The Piper

FIFTY-NINE




Olivia was waiting in her hotel room when the police came. The manager of the Waverly, called out by the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department, and known to be tough on trespassers, had taken one look at Olivia’s face and decided not to press charges. It was the Waverly, after all, one of America’s most haunted places. Strange things happened at the Waverly. Not all of them good.

Olivia had driven herself home, looking from time to time at the passenger’s seat, almost expecting to see Patsy there. She found a long blonde hair on the dashboard, and as soon as she made it to Knoxville, she went to Patsy’s house, broke a pane out of the kitchen window to get inside, put bird seed and fresh water in Elliot’s little ceramic bowls. She turned off the crock pot, and put it straight into the refrigerator, as if she had hope that Patsy might come home again.

The bird would not look at her, or acknowledge her, but sat on his perch with his head tucked beneath a wing. Olivia wondered if he were in mourning. Animals knew things, certainly this one did. She wondered if Patsy had family. If someone responsible would come. She told Elliot she would look out for him, but he would not look up.

Olivia had gone back to her hotel and taken a shower, changed her clothes, then sat on the bed with the pillows propped up and the television on. She recharged her phone and drank a beer and ate salt and vinegar chips, and wondered what would happen next. She watched the clock until three fifteen the next afternoon, dozing now and then, then waking suddenly, checking the clock, wondering over and over if Teddy’s time was up.

When the knock came on her hotel room door, she jumped, and swung her legs to the side of the bed, pausing a moment to catch her breath. She looked through the peephole and saw Donnie Withers and McTavish. She wondered if they would put her in handcuffs. She wondered if McTavish had found her a lawyer yet.

Olivia opened the hotel room door. ‘Hello,’ she said. Her cheeks felt stiff.

‘Mrs James?’ Withers said. McTavish was looking at her strangely.

‘Yes. I’m ready,’ Olivia said.

‘Mrs James, can we come in for a moment?’ Donnie Withers said.

Olivia shrugged. ‘What’s the point of coming in? I’m ready to go.’

‘I’m not here to arrest you, Mrs James. Just the opposite. We’ve picked up the guy who killed Bennington and his family. He’s a habitual felon with a history of violent home invasions, and he confessed for the favor of an orange soda and a box of Keebler Oatmeal Cookies. There’s no question. He was working alone. There’s a theory he’s been targeting your family as well. We’re trying to find the car he ditched, match it up to the oil stain in your driveway, but at the moment, he’s clammed back up and we’re not having much luck.’

Olivia cocked her head sideways. ‘You didn’t come here, together like this, to tell me that.’ She took a step backwards. ‘Oh, God. You’ve found her, haven’t you? You’ve found Teddy.’ The tears were coming but her breath was not. She could not seem to get oxygen.

‘We’ve found something, ma’am. We just don’t know what.’

‘I don’t understand. What do you mean? Tell me what you mean.’

Withers looked at McTavish. ‘You tell her. Better coming from you.’

‘Olivia. Honey, it’s not Teddy. It can’t be Teddy, the body is too far decomposed. Sit down here, sweetie.’ He took her hand and looked into her eyes as if he weren’t sure she understood what he was saying.

‘Not Teddy?’ Olivia said.

‘No.’

‘But you said body. You said decomposed.’

‘One of our guys went back to interview that man I told you about. The one on death row.’

Olivia nodded. ‘The one who said he knew where . . . oh. He knew where Emily was? Is that what you mean? You’ve found . . . oh shit. Shit, shit, it’s starting now, isn’t it? Just like he said. He warned me, Decan Ludde warned me. They’ll come home one way or another. One way or another. That’s what he said.’ Olivia screamed and scratched the sides of her cheeks, drawing blood. ‘No. No, I change my mind. I want her to come home alive. I want her to come home alive. I should have made the deal.’

McTavish put his arms around her, sat beside her on the bed rocking her back and forth.

‘Oh, God, McTavish. I just wanted . . . I just wanted to come home. I was so homesick. And now I don’t care anymore, I just want Teddy. I want to hear Winston squeak his toy, and I have to tell him to hush because Teddy is asleep in bed waiting for me to kiss her good night. I want Emily to come home. I want Hunter. I want all of us to be the way we were when I was a little girl before Emily went away. I just want to go home, McTavish, and I can’t for the life of me figure out where it is. Where’s my home now, McTavish? You tell me that. You tell me where it is.’

McTavish was patient, letting her cry it out. At one point Withers mumbled something and went outside to wait in the hall, with the air of a man who has seen these things more times than he’d like.

And in due time she grew calmer. She laid her head on McTavish’s shoulder, and closed her eyes, thinking she might like to go to sleep. But he wouldn’t let her. He would not let her sleep.

‘Olivia. I think there’s a really high probability we’ve found Emily’s remains. I know you were just a very little girl back then, but we have some things we’d like you to look at, for identification. Do you think you can come with me? Do you think you can do it? There isn’t anybody else.’

Of course there wasn’t anybody else, Olivia thought. Not now, now when she was so alone.

‘What day is it, McTavish? The date?’

‘March fourteenth.’

‘And what time?’

‘Six thirty.’

‘How many hours till three fifteen?’

‘Olivia. You’re not making any sense.’

‘Oh, you’re so wrong about that. I’m the only one making any sense.’

‘Donnie’s waiting, out in the hall. Do you think you can do this, Olivia? If you want to wait—’

‘It would be better to go now. Sure, of course I’ll go.’

He took both her hands. ‘Olivia. If it is Emily, and I’m not saying it is. Wouldn’t it be better to at least know for sure?’

‘Where are we going, McTavish?’

‘We’re going to the river.’