at work? Because I’m never here for you? Oh, Shea . . . I’m so sorry!”

  I wrap my arms around him and meld my body into his. I feel his pain. He feels mine. But we are here together.

  And then I can do it. I tell him about the bracelet on the floor of his car. He moves his head back a little to look me in the face. “Cassandra’s bracelet? The one she always wore?”

  “The police have it,’ I tell him. They’re finger-printing it. She was wearing it that day”

  He sits up abruptly, his head on his knees. “That doesn’t make sense,” he mumbles. “I had the car that day, so no one else could have used it. But I swear on everything that is dear to me – You. Cassandra. – I did not abduct our baby.” His chin trembles and his face is white. “I don’t know how that bracelet ended up in my car.”

  I stare at him a moment, trying to take it all in. But it’s too much. I feel light-headed and there’s a ringing in my ears. And then the phone rings. I answer.

  “Shea? It’s Julie. I saw you on TV.” For the first time ever I hear her voice. I’ve never heard her speak. “I’m so sorry! I’m coming.”

  Chapter 21

  September 15, 2018

  Mel’s gasp is audible. “Manslaughter?”

  “Her mom’s boyfriend, a real douche-bag by the sounds of it, named Henry Hauser,” Darby explains. “At the trial she admitted to planning it. He was abusing her cousin, she said. She got a year in a Juvenile Rehab facility, and was then placed in the same foster home as her sister, Alyssa. A decent one, apparently, but they only lasted a few months. Her sister, by all accounts, tried hard to keep her in check. They usually kept them together. Alyssa was the only stabilizing factor in Shea’s life. But they got bounced around a lot. Shea went wild during her teen-age years. A lot of drinking, drugs . . . She ran away when she was seventeen and has been on her own ever since.”

  “Wow!” Mel exhales. “And her cousin?”

  “The cousin was Julie Renn. She was only six at the time. Renn was also removed from the home and put into foster care. But she was adopted. A good match, apparently. Her adoptive parents were unable to have children and they doted on her. She’s attending University now. Social work.”

  “So, probably not a suspect,” Mel says. “A happy-ending story for her, it sounds like. She in contact with Shea Anderson?”

  “As far as I can tell Shea never saw Julie again. Not after the night of the murder.”

  “So we know she’s capable of murder . . .” Mel is thoughtful. “Do you think there’s any connection?”

  “Nothing turned up on the landscape inspection,” Darby answers. “No baby buried around the house. Could she have somehow gotten rid of the body far enough away that it hasn’t been found? She’d have had a couple of hours . . .”

  “Let’s pay her a visit tomorrow morning.”

  “All right. I’m bagged. Gonna call it a night. See you tomorrow!”

  *

  When Darby and Mel walk up the steps to the house they are pleased to see police searching both the Taylor and Anderson residences. Numerous items are being carried out for further investigation, and a swarm of constables are hard at work searching the three premises; Diane’s, Shea and Ben’s and Kyle’s. No doubt Moira’s, Alyssa’s and the senior Anderson’s homes are under-going the same thing.

  Ben answers when they ring the door-bell. His face registers surprise when Mel tells him, “In light of new information we’ve gathered we’re going to need to ask your wife a few more questions.”

  “Have you found more evidence?” Ben asks hopefully. When they don’t answer he hesitates, then ushers them in, calling, “Shea? Detectives Greer and McDougall are here to speak with us.”

  When the four of them are seated, once again, in the living room Darby presses her hands to her cheeks. This is hard. “Shea, we’ve just learned of your juvenile conviction.” She pins the young mother with her eyes.

  Shea’s lower lip quivers almost imperceptibly. Then her expression closes up. She says nothing. All eyes are on her.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Mel asks as Darby continues to gaze at the young woman, leaning forward, feeling sorry for her. She has been through so much.

  Shea speaks, finally, a thin squeak. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

  Mel’s voice is gruff. “You didn’t think that the fact you murdered someone – premeditated at that – was relevant?” Darby shoots him a look of horror. I guess we’re playing good cop, bad cop now.

  Every muscle in Ben’s body tenses. A muscle in his jaw twitches but he remains silent. Just his hand reaches out to touch his wife’s. Did he know?

  Shea nibbles on her bottom lip and says nothing.

  “I know that you were defending your cousin.” Darby speaks softly; calmly. “Will you tell us about what happened, Shea?”

  Tears spring to the younger woman’s eyes. “Do you think I killed my baby?”

  “Did you?” Darby asks, almost soothingly.

  Alarm crosses Shea’s face. She presses her fists to the sides of her head. Her breath comes in rasps. She shakes her head. “I don’t know!”

  Now her husband moves to console her, wrapping his arms around her delicate form. He holds her tightly, her head pressed into his chest and he looks at the detectives, wearing his anger like a scar disfiguring his face. His voice remains cold and composed. “Get out of my house. Unless you have a warrant we’re done.”

  They sit, staring at each other. Then, with a collective sigh the police officers rise. Darby looks at the shattered woman before her. “Shea, I’m so sorry.” And they walk to the door.

  “No!” It is Shea’s voice. She jumps up and stands there, her arms hanging limply by her sides; her body slumped. “I need to know.” Her voice cracks. “We need to know what happened. If I hurt her, we need to know.” And she wilts back onto to the floor to lean against the couch. Ben strokes her hair, affection glowing in his eyes.

  She stares straight ahead, her eyes cold and flat. But her voice gains strength as she speaks. “When I was ten my little cousin, Julie, came to live with us. She was mute. Probably because she’d been so neglected; never cared for. And she was the sweetest little girl you ever saw.” She stops to wipe a tear from her eye. “She was only six years old . . . Then my mother’s boyfriend moved in. The way he looked at Julie . . .” Bitterness fills her mouth, and she wipes it with the back of her hand. “When my mother and aunt weren’t home he’d take Julie into the bedroom. I tried to stop him once and he whipped me with a belt. I tried to tell my mother and hers, but they wouldn’t listen. And so it went on.” She leans her head back and rubs her arms. “One night when our mothers were out he sneaked into the bedroom we shared and he raped her. I had to lie there and hear it. I didn’t do anything.” She raises her hands to her face and blows into them, letting out a low moan. Then she looks up with determination. “I know I should have told someone else – a teacher, maybe – someone . . . But I didn’t. Then one night - the next time our mothers left the house - I took a metal bat to bed with me. When he came in to rape her again I hit him over the head with it.” Shea clamps her lips together. Her body becomes rigid. Crossing her arms across her chest she gives the officers a fixed stare.

  Ben sits behind her, tears streaming down his cheeks. Mel lowers his head, breathing heavily. Darby, glossy eyes fixed on the young woman, rises from her chair and kneels to hug Shea.

  “And you’ve paid for that. That took a lot of courage,” she murmurs. “I do not think you hurt your baby. It’s an entirely different scenario.”

  Mel looks up. He rubs his hands together, bending toward Shea. “We
have found absolutely no evidence to suggest that you killed your baby. You would have had to dispose of her body, and having taken a number of pills that morning, you were in no shape to do so. We’ve scoured the area. There’s been nothing like that.”

  Darby strokes Shea’s hair. “I’m convinced you fell asleep. You took too many pills and they knocked you out. You didn’t hurt your baby.”

  Ben speaks. “Do you think it could have been Alyssa? Meaning to help Shea? Knowing she was having difficulty coping?”

  “She always thought she knew what was best for me.” Shea’s lips twist into a crooked smile and she added, “She usually did.”

  Darby gives her an understanding nod. “We’ve acquired a search warrant for her house. We’ll see if we find anything incriminating. Anything that might lead us to where Cassandra is.”

  “And how about the green trench coat in Diane’s house?” Ben asks. “Or the bracelet in my car?”

  Darby shakes her head. “We’re baffled,” she admits. But we’re searching everywhere we possibly can. There were no finger-prints on the picture or the letter in your mail-box, but the fact that it was placed there means that the kidnapper has been back here.”

  Shea shivers. Fear claws at her. No wonder I always feel like I’m being watched.

  Ben and Shea see the detectives to the door. As they leave a young woman walks up the sidewalk and stands at the foot of the steps. She is lovely; graceful and self-assured with an unmistakable sweetness about her.

  “Julie!” Shea shrieks, racing through the doorway and down the steps to embrace her long-lost cousin.

  Chapter 22

  Shea, September 16, 2018

  Seeing Julie is like a balm on a raw, inflamed wound. She saw us on television, and finally knew how to find me. That night we sat up until all hours crying and even laughing a little. Our present and our past. Our short time together as children, and the night we last saw each other.