Dream With Little Angels (23 page)

“Okay, now you're speculatin', but go on. If you have more, I mean.”

“Oh, I do,” I said. “Okay, so say the total time between me and Dewey leaving Mr. Garner's ranch and you and me getting back there was forty minutes. Mr. Garner had just finished putting his sixth rafter up when we left. It took him four minutes and maybe twenty-two seconds to get it done.”

“Now how do you know that?”

I showed her my wrist. “On account of my new timepiece Uncle Henry gave me. I time everythin' now. You know I can run from here to Dewey's house in less than fifty-six seconds. Well, I did it once.”

“Abe, please go back to Mr. Garner's tool shed.”

“Right. Anyway, he had four more rafters to go when we left. If he spent that much time on the rest, that means it would have taken him about fifteen minutes or so to finish. Then he had to nail up the plywood over top of those to make the actual roof and then that had to be covered with tar paper that he stapled onto that plywood.”

“Why do you suddenly know so much about construction work and what the hell does this have to do with anything?”

“Because, Mom? When you and I got back there less than an hour later, that roof was done. He had finished all the rafters, put on the plywood, and stapled the tar paper on. Now, I'm assumin' he must've previously cut everythin' to size or there's no way he had time to do it. As it is, he must've just worked at lightnin' speed if he had been inside five minutes with his beer before hearing Dixie,” I said.

I paused for a breath and another sip of coffee. “My guess is that I'm probably a little low in how long of a stretch occurred between us leavin' and returning and, more likely, Mr. Garner's probably off on how long he was inside before Dixie brought him back out. I mean, I saw Mary Ann Dailey's body. It messes up your perspective on things a bit. But one thing I know for sure. There's no way he had any time to finish that tool shed and then go get her body from someplace else, dig a quick hole that makes absolutely no sense anyway, throw her body in it, and then call you on the phone.

“And my biggest problem with this whole thing—and one that I can't believe I never heard none of you talk about in the station this mornin'—is why in tarnation would he call
you?
At least right away? Especially if he's left a shovel with whatever they found on it out there by her body. How does that make any sense to any of you? I don't care if you're an expert whatever the heck from Mobile or what.” I stopped then, realizing my hand was trembling. I took a few deep breaths. Never before had I spoken to my mother so abruptly.

“Okay, your tone's gettin' a bit disrespectful there, Abe,” she said, but I could tell she said it more out of reflex. I had her thinking. And she was thinking hard.

“Sorry,” I said. “But really, why would he go to all that bother of finishing his work before putting her by the tree? And then there was that thing he said about cougars. Why say something like that if you're talkin' 'bout yourself? Far as I can tell, nobody'd want to think of himself as bein' that way.”

Gears were spinning in my mother's mind, but my last comment brought her back to the topic at hand. “Cougars? What did he say about cougars?”

“I told you already,” I said with a sigh, then caught myself. I really did have to watch out for being disrespectful. This was new and dangerous territory for me. “That day we all went searching for Mary Ann Dailey in the rain? Dewey asked Mr. Garner if he reckoned maybe it was a cougar or something that got her. And Mr. Garner said he reckoned so, just not the sorta cougar we was thinkin' 'bout.”

“Oh, right, I remember you sayin' that now.”

“Do you really think he'd say that if
he
were the cougar, Mom?”

My mother looked into her coffee cup.

I remembered the conversation we had in the sushi restaurant. “Mr. Garner has integrity, Mom. I know it. I feel it.”

My mother went still for a long time, and I wondered if this whole talk had been one huge mistake I might never come back from. Her fingers played with the Virgin Mother dangling from her neck. She looked out the window, her eyes focused on something very, very far away. Eventually, her lips moved, but I barely heard the two words that came out: “Oh, shit.”

“And, Mom?”

“Yes, Abe?”

“That shovel hadn't been in his shed. When we left, there were no tools in that shed. It was empty on account of it had no roof on it.”

She turned and looked me square in the face. “Now, why are you just telling me all this now?”

“I tried to tell you the day Mary Ann showed back up, but you kept telling me to mind my business.”

She closed her eyes.

“Mom?”

She kept her eyes closed. “Yes, Abe?”

“I
really
don't think Mr. Robert Lee Garner killed Mary Ann Dailey. I don't think he killed no one. I maybe don't know people as good as I will when I'm older, but everything inside me says he didn't do it. Mr. Garner was near on as upset as you when she went missing. You weren't with me and Dewey in the forest that day in the rain. He was angry and upset and I don't think he killed no one.”

Reaching out, she pulled me over to her, nearly sloshing coffee out of my cup and onto my hand. Putting her arms around me, she rocked me back and forth, holding me tightly to her chest. “Oh, honey,” she said. “I think maybe I made a big mistake.”

I looked up at her face. “What're you goin' to do?”

Her jaw tightened. “What I should've done weeks ago. I'm gonna find Tiffany Michelle Yates before it's too late.”

“And, Mom?”

“Yes?”

“What about Mr. Garner?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “That one's gonna be a little more complicated, but I'll figure it out.”

T
wo days later, my mother drove me and Dewey to school, but stopped me when I was about to leave the car.

“What?” I asked.

“You're gonna be late today,” she said.

“I am? Why?”

“Because I want you to come with me to the station and tell Chief Montgomery what you told me,” she said.

“Can I come, too?” Dewey asked. He was already outside, but hadn't yet closed his door.

“No. One of you's gotta learn somethin',” my mother said.

With a grumble, he shut the door and skulked off to the school entrance while I returned to my seat in the front, sitting taller and more proudly than ever. Boy, did I feel important.

That feeling disappeared pretty fast once we were in Chief Montgomery's office. Truth was, I never even got to say a single word.

“You're not listenin' to me, Ethan,” my mother said after trying to set up the point of our little meeting twice. “I'm telling you, I made a mistake. Bob Garner didn't kill anyone.”

Above our heads, a very slow wooden fan turned. To our right was a wall of law books that reached all the way from the floor to the ceiling. I'd been in this office before, but always alone with my attention centered on the television hanging from the ceiling opposite Chief Montgomery's desk. This was the first time I actually took the time to notice the rest of the room. Then I noticed Chief Montgomery as he gave me yet another look I couldn't read before putting all his attention on my mother.

“No, Leah,” Chief Montgomery said, “that's where you're wrong. I'm listenin' to you just fine. I'm just havin' a real hard time findin' any sort of actual evidence to back up this little change of heart you've suddenly had.” He looked over and pointed his thumb at me. “And why in God's name is he in here?”

“Because it's . . . it's something Abe said that made me realize we've got the wrong man in custody, Ethan. Ever since Ruby Mae's death, Bob Garner holds that willow tree nearly in reverence. Her death affected him so deeply it was as though he found his own daughter lying dead that day. He told my son whoever was responsible for takin' that girl's life was a cougar. He—” I couldn't believe my mother was tellin' the chief of police that I was the one who changed her mind.

Apparently, neither could Chief Montgomery.

“Leah,” he said, cutting her off. “Do you have even the slightest inkling of how crazy you're soundin' right now?” Chief Montgomery looked at me, his lips forming a thin line. “I'm sorry, Abe, but I'm gonna have to ask you to step outside my office while me and your ma finish this little conversation. I mean absolutely no offense to you. Is that okay?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

I walked out into the main room, hearing Chief Montgomery's chair squeak as he got up and closed the door firmly behind me before they continued talking. Luckily, neither of them kept their voices down and, without Dewey banging binders or gurgling water coolers, I was able to pretty much hear the whole thing, especially since I discreetly stayed just outside the door.

“Leah,” he said, “listen to yourself.” I heard him get back into that big ol' chair of his. “You're putting something your eleven-year-old son told you above the results of an entire team of professional forensic experts in Mobile. Think about that a minute.” I reckoned he did have a point.

“No, Ethan, I'm putting his
feelings
above them.”

There was another squeak and a pause before Chief Montgomery spoke again. “I reckon that's even worse. Leah, more than ever, you're showing me that you've gotten way too close to this damn thing. It's become so personal your family's now part of your investigation process. You're coming to me and telling me we've got to let our prime suspect go because your eleven-year-old boy is ‘pretty sure he didn't do it.' ”

I wasn't too certain I liked how that sounded.

“He didn't do it, Ethan. It's not just Abe.
I
know it. I've known it all along, I've just been afraid to admit it. Hank knows it, too. He's been saying so since the beginning. Christ, I think even
you
know it. Just nobody wants to stand up and take responsibility for putting an innocent man behind bars.”

“Funny thing is, Leah, we've got them experts who say he did do it. And they ain't never met the man before, so their opinion is completely unbiased, which takes it right out of your hands and
frees
you from all that responsibility. This time it actually isn't you, Leah. Even if we do have the wrong man, you can rest easy. You had nothing to do with him going to jail.”

After another hesitation, I worried they were going to open the door and find me listening, but then my mother spoke up.

“It's my fault,” she said. “I arrested him.”

Chief Montgomery must have sat way back in his chair and probably put his hands behind his head the way he does sometimes, because I heard a really loud squeak this time before he responded. When he did, there was almost a laugh in his voice. “No, actually you got Jackson to do it, which was probably one of the smarter moves you've made on this case because this way it really
is
completely out of your hands.”

My mother's voice went quiet. I took a chance and moved closer to Chief Montgomery's office door. “How can I get him free?” I heard her ask.

Chief Montgomery spoke very matter-of-factly, almost like he was placing an order at the drive-through window at Aunt Bella's Burger Hut. “Find me another child murderer,” he said. “Preferably one with Tiffany Michelle Yates still alive and well along for the ride.” There was a window framed in the door leading into Chief Montgomery's office. The glass was gold and beveled, making it impossible to see any details through it, but through that smoked glass, I saw the blurred shadow of Chief Montgomery lean forward, bringing his big arms onto the top of his desk.

“And, Leah,” he said, “if there
is
any truth to what you're tellin' me, there's only one way you're ever gonna do that, and that's to finally figure out this ain't about
you
. And that really shouldn't be too hard, because this time? It really isn't.”

My mother's tone changed completely. She almost sounded like a wounded dog. “I see I've worn my welcome when it comes to your sensitivity.” She was hurt, and I could tell she was trying hard to hide the fact from Chief Montgomery. I'm pretty sure though that if
I
could tell, most likely he could, too.

“You want sensitivity?” he asked. “Then earn it. Go do your goddamn job.”

I heard her footsteps coming loudly toward the door and I barely managed to take a couple big steps back before she opened it and marched out of Chief Montgomery's office. I don't think she actually noticed me at all, she was so upset. She stomped straight past me, through the rest of the office, and out onto the street, letting the station door slam closed behind her. I was just about to follow when I felt Chief Montgomery in the doorway of his office right behind me. I turned around and, in the brief second our eyes met, I could tell he had just done one of the most painful things he'd ever had to do in his life.

“Go take care of her,” he said, and gave me a partial smile.

“I always do,” I said.

He winked at me. “I know,” he said, and patted my back.

 

My mother didn't talk as we drove away. I didn't even question when she took a wrong turn, leading us in the complete opposite direction of my school. I just sat there watching the pines and oaks slowly break to oaks and cypress trees until we were almost completely surrounded on both sides of the street by cypress. Their eerie, twisted branches reached up into the sky like gnarled fingers as we sped past.

Then I figured out where we were going.

We were traveling just south of Skeeter Swamp, headed to Mr. Garner's ranch. My mother pulled to a stop on the gravel road barely a block away from where Mary Ann Dailey's body had been left strewn under that tree on the south side of the Anikawa. Without a word or even a glance my way, she got out of the car, closed her door, and headed toward the willow tree. Since she never said otherwise, I cautiously tagged along behind her.

Yellow police tape marked off the area. My mother ducked beneath it, and I did the same. There were markers where the body had been, indicating its exact position. Other items, like Mr. Garner's shovel, had also been marked off. “Touch nothin',” she said to me, without even a glance back to where I stood watching.

I had no intention of doing any such thing. It felt weird just being here again. I stood a good ten feet back from where that small hill began to rise, where the golden wild grass still grew long, bending in the morning wind. As the hill rose, the grass shortened until it finally broke to dirt at the top. That was, except for the one area that someone had recently dug out, revealing the willow's thick wooded roots beneath. In my head, I once again saw Mary Ann Dailey strewn in that patch of dirt, partially clothed. It was a horrible picture.

My mother squatted beside where the body was marked, intently studying something in the dirt. “What're you looking at?” I asked.

“The indentations in the ground from where those daises had been,” she said.

After a few minutes she got up and walked carefully around the base of the hill, calling me over when she found some old dried-up daffodils that had been blown into the thrush and wild grass on the south side. “What're these, do you think?” she asked me.

“Old flowers Mr. Garner had placed for Ruby Mae,” I said. “He didn't always tie 'em. That day we were all searchin' for Mary Ann Dailey, he'd tossed roses over the whole hill, scattering them around the bottom of the willow. Least I think they was roses. I don't know my flowers that good.”

My mother once again squatted down, this time in the long grass a few feet away from where she discovered the dried-up daffodils. “What color were they?”

I tried to remember. “Red, pink, and yellow, I think. It was a while ago, remember. And it was rainin' somethin' fierce.”

She reached into the tall weeds and pulled out a dead yellow rose. Only two or three petals were left, and they looked ready to fall off at any time.

My mother's hand not holding the dead flower came up to her mouth.

“What?” I asked.

She shook her head, biting her lip in a way that made it look like she was holding back crying. “I really did arrest an innocent man. Not only that, he was one of your grandpa's best friends.”

Tears really did come then, so I approached her, being careful not to disrupt anything that had been marked off by the police. I wrapped my arms around her. “It's okay, Mom. Everyone makes mistakes.
You
told me that.”

She kept shaking her head. “
I
don't. I
can't
.”

“Yeah, you
can
. You just gotta fix 'em once you realized what you done. You told me that, too.”

Her hand came off my shoulder and wiped her cheek. “I have no idea if I can fix this.”

I didn't bother telling her that everything's fixable. She already knew, because she'd told me
that,
too.