All Good Deeds (29 page)

The coroner and a man I presumed was her assistant brought out the bodies one by one. The smaller one came first, tightly sealed in a shapeless, black body bag.

Chris walked back to the car.

I started to cry.

Surely this was a dream. I was still in bed, never having brought Chris to see Kelly, my twisted mind only making up the details of the house and its owner. If it weren’t for the anguish coursing through me at the smallest movement, I might have actually convinced myself.

Later, when I was in a weird haze, weaving like a drunk, Todd appeared in front of me.

“What?” Chris had evidently returned at some point. My shoulders felt weighed down. I realized Chris’s black jacket was slung over them.

“Two bodies,” Todd said. “One is definitely an adult, but it’s so damned burned up the coroner can’t tell gender. Fire inspector says it looks like the accelerant was dumped straight onto the body. And no, without an autopsy, we don’t know if the victim was alive or dead when the body caught fire. We’ll have to wait on dental records for an I.D.”

“What about the child?” The words came out of my own mouth, but I couldn’t feel myself speaking. I wasn’t sure I could feel anything. The only real sense I had was sight, vivid and unrelenting. The house still smoking, its foundation littered with red embers; firemen hustling about, water still spraying; police lights flashing; Todd’s drawn, broken expression.

“The child isn’t as badly burned. Believed to be a female between nine and twelve. Brown hair. Pink shoes.”

Pink shoes
.

I felt more wetness on my lips. Chris’s arm came around my shoulders. Todd cleared his throat, his own eyes glistening. “Lots of little girls have pink shoes.”

He sounded as empty as I felt.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it? A child lost her life.” I went back to the car and waited for Chris.

“D
o you think
she killed herself too?” Chris finally spoke when we were halfway back to the city.

Sitting with my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the dark night rush by, I thought of nothing else but the smell of that little girl’s–Kailey’s–burning body.

“No.”

“Me either.”

My mind was too trashed to reconstruct what Mother Mary had done, but no way had that woman killed herself. She’d managed to escape punishment for her crimes once and had been living an unsuspecting life. Justin had never truly stood up to her–she had no reason to believe he’d have any impact now. And if the accelerant had been dumped on the adult body like the fire inspector believed, the person either magically stumbled into a vat of gasoline or had it thrown on the body. My gut told me Mary had done the throwing, lit the match, and then took off.

“You heard what Todd said about there being a man around here, working.”

“A new man at her beck and call. She had a kid stashed here. But why burn the place now? How could she possibly know we were getting close?”

Hell if I knew
. “She took a child. Her stepson was on the case. Maybe she thinks Justin would eventually put Todd on her. Or maybe she figured the damage for Justin was done and decided to get rid of the evidence. Or maybe she’s just a cruel, paranoid bitch.”

“We’ll get her, Luce. If I have to spend every dime I have tracking her down, I’ll find her.”

“Oh shut up,” I said savagely. “Stop thinking about your own personal revenge and appreciate what’s happened here. A child is dead. Burned like a piece of fucking meat. A mother’s life is ruined.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because all I hear is ‘I.’ All about how you’ll even your own score. Do you ever think that maybe the woman should be brought up on charges? That maybe killing’s too good for her?” I was screaming, the sound high and guttural, coming from some dark place inside me I’d kept it bottled. Now, it unleashed on Chris. “What about the victims’ families? The ones who think your mother’s innocent of killing their daughters? Don’t you think they should have the right to see her sentenced? What about Jenna? Doesn’t she have the right to confront Mother Mary face-to-face? Look what she’s done to her.”

“You’re kidding, right?” His snort of laughter made me want to wrap my hands around his throat. “Do you know what a hypocrite you are?”

“No. The men I’ve targeted were all pedophiles who somehow charmed the system. Given third, fourth, fifth chances. Released on mistrial.” I spit the words at him like snake venom. “But every kid–every family–got the right to face their accuser. My actions were never based on personal needs.”

“Bullshit. Everything you’ve done is based on personal need.” His voice sounded as angry as I felt. “On personal failures. You feel guilty for not being able to help your sister. Convinced yourself that once you’d grown up, you’d save the children.” He took his eyes off the road to smirk at me.
Pompous sonofabitch
. “Only you get inside the system and see how things really work. It eats at you, gnawing at your guilt and your pride until you’re ready to explode. Then Justin gets out and you snap. Not for the children, but for yourself. To alleviate your own sense of hopelessness.”

I hated him. Exhaustion and a tight seatbelt kept me from launching myself and pummeling his perfect face. “You know nothing about my choices. You’re an outsider, an arrogant, rich boy know-it-all, one of the saved kids who tried to tell himself he understood what the others had gone through, but the truth is, you don’t have a damned clue.” Spurned by hot self-righteousness, I twisted in my seat until I fully faced him and jammed my finger into his shoulder. “You got out. You don’t have the memories of Mother Mary that Justin has. Giving you to your uncle was the kindest thing she ever did.”

Chris’s jaw clenched so tightly I half-expected his teeth to break and go flying into the dashboard. The wheel jerked to the side and the car careened off the pavement. Chris snapped it back onto the road.

“You may be right. But you’re just as self-centered as I am, and you know it.”

Something untamed boiled inside me–a rage I recognized. It was the same anger I summoned to attack chosen predators. The first time I felt it was when my sister’s molester showed up at our house and tried to put the moves on me while my mother went to the store. He reached for me, his slimy hand on my knee, and my sister’s voice screamed in my head. My baseball bat was in the corner; I’d been practicing with the neighbor kid earlier. Without thinking, I jumped up, grabbed the bat, and swung it as hard as I could.

The long-simmering rage erupted, and had my mother not returned home, I’d have killed him. I glanced at the bag at my feet. The cyanide was in its container. Chris concentrated on the road, weaving through thick Philadelphia traffic. Rain had started sheeting down a while back. I could open the container and throw it on him before he could stop me. He might wreck us, but what did that matter? If I died, so what? I’d failed Kailey, just like my sister and Justin.

But Chris hadn’t hurt anyone. He hadn’t done anything but point out the horribly painful truth I’d been trying to suppress.

It was still raining when he pulled up to my building. I’d brooded in silence for the last half an hour, and I wasn’t ready to tell him he was right or admit defeat.

“What about Kailey?” I asked. “Do you care at all that she’s probably gone? Or are you a sociopath after all?”

He didn’t respond.

I got out of the car, slammed the door, and let the icy rain drench me.

I
didn’t have
any more alcohol in the house. It was hard on my stomach, and I don’t have the willpower not to enjoy a glass of wine if it’s available. Wretchedness kept me from venturing into the rain and buying a bottle from the nearest convenience store.

My sister had an open coffin. It was pink, lined with even pinker silk. My mother put Lily in a white dress she’d always hated. The long sleeves covered up the gashes on her wrists. The condition of her body terrified me. Not only was she stiff and cold, but her skin looked even more delicate and smooth than it had in life. Her cheeks were rosier than usual, her unfeeling lips curved up in a peaceful smile.

A lie. She’d died in a horrible way, and here she was, looking happy to be dead. The funeral director had suggested a closed casket since seeing children can be especially hard, but my mother insisted mourners got to say goodbye. I’d always believed she wanted to have as much attention as possible.

For years, I’d asked myself why Lily believed death was better than life. Why hadn’t she run away? Tried to tell an adult at school? Yelled until someone heard her? It was only as I got older and realized how truly traumatic sexual abuse was that I understood. Yet she must have had second thoughts in those final moments. As the blood drained from her body, had she panicked before losing consciousness? It didn’t look like she’d tried to stop the bleeding when I found her, with her arms spread evenly at her sides. But surely, she’d had at least a moment when she knew she’d made the wrong decision. Had she at least stopped to think about everything she was leaving behind? About who she left.

She’d left me alone with our mother.

I hated her for a long time.

That’s really the crux of my guilt. Chris didn’t suddenly open my eyes. I’ve wrestled with that knowledge for most of my adult life.

Chris had been right on the guilt factor, and that infuriated me. But my shame went deeper than not being able to save my sister or anyone else. I blamed her. Despite seeing her pain and watching her withdraw into herself, I blamed her for not doing what I thought she should have. I believed I would have handled things differently. I told myself I’d never have allowed him to touch me, and that if he did, it would have only happened once. Lily was scared and weak, and she took the easy way out, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

I remember the exact moment I realized how selfish I’d been.

My freshman year in college, I took a child psychology class and read an account of child abuse, both from the victim and the therapist. I finally understood the true impact of sexual abuse, the way it can mentally stunt a child’s ability to gain perspective over events in life and his or her decisions. My sister didn’t have a prayer.

I didn’t sleep for two days. Then I went to church–the first and only time in years–and prayed to Lily for forgiveness. I don’t know if she granted it, but I know I’ve never forgiven myself. Everything that happened after that realization was just more acid in the wound.

A stream of images assaulted me. Lily, before the devil showed up, and then after. My mother, resolutely looking the other way. Lily in her pink and white coffin.

Kailey’s casket would be closed.

The blinking of my phone jarred me back to the present. I’d forgotten to take it off vibrate, and the blue flash made my head hurt. Kelly’s number flashed on the screen.

“Hey,” was the best greeting I could muster.

“Chris called me. He was worried about you.”

I didn’t voice my surprise or acknowledge the warm sensation creeping through me. “I’m okay.”

“It might not be her, Luce.”

“Even if it isn’t, it’s still somebody.”

“Chris said Todd wasn’t giving up.”

“Did he tell you Todd also had to inform Jenna Richardson?” I asked. “Because he had to ask for Kailey’s dental records?”

“Yeah. But maybe…”

“Right,” I repeated.

“Do you want me to come over?”

Kelly hated going outside, especially at night. The knowledge that she cared enough for me to do it finally broke the last of my reserve. I burst into tears.

“I’ll take the bus and be there as soon as I can.”

“No,” I managed to choke out. “It’s raining, it’s late. I won’t let you put yourself through that.”

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m not the one who’s lost my child,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Come over in the morning and hang out with me,” Kelly said. “We’ll eat something really fattening and watch movies. You can pretend to forget about all of this, at least for a few hours.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I wrestled my tears under control. “Thanks for offering to come over here. That means a lot.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, before I forget, I have a bit of good news. Well, it’s not good, but it’s better than what’s going on.”

“What’s that?”

“Slimy Steve got himself busted at work.”

“The electronics scam?”

“I wish. He got caught spying on the girls’ locker room at the gym where he works. Apparently he’d found a way to peek at the youth swim team girls.”

“Was he arrested?”

“Nope. Gym declined to press charges, but hopefully one of the parents will get their head out of their asses.”

Sudden, unrelenting exhaustion cascaded over me. “I suppose we’ll call that a positive for the day. Thanks for telling me.”

“Get some rest,” Kelly said.

“I promise to try.”

Zombie-like, I stumbled to the bedroom, threw my smoke-laden clothes in the hamper, and collapsed on the bed.

At precisely 2:22 a.m.,
my eyes flew open. Through a confused tangle of thoughts I wondered, for a brief moment, if I’d been out drinking and the events of the last twelve hours were no more than a hangover induced nightmare.

I’d been dreaming about Slimy Steve swaggering through Chetter’s this summer, wearing a too-tight shirt meant to show off his toned body. The shirt bore the name of a gym. He’d bragged to the bartender about his job allowing him to see hot women sweat.

I’d left my phone in the living room. Half-naked and shaking, I managed to cross the dark apartment without falling.

“Lucy?” Kelly’s groggy tone was laced with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Slimy Steve’s gym,” I rattled. “What’s the name of it?”

“Philly Fitness. Why?”

“Jenna Richardson had a member’s sweatshirt. I saw it when Chris and I were there the other night.”

I
’d like to
say everything happened very quickly after that, just like in the movies. But instead of a radiant burst of light, the realization was more like a hazy forty-watt bulb hanging in a dingy basement. Motionless, wearing nothing but my underwear and still smelling vaguely of smoke, I stared into the emptiness of my apartment. I tried to tell myself this was all painful coincidence, that Occam’s razor was full of shit, but even as I tried to push the idea away, every fiber of intuition I had left screamed for attention.