Cemetery Girl (35 page)

I pointed to my puffy cheek. “Do you know who did this to me? Buster. Your Uncle Buster. We haven’t fought like that since we were kids. It used to be more even then. But last night, he kicked my ass.”

Her eyes widened.

“Was he there, Caitlin? With Colter? Was Buster ever there?”

She looked down at her hands and started picking at the cuticles. Her nails were short, the skin around them red and scabbed, as though she’d picked them over more than once.

“Caitlin? I’m not going to tell Mom.”

I was ready to let it go when she spoke up.

“I thought I heard his voice once,” she said. She continued to stare at her hands. “I thought maybe I imagined it. At first . . .” She paused a long time. “I used to hear a lot of voices. I used to think a lot of people were there, looking for me.” She hesitated. “I even used to think I heard you and Mom.”

“No, no,” I said.

“I couldn’t tell if it was imagined or real,” she said. “It seemed very real. It sounded just like both of you. I knew your voices. I could recognize them.”

“We were never there. If we were there, we wouldn’t have left without you.”

Caitlin seemed to consider this for a moment, then went on. “Once I heard someone talking and laughing, and it sounded just like Uncle Buster. I almost called his name, but I didn’t.”

“Did you see him?”

She shook her head.

“Caitlin, this is important. Did you ever see Uncle Buster in Colter’s house?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “Never.”

I put my hand on her shoulder, felt the textured fabric of the long johns. “Were you in the basement?” I asked. “Is that why you didn’t see him?”

She shook her head again, more forcefully.

“You can tell me, you know? If you want to tell me something and not have Mom know, I can do that. It’s okay.”

“I already told you what I want.”

I let my hand go limp and slip off her shoulder. “Really, Caitlin? Still?”

She picked at her fingers and didn’t pay attention. I touched her again.

“Come on, Caitlin. You can’t still want that. Not that. It’s okay to let that go.”

She spun out of my grip and crab-walked away from me.

“You don’t know,” she said. “Don’t say that.”

“Caitlin—”

“No. I already told you.”

I went to the closed door, opened it, and looked into the hallway. No sign of Abby. I closed the door. Caitlin looked surprised when I came back into the room and took my spot on the bed again. “You know how I said I was fighting with your uncle Buster? Do you know what we were fighting about?”

“I don’t care.”

“We were fighting about you. And I’d think you would care, because I was on your side.” I could tell she didn’t follow. “We went to see your friend last night. Mr. Colter.”

“You’re lying.”

“We went to his house. Actually, we went to his mother’s house, since that’s where he’s living these days. Do you know her? Did you know he burned his own house down? The one you lived in with him? He completely torched it.”

“He did?”

“He did. Why?”

“He said he would do that. I didn’t believe him.”

“He’s a man of his word, isn’t he? He destroyed any trace of you, any evidence that you were ever there. He covered his tracks. Except he couldn’t destroy that room in the basement, the one you must have lived in. The one you heard Buster’s voice from, right? Remnants of it survived the fire, enough so the police could see what it was for.”

The sun came through the window, creating a rectangle of light that covered half of Caitlin’s body.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” she asked.

“Because I talked to Mr. Colter. About you.”

“What did he say?”

I took my time now. I leaned back a little and folded my arms across my chest.

“What did he say?” she asked again.

“You want to see him again, right?”

She stomped her foot against the floor. “Goddamn it! What did he say?”

“We’re going to make a deal,” I said, leaning forward again. “Are you interested in that? If you want to know what he said, you have to agree to the terms of the deal.”

“How can I agree to this if I don’t know what you’re offering?”

It wasn’t easy, but I pushed myself off the mattress, acting as though I intended to walk out of the room.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, I agree. Jesus. Just tell me what’s going on.”

I backtracked and sat down on the mattress again. Caitlin watched me eagerly, expectantly. I almost couldn’t bring myself to say it. I almost walked away for real. But I couldn’t. I needed to finish.

“He wants to see you again,” I said.

It took me a moment to read and understand her reaction. She blinked her eyes a few times, and at first it looked to me like she was crying. Then the corners of her mouth turned up, the emotion spreading across her face—and no doubt through her body.

Joy.

Joy at the prospect of reuniting with the man she claimed to love. It was the most emotion, the most happiness she’d displayed since her return.

Caitlin raised her hand to her chest and fingered the topaz necklace just below her throat. She looked like Abby—her narrow hand, her long fingers, the way only her left cheek dimpled as her smile grew. “Will you take me there, Dad?” she asked.

Dad.

I didn’t know when she’d last called me that.

“I might take you there,” I said.

“Okay,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

“One condition,” I said. “First you have to tell me everything that happened during those four years you were gone. You have to tell me how he took you and where you went. You have to tell me what he did to you there. And you have to tell me why you stayed and why you want to go back so much. If you tell me all of that, I’ll think about taking you there.”

“Think about?”

“Think about,” I said.

“Does Mom agree with this?” she asked.

“No way. And if you tell her or mention it to her, the whole deal’s off. Not only will the deal be off, but you’ll be locked up like this place is Alcatraz.”

She thought this over for a long moment. “But if I tell her what you’re offering, she’ll be mad at you, right? I mean, she’ll throw you out.”

“Certainly. And then you’ll never get to see your boyfriend.”

“When do we go?” Caitlin asked.

“As soon as you spill it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t trust you. I know you don’t want me to be with him. If I tell you, you’ll never take me there.”

“You don’t have a choice. Give it up.” When she didn’t say anything, I opted for putting more heat on her. “The longer we wait, the less chance you’ll see him. You heard what Detective Ryan said, didn’t you?”

“Some.”

“They found a witness, some mouth-breather from a trailer park who says she saw you in Colter’s house. Did you ever make the acquaintance of some guy named Loren Brooks? You know him?”

She nodded. “He came by sometimes.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“What is that bitch in the trailer saying about me?” Her face was blank, but her voice sounded capable of cutting glass.

“Enough to put Colter back in jail. They’re drawing up the papers today. He’s going back to jail—and soon. And given your reaction to this news, I suspect they have enough to keep him there.”

“Then what does it matter?” she asked. “There’s no deal you can make. They’re going to take him away.”

With great effort, I choked out the last words I needed to say. “He’s leaving town. And he wants you to go with him.”

Chapter Forty-nine

C
aitlin continued to stare at me, her lips parted. The room, the house was silent. Outside a diesel engine rumbled. A school bus moved up the street, stopping and starting, collecting neighborhood kids for school. The simple routines of everyday life. Caitlin would have been driving herself to school that year. We would have bought her a cheap car, added her to the insurance.

Instead . . .

“Are you saying . . . ?”

“You want to go with him, right?” I asked.

She nodded slowly. She brought her hands together again and started picking at them.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes. I didn’t think you’d let me go.”

“You want to go. And a father is supposed to make his daughter happy, right?”

She kept picking at her fingers.

I started to get up, but Caitlin spoke.

“Parents aren’t supposed to let their children go, are they?” she asked. “Not ever?”

I settled back down on the mattress. She wasn’t looking at me but continued to study her hands. Still, I could tell she was listening. “I’ve known since the day you were born I’d have to let you go someday. You were going to grow up and have a life. Get married maybe. Move away. Any parent who isn’t aware of that is setting themselves up for emotional hardship.”

I waited. Finally she said, “But it happens too soon sometimes, right?”

“It does. Like me and you. Are you reconsidering?”

“No.” She looked up. “Not at all.” She shrugged. “What about Mom?”

“She’s a big girl.”

“Will the two of you stay married?”

“No. But we aren’t going to stay married whether you’re here or not.” I felt relieved having said it out loud. “Does that bother you?”

She shook her head hard, almost too hard. She looked like she wanted to make sure I knew how little it bothered her. Abby knocked lightly on the bedroom door. Caitlin and I both jumped a little. I wondered how long she’d been out there and what she’d heard, but when I opened the door for her, she didn’t look angry.

“What are you two talking about?” she asked.

I looked back at Caitlin. “I was just telling Caitlin what Detective Ryan said.”

“Oh.”

“She heard most of it from up here,” I said. “And as for the rest . . . I guess she didn’t have much of a response to it.”

Abby looked like she wanted to say something to Caitlin, but she didn’t. She turned to me and said, “Liann’s here. She said she wants to talk to you.”

I was halfway through the door when Caitlin’s voice stopped me.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said.

I looked back. “For what?”

“For telling me what you told me.”

“No problem,” I said and headed downstairs to see Liann.

Abby followed me to the stairs. Halfway down, she placed her hand on my arm. “Did you hear that back there, Tom? She called you Dad. That’s something, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“Did you ask her about Buster?”

“I did.” I paused. Something caught in my throat. My eyes burned. “She thought she heard him one day. His voice.” I felt the tears coming. I choked back on them, held them in. “She said she used to think she heard our voices.”

Abby reached out to me. “It’s okay, Tom.”

“I used to imagine her screaming. Calling my name in the park. I should have been there. I should have stopped it.”

“It’s not your fault, Tom.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger. “I thought you thought it was.”

“It’s not anybody’s fault.” She took my hand and squeezed it in hers. “She’s home, Tom. She’s here. And they know who did this, and they’re going to arrest him. We can move on. What matters is where we are now.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” My hand slipped out of hers. “I’m going to see what Liann wants.”

“And we need to get her back into normal life soon. School, church, friends. It’s time.”

“Once Colter’s taken care of,” I said and continued on down the steps.

Liann sat at the dining room table, a cell phone to her ear. When I came in the room, she folded the phone shut and slid it into her purse.

“You look like shit,” she said.

“Thanks.”

I wanted coffee, so I went to the kitchen and poured a cup. When I sat down, Liann cleared her throat.

“The atmosphere seems a little charged in this household.”

“You haven’t heard?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been distracted by other things.”

I told her about Buster and his connection to Colter. Liann listened, her face cool and dispassionate. When I was finished, I asked her what she thought of it all.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she said.

“He’s my brother . . .” I didn’t know what else to say.

“They’ve been looking at him hard from the very beginning,” she said. “I can assure you of that. They always look hard at the family. And as you and I both know . . .”

“Family members are likely to be involved.”

“Amen,” she said. “It’s the gospel truth ninety-eight percent of the time.”

“But this time? Buster? He loves Caitlin. He’s crazy about her. Always has been. I’ve had my doubts about it, their closeness. But I think he just loves her.”

“Love’s got nothing to do with it. If he’s mixed up with the wrong crowd, it’s his butt that’s on the line. If he tells the wrong guy the wrong thing.”

The coffee tasted burnt and bitter. It needed cream and sugar. I almost pushed the mug away.

“Have you talked to him?” Liann asked.

I looked toward the stairs. No sign nor sound of Abby. “You’re my lawyer, right?” I asked.