“She’s a little, tiny lady, Randy,” I said. “You could carry her around in your palm.”
“Sort of like Tom.” But he smiled, and there was no mockery in his voice.
“Yes,” his mother said as she made her way back to the sofa. “Sort of like Tom.”
Randy had shut down his laptop and closed its lid. He
leaned an elbow on it. “I still have two questions. Why or how did Tom Willis become Tom Whatley?”
Edie took a sip from the now lukewarm cup of tea I’d made for her. “It’s one of those dumb things,” she said. “Tom had gone to ground after the shootings, staying at a friend’s cabin in the Poconos.”
“Did the friend know he was there?” Randy asked.
“I don’t think so,” Edie said. “He’d stayed there before. In fact, he and Tom had stayed there a couple of times in failed attempts to get Tom clean. This time our Tom went to be alone and grieve. He stayed there for a couple of months in the winter, reeling with the pain, only venturing out to go to the store for the bare essentials. But come spring, he knew he couldn’t live the rest of his life like a hermit, eaten with regret and what-ifs.
“He got in his car and began to drive. Somehow he ended up in Amhearst just as his car died. He coasted into Hamblin Motors prepared to buy a car. Mike Hamblin himself was the salesman he talked with, and Mike was impressed with Tom’s knowledge of cars. ‘I need a salesman,’ he said. ‘I need a job,’ Tom said. ‘What did you say your name was?’ Mike asked. Before Tom could answer, Mike was called away for a minute.
“While he waited for Mike to return, Tom saw a newspaper on the corner of Mike’s desk. The headline read Cop In Drug Bust Killed Best Friend. A picture of him in his uniform stared out at him. He wasn’t worried about being recognized as the man in the picture. He looked much different than the rookie cop with the earnest face staring out at him from under the bill of his hat. Regret and sorrow had aged him, his hair was much longer and he looked a bit scruffy. But it was the first time he knew he had been the one to kill Tom.”
My stomach clenched. What a terrible way to learn something of that magnitude!
“When Mike came back, Tom’s mind was still reeling. ‘What’s your name?’Mike asked again. And because his mind was full of his friend, my Tom said, ‘Tom Whatley.’
“‘Well, Tom, what do you say? Willing to give us a try?’ Tom opened his mouth to correct the mistake in the name when he caught the first two words in the article—Thomas Willis. What if Mike Hamblin made the connection? Besides, he only planned to be there for a very short time. All he wanted was a little ready cash, and he’d be on his way. Who cared if they called him by the wrong name?”
“But what about Social Security and his paycheck and all?” I asked. “How could he get paid in the wrong name?”
“When Tom Whatley died, none of his family came to the hospital. They had all washed their hands of him long before. So the hospital gave my Tom all the other Tom’s effects. He kept all the things with him all those months, actually carrying the papers in his own wallet. If Mike Hamblin thought it strange that he had to pull his Social Security card and read his number, he didn’t mention it. And of course—”she spread her hands “—Tom found out he liked Hamblin’s and selling cars and Amhearst.”
“And you,” I said.
“Well, there’s nothing very sinister in all that,” Randy said, relief evident in his voice.
Edie collapsed against the arm of the couch, exhausted now that the story was told.
“You need to rest,” I said. “This has been hard on you.”
“Yeah,” Randy added. “You need to get better for when Tom comes home.”
Edie looked at her son. “You sound like you want him to come home.”
“Well, yeah. Because it’s what you want.” He turned bright red but forced himself to continue. “So it’s what I want.”
Edie was still reeling from the shock of Randy’s comment when he and I left.
“I still have one question,” Randy said as we pulled out of the driveway. “What does all that long-ago stuff have to do with Tom’s disappearance now?”
What indeed.
THIRTEEN
R
andy and I arrived at Freedom House at two o’clock. I was looking forward to my interview with Tina, and he was cringing with embarrassment. What if he saw Sherrie? Or her mother, who had undoubtedly heard about the events of yesterday from Sherrie?
“It’s called facing the music,” I said as we climbed the steps.
“Yeah, I know. But the tune is so ugly.” He tucked his laptop under one arm and looked around the porch. “So’s this building. Why don’t they fix it up?”
“Money.” I thought of the quality furniture in his family’s living room and the multitude of gadgets in his room and all the money those things represented. “Or lack of it.”
He grunted as a young woman I’d never seen before opened the door. Not having enough money was a concept that was hard for him to grasp.
“Hi, I’m Karen.” She stepped back to let us in. She was pretty in an overblown sort of way with lots of long curly blond hair and way too much makeup. Still, I could see the bruise on her right cheek.
She smiled like she hadn’t a care in the world. “We’re having Bible study now, but Stephanie’s almost finished. She asked me to take you to her office.”
I noticed that the collection of equipment and offerings for Like New had grown and was threatening to overtake the entryway. Randy stared with distaste at the clutter.
“Isn’t it great?” Karen grinned as we stepped over two supersized plastic bags of clothes, their cinches pulled tight and tied in red bows. “Some lady Stephanie doesn’t even know dropped these bags off just a few minutes ago. Word’s getting around.”
“Word about what?” Randy muttered in my ear. “That the place is the town’s new dump site?”
Karen beamed as she stopped in Stephanie’s office door. She touched the dark shadow on her cheek. “I’m going to be the first trainee at the store. I don’t have any place to live yet and I don’t have any money, but I know I’ll be okay. I have hope.” And she left us.
Randy stared after her, frowning. “Why’s she so cheery? That bruise on her cheek looked pretty bad to me.”
“She’s got hope,” I said.
“Yeah, I heard. But why? She hasn’t got a place to live. She hasn’t got money. She’s got a husband who beats her.”
“But she’s got a way out.”
He shook his head, confused. “That stuff out there…”
“That junk?” Distaste curled his lip.
“That’s her way out.”
“She’s the town’s new trash man?”
I looked at Randy. He’d come a long way in a short time, but he still obviously had a long way to go.
“Do you think Sherrie’s smart?” I asked.
He blinked at the change in topic but came with me readily enough. “I should do so well in school.”
“Do you think she’s got class?”
“Down to her fingertips.”
“How about her mother and brother?”
“Very neat people. Fun. I like them.”
“Then why do you assume that they’re collecting trash? Why do you assume that the property is shabby on purpose?”
He didn’t look very happy at the not-too-subtle reprimand. Too bad. If I had to cart him everywhere I went, I was going to tell him a thing or two as I thought best.
“Okay.” His voice was cool. “Why the mess?”
“Many women don’t leave their abusive husbands because of money. They have no way to feed and house themselves and their kids. Stephanie wants to help them learn a marketable skill. She’s opening a secondhand store and training women in sales skills there.”
“Oh.” He looked slightly chagrined, but he rallied quickly. “But why the mess in the hall? Why don’t they put the stuff away somewhere?”
“Priorities.”
“What?”
“What’s more important? Finding a place for Karen to sleep until she can care for herself, or a neat hallway?”
He looked at me in silence for a minute. “You’re good, you know.” He walked into Stephanie’s office and collapsed on one end of the sofa from the mission in Allentown. “All of a sudden you’ve got me thinking that mess is a wonderful thing.”
“That’s nice, but what I really want is for you to take time to think first, guy. Don’t jump to conclusions about things. Or people.”
He slid so far down on the sofa he was almost sitting on his neck. “Me? Jump to conclusions about people?” His laugh was bitter and full of self-loathing. “Not me.”
He ran his fingers over a particularly dark stain on the sofa seat, then slapped at it. Dust motes flew. “Why would anybody want furniture like—” He stopped and looked at me. “They
don’t necessarily want it, do they? They have no choice. There’s no money.”
Inside I felt like a proud mom cheering for her kid when he hit a home run, but I said very calmly, “You got it.”
He nodded and stared at the stain a minute. Then he plugged in his computer and was basically lost to his surroundings and all conversation. The game he was playing had his entire concentration.
I knew when the Bible study finally ended because I could hear the women’s voices, all talking at the same time, laughing, lingering. Stephanie came into the office while women still talked.
“They don’t like to leave,” she explained. “It’s safe here.”
She saw Randy, who looked up apprehensively when somehow through his game fog he heard her enter. She smiled a welcome. “Well, hi, Randy. Nice to see you.”
He relaxed visibly at her accepting attitude, his fingers easing on the computer keys. He blurted, “I have to stay with Merry.”
Stephanie looked a question.
“It was her or juvenile hall.”
“Ah. And you chose her.” Stephanie sat in the stuffed chair. “Wise choice.”
“Is Sherrie okay?” Randy asked, flushing an even more painful red.
Stephanie nodded. “Not happy, but okay. She went to school.”
Randy seemed pleased. “Good. I need to apologize to her for yesterday.”
Stephanie eyed him thoughtfully. “Maybe not quite yet.”
He nodded sadly. “She needs time. I understand.”
Stephanie smiled at him. “I like you, Randy. With God’s help, you’re going to be okay, you know that?”
Randy was bowled over by this show of confidence. He went back to his computer to hide his self-consciousness.
Stephanie turned to me. Her smile fell away. “She isn’t here.”
My heart dropped. “Do you know where she is?”
Stephanie shook her head. “But I can guess. I’ve been down this road with so many women, including myself in the old days. I was just going to call her parents to see what they can tell me.”
She walked to her desk and sat down. As she reached for the phone, it rang.
“Freedom House. Stephanie Bauer speaking.”
She glanced at me and mouthed, “Tina.” I nodded. I could hear a happy voice splashing through the mouthpiece like verbal sunshine, though I couldn’t hear specific words. Maybe things actually were all right.
Stephanie listened a minute, leaned back in her desk chair and closed her eyes in dismay. So much for all right.
“Oh, Tina.” More words poured out of the phone, but none of them eased Stephanie’s fears. Then she said, “You had an appointment with Merry Kramer for an interview. Did you forget?”
Next thing I knew I had Tina in my ear. Stephanie could pass off a phone with all the finesse of a relay runner passing off the baton.
“Hi, Merry. I thought you’d be there.” Canaries never sounded so chirpy. “I wanted you to know I didn’t forget, but I can’t meet with you after all.”
Rats. There went some of the best content of my story. “Can we talk now? I can interview you over the phone.”
“Can’t do it,” she said happily. “Bill asked me not to.”
“Where are you, Tina?”
“I’m at home.” As my heart sank, she bubbled, “Isn’t it wonderful? Bill came for me and the kids this morning before work. He drove all the way to Phoenixville for us.”
I drove all the way to Phoenixville for you, too, I thought darkly.
“He was so good with the kids, hugging them and kissing
them. I could tell he really missed us and regretted what happened.”
“Don’t waste your time,” Stephanie whispered across her desk. “She can’t hear you at the moment.”
I nodded. I knew she was right, but I hated it. “Look, Tina, you still have my card, don’t you? If you ever have time to talk to me or if you ever need me, you just call. I don’t care what time it is, day or night.”
After I hung up, Stephanie and I stared at each other. Finally she shook her head and said, “One of the hardest things I’ve had to learn is that you can’t help them if they don’t want to be helped.”
“But he’ll do it all over again.”
She nodded. “He’ll do it all over again. We need to pray that he doesn’t kill her in the process.”
“It took my mother years before she’d leave my father,” Randy suddenly said, looking from me to Stephanie. “And I know we went back several times. He could be very persuasive.” And he went back to his game.
I stood. “Come on, guy. We need to go.”
“In a minute. I just want to finish this one part, or I’ll have to start all over again.”
“Obviously a fate worse than death,” I muttered and left the office. Stephanie followed. We were almost to the front door when I heard a key in the lock. The door flew open and in backed Rob and Sherrie, busy waving at a car driving off.
“You’re home early,” Stephanie said.
Rob nodded. “Don brought us home. He’s got a car for the rest of the week because his dad’s in the hospital. His mom told him he could drive to school if he promised to go visit his dad every night.”
“Sounds like a deal.” Stephanie grinned.
Rob grinned back. “I think Don likes Sherrie.”
Sherrie looked appalled. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.”
“But he’s too old!”
“He’s my age. That’s only three years.”
“I don’t mean in years.”
I looked at Sherrie with respect for her insight.
“Ah,” her brother said. “Experience. Yep, Don’s had a lot of that. But he’s still a nice guy. All the girls love him.”
Sherrie frowned. “And that’s supposed to be a selling point?”
“Oh, yeah,” Rob said. “I forgot. You like them tall and blond and shy.”
Suddenly Sherrie’s frown became real. “Shut up, Rob.”