Chasing Amanda (24 page)

“And all this time I thought that he was just some old guy that never made anything of himself. Now I feel badly,” Molly said, always amazed at the font of information that was Newton Carr.

“Well, he wasn’t the brightest tool in the shed, that’s for sure, but he was dependable. Yes, ma’am, the mining company was really unhappy when he left. He worked for them for over twenty years. Had a big party for him, in fact, right in the field across from the gravel lot, behind that cornfield.” He pointed to a field on a hill behind the church.

They walked silently through the graveyard, and Molly realized that Newton knew far more than just the history of Boyds.

“You know about the quarry, right, Molly?” Newton asked, clearly changing the subject.

Molly was oddly relieved. “Well, I know there was a community battle to keep it out of Boyds, and that it ended when a local resident bought the property.”

The simplification of the story brought a smirk to Newton’s face. He asked Molly if she’d like to walk with him through the cemetery, where he was headed to check on the upkeep of the graves. She anxiously agreed. “That property there,” Newton pointed toward the fields, and then in the direction of the railroad tracks. “The mining company that was trying to put the quarry in? They used to own all this land. The tunnels were over there,” he pointed, again, to the fields. “Until, uh, Martin Chambers scooped it up.”

“Tunnels?”

“Well, there’s debate about if the tunnels ever really existed at all. Rumor has it they dug tunnels clear through Boyds as a means of trucking their gravel without causing problems on the roads. The roads, they were the big issue back then. I suppose they thought that if they alleviated that worry, then the residents wouldn’t mind them being here. Anyway, they owned seventeen or eighteen hundred acres. Come to think of it, I believe there’s an old abandoned mine shaft in the Black Hill Park area, too. That area used to be called Gold Mine Farm back when the Wicks owned it.”

“Chambers bought all eighteen hundred acres?” she asked.

“Yup, sure did. He put about eight hundred acres into conservation land right away—the Hoyles Mill Conservation Park and Trail? We have him to thank for that. He really saved Boyds, if you ask me. Yup, we’re mighty fortunate that someone like him would come to our little town and be willing to tie up so much capital to preserve the area.”

They walked along in silence, Newton bent down to pick up bits and pieces of debris along the way. They came upon a small grouping of graves. Newton pulled a few weeds and straightened flowers that had been left on the graves. He crouched over a pink headstone, which was unreadable, cracked, and weathered. He looked sad.

“This here is Colonel James A. Boyds’s grave. He was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, December 22, 1823. Died here in Boyds, December 21, 1886.”

Molly crouched down next to Newton and dragged her fingers across the gravestone’s dips and valleys. It was easy for Molly to envision Newton as a younger man, just back from his stint with the army, and wondering how else he might serve his country, his home town

He led Molly up a hill to another group of headstones and stooped by the grave of a child. He ran his hand over the headstone. The sun beat down on them. In the distance, a soft drone of cars from the nearby roads hummed. The headstone bore no name, only dates: 1979-1979.

He tilted his head toward Molly. “There’s no baby here, just a headstone, in memory of a dear friend of mine’s child. Didn’t live more than a few minutes.”

“I’m sorry, Newton.” Molly touched his shoulder, thinking of Amanda’s funeral, which she’d watched from her car across the street—the way Amanda’s mother’s shoulders had hunched and shaken from her sobs, Amanda’s little brother’s spindly arm hanging onto his mother’s dress, thumb in his mouth, and the tiny coffin, perched and ready to be lowered into the ground forever.

Newton turned, and Molly followed him further up the hill to the rear of the cemetery where the grave of Cathy Mall overflowed with photographs, trinkets, flowers, and stuffed animals. A metal frame cradled an eight-by-ten photo of Cathy, standing in that very spot, with her arms reaching toward the sun, or was she reaching for heaven? Newton told Molly that Cathy had been the founder of the preschool, and that when she was told her breast cancer was malignant, she had chosen that particular grave so she could watch over the children. He explained how Cathy had asked that her insurance money be used to build the playground behind Kerr Hall, a church-owned building that was built just behind the church. Molly wondered if children still played at the simple playground with the massive Adventure Park just five minutes away.

Molly’s heart ached for Cathy, wondering if Cathy somehow knew that Kate Plummer had disappeared from the very playground where her dreams for children had come true. The sadness closed in on Molly’s heart, creating a pressure in her chest. She closed her eyes, willing it away, and just as she realized it was not sadness, but the Knowing, she was met by a slow montage of images and smells:
A lanky, dark-haired girl, wearing a flowing dress, walking into the cornfield, the stalks split before her, as if she had followed someone. Then she was gone. The powdery fresh smell of her lingered like smoke from a fire.
Molly stared straight ahead, the images still playing before her eyes
—children, oblivious to the girl’s disappearance, playing, smiling. Adults gathered in a group, talking, completely unaware.
Molly had an urge to scream, to run toward the image she’d seen, and warn her,
No! Don’t go!
But she was rooted to the grassy hill, an onlooker to a past tragedy.

Tracey clutched the new clothes to her chest, her heart beat excitedly. She ran over and gave Mummy a big hug. “I love them!” she exclaimed. “Did you get yourself anything, Mummy?”

“Yup,” Mummy said, and she reached deep into her pockets, then splayed her hand out for Tracey to see.

“What are those for?” she asked, wondering why Mummy thought quarters were a fun gift.

“They’re for our other worship chamber—our deep chamber. We leave them as gifts, and God grants our wishes.” She put them in a pile on the makeshift shelf.

“Deep chamber?” Tracey asked, envisioning the bad spot and growing increasingly anxious.

“The one where my mummy is.” Mummy sat down on a log and reached for Tracey’s hand. “We’ll go there soon,” she said.

Tracey touched her necklace, the best gift of all. The charm rested comfortingly between her two collar bones. She ran her fingers over the chain and smiled. Mummy had told her that she had been such a brave girl, staying in their sleeping place all by herself, that she deserved it. She was going to be good, she’d decided. She would make Mummy proud of her.

“Well, sometimes little girls get sick, and they don’t know it. Sometimes they don’t know until they are too sick and ready to die.” She looked right into Tracey’s eyes and squeezed her hand.

“Why, Mummy? Why does that happen?” Tracey asked in a quivering voice, sure Mummy had been referring to her.

“I don’t know—no one knows—but that’s why we have to keep you away from all of the toxins that are out there. We never know just what will make you sick.” She patted Tracey’s hand with her free hand. Tracey leaned her body against Mummy, scared.

“Okay,” she said, relieved, and silently hoping that she wouldn’t get any of the bad toxins in her when they went outside to the bramble place.

“I’ll take care of you,” Mummy assured her.

“Okay,” Tracey whispered.

“C’mon, Tracey, let’s put on your church dress,” Mummy pulled the dress out of one of the green bags. Tracey was surprised, and happy, to see that it had been freshly washed.

“Do I have to change?” she asked in the least whiney voice that she could muster.

“Today we’re worshiping, and we need to show respect to God. Come on now. It will look pretty with your necklace.”

Tracey felt for the necklace and smiled at the now-familiar feel of it. She took the dress and went to the corner to change her clothes. She had gotten used to changing as quickly as she could, using her arms to cover up her body. She brought her arms across the front of the dress, walked to Mummy, and turned around. Mummy hummed as she zipped Tracey’s dress.

Mummy spoke as they left their room and headed toward the worship chamber, “That my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord, my God, I will give you thanks forever.”

Tracey walked nervously with her arms wrapped tightly around her—the dirt walls intimidated her. She could see the worship chamber up ahead and was happy when Mummy sped up her pace.

Tracey stood quietly in the doorway while Mummy lit the candles. “Come now, Tracey,” she beckoned. “Let’s give thanks to the Lord for keeping us safe.” She patted the ground next to her as she knelt down.

The scratchy cold feeling of the dirt on Tracey’s knees made her sad. She didn’t want to get sick, but she was still a little scared to be underground. Mummy steepled her hands, and Tracey followed. Mummy didn’t have to tell Tracey to close her eyes, she knew the routine, closed her eyes, and listened to Mummy whispering.

“
Hebrews 12:28
. Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe.”

Mummy rested her hand on Tracey’s thigh. Tracey recoiled, opened her eyes. Upon seeing a smile on Mummy’s face, she relaxed again and closed her eyes.

“Dear God, thank you for bringing me Tracey to take care of. She needed me. Thank you for allowing me to keep her safe, keep her healthy. She’s a wonderful girl, and I am thankful to have her as my family.”

The word “family” made Tracey bristle. She stifled the urge to cry. She had almost forgotten how much she missed her real family. How could she have done that, she wondered.
Have Mommy and Daddy forgotten about me? What about Emma?

Mummy lifted her hand from Tracey’s thigh, “Tracey, honey, what’s wrong?”

Tracey didn’t realize that she had clenched her eyes shut. She opened them, and tears spilled onto her cheeks. She knew better than to cry in front of Mummy. She wiped her eyes and clenched them shut again.

Mummy took Tracey in her arms and held her quaking body, fresh tears landed on Mummy’s shoulder. Tracey tried to fight the tears, but she was powerless—she sobbed in Mummy’s arms. Mummy rocked her and hummed the same tune she had hummed earlier, a tune Tracey did not know.

“It’s okay, honey. You don’t want to get the sickness and die, too. You
belong
with me. You
needed
to be saved. ”

No
, Tracey thought,
I don’t want to die from the toxins!
She didn’t know what they were, but she thought of them as little bugs that got under her skin and traveled through her body. She grabbed Mummy’s hand and held it tight.

Mummy whispered, one big hand on Tracey’s back, the other patting her hair, “God told me, Tracey. He told me, ‘
Exodus 15:13
. In your unfailing love you will lead the people you have redeemed. In your strength you will guide them to your holy dwelling,’” she said. “So you see Tracey, I was put here to find you and love you and keep you safe. This is
our
holy dwelling. Nothing can hurt you here.”

Safety
, Tracey thought,
safety from the toxins
. She sniffled and pulled back from Mummy so she could see her face. She wanted to be kept safe. She wiped her nose on her arm and was overwhelmed with relief that she hadn’t gotten in trouble for crying.

Mummy smiled at Tracey. “I am safe. Look around us, there are no toxins here, nothing to hurt us or get into our bodies. We have each other. We have safety. We have the Lord.”

Tracey slipped off of her lap and positioned herself to pray. She whispered, “God, if you can hear me, thank you for saving me. I want to be healthy.” She spoke quickly. “Thank you for my necklace, too.” She reached for the necklace, and held the cool gold tightly in her fingers. Mummy opened her arms, and Tracey went to her, willingly, thankfully. In the back of Tracey’s mind, she wondered why her own mother hadn’t wanted to keep her safe from the toxins. She wondered if her own mother had really loved her at all.

Molly arrived home, let the dogs out, and went straight to her office to review the notes, drawings, and other clues that she had compiled. A stream of sunlight illuminated her desk, highlighting the drawings in her notebook. She wrote a list of each item in her notebook, and tried to decipher the clues. Her cell phone rang three times before she reached for it, and was met by a deep, unfamiliar voice.

“Mrs. Tanner?”

“Yes?”

“This is Sergeant Moeler from the Germantown Police Department. Officer Brown asked me to follow up on a few leads that you might have regarding the disappearance of Tracey Porter.”