Mute (16 page)

Moni cupped the phone against her mouth with both
of her hands because one alone couldn’t hold it steady. Her wobbly legs dumped
her body onto the chair.

“There is no child,” she said weakly.

“Bullshit. I know a lot more than you think.”

“Have you been watching me?” A chill passed through
her body. Her father didn’t own a blue pickup truck like the one outside
Mariella’s school, but he could steal anything on wheels.

“You know I’d never violate my restraining order
against children,” he said, referring to the child abuser boundary laws. “But I
got a pal who keeps tabs on you. If you won’t show me some respect and keep me
dialed in on your life, I have other ways, believe me.”

“Another way named Darren, huh? I got his message.
So I guess he’s casing me out.” After seeing the note her ex had left outside
her house, she had figured as much.

“He told me you brought home this little Mexican
girl the other week. I put two and two together and figured that’s the girl the
TV showed you carrying from the murder scene. Jesus Moni, she’s not a puppy.
What are you doing?”

Moni never asked for a dog because she knew how her
father would treat it every time it so much as sniffed his prized football game
day recliner. He didn’t trust her with an animal, just like he didn’t trust her
with a child.

“This girl is scared and vulnerable,” Moni said.
“She doesn’t have another person on earth who’ll care for her. She needs me.”

“A single-parent household is no place for a child
like that.”

That’s funny because Moni had wished so many times
that her father would leave so her mother could raise her alone.

“I’m 32, dad. I’m ready for this. Mom was a lot
younger when she had me.”

“Yeah she was. I knocked her up in her dorm room,”
he said with a bullfrog chuckle. She winced at the thought of her parents doing
the nasty. She imagined that her dad didn’t even take off his football helmet
or shoulder pads. “Your mother could separate her work from her home life. You
can’t. If you’re gonna stop the asshole who ruined my lagoon, you can’t be
raising a child.”

“I told you! I can handle…”

“And from what I understand, this girl’s got
problems. Everybody knows she’s the survivor. It’s all over the damn TV. So
what you got is a crazy killer who knows this girl’s seen his face.”

“Thanks for reminding me. That’s why she needs
special protection. I’ve got…”

“What’ve you got? A gun and no guts to use it?
Shit, Moni. You’ve been on the force more than ten years. How many suckers have
you shot?”

She didn’t reply. They both knew the answer. It
didn’t bother Moni because it showed she used discretion—a word her father
wouldn’t recognize.

“There’s a target on that child’s back and, as long
as you got her, the target’s on you too. The lagoon man has a hunger and I
smelled it out there today. That girl belongs to his lagoon and he’s coming to
take her back. You can’t stop it, so you best get outta the way.”

Moni could hardly breathe. The only matters she
trusted her father’s judgment in were ones like these—understanding the
deranged. The killer inadvertently let Mariella get away once. He’d come again,
but this time, his manipulation of the lagoon and its creatures had grown
stronger. If two brothers trained and equipped for hunting couldn’t stop it,
what chance did Moni have?

But she had made a promise. If she couldn’t protect
Mariella, no one would.

“I’m not afraid of it,” she said in a somber tone.

“Uh-huh.”

Moni shook her fist. “I said I’m not afraid of that
motherfucker! Let him come. Let any gator or bird or whatever the hell he’s got
come. I’m ready for it.”

She wished she could see his face during his brief
pause. Moni hoped he looked shell-shocked. More than likely, he was displaying
that yellow-toothed condescending smile.

“You keep telling yourself that, kid. Keep telling
yourself… but don’t forget what I said. He ain’t gonna stop.”

He hung up. Moni already wished she could forget.

Chapter 14

Moni came for Mariella about a half hour before
school ended. She burned the time by driving in a slow circle around the
perimeter of the boxy brick classrooms and portables. She saw a few other
parents waiting for their little ones, but she didn’t spot any suspicious
characters or trucks with drivers using binoculars.

The moment Mariella saw Moni, the girl flew into
her arms with a big hung and buried her face into her shoulder. It counted as
the most gratifying experience of her life. She finally felt like a real
parent. On the flip side, that love came packaged with a ton of anxiety.

If Moni could believe Mrs. Mint, Mariella’s day had
been as calm as the detective’s had been chaotic. She completed her written
assignments perfectly and kept to herself. The Buckley boys teased her, but the
little Zen master didn’t pay them any mind. Her teacher said Mariella had been
mesmerized watching Snowflake, the class’s white mouse.

No wonder Mariella didn’t get along with Tropic the
cat, Moni thought.

Tropic brushed his red furry body against Moni’s
leg when she entered her house. Mariella hunched over and reached for the cat a
little too forcefully. Tropic scampered off and hid behind the wooden knee-high
statue of an elephant with a Zulu warrior shield across its back.

“Cowardly kitty! You need a magical elephant to
protect you from a little girl? Come on, Tropic.”

Mariella knelt down and waved Tropic over. Cocking
its head curiously, the cat didn’t lift a paw. The girl looked up at Moni and
shrugged.

“I know. Tropic is being silly.” She offered a hand
and helped Mariella up. “I bet he knows you’re friends with a mouse. Cats are
intuitive like that.”

She got over the rejection in a heartbeat. The girl
took her drawing papers and colored pencils out of her backpack and stood
before the sliding glass door that led to the patio deck out back. Moni
understood the unspoken message and let her out. Mariella sat on her knees in
her usual plastic yellow chair and laid out a clean piece of paper on the glass
table. She grabbed the purple pencil first. She didn’t color. She stared at it.

“Where have you seen purple like that before?” Moni
asked with a hint of nervousness as she thought of the tumors and glowing eyes.
For once, she felt relieved that Mariella wouldn’t answer her. “Maybe on a
pretty flower?”

Mariella drew a purple flower. The petals were
precisely even and symmetrical. She sketched a heart underneath it and handed
it to Moni.

“Ah, for me? Thank you!” She held the precious
paper up and made sure the girl saw her beaming approval. “I’ll hang it in the
kitchen with the others.”

Keeping
the girl on the patio in the corner of her eye, Moni took her backpack and went
into the house. When she pulled out a few other drawings that Mariella had made
at school, she came across the gator picture. She couldn’t help but notice it
because it didn’t look anything like the others. The lines around its scaly
body and stubby claws were rigid. It didn’t have cartoonish features like Mrs.
Mint had said. The gator had jagged teeth—meat rendering teeth.

Moni remembered the crime scene photo with the
divots of flesh torn out of Robbie Cooper’s arm. That creature had caught him
in a death grip and dragged him below water. She felt a little hand on her back
and jumped.

“Oh! Hi.” She patted Mariella on the shoulder.

The girl offered her another paper. This one had
writing: I am eight years old
.

“Very good, baby.” Moni placed the gator drawing
face down on the kitchen counter so she could avoid voicing her opinion on that
one. Mariella must not have noticed because she smiled proudly.

The doorbell rang and the girl dropped her smile.
She curled into her safety position right behind Moni’s leg and clung on for
dear life.

“It’s okay, child.” Moni patted her on the head as
she dislodged her foot from the floor and hauled the girl with her to the door.
“I’m expecting a friendly visitor today. You’ll like this guy.”

After making sure she saw those blond locks through
the side window, Moni swung open the door for Aaron and his teddy bear. The
surfing stud could have come in a T decked with tribal skulls and sharks. Moni
patted herself on the back for figuring that Aaron would know better. His beach
bum button-down shirt and jean shorts shouldn’t threaten Mariella at all. And
even better; he held a brown furry teddy in front of his face and gave it a
voice.

“Hi, little girl,” Aaron said in a voice that
sounded more like a chipmunk than a baby bear. “The fleas are getting me out
here. May I please come in?”

Mariella ducked behind Moni’s leg so the
cotton-stuffed intimidator wouldn’t spot her. Lowering the bear, Aaron
uncovered his deflated face. The novice didn’t know that he couldn’t win a
strange child’s heart in the first five seconds with a toy. Now candy—that
might have a shot.

Still, Moni saw a double meaning in his gesture of
bringing a present for the child, but nothing for the full-grown woman. Either
he viewed this as a strictly friendly meeting or he made it a point in showing
her that he would embrace having a kid around. Moni hadn’t made up her mind
which one of those she’d prefer.

“That pickup line so bombed. We’re not that easy,”
Moni told Aaron. “Don’t worry. I’ll still invite you in.” She backpedaled with
Mariella clinging against her leg. Aaron sauntered on in as if he had been in
her house a thousand times. He kept the teddy bear in hand and his black bag
slung over his shoulder. Mariella better calm down so he can do her checkup,
Moni thought.

“Okay, Mariella. This is my friend Aaron.”

She reached behind her and grabbed the child’s
hand, but she resisted a gentle tug toward the visitor. Mariella squirmed away
and scampered onto the couch. She sat with her legs shielding everything but
her dark hair and piercing brown eyes.

“I’m sorry. It just takes a while with new people,”
Moni said. Of course, there were some people Mariella never tolerated. She
might have been an innocent, all-trusting child before, but never again after
what happened to her parents.

“It’s cool. I guess I’m one creepy dude,” Aaron
said. “I knew I should have worn my Chuck E. Cheese cologne.” His eyes
brightened as Moni giggled. “Look, I’ll just leave the little princess this
teddy bear right on this couch. She can take teddy if she wants… Please don’t
leave him sad and alone.”

Aaron tossed the teddy bear on the opposite end of
the couch from Mariella. She stretched her leg out and curiously poked it with
her toes. The girl snapped her foot back as if the furry toy had been on fire.

“It’s just a toy, baby,” Moni said. “It won’t hurt
you. This man has only brought good things for you today.” At least, that’s
what she hoped.

Mariella didn’t budge. She curled her head into her
knees as if she were an armadillo balling up.

“It’s been a rough week, I know, I know,” Aaron
told the girl. “I remember when I was in elementary school like you and the
other kids thought I was a total scrub. I was all bird-chested and twig-limbed.
One time when they were making us do chin-ups on the big bar and I could barely
do one, this kid from a higher grade snuck behind and pantsed me. I’m talking
totally down to my ankles in front of the whole class.” Mariella stole a peek
at him from behind her knees. She couldn’t hide that smile. Moni couldn’t
believe the girl finally looked amused. “Aw man, they brought it up
every
day. That’s when I took up surfing. Out there, all you hear are the waves. They
might dump you on your butt sometimes, but they don’t mean anything personal by
it. Just remember to keep your bathing suit tied up tight. I’ve been pantsed by
a wave before too, but that was my fault.”

With a big grin curling along the corners of her
lips, Mariella snatched up his bear and cradled it in her lap. She finally
placed her feet on the floor. Moni gawked at Aaron as if he had just leapt over
the Great Wall of China.

With the girl at ease with him, Aaron studied all
the tribal African paintings and figurines on Moni’s walls and cabinets. Most
were of proud women traced in black chalk with slender yet strong bodies and
boisterous Afros. There were no men in any of the artwork besides the male
animals: the mighty lion head cast in fiery orange with black obsidian eyes,
the stoic giraffe being led by the robed tribal woman, a horse racing a woman
who has lightening streaking from her hair.

Moni knew her decorating practically screamed,
“This is a black woman’s house!” She didn’t do it for her light-skinned guests.
They would say a single drop of chocolate into a cup of white milk looks black.
No, Moni made sure her brothers and sisters didn’t confuse her complexion with
being light on soul.

“Wicked house, Moni,” said Aaron, who didn’t appear
at all concerned about her untamed warrior complex. Maybe he liked that kind of
thing.