Cemetery Girl

“You can’t come here because of my mother. And who knows, the cops may be watching me. But I can get out for a little while. Later in the day. Where can I meet you both? You and Caitlin?”

 

 

I felt like he’d tied me to a leash and was walking me around the block. He was right. I wanted to know too much. And I needed to dial back, to pull away. I felt like a man tottering on a ledge. I could only windmill my arms for so long before I fell.

 

“Can I come to your house?” he asked.

 

“No. My wife . . .” I hesitated again. “I think it would be best if we just—”

 

“Where then?” Colter asked, pushing.

 

I held the phone tight, felt the pressure in my knuckles. You just want to know, I told myself. You just want to know. You don’t have to give her away, but you do have to find out.

 

The meeting spot was so obvious, I shouldn’t have even needed to say it out loud.

 

“Why don’t we go back to the beginning,” I said. “I’ll meet you in the park, on the cemetery side.”

 

“When?”

 

“How soon can you be there?” I asked.

 

He paused, no doubt calculating in his head.

 

“An hour after sunset,” he said. “I have things to get together, and the park will be quiet and empty by then.”

 

“An hour after sunset.”

 

“And you’ll have Caitlin with you?”

 

“It doesn’t look like I have much choice, does it?”

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifty-two

 

 

 

I went up the stairs. Caitlin had left the bedroom door open.

 

She was sitting on the floor again, staring into space.

 

“Let me ask you something,” I said from the doorway.

 

“What?”

 

“Did you really believe your mom and I wouldn’t look for you or want you back?”

 

She nodded, but her face was lacking some of its defiance, its certainty.

 

I pushed. “Really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And how long—?”

 

I stopped myself. I’d wanted to ask her: How long would it be before that feeling of rejection and abandonment went away? But I already knew the answer: Never. It simply never would. We all would be living with it forever. And I was willing to accept that burden, to share it with my daughter, if only I knew what had really happened.

 

“You might want to pack a small bag,” I said. “We’re going to meet John Colter tonight. And we need to leave before your mom gets home.”

 

Caitlin didn’t move. Her eyes were narrowed, her face suspicious.

 

“Well?” I asked. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

 

My words released her from whatever spell she’d been under. She jumped to her feet, and I left the room, leaving her to her packing.

 

 

 

 

 

My phone rang while I was waiting for Caitlin. It was Abby. I let it go to voice mail.

 

“Caitlin, hurry up!”

 

In a few minutes, Caitlin came down the stairs carrying a plastic grocery bag full of clothes. She wore the same jeans and sweatshirt combination she’d been wearing since she’d arrived, but something was different about her face. She was wearing makeup—presumably some of Abby’s—and her hair appeared to have been brushed and styled, despite its short length.

 

“We’ve got to go,” I said. The phone rang again as we went out to the car.

 

“I wish there was time to take a shower,” she said. “Is there?”

 

“No. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

 

We got into the car and Caitlin threw her bag of clothes onto the floor. I backed down the driveway. Quickly—too quickly. The car veered off into the grass. I stopped, pulled forward and corrected, then backed out again. We made it into the street, and as I swung the wheel around to go forward, another car approached.

 

“It’s your mom.”

 

“So?”

 

“She knows something, that something’s going on.”

 

Abby pulled alongside. She waved her arms back and forth, almost frantic.

 

I inched forward.

 

Abby threw open her door and stepped out into the street. “Tom! Stop!”

 

I rolled down the window a little. “We’re just going out. It’s okay.”

 

“Buster called,” she said. “He told me what you’re doing.” She reached for my door handle and started tugging. “He acts more concerned for your daughter than you do.”

 

“Let go, Abby. Let go.”

 

She banged on the window twice, then reached for the rear door. I didn’t give her a chance to get to it. I hit the gas and pulled away. I looked back only once. She stood in the middle of our street, her hands raised to her head. I looked over at Caitlin, whose eyes were straight ahead, looking toward what was to come.

 

 

 

 

 

There were a few hours to pass before the sun went down. We drove around aimlessly for a while, crisscrossing town, passing through the campus and then out by the mall and the strip of chain restaurants. While we moved, I thought about what Abby had said at the house. Buster called. He told me what you’re doing. Would she call Ryan and tell him?

 

Without a doubt.

 

 

 

 

 

“Where are we going?” Caitlin asked.

 

“It’s too early. We need to pass some time.”

 

“Where are we going to do that?”

 

I cut through the center of town, dangerously close to the police station. I didn’t say anything, but I looked over at Caitlin as we approached. Her eyes widened a little. She understood.