Mute (6 page)

Sneed
pulled alongside the first responder’s patrol car in the driveway. Summoning a
deep breath into his barrel chest, he reached for the door. It felt like it
weighed a thousand pounds. When he took command of a crime scene, he usually
got an adrenaline rush like Bear Bryant leading the Crimson Tide onto the
football field. This time, the black swoon reminded Sneed of that God-forsaken
day; the day that he sped to the scene of an officer shooting and found his
brother sprawled out on the pavement in a pool of blood. It took three men to
stop him from shooting the nose ring off that punk-ass killer before they
hauled him in front of a judge.

Brushing
past the hysterical old man who owned the lagoon-side home, Sneed barged
through the metal gateway and into the backyard. The moment he saw the sopping
wet body, he knew. Kane had a tattoo on his left shoulder of his daughter’s name,
“Angie” and her birthday. It matched the tats on the decapitated corpse.

“Matt,”
Sneed muttered. Even if he was alive, his old buddy didn’t have ears left to
hear him. Sneed raked his hand over his eyes and nose and then balled a fist
over his mouth. He wished he could crack the jaw of the bastard who decapitated
his friend—a father, a beer-guzzling jokester, a man who had tamed the lagoon
like a rodeo champion.

Except,
it seemed something in the lagoon had bitten Kane back. He had teeth puncture
wounds on his right shoulder. Sneed had seen plenty of shark and gator bites,
but that wasn’t one of them. Those wounds were left by flat molars that had
barely pierced his skin.

“You’ve
lived ‘round these parts longer than I have, Harrison,” Sneed told the towering
officer who had arrived on the scene first. “What do you figure bit him?”

The
lug nut scratched his curly head, as if waking up his brain and telling it to
chip in. A former offensive lineman in small-time college ball, Clyde Harrison
usually got the job done with his bear-like strength. At least he did as he was
told, unlike some officers.

“Something
pretty damn big, sir,” Harrison finally responded. That must have taken all his
mental capacity. “I think his boat struck something mighty large too. I got a
call from the Coast Guard. It turns out they found a capsized boat in the
lagoon. The propeller was all bent and bloody.”

Knowing
that his detective buddy would wipe his tickets clean, Kane had plowed over
critters and kept on going many a day. One time, Sneed had been in the boat
with him when Kane ripped open the back of a manatee. That jackal laughed as he
sped away. Hell, Sneed had laughed right along with him. They had owned the
fucking lagoon.

Running
his eyes over the headless body of Kane splayed out on the grass at his feet,
Sneed sure knew otherwise now. Kane had struck an animal so big that it flipped
his boat over. That didn’t explain how he got bit on the shoulder or how he
lost his head to a surgically precise blow.

This
couldn’t have been a coincidence, Sneed realized. The four previous victims of
the head snatcher appeared random, but this time the killer took out the first
man who had arrived on the murder scene. Kane was the first person who found
the girl hiding in the mangroves. Did the killer know about her as well?

Sneed’s
windpipe seized up as the foul stench of his friend’s innards and bile wafted
through the salty air. Pressing his hand against his chest, he coaxed the air
out of his lungs.

“The
killer is hacking up anyone who could help us on this case,” Sneed told
Harrison.

“So
you’re saying…”

“The
girl.” Sneed nodded. “By now, the killer realizes she got away. Kane here
didn’t even see his face. This girl is the only one who has.”

“I’ll
guard her, sir. He won’t get by me.”

Sneed
gazed down at his friend’s body. Kane had been tough-as-nails. He told Sneed in
the briefing following the Gomez murders that he wouldn’t set out on the water
again without a shotgun hitching a ride with him. If the killer could bag a
skilled shooter like Kane, no one should feel safe.

Sneed
wondered what possessed him to place the most precious commodity they had in
the hands of an officer with a limp trigger finger and a fruit rollup for a
backbone. She couldn’t round up a rowdy middle-schooler.

“The
girl is in Moni’s care for now, like it or not,” Sneed said. Finally unable to
stomach looking at his friend’s mutilated body, he turned away and mashed his
palm into his sweaty forehead. “This is one good man who wouldn’t have died if
that girl had opened her mouth. If Moni doesn’t hurry the hell up, I
guaran-damn-tee you there’ll be more mornings like these.”

 
* * * *

A
couple of days ago, Moni couldn’t imagine she’d have an eight-year-old girl
sharing her home. After the hearing before the judge that morning made it
official—at least temporarily—her unforeseen dream came true.

Even
though she still couldn’t make her speak, Moni saw the sparks of life returning
to Mariella. She studied the children’s books she bought her on the way home
from the courthouse. Mariella copied the pictures and words almost exactly with
her colored pencils. The girl didn’t make another mistake in the bathroom,
although Moni couldn’t get her to fall asleep in her office. Mariella stayed
awake all night and hardly seemed tired.

The
girl appeared to be comfortable with Moni’s house, with the glaring exception
of Tropic the red-haired cat. While she shot him a distrustful stare, he dashed
under the bed at the first sight of the intruder.

Someone isn’t the baby of the house
anymore. Sorry, fiery fur ball.

The
officers who had swept Mariella’s former apartment gave her some of the girl’s
old dolls, but Moni decided the girl should do without those for now. Anything
associated with the life shattered a day ago could unleash the debilitating
memories inside the girl’s head. Moni didn’t think she could handle them yet.
Mariella should adjust to her new surroundings first.

A
few minutes after entering the unfamiliar house, Mariella headed for the
sliding glass door leading to the back porch. Moni had an elevated deck
overlooking a creek that fed into the Indian River Lagoon. Despite her ordeal
by the lagoon the day before, Mariella didn’t appear threatened by the creek.
She’s getting over this already, Moni thought.

Sitting
on her back porch under the mid-morning sun, Moni watched Mariella draw a long
gray boat on the water.

“Nice
boat,” Moni said. “Does it have a captain?”

Mariella
shot Moni an obliging glance. She drew a stick figure. It wasn’t in the boat,
though. It was under water. The girl had drawn a picture last night that looked
similar, except it had a manatee too.

“It
looks even better this time,” Moni said.

Mariella
nodded and reached for Moni’s hand, where she held a folded letter. Moni hadn’t
let go of it since pulling it off her front door.

“Oh
this? It’s nothing, baby,” Moni said. “If you want, I’ll get you some clean
paper to draw another pretty picture on. This one is a little dirty.”

Mariella
shook her head and made an opening motion with her hands. Ain’t it something
that the silent witness insists that the police officer doesn’t keep secrets,
Moni thought.

“Alright.
Alright,” Moni opened the letter.

Before
she even saw Darren’s handwriting, she knew he had left it. In this day of
e-mail and text messages, only he would pin thug mail to her door with a stick
of gum. It’s not that he didn’t use computers—his wannabe hip hop act made its
own ring tone—Darren made sure that Moni knew he wasn’t done showing up at her
door. Telling him, “Get the hell out of my life,” couldn’t chase him away after
seven years.

Moni
unfolded the letter halfway and read the first few lines. They sounded like the
deep growl of his voice inside her head:

You
made a big mistake ignoring me. You’re my girl. Next time I call, you answer
me.

This is my house. You better
give me the new key. Maybe I’ll find my own way in.

He
should have written her an apology after she caught him banging that ho doggy
style in the back seat of a purple Cadillac on her late night sweep a couple
months back. Darren had just assumed she’d forgive him, like she had the times
she’d caught him flirting around in clubs. But not that time. Not after she saw
him groaning uncontrollably as he yanked on the girl’s spiky hair while he laid
it to her.

Moni
crumpled up the letter, tossed it on her grill and lit it up. The paper
crackled in the fire. The words were burned away as if they never existed.

If
only she could banish the real Darren so easily. She loved his laugh and his
take-no-shit attitude. With arms of black steel and tribal tattoos, Darren made
sure no one messed with her, especially her father. With a deranged killer
lurking out there, Moni could use some extra muscle by her side. Too bad she
didn’t hit the weights more before volunteering as a foster parent.

She
rested her hand on Mariella’s shoulder as the girl stared at the gas flames
consuming the letter.

“Don’t
worry. That’s not what’s for lunch today,” Moni said. “I’m just sending
somebody up in smoke.”

The
girl nodded. Returning to her seat with an easy gait, she seemed happy that
Moni had burned the letter, even though she couldn’t have seen what had been on
it. When Moni’s cell phone rang with the
Dueling
Banjoes
tone for Sneed’s caller ID, they both frowned. Moni thought she had
the day off so she could make Mariella feel comfortable in her home and, Sneed
hoped, wring some information out of her. Surprise, surprise, the big man
didn’t trust her to make it to noon.

“Mariella
has been making some progress,” Moni said as she answered the phone. “Just a
few minutes ago she…”

“Can
it. You’re too late, girl,” Sneed said. “The killer has struck again—Matt Kane.
He was the guy who found the girl first. He left a wife and kids—a damn good
fella.”

Moni
pressed the phone against her thigh so Sneed wouldn’t hear her whimper. She
went black for a second, as if she were taking a plunge inside a powerless
elevator. A man had died because of her. She sat on her porch nurturing this
girl instead of using her to thwart another murder. The so-called sworn officer
had failed to protect him.

Her
father’s words echoed:
“You been fucking
up my whole life, you little whore! All you do is screw up!”

Placing
the phone back against her ear, Moni heard Sneed breathing with measured
intensity. Instead of asking where she had been the whole time, he had waited
her out.

“That’s
horrible. I’ll be there right away, sir.” Moni stopped herself. She couldn’t
take Mariella to another murder scene. “I’ll see you in the office and review
the evidence. Were there any witnesses?”

“Witnesses?”
Sneed huffed. “We only got one of those and you know all about that.” He let
that dagger sink in. “The problem is; I reckon our killer does too. If he knew
Kane had visited the murder scene, I bet he’s caught on that she survived.”

“He
knows!” Moni gasped. Mariella gazed at her in bewilderment. She rubbed her hand
against the girl’s cheek in a soothing gesture, but Moni’s palm trembled so
much that it had the opposite effect. Mariella slumped in her seat, crossed her
arms and raised her knees in a cocoon around her tender body. Those scrawny
limbs wouldn’t protect her. The monster had devoured her parents. It wouldn’t
overlook the succulent young one. It would pluck off her head as easy as
pulling a grape from a vine. It would slurp out her lungs, her liver and her
kidneys. The little girl would become another hollow corpse with the bloody
water lapping over her pale flesh.

As
a young girl, Moni had run and hid in her bedroom closet when she heard her
mother screaming. She had cowered in the corner at the sound of her father’s
earth-shattering stomps and prayed she wouldn’t be next. Too often, she was.
Moni wouldn’t let Mariella’s turn come. Taming her nerves so her hand held
steady, she stroked her palm through Mariella’s silky hair. Like a turtle
slowly poking its head out from its shell, the girl unfolded her body and sat
straight in her chair.

“I
know you didn’t sign up for this,” Sneed said. “Why don’t I assign her to
protective custody? Harrison can guard her. That man could stop a bear.”

She
had seen Harrison take down violent drunks like bowling pins, so she didn’t
doubt it. He’d follow Sneed’s orders, but he didn’t care about Mariella. He’d
ask her uncomfortable questions about the murders and press her too hard, Moni
thought. The girl could only blossom in Moni’s care.

“No
thanks,” Moni told Sneed as she offered the child an assuring grin. “She’ll do
just fine with me.”

“Yeah,
I hope you’re right,” said Sneed. Biting her lower lip, Moni could feel that he
hoped she was wrong. Sneed was itching to break the girl down under the hot
lights of an interrogation chamber. “I’ll see you at the station after I clean
up here. Bring your tampons, cause it’s gonna be a long day.”

Ignoring
Sneed’s boorish advice, Moni packed an extra set of new clothes for Mariella
into her new backpack and tossed in an extra notebook. The girl followed her
warily to her car. Mariella took slow, gaping steps as if she were approaching
the ledge of a cliff. Taking her hand firmly, Moni led her along. Mariella
wouldn’t sit in the back seat, so Moni put her beside her in the front. Every
time she got in a car since the event Moni had been by her side.