The Light at the End of the Tunnel (15 page)

****

Cassandra, sitting in the swing, the one
thing that still worked on the swing set, had heard the sound of a
vehicle that maybe stopped out front. Then she heard the engine
stop. She stiffened her legs on the ground. Her body, from her
mouth to her stomach, stiffened also. She held her doll a little
tighter, and waited, hoping it wasn’t somebody from Family Services
again. She wished those people would just leave her alone. She
wasn’t exactly happy at this home but she wasn’t unhappy, either.
At least there were no other children…no, boys…

She heard two doors close. That seemed
strange. Usually Family Services sent just one person, so maybe it
wasn’t Family Services. Two people appeared on the sidewalk, a
woman and a man. The woman saw her and stopped the man.

The woman was young, and pretty, and a little
shorter than the man, who, with white hair must be a lot older. The
woman smiled. That was different. Usually the people who bothered
her did not smile, at least didn’t smile honestly. Cassandra, in
her short life of nine years, had seen dozens, hundreds, of fake
smiles, but the smile on this woman’s face seemed…real.

She swallowed. Her fists tightened. She
tightened her heels on the ground.

The two started toward her. Cassandra
stiffened even more, and held her doll even tighter. Even with what
appeared to be a real smile she wasn’t ready to just trust some
strange woman.

“Hi,” the woman called, then shaded her eyes
from the sun, “What’s your name, honey?”

‘
Honey?’
Nobody had ever called her
anything but
‘Cassandra.’
If they were from Family Services
they would know her name, so, they
weren’t
from Family
Services. She wondered if she should answer.

The woman touched the man’s arm and he
stopped, then the woman came closer, and knelt down, “I’m sorry,
honey,” the woman said, “I shouldn’t just ask you your name without
first telling you mine.” She kept smiling. Cassandra liked her
smile, and liked her eyes, dark blue eyes like her own...
she’s
so pretty…and nice
. She began feeling something in her chest…an
emptiness, like when the Family Services people kept taking her
away from somewhere, just as she was beginning to kind of like it
there…but this feeling was different, like something maybe was
going to break in her chest—“My name is Nicole,” the pretty lady
said.

Without even thinking further, “I’m
Cassandra.”

Nicole increased her smile, “That’s a very
pretty name, Cassandra, and I’m glad to meet you.” She held out her
hand.

Cassandra stared at that hand. Nobody had
ever wanted to shake her hand. Again, without even thinking, she
took that hand, and felt the warmth, and held on.

“May I ask you some questions,
Cassandra?”

She trusted this woman. She couldn’t help it,
and couldn’t realize that her heart
so
wanted to
trust
somebody. Again, without even thinking about it,
“Yes.”

****

The girl had light brown hair and wore a very
plain yellow dress. She had stayed sober watching them walk toward
her, but didn’t show any alarm. If any emotion showed on her face
it seemed to be one of, well, very sober, and not trust for sure,
but not distrust, either.

At mention of the word
‘honey’
from
Nicole, a very quick smile had fleeted across the girl’s face. From
about ten feet away, where Nicole had touched his arm and stopped
him, the chaplain could see a scattering of very faint freckles
around the girl’s nose and spreading into her cheeks.

When Nicole knelt down fairly close the
girl’s eyes seemed to double in size and again that quick smile
fleeted. The girl remained sober but he could see that trust of
Nicole was growing by leaps and bounds. Strange, Nicole had
affected him that same way, and just as quickly. For maybe three
seconds a thought of the three of them together crossed his mind
but he
dismissed
it just as quickly.

After Nicole introduced herself, which, even
from the distance he heard quite plainly, he also noticed that
little Cassandra held onto Nicole’s hand.
Yes. Trust
. The
girl likely had not experienced much of that, and again the three
of them together slipped through his mind, not so easily dismissed
the second time.

“First,” Nicole said, “Are your parents
home?”

“They aren’t my parents.”

A straightforward answer. The girl’s face
changed slightly. Maybe some of the trust dissipated, as it
appeared the girl had tried to withdraw her hand, but Nicole held
on. He hoped Nicole could bring that trust back as quickly.

“So you mean you just stay with them?”

“Yes. And they’re not home. The man works
nights, and he always eats somewhere else for breakfast, and the
woman just went to the post office. They both should be back
soon.”

Just the
‘man’
and the
‘woman.’
Not a lot of love lost there. The girl’s face now said she maybe
wondered whose side she should be on…her foster parents or
Nicole’s. Probably the same kind of decision the girl had been
dealing with for a long time. Again the thought of the three of
them—but he
stopped
that thought, and shook his head.

“We wanted to ask you, Cassandra, about
something that happened to you a couple years ago.”

Almost imperceptively the girl moved back.
Again she appeared to try to withdraw her hand, but again Nicole
held on. Two years obviously meant something to her. The girl then
looked toward the chaplain, with not nearly the amount of
friendliness on her face as for Nicole. Surely the men in the
girl’s life had never been too good for her.

“Who’s that?” With her other hand the girl
pointed at the chaplain, and her doll nearly fell, but like a flash
she grabbed it and again held it tight against her front.

“That’s Radford, my traveling companion.”

“You’re not married to him?”

“He’s a chaplain, Cassandra,” Nicole said, as
if being a chaplain should help make the girl trust him, and maybe
it did help as the girl’s face returned to just sober again, rather
than unfriendliness.

The chaplain decided to take advantage of the
momentary quasi-trust and stepped forward, smiled, squatted, and
extended his hand, “Hi, Cassandra, I’m glad to meet you too.”

Surprise covered the girl’s face. Nicole
released her hand, then Cassandra did take the chaplain’s hand, but
only for a second, “Hi,” then her attention—and her hand—went right
back to Nicole, “So what’s your question?” she asked, and referred
to Nicole.

“All right, Cassandra—“ Nicole began.

“You can call me
‘Cassie.’
” That very
quick smile came again, and went again.

“All right, thank you, Cassie.” If Nicole’s
smile could get brighter and warmer, it did, and rapport between
the two appeared to be guaranteed. “What about your doll? I bet
you’ve given her a name.”

“It’s Rachel Ray.” The girl’s smile remained
a second or two longer.

“Oh, like that nice lady chef on TV.”

“Yes, I really like to watch her show.” This
time the girl’s smile lit up the yard. She even appeared to relax a
bit. The question they wanted answered, though, required not
exactly a smile, except Nicole didn’t ask the question he was
hoping for.

“Do you like the people you’re living with,
Cassie?”

“I don’t know.” The girl looked down, for
about two seconds, “I guess….”

“But you aren’t sure…?”

Come on, Nicole, the foster parents could
get back any second!
But he knew she was laying groundwork for
the future. He also knew they probably didn’t have a lot of excess
time.

“Do you like the woman, Cassie?”

“She—“ Cassie fidgeted, “She’s, okay, I
guess.”

“How about the man?”

“I don’t know.” Again Cassie looked down, and
then away, “He—he kind of scares me sometimes.” Cassie brought her
full attention back to Nicole. The expression on her face with no
doubt said she saw Nicole as her savior—again the thought—he
STOPPED
it!

“How does he scare you, Cassie?”

“It’s just how he looks at me sometimes, and
sometimes he acts like he wants to tuck me into bed. It—I, it, it’s
creepy…sometimes.”

Obviously the man had done nothing, yet, but
the young girl was sensing that he
wanted
to, and the
chaplain was pretty sure that she was sensing correctly…but until
the man actually
did
something there would be no help for
Cassie. He wished he could pick her up and carry her away to
safety—then caught his thoughts again and dismissed them yet again!
Forcefully!

“Two years ago, Cassie,” Nicole said,
thankfully returning to the subject at hand, “You lived with a
family who had four boys and two other girls—“

The girl let out a breath, then took it back
in. Nicole had definitely touched a nerve.

“The boys, at that time, were ten, and
twelve—“ The girl drew in to herself at mention of the
twelve-year-old, and appeared to try harder to withdraw her hand,
but Nicole hung right on. He hoped Nicole had seen the girl’s
reaction as well, and Nicole glanced at him, her eyes saying she
had, “and two other boys, seven and six, and the girls were—“

“That boy reaped me.” Again the long
‘e’
sound.

“Which one, Cassie?”

“The big one—“

“What’s going on here?”

Cassandra jerked her hand free and instantly
was out of the swing and running for the house. Nicole and the
chaplain stood to face two arrived people.

****

“I repeat,” the newly-arrived woman said,
“What’s going on and who are you people?”

The chaplain stepped forward and held out his
hand, “I’m Radford Ohare, and this is my partner, Nicole Waters.
We’re both private detectives.”

The mere mention of officialdom brought a
surprised look from the woman, about forty and dressed in slack
morning clothes, a stained sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants. At one
time the sweatpants likely were white. The woman glanced at the man
beside her with more a look of disgust, which changed to a
dishonest look of approval when she brought her attention back to
Nicole, “Goodness, what brings the law to our charming little house
here in Marble Falls?”

“We aren’t the law,” Nicole condescendingly
clarified, very obviously not liking the woman, which the chaplain
would very definitely bring to Nicole’s attention.

The look on the man’s face was a little
different. Pretty obvious he was guilty, of
something
. He
was unshaven, not bearded but unshaven, the look that some women
seemed to love to identify the
bad
in boys, to
find
their bad boys. He suspected this woman had picked the man for that
exact reason, because he
was
bad, but now that she had him
she probably wished he would change a bit. But they never did. They
would always be
bad
in that way that women perceive as sexy,
but likely wished the men wouldn’t exude the same sexiness to other
women.

“I’ll check on Cassandra,” the man said, then
threw a lewd glance at Nicole before he left.

Nicole looked after him, probably wishing
that she also could pick Cassandra up and take her away to
somewhere safe.

“So,” the woman said, also watching as her
man disappeared, “What can we do for our two partners in
crime?”

The chaplain, knowing that in this case he
maybe would be the best for further communication, stepped forward,
“We’ve been hired by the original parents—“

“Of Cassandra?” A look of, what?—Fear of
losing the foster money? Probably—took over the woman’s face. “They
told us both her parents died, and there were no close
relatives!”

“No, not of Cassandra. It’s a boy that she at
one time lived in the same household with up in Nebraska. We’re
trying to find the boy.”

“The boy that raped her?”

“Well, we think the boy she accused didn’t do
the actual rape, as, according to our information, Cassandra just
pointed. She didn’t actually name him.”

“It doesn’t matter. She got raped, and now,
thank God, she’s in a safe home.

Through peripheral vision the chaplain saw
Nicole not only lose a breath, but cringe. Neither thought this
particular foster home was probably the best in the world, but also
there was nothing to suggest it wasn’t, either.

“So may we speak to her?” Nicole asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll ask her, but if she
doesn’t want to….”

“We’ll understand.”

****

They finally were invited into the
house—which was clean, enough—and then to Cassandra’s room—where
the unshaven man quickly departed from the doorway, after giving
Nicole another lewd look. The girl’s demeanor had changed,
drastically. She was seated at a card table that held both lined
and plain notepaper, color crayons, markers, and other items that
most young children enjoyed using. Other than the card table and a
bed with a little night stand and lamp the room was bare. It did
have carpeting, though, and a window that faced the swingset.

“These people want to ask you some questions,
Cassie,” the woman announced.

Bent over and drawing, Cassandra did not look
up, and barely mouthed, “Okay.” The rapport, begun so in earnest
earlier, appeared to be gone.

“May we speak to her in private?” the
chaplain asked.

“I suppose.” The woman gave a huff, then
left.

Nicole approached, and reached out, likely
intending to touch Cassandra’s shoulder. But the girl pulled away,
stopping her.

“Cassie—“

The young girl looked up and scowled, “My
name’s Cassandra!”

Yes, the rapport was absolutely gone.

“All right, sorry, Cassandra. You started to
tell me—“

“I
did
tell you—the biggest boy reaped
me!” Her mouth set, she turned back to her drawing. “The other big
boy would’ve too—he wanted to do the littlest girl!—but the parents
came home!”