Full Contact (21 page)

“So they got married,” Jay said.

“No.” Claudia shook her head, her shoulders slumped and her eyes teared. “The poor thing was killed a few days before the wedding. I moved shortly after that and don't know whatever happened to the boy. Or if they found Tammy's killer. I only know that it seemed to me that God had forgotten that poor girl. It was many years before I ever went back to church. Sorry, Pastor.”

David smiled. “It's okay, Claudia, I understand. Went through a rough patch myself a while back. It's easy to blame God, and hard to trust Him when things out of our control change our lives so drastically.”

David spoke to Claudia, but looked straight at Jay.

“You're saying that the man was still with her the week she was killed?”

“He would have to be, wouldn't he? Since they were getting married in a few days.”

“But you don't know for sure.”

“No.” Frowning, Claudia pursed her lips. “I don't think I ever heard of him after that last call, and that was about, oh, maybe a month before the wedding.”

Which was about the time Aunt Olivia had said that his father had left his mother. Obviously, once she had really wanted to get married, once she'd been excited
about the idea, he'd gotten cold feet. He probably hadn't wanted to marry her at all.

Jay swallowed the lump in his throat. His mother had had an abusive father. She'd been afraid to believe in love. When she'd fallen in love, she'd been afraid to marry. And right when she'd decided to take a risk, to follow her heart and live life to its fullest, she'd been deserted by the man she loved then brutally raped and murdered.

Jay stared at the desktop. At the floor. Trying not to blink. He was getting far too weepy in his old age.

Time to get out of this town before it ruined him completely.

E
LLEN SAT ON THE BENCH
outside Joe's window, waiting for him to collect the materials he had for her to give to Phyllis.

Rubbing first one thumb along her palm then the other, she tried to work out what she would say. And to find a way to talk herself out of saying anything at all.

Who was she to disrupt Joe's life? Maybe he was as happy as he could be living up on his mountain. Maybe this was exactly the kind of life he wanted. Maybe bringing up the past would hurt him for no good reason.

“I think that's all of it,” the slightly gruff voice said before Ellen heard a thump behind her.

She turned to pick up the folder and stared instead. There wasn't only one folder. There were at least a dozen of them.

Her pulse rate sped up. She'd been right to talk Joe into taking Phyllis's class. The man needed more than life alone on the mountain was giving him.

She asked him if he needed anything else—asked him how his week had been. He needed nothing and he was fine. The rote answers.

“What about that therapy of yours?”

“I think it's working.”

“Enough for you to go on a date?”

“I think so. If someone I like asks me. Too bad you aren't in the market for dinner and a movie.”

“I'm way too old for you girl. And too stupid, too. Besides, I gave my heart a long time ago. You need someone with a heart to give.”

“You've still got life to live, Joe.”

He didn't say a word. So Ellen did.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Doesn't mean I'll answer.”

“It's about the past. Your past.”

“Go on.”

“When your…it happened…did you notice anything missing from your house? Anything your wife would have thought was special?”

Deathly silence hung between them.

“Joe?”

No answer.

Had her question sent him into cardiac arrest? She couldn't get to him to find out. He had the door bolted.

“Joe? Answer me or I'm coming in the window.”

“Wh—who…”

“Who what? Joe, are you okay? Do we need help?” He might want to die up here, but she wasn't going to let him. Not on her watch.

She shouldn't have said anything. Should have left well enough alone. Joe's life was his own. She was like her mother, trying to run someone else's life.

“Joe, answer me, I mean it.” She stood.

“Stay there…I'm fine.” He was there, in the window. She could see his outline at the side of the seed bag he'd hung as a curtain.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“It's okay, Joe, but what's going on? I'm sorry if I upset you. I won't mention the past again—”

“Why did you ask?”

“Well, because…I care and—”

“No.” He spoke louder than usual. And the sun was baking Ellen's skin—more of a burning sensation than a comfort this morning. “Why that question in particular?”

Dare she risk the truth?

“I wondered—”

“You don't wonder about a missing item of no monetary value.”

“I didn't say it was of no monetary value.”

He was still there.

“Joe? Was something missing?”

“Tell me who's asking.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I think I might know who raped and killed her.”

The form behind the window sank slowly and Ellen didn't give any warning, or heed any from the past. With every ounce of her strength, she pushed against the rudimentary window block, until she'd moved the piece enough to slide through—which she did, headfirst.

She caught herself with her hands on a bench—identical to hers—on the other side of the window. Beyond that, she couldn't make out much in the room. Her eyes hadn't adjusted to the dim interior. And she cared only about the hump, heaving on the floor.

“Joe?” Lowering herself beside the man who was curled in a ball, Ellen realized he wasn't convulsing as she'd feared. He was sobbing.

“Get out. You have to get out.”

“No.” She slid an arm around his waist, holding on to him. “I have to stay, Joe. Talk to me.”

“She…was…so…beautiful—” The words broke off into another bout of uncontrollable sobs. Fifteen minutes passed before Joe spoke again. “What he did to her…the way he…my sweet, sweet girl…”

“If something of hers was missing— There was this series of rapes and murders. It sounds like maybe…I don't know, but it could be the same guy. He broke into homes, told the women he was only hiding out. He let them get their most prized possession, to hold it so they wouldn't be afraid. Then he raped and murdered them and stole the item as a keepsake.” She told the story quickly. As though she could reduce the pain attached to her words.

“The handkerchief,” Joe said. “I looked all over for it later, after they'd taken her away and everyone was gone. I was all alone in that house, with our things, and I looked all over for the handkerchief. It was my wedding present to her. White, with lace edges…”

This time it was Ellen's blood that ran cold.

 

“I'
M NOT GOIN
'.”

“I'm not leaving you here alone. Not like this.”

Ellen had coaxed Joe to the bench and sat beside him, holding his hand. He was clutching hers so tightly she was losing circulation.

“I'm not goin'.”

“I'm going to call Sheriff Richards. He'll take you to a clinic then we'll find you a place to stay. Just for tonight. Tomorrow, if you want, I'll bring you back here.”

“I'm not goin'.”

She was shaking. He was shaking, too. And she couldn't leave him there.

“There's more to the story, isn't there, Joe?”

His chin to his chest, he rolled forward, and the wail that escaped him was animalistic. Filled with more pain than a human should have to endure.

“You had a baby. A son. And you left him.”

The older man's head shot up. He stared at her through tear-filled, bloodshot eyes. “How do you—”

“He's here, Joe. In Shelter Valley. That's how I know about the killer. Your son found him. And he came here to find you.”

Where she'd half feared he would collapse, he sat up. Completely straight. “My son is here? In Shelter Valley? Looking for me.” His voice was stronger than she'd heard it in five years of visits. “That's right.”

He said nothing for so long Ellen thought she'd lost him to some inner world. Finally, he said, “Call the sheriff. I'll go with you.”

 

J
AY WAS AT THE HOUSE
packing his things when he heard a car out front. He'd told Ellen they could have sex again tonight.

She'd said she was going to call, too.

Their promises seemed so long ago. More than the eight hours that had passed since they'd seen or talked to each other.

She was wearing the same shorts and cotton top she'd had on that morning. The white ribbed shirt was marked with dust. There were smudges on her shorts. And on her face, too. She'd been crying.

“What happened?”

Surely if there was a God anywhere, Ellen hadn't been attacked again.

She wasn't like his mother. She wasn't going to spend her entire life suffering for the privilege of having been born.

“I… We need to talk.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“Sit down.”

“Not until you tell me what happened. Who did this to you?”

Blinking, she glanced at herself. “No one did anything to me. I've been— I had to help someone who hadn't had a shower in a really, really long time.”

Her expression was taut, her hands a little shaky, but her voice was firm.

Jay dropped onto the kitchen chair closest to him. Ellen pulled one over so that she faced him. She took his hand. He'd take it back in a second. As soon as he found out what was going on. One problem at a time.

“I acted on a hunch today, Jay. You're probably going to be pissed as hell, but I hope you'll find compassion in your heart…”

He'd never considered compassion a problem for him. Then a thought struck him.

“Does this have to do with Cole?” She'd said he was going to be pissed. As though she had interfered in his life somehow.

“No. At least…not directly. It has to do with Joe Frasier. That old guy I told you about who lives up on the mountain.”

What did a wacky hermit have to do with him?

Ellen played with the fingers of his hand. “When
you told me about the circumstances of your mother's death, I had a thought, a hunch really, but I wasn't sure what to do with it, or even sure if I should do anything at all.”

Jay listened, trying to connect her dots. She wasn't making it easy.

“I didn't think it was right to tell you, because I'd been told in confidence and trust was a huge issue.” She paused. “Joe's wife was raped and murdered, too. Just like those other women. He was the one who found her. He'd come home from work to find her naked and bleeding all over their living room floor.”

“Jesus!” Jay sat back, yet still clung to Ellen's hand.

“Yeah. He was so in love with her, so completely beaten by the sight of what had been done to her, the way she'd been brutalized, that he couldn't handle life. He packed up some things, took money that I now know came from an insurance settlement, shared with another relative of his wife, bought the plot of land by Rabbit Rock, and, other than his walking trips to town when he needed supplies, he never left the place again.”

Staring at Ellen, being sucked in by the caring in her gaze, Jay asked, “Did you ask him if something of hers was missing?”

Ellen swallowed. Nodded. And Jay stood so abruptly, the chair crashed to the ground behind him. His wrist hurt, a result of the rough disconnect from her hand. He didn't give a damn.

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Don't say it. Don't even say it,” he said, his breath coming in jerky spurts.

He'd been running a marathon his entire life. He couldn't slow down now.

“Your name's not really Jay.” The soft voice came from afar. Giving him innocuous information that didn't make sense.

“It's Joe, Jr. They called you Jay Jay for short.”

“No!”
The shout that echoed through his house was not his. It was violent and filled with pain and…loud. So loud it shook the chandelier.

Ellen didn't flinch. She didn't move.

“He was there, Jay. He found her. You were in your room, crying. He was in shock, crying, too, and afraid to touch you. He called Olivia. She came over immediately. She was the one who called the police. And she took you. A couple of days later, she told him that it was all his fault. That if he hadn't gotten Tammy pregnant, she would still be alive. If he'd had a job decent enough to take care of a wife and child, to move her to a safer neighborhood, she'd still be alive.”

“They weren't married.” He was cold as ice. And getting colder. Cold enough to rot in hell for the hatred coursing through him.

“I know. Not legally. But they'd had their own ceremony, just the two of them. She wrote their vows. And they wore matching rings around their necks. Their legal marriage was planned for three days after she was murdered.”

“He walked away from me.”

“Yep. He had no money, no idea how to care for a baby. He was nineteen, Jay. Olivia was thirty-eight. She had a good job. A nice home. She'd spent her twenties taking care of your mother. She adored her and she adored you. She told Joe that letting her have you was the best thing for you.”

“She told me he left before my mother was murdered.”

“I have no idea why she did that, except that she had to have someone to blame, someone to hate, and she turned on Joe. She told you his name was Billingsley, too. That was his middle name—his mother's maiden name. And it was your middle name. She must have dropped the Walton when she adopted you.”

“I wasn't adopted.”

“Joe says you were. The birth certificate that exists for you isn't the original. He was named on the original. Joe said your aunt wasn't very fond of men—particularly him. She tried repeatedly to get your mother away from him.”

“Their father beat them. Olivia took the brunt of it.” He was a robot. On automaton. Back in prison. Surviving.

Until he couldn't.

Ellen still sat where he'd left her. Jay had paced to the living room and back a number of times.

“He wants to meet you, Jay.”

“You told him about me.”

“Yeah.” Her gaze didn't waver. Not even a little bit.

“If he wanted to get to know me, he should have thought of that say, oh, about thirty-two years ago.”

“He knows that. But he thought you needed a mother's love more than anything else and that wasn't some thing he could give you. He loved you enough to give you a good life—a life he wouldn't have been financially or emotionally healthy enough to give you.”

Jay swore. Righted the chair he'd knocked over. Paced some more. “That's a cop-out.”

“Is it?” Ellen remained calm. Her voice almost
loving. “Are you copping out with Cole? Leaving him with the family that can give him the stability he needs?”

He swung around. “Damn you.” The words faded before they were fully out and Jay sank to the chair he'd vacated. He sat, then placed his head in the lap of the woman his mother had led him to help, and let the tears of twenty long years flow.