“That’s a beautiful necklace, Theresa.” Kate said, noting the jewelry but really wanting to know what was inside of it. The older woman’s face immediately broke into a smile and her entire complexion seemed to glow a bit warmer.
“It’s a locket with a picture of my little Clara, when she was a teenager. Let me show you, see she was only sixteen years old in this picture. So beautiful, so innocent.” Theresa spoke with nostalgia and hints of sadness as she opened the locket to show the women the photograph. They both leaned in to get a better look. Kate was surprised at how beautiful Clara was, she seemed so full of life even in just a small picture.
“Absolutely beautiful.” Liz echoed Theresa’s sentiments.
“Yes, yes she was. So, Clara is why you wanted to talk with me?” Theresa cut right to the chase. At her age, there was no reason to dance around the elephant in the room anymore. She had spent the last few years being the strange old woman whose daughter was murdered. Neighborhood children shied away from her and adults either avoided eye contact with her or stared just a little too long.
“Of course, I am a detective with Metro Police Department in Washington, DC and we believe we have a similar case down there to your daughters, possibly the same perpetrator. We are hoping that learning more about Clara and her life might help us find any ties or ideas to point us towards this man.” Liz explained to her.
“It’s my case.” Kate just blurted out. She wasn’t sure why, she just needed Theresa to know. She needed her to look at her and see her daughter, she needed Theresa to see her and love her, she needed Theresa to for one moment be that mother figure she never had. The moment she had seen Clara’s picture and seen the love in Theresa’s eyes, jealousy had seeped in little by little. That had always happened to Kate though, she struggled deeply with the truth of knowing her mother had never loved her, had abandoned her, and was never coming back. In moments like these, she felt these strange urges to plead with someone to take that role, fill that vacant spot, and heal her heart.
Kate realized that she had just gotten lost in thought and that both women were staring at her. Liz didn’t know whether to continue or not, thinking maybe Kate wanted to talk and Theresa just plain didn’t understand. Kate shook her head as if wiping away the ridiculous notions and thoughts that she had just entertained for a fleeting moment.
“Uhm, sorry, Liz you explain. Please.” Kate said awkwardly in choppy sentences. Liz nodded at her and then continued.
“Kate was attacked in the same manner as Clara, is what I think she was trying to say. It seems as if the attacker thought she was dead or dying, due to blood loss, but Kate pulled through. There were many signs though that point to the idea that these two cases might be related including matching DNA as well as signatures.” Liz continued explaining, gesturing with her hands. Theresa’s eyes suddenly widened and she whipped her head around to stare at Kate, who jumped back in her seat for a moment, startled.
“You got a photograph?” Theresa said in a low eerie tone, almost a whisper, as she continued to stare at Kate. Kate couldn’t respond verbally so she just nodded in affirmation. She was frightened even though she couldn’t really pinpoint a reason why. It was as if Theresa had a glimpse into that private moment that only she and her attacker shared.
Theresa nodded her head slowly as if trying to absorb what she had just heard. She stood up and paused, her face showing a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions running through her mind. Both women watched her as she walked across the room to a bookshelf and opened a small cigar box that was sitting decoratively on the middle shelf. She produced a small instant photograph from the box and looked at it, then quickly turned it away from her view, clearly unable to look at it a moment longer. She walked back over to the women and handed the photograph to Kate.
It was almost a replica of Kate’s photograph. Even their bruises held the same patterns, blood pooled in the same spot, eyes open and dead. Clara’s were actually dead but in Kate’s photograph, hers were too. Kate wondered if they still were. Sometimes she felt like that, as if she were staring at the world through a film. Participating, but not really there.
“They found this photograph next to her, she bled out in her apartment. She wasn’t close to her phone and it looked later like she had tried crawling to it, but she never made it. She would have called me, she would have called me and I would have done something...” Theresa paused for a moment, swallowing a large lump in her throat as she talked about it.