I went back to the television. Harrison had a stack of DVDs, several of them standard pornography. All of the discs matched their covers, but none looked very used. Probably for show. No sign of his computer downstairs, so I hurried to the second floor. Chris was already in the second bedroom, which looked more like a storage shed. My stomach clenched as I recognized items from Cody Harrison’s apartment: a lewd poster of a naked woman on a motorcycle, legs spread; a creepy looking bong in the shape of a caterpillar; and–my heart stopped–the Dell laptop that had sat in Cody’s living room. I picked it up. I’d gotten rid of the phone, but it was possible Cody had the picture on this laptop. It would be days if not weeks before his brother missed it.
“I don’t think that’s his computer,” Chris said. “It’s in the bedroom.”
“It’s not. But I need it. Did you try Brian’s computer?”
He nodded. “Password protected.”
Figures.
Kelly hadn’t been able to find an email for Brian Harrison, but the laptop I had might solve that problem. Surely the brothers had emailed.
“Why do you need that?”
“This is his brother’s computer. It might have Brian Harrison’s email, and my hacker can use it to send a picture embedded with a program that will give us remote access to his desktop. If he’d been stalking Kailey or any other girls, we might find evidence there.”
“And your picture might be on there.”
I brushed past Chris, quickly eyed the other bedroom. No sign a child–or a woman or a cleaning person, for that matter–had ever been here, just as I suspected.
“There’s nothing here. We need to go.”
A text from Kenny. “Harrison just drove away.”
I stuffed the laptop inside my coat, grateful I’d thought to bring it, and hurried down the stairs. Chris had the sense not to question me. We slipped quietly out of the house, locked the door, and then ran across the street to the car. Inside. Laptop in the backseat. Driving away. Passed a blue Neon, nerves in my throat.
I didn’t breathe until we were several blocks away with no sign of the Neon on us.
Chris finally broke his silence. “So Brian’s a pedophile, too? Like his brother?”
“Sometimes it runs in families, especially if they’re indoctrinated young.” That’s the story the dead Harrison brother had given to the police when he was first arrested. That his uncle molested him and ruined him for life. I didn’t know if it was true, and while the cycle of abuse is very real, it’s also something pedophiles like to lie about. Only a very small percentage of people who are sexually abused go on to repeat the pattern. Most pedophiles are just born with something horribly out of whack inside their heads.
“It doesn’t look like he’s got Kailey. At least not at his place.”
Chris glanced at the laptop now sitting safely in the backseat. Hopefully Kelly had a charger, and hopefully the damned thing’s hard drive wasn’t shot. I knew Kelly had near magical ways of salvaging information, but I didn’t understand the process and didn’t like waiting for it. But if she found evidence of Brian molesting girls, I’d be able to get rid of him without any additional guilt about saving my own ass.
“Do you consider it noble?” He finally asked when I parked next to his Audi.
“I’m sorry?”
He faced me, eyebrows knitted together, his nose crinkled. “What you do, do you consider it noble? Don’t get me wrong, I get it. I support it. These perverts aren’t going to stop hurting kids and should be put down. If the system won’t do it, then might as well be you. But do you ever think about your own fate?”
“I don’t plan on going to jail.”
“I don’t mean that. I’m not trying to get all existential on you.” He talked with his hands, waving them in front of his face in a circular motion. “I don’t sit around pondering the meaning of life and why humans are the way we are. But I do think about cause and effect, action and reaction.”
I wished he’d stop making me think so hard. Focusing on only the task at hand was so much easier. “I’m not following you. Are you asking about my soul?”
He laughed. “Nah. I’m not sure I really believe in that stuff. I just…something like this, your calling, if that’s what it is, you know it won’t end well, right? People who go down your road don’t get to step off, at least not without major consequences.” He leaned on the center console as if he were spilling a dark secret. “Maybe you’ll get arrested someday. Or maybe some pissed off family member will catch you. Or you’ll screw up and dump cyanide on yourself. Whatever it is, there’s no happy ending for you, is there?” He paused, glancing down at his hands and then back at me, a sad, resigned smile on his face. “You don’t get to just walk away.”
A stinging rawness, like I’d breathed in bleach, built in my chest and left me struggling for a response. After every eradication, I’d take a scalding hot shower as if that would somehow cleanse my sins, followed by single shot of bourbon, making sure my stomach matched the heat of my flesh. Those nights, I never remembered my dreams, and I never wanted to, because they all ended the same way: being consumed by nothingness with no meaning left behind.
“I’m aware,” I finally addressed Chris. “Nothing you’re saying is anything I haven’t thought a thousand times.” Speaking helped my head to clear. “And of course, I assume you go through the same thing?”
“What?”
“Being like me, as you say. I assume you’ve asked yourself the very same questions.” The malignant tone I used made me feel powerful and only slightly ashamed.
Chris’s smile was forced. “Right.”
He opened the door, and I took a deep breath for the first time in what seemed like hours. “Let me know if you get anything off the laptop. Or if you need any more help searching for Kailey.”
He shut the door without waiting for my response, and I wondered if I’d ever hear from him again.
Stupidly, I hoped I did.
M
y sister’s lifeless
body lay on the bathroom floor, arms and legs stretched out as if she’d started to make a snow angel. Her glassy, vacant eyes faced the tub. Blood pooled beneath her body, trickling down the uneven tile and sitting in the grout like tiny crimson streams. I screamed her name again and again, but she never stirred. Never took a breath. How could she? Long, vertical gashes on both wrists had drained her life away.
Death was real. It wasn’t some terrible thing that happened to other people, to be discussed in whispers. My sister didn’t live forever, and neither would I. All the vibrancy of her life–both good and bad–now stained my mother’s white tiles. As I stared at my sister’s corpse, the brightness of the blood dimmed. I no longer saw the bluish tinge on her slack mouth. I saw only her eyes. And they saw nothing. One day, I would see nothing too. How would I look in death?
I’d never know. I’d never see myself again. Never talk to anyone again. As terrible as if the corpse itself reached for me, I suddenly grasped the true meaning of death. I understood its harsh reality, understood that I would simply end as if I’d never been here. Buried in the ground, cold and stiff and nothing.
I woke up screaming. Mousecop flew off the bed and skittered across the floor. Heart throbbing in my head until I thought my skull would explode, I gasped for air. The nightmare wasn’t new, and it wasn’t even a nightmare. More of a memory with high definition to enhance the viewing experience.
You’re not dead now. You’ve got a long life to live. You’re making a difference
. I chanted the words that had become my refuge over the years. Taking deep breaths, I searched for the positive things in my life, for the happy place to help me stop shaking.
As my heart rate slowed and the protective layer of my brain dimmed the real truth of death, hypocrisy took fear’s place. Five times now, I served as judge, jury, and executioner of the thing I feared most. I didn’t watch my marks die because I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand the idea of watching their eyes slip into the void.
Enough
. I needed to sleep, and this was an old battle I’d never win. So I’d die someday. In the meantime, I’d do everything I could to make a difference in this world.
Kelly didn’t have
a charger for the old Dell, but she did know how to take it apart and get the information from the hard drive. With some luck, she’d find out if Cody Harrison had the photo of me and more importantly, what his email address was. Not that I expected to find any evidence of Kailey. But I might be able to figure out who he molested, if the story were true, and how to get the girl some help.
Saturday dawned bright and cool, with the last vestiges of leaves shivering their way to the ground. Todd refused to answer his phone, likely screening his calls, and the only information I had on the search for Kailey were the snippets Kelly gleaned from her sources. I needed to check in with Jenna Richardson, so I drove into Poplar where every inch of the neighborhood had been searched by police, but volunteers were still meeting, going door to door, combing through the thicket of woods thin enough to see through on a sunny day. Fliers of a smiling, gap-toothed Kailey now decorated every light pole and fluttered in most windows. In the business district, a group of women stood in front of the nail salon, handing out fliers to everyone who passed.
From what I could see, Jenna Richardson wasn’t taking part in the search. I supposed she was home, manning the phones. Not all that unusual, but with no ransom by now and Jenna being on the high side of lower class, this wasn’t about money. And Kailey wasn’t going to suddenly call with directions to her location.
My eyes strayed to Justin Beckett’s house, and I realized why Todd wasn’t taking my calls.
Some ballsy artist had spray painted the words “BABY KILLER” across the peeling paint in an ugly, neon green shade that stuck out like a clown at a funeral. A window had been broken, presumably by a rock, and hastily covered with what looked like a black trash bag. Justin’s car wasn’t in the driveway. I hoped Todd really did know where he was.
A tiny prick of guilt needled at me. If Justin hadn’t taken the girl…but it didn’t matter. These people deserved to know who lived among them.
I’d been right about the lack of uniforms. Jenna’s building was unguarded, but I still needed her to buzz me in. It took her a moment to remember who I was.
“I can’t pay you,” she said.
“It’s pro bono, I promise.”
“Do you think Justin Beckett took my daughter?” The desperation in her voice was heartbreaking.
I debated, wondering how much information Todd had shared with her. “I think he’s a valid suspect, and I and the police are looking at every possible scenario.”
“He emailed her.” Her shrill voice coming through the intercom reminded me of a dying rabbit I’d heard as a child after a neighbor’s dog attacked it.
“I know he did,” I said. “Search warrants were issued, and to my understanding, no more evidence has been found.”
“Detective Beckett said his brother stepped in when Kailey was being bullied and became a friend. I looked at the emails.” She stopped for a sharp breath, “He sounded nice. And she sounded so lonely. Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Kids are perceptive,” I said. “Maybe Kailey knew you had enough on your plate as a single mom and didn’t want to stress you out.”
This time, instead of the screech, her voice came out as a baby’s whimper. “I would have helped her.”
I choked back the urge to cry. “I know you would have. Could I come up for a few minutes?”
The buzzer signaled permission for me to enter.
Jenna didn’t bother with a greeting or the standard, superfluous beverage offer. She looked at me through tired eyes. “What do you want to know? And what could you possibly do that the police can’t?”
Break the law to find out if Justin Beckett’s taken your daughter.
“As I said, I have a lot of contacts in the city. I still keep in touch with some of the children I’ve worked with and their families. It gives me a network to reach out to. I don’t know if it will do any good, but it can’t possibly hurt, can it?”
She ran her hands through her hair, hanging limp around her heart-shaped face. Her tanned skin had turned the color of the almond milk my mother loved to drink. The neatly trimmed nails had been ferociously chewed to jagged edges and pink fingertips that looked as fragile as a newborn’s. She sat cross-legged on the couch clutching a soft and well-loved-looking teddy bear. I assumed it was Kailey’s.
“Tell me about her,” I said.
Jenna’s lips pursed with the effort of holding back tears, making her look as though she’d had a sudden Botox injection. “She’s a good little girl. Smart. Easy. We’re close.” The lips wobbled, and she sucked in air hard enough it whistled. For some reason, that noise cut through me deeper than a tear could have. I clenched my own jaw. “She always said I was her best friend.”
“Josie and Bridget,” I started.
“I trusted those girls.” Jenna’s grief switched to powerful anger faster than I could register. “If they hadn’t left Kailey to walk home alone, this wouldn’t have happened. How could they be so stupid and selfish?”
“They’re children,” I said. “And they don’t think about the consequences. No matter how much we drill into their brains that there are bad people out there, kids have this weird sort of shield that convinces them we’re overprotective and that nothing like this could happen to them.”
“They let her walk by herself.” She spit the words as though they were laced with burned coffee.
“They did. And I’m sure both of them feel terrible, but do you realize that statistically, Kailey was probably taken by someone she knew? If not, then someone in a position of authority?”
Jenna’s jaw set hard, and she looked past me, eyes half-glazed over, like she was caught in a memory. “Sometimes statistics are wrong.”
“Still,” I continued, “I’m not sure you can put the blame on Josie and Bridget. If Kailey’s abductor falls into either of those categories, they would have found a way, sooner or later.”
“Detective Beckett said it could have been random.” She seemed desperate to believe that.