The Devil Made Me

by Lorena May

  Logan and his friend, Kevin, are in the back yard kicking a soccer ball around. “Mom, can I go to a movie? ‘Champion’ is just out.”

  “Sure. Here. Have fun,” I tell him, mindlessly taking twenty dollars from my purse.

  I pace, my mind swirling, gut wrenching. Do I turn my daughter in? I need to talk to someone. But who? Sean? He still harbors resentment for my treatment towards Marnie, but I need everything out in the open. I don’t want anyone else to know about this. He’s the only person who knows what has happened.

  I knock on Lillia’s door. No answer. “Lillia?”

  “What?” I can tell she’s been crying again.

  “I’m going out for a bit. Do not leave this house. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Her voice is muffled in her pillow.

  SEAN AND CORRIE LIVE down a gravel road, a few miles out of town. I’m light-headed, my heart thumping as I drive up the road to his house. What was I thinking? I hardly know the man. He was there as I blubbered and wailed about my problems. That doesn’t mean he wants to hear them! As I enter the driveway I’m considering turning back, hoping he hasn’t seen me, when he walks around the end of the garage. Running alongside him are Corrie and another little girl. Busted! I turn the ignition off, and get out of the car.

  “Mrs. Cox!” Corrie shouts as she runs to wrap her arms around my legs. Oh, thank goodness for you, little girl! I bend to greet her. She makes me smile.

  Sean, stands a moment beside a little red-headed girl, round-faced and freckled. Then he walks toward me.

  “Hello, Jen,” he says, his eyes curious.

  I let out a gush of air. “Sean, I’m so sorry. I’m a mess. But I need to talk to someone.”

  He gives me a slow smile, and says, “Come on. Let’s talk.” He looks down at the two little girls. “Mrs. Cox, this is Amy. She lives on the farm next to us. How’d you like to go find those kittens?” He turns to me. “The cat I didn’t realize was female had kittens a few weeks ago. Three of them!”

  The girls squeal with delight. “But only pet gently. Don’t scare their mama,” he warns them.

  I follow him across the yard, up some steps to a large porch and into the house. A landing covered in old linoleum has various coats and jackets hung in it. We climb two steps to the kitchen. It’s a big, warm room with a large round table. Faded blue curtains cover a window over the sink, and another large window looks out toward the barn where we can see the two little girls skipping across the yard.

  Sean takes two cups from the cupboard, and pours coffee from an old pot simmering on the stove. He looks at me gravely; kindly. “Is it about your daughter?”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I cry. “The girl they are cyber-bullying has attempted suicide. It’s no small thing!”

  Sean sets the coffee on the table, and sits on a chair across from me. He looks at me gravely. “No, it isn’t.”

  “I’ve taken away her computer and phone.” I look at him helplessly. “But the damage is done.” And I tell him what happened between Lillia, Tia and Felicity. What Lillia has told me.

  He nods. He wears a haunted look.

  I hesitate a moment, then plunge right in. “How is Marnie?”

  His eyes shoot sparks a moment as he looks at me. They soften, and he draws in a deep breath. “Jen, it destroyed our family. Marnie turned to drugs and hooking for money. My parents aged before their time. They’re both in a nursing home now. She’s on the streets.” He looks at the ceiling, grinding his jaw. “Maybe it would’ve happened anyway. Marnie lacked self-esteem. But I must admit, I’ve always blamed you three.” And he looks directly into my eyes.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” I say honestly. “We were such mean girls. There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t regret what I did. I wish I could talk to her now.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “I don’t know what to do! Lillia can’t go to an institution. It could ruin her life.”

  He just sits there watching me with those bright, blue eyes. I can’t just wish this away. “What would have helped Marnie at the time?” I ask, finally.

  He shoves his hair from his face and takes a deep breath. “Marnie wanted to be liked,” he begins thoughtfully. “You were the popular girls, and she wanted you to like her.”

  I nod, staring at him.

  “If, even after you’d spread lies about her, you’d gone to her and told her you were sorry . . . retracted what you’d said to other kids . . .” He shrugs his shoulders.

  “Would that help now?” I ask, a sudden jolt of hope arising within me.

  “With Marnie?” he asks.

  I nod, my eyes filling with tears.

  “Maybe some . . . She’s an addict, but it couldn’t hurt. . .”

  “Do you think if I talked to Lillia, if she apologized to Felicity, talked to her friends, and admitted on Facebook that she lied. . .?”

  “It couldn’t hurt.” He sets his jaw. “And the police are bound to find out who’s done it eventually. Even if you don’t go to them. It would help her case as well, I imagine.”

  I feel a burdensome weight lifted from my shoulders. “That’s what we’ll do.” I finish my last sip of coffee, and reach to squeeze his hand. It’s only a friendly gesture, but I feel a tingle in my flesh.

  Chapter 14 ~ Darby

  Monday, May 7

  Monday morning Darby enters Mel’s cluttered office dancing; hips swinging, fingers snapping, arms in the air.

  Mel looks up from his computer. “Well, you’re looking awfully happy.”

  “Huh, because I’m happy,” Darby sings, giving him a thumbs-up and a vibrant smile. “We’ve found the restaurant, and a waitress that saw Erin the night she was killed.”

  Mel’s eyes light up. “Was she with anyone?”

  Darby nods, her eyes flashing. “She was! She was with a good-looking man; mid-thirties, early forties. and a sexy blonde woman. Said she was a teacher. Their dinner conversation was apparently very cordial and friendly. The three of them left together.”

  Mel gives her an incredulous stare, his mouth falling open. “Jennifer Cox, maybe?”

  Darby stops moving, standing with her legs astride looking down on her partner. “If it was, Mrs. Cox has been lying to us. And if that’s the case, she’s fuckin’ amazing at it!” She raises her eye-brows. “I didn’t suspect shit. Let’s take some photos and see if the waitress picks Jen out. We’ll grab her Facebook profile picture.”

  “And the man? Graham Brahn, do you think?”

  “Maybe . . . let’s grab photos of him, Sean James, Andy . . anyone else? The other john had an alibi.”

  “The waitress is at the restaurant today. I’ll gather photos, and stick those of the other johns in anyway.” Mel flicks through the file on his computer. “They’ve located Andy. He stays at a homeless shelter on Beaver Street, and he’s often out and about that area. We’ll drop by the shelter and see if we can find him.”

  Darby nods, frowning. “I wonder if the bullying that poor kid took has fucked up his life.”

  “Sure makes you think, doesn’t it?” Mel says. “Marnie lives on the streets in Seattle. She’s been picked up for shop-lifting, minor theft, prostitution, public mischief . . .”

  “We’ll probably want to take a little trip later,” Darby says. “And Sean, her brother?”

  “He’s inherited his uncle’s farm just outside Rockydale.” Mel scans his computer. “He’s a recent widower with a five-year-old daughter. I called him, and he said he’d be around the farm all day. He has a cell so we can reach him wherever he is, he said.”

  Darby laughs. “So it didn’t sound like he was out seeking revenge for his sister today anyway.”

  “Sounded like a decent guy, actually. But you and I both know you can’t judge a book . . .”

  “And how about Adrian White? Have we found anything on her?”

  Mel scrolls through the file on his computer, his brow furrowed. “It looks as if she disappeared
in 2001. It didn’t seem that suspicious at the time. Probably a run-away. But it’s as if she vanished into thin air. No one has seen hide nor hair of her since. Not even her parents, it appears. Her parents are divorced. The mother lives in an apartment in town, and her dad lives in Vancouver. Jill contacted him by phone. She has a brother who also seems to have disappeared. No one knows where he is.”

  Darby rakes her fingers through her hair, biting her lip. “We need to find her. I’ll ask Jill to focus on Adrian and trace everything we can.” She looks at Mel through squinty eyes. “Not easy after seventeen years, I know.”

  “No. Heard any more from Mia?” Mel asks.

  “We’re keeping as close an eye on the house as we can,” Darby says. “Regular drive-bys. Maybe the killer will show up. I’m not sure for how long the department can afford that, though. Nothing strange happening there in the last few days.”

  “And how about you this week-end? Any juicy happenings in your life?” Mel chuckles.

  Darby turns to leave his office, her middle finger clearly raised. “Meet me at the patrol car in fifteen? We’ll go see what we can find out.”

  ONLY A FEW STRAGGLERS remain in the shelter when Darby and Mel enter. Four grizzled-looking, middle-aged men sit smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee around a table, talking softly. A tall, younger man with kind brown eyes greets them. “Hi. I’m Don”. He nods when they asked if a resident named Andy is around.

  “He just left a few minutes ago. I’m guessing he’s not far.” Opening the door, he steps out onto the sidewalk in front of the shelter, looking up and down the street. “Ah, there’s Andy.” He points to a skinny fellow digging through a garbage bin. “Collecting bottles.” Don’s smile is wide and candid.

  “Thanks,” Darby smiles back, and they stride across the street to the scruffy, unkempt man picking through papers and empty containers. He pulls out the odd can, tossing it into a black bag at his feet.

  He ignores them until Mel speaks. “Andy?”

  The man looks up. His shocking blue eyes are wary. He doesn’t respond.

  “We are the police,” Darby says, showing him her badge, “but you’re not in any trouble. We just want to ask you a few questions.”

  Andy continues to stare. With his left hand, he pulls a rolling paper from a pocket of his tattered tartan shirt, and takes out a pack of tobacco from another pocket with his right. Creasing the paper with one hand, tapping tobacco into it with the other, he swiftly rolls, licks, picks off the end and sticks it in his mouth. Grabbing a lighter from his jeans, he lights the cigarette and drags deeply. Only then does he turn to face the detectives. Mel stands back, sensing Andy’s trepidation.

  Darby steps down from the curb, looking up at him. She points to his bag of bottles and cans. “Pretty good money for those these days, huh?”

  Andy nods, his eyes warming a little.

  “Andy, we understand that you went to Rockydale High about twenty years ago?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” he says, his voice quiet.

  “Did you know two girls named Erin Morgan and Mia Jones?

  Andy’s eyes take on a far-away look. Darby watches as they flashed a series of emotions. Anger. Pain. “Yeah,” he says finally.

  “Have you seen either of them recently, Andy?”

  He shakes his head. No.

  “Had any contact at all?”

  Again, he shakes his head, his eyes dull now.

  Darby looks at Mel. He nods gently. No point asking where he was the night of April 11. Not now, at least.

  “Okay, Andy. Hope you find lots,” Darby smiles, indicating Andy’s black bag. “See ya around.”

  Andy watches them a moment, then goes back to digging for treasure.

  They walk back to the car. “I can’t see him cutting letters from magazines and delivering them to Mia’s mailbox, can you?” Darby narrows her eyes as she looks at her partner.

  “Did you see how expertly he rolled that cigarette?” Mel laughs.

  “True.”

  SEAN JAMES LIVES ON a farm just outside town. The house is an older, white-sided semi-bungalow with a large verandah encircling it. The road up to the yard is gravelled, and neatly landscaped on either side. Cut grass, bushes and white-barked birch trees border it. The officers can see a tall, muscular man in jeans rotor-tilling the garden on the south side of the house. He appears not to hear them as they approach, and they stand for a moment watching him. His arms and hands are tanned and powerful looking. Longish dark hair, now damp with sweat, curls slightly on his neck. What an attractive man! He startles when they step into his vision. With one deft motion he bends to turn the rotor-tiller off and walks toward them.

  “Hi. You must be the officer that called earlier. Can I help you?” he asks. He’s pleasant, but curious; his dark, bushy eye-brows furrowed.

  Mel holds out his badge. “Sean James?” he asks.

  “Am I in trouble?”

  Darby is quick to shake her head. A little too quick? A little too vehement? A little too eager to please? she wonders, chuckling inwardly at herself. “No, we’re investigating the murder of Erin Morgan, and we’re just questioning anyone who may have known her or her friends in High School.”

  Sean cocks his head a little. “Okay.”

  “I take it you knew Erin?” Mel asks.

  “Not well,” Sean answers. “She was a year younger than I, but yes. I knew who she was.”

  “Is there somewhere we could chat?” Darby asks. “We’d like to know more about her High School days.”

  “Sure. Come sit down.” Sean gestures toward the porch. “Can I get you coffee?”

  “That’d be nice. Black.” Both Darby and Mel nod, follow and stand on the verandah.

  “Make yourselves comfortable,” Sean says, pulling chairs out from an aluminum picnic table. He retreats into the house. They sit, looking out over the stubbly fields surrounded by rolling hills beyond the farm-yard. Mountains tower in the distance. Birds twitter, and the lowing of cattle can be heard from the fenced barnyard attached to a large, well-kept barn. Peaceful. Pleasant. The air is sharp but agreeable; a fresh, earthy smell.

  Sean returns, kicking the screen door open while he grasps the handles of three cups of coffee, setting them on the picnic table. He sits in a chair across from Darby, his long legs sprawled in front of him.

  “Have you been able to start working the fields yet?” Mel asks.

  “They’re still pretty wet,” Sean says. “But if this weather holds up I should be able to plow and start seeding next week.” He looks at the clear, bright sky. “Thought I’d get a start on the garden in the meantime. And it’s calving season. Lots to do.” He looks around. “But I love it,” he adds. His eyes crinkle in a smile.

  “Nice place you’ve got here,” Mel says

  “Thanks. I’ve been lucky. I came here as often as I could as a kid, and then when we moved to the States I spent the summers. I got pretty close to my aunt and uncle, and when my uncle died last winter he left me the place. They had no kids of their own.” He sits down, holding his coffee in front of his face. “I sure miss them, though.”

  “You moved when?” Darby asks.

  “We moved to Seattle twenty years ago. My dad was a journalist and he got a job with the Seattle Times.” A muscle in his jaw twitches.

  “How did you feel about the move?” Darby slips him a curious glance.

  Sean draws in a long breath, and exhales “I didn’t want to move. I’ve always loved it here.”

  “We’ve been told that your sister, Marnie, may have had a hard time here.”

  Sean’s jaw tightens, and he sits silent for a while, brooding. “She had a very hard time. She was bullied. It ruined her life.” He stares at the police officers. “Three girls in particular. They were toxic. Marnie was never the same after that.”

  Mel clears his throat. “Can you tell us about it?”

  Sean’s eyes take on a haunted look. “They spread rumors, had everyone laughing at her, cal
led her names. It was constant.” He grits his teeth. “It was brutal. And she wasn’t the only one whose life they ruined.”

  “Who else?” Darby asks.

  Looking heavenward, Sean thinks a while. “There was a boy named Andy who was just a little different. Nice kid. But they saw weakness and they struck. I’ve heard he lives on the streets now too. Problems with addictions. . . And friends told me that they did a real number on a girl in High School. I forget her name.”

  “Adrian?” Darby leans forward, her eyes glistening.

  He nods. “Yeah. I think that was it. They lured her to a party, I think. I don’t know . . . it was a long time ago and I just heard through the grape-vine.”

  “You don’t know where we could find her, do you?” Mel asks.

  “No. We didn’t live here then, and I didn’t know her.”

  “How is Marnie now?” Darby takes a sip of coffee.

  Sean is silent, his head bowed. Then, “She never had any self-confidence or peace of mind after they got through with her. She got into drugs pretty bad and ended up on the streets.” His eyes glisten.

  “Do you have contact with her?”

  “A little. When we were in Seattle my wife and I took her in for a while, but she left. Couldn’t stand life in the burbs. I’d go and look for her sometimes. Take her out for dinner . . .”

  “Has she ever come to Rockydale?”

  “No. I hope she will some day. But no.” He presses his lips together.

  “And who were these three mean girls?” Mel asks.

  “Their names were Erin Morgan, Mia Jones and Jen Sadler.” He shuts his eyes, leaning his head back a little. Sadness clouds his face.

  Darby rubs her hands on her thighs, looking at him. “Have you been in contact with them since returning here?”

  He sits up, setting his coffee on the table, his eyes becoming bright again. “Jen is my daughter, Corrie’s, kindergarten teacher. She’s Mrs. Cox now.”