First Night of Summer (10 page)

Sarah said, “It was addressed to Josie. She just opened it a few minutes ago.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Has she seen this?”

She answered a little defensively. “It was addressed to her. Sometimes she gets letters from friends, and I had no reason not to give it to her.”

“Where’s the envelope?”

She handed over the standard-sized white envelope. Nothing about it was unusual. The hands of an eight-year-old had sloppily opened it. A regular first-class stamp filled the upper right-hand corner. The attention line was handwritten to Miss Josephine Snow.

“So, she did see the picture?”

Sarah nodded and began to cry. She felt ashamed that Josie had seen the graphic image. “When she opened it, she said, ‘Mommy, why is this little girl naked?’” Again, she ducked her head into Tom’s chest. With no living parents of her own, and a sorry excuse for a dad when he was around, Tom had become more of an adopted father than a father-in-law.

Isaac was about to ask Charlie to take it easy but didn’t have to.

“I’m sorry, Sarah.” He lowered his voice. “It’s just … well …” Like the rest of them, words escaped him. “Have any of you read the letter?”

Tom shook his head.

“I think we better then. It was addressed here, but if you don’t want to listen, I can read it silently and take it with me.”

“We want to,” Sarah said, a serious, composed air about her now.

This was the first lead they had in a month, and despite the horrific nature, she hoped that maybe the bastard would give something away about himself, if even by accident.

“We need to know what it says. It can’t be worse than the picture.”

The letter was sent anonymously, along with the Polaroid of Bailey Davis. Despite what they thought, the words hit closer to home than they dreamed possible.

My Dearest Josephine, I’m terribly sorry to have left in such a hurry the other night. I realize that you are without a sister, and I greatly regret the way things turned out. Had your father not come into the room and interrupted my visit, I can promise that you and Caroline would still be together. But since I was denied the pleasure of your company, I turned my attention to sweet Bailey Davis. As you can see, a flattering picture of her is included. What a special little girl she was, tasty, but I am over her and still hungry. No doubt Mommy and Daddy will be keeping an eye on you rather closely, but I relish the opportunity to spend time with you. Until we meet again, stay well
.

Thinking of you
,

XOXO

P.S. Do you like red?

Chapter Nineteen

A
wall clock ticked in the background, each strike echoing with precision.

Ricky leaned back in his office chair and stretched both arms above his head. It was a quirk he had when in thought or battling boredom, which was often. He wondered how everyone back in Ruidoso had reacted to the letter. He imagined the shock in their eyes at the Polaroid and the fear they must have felt after reading the note.
I’ll bet they’re outside their minds
.

The day he dropped it in the mail, he didn’t fully understand the depth to his actions. But now, days later, his brain stuck on one track, clarity came. He sent correspondence to Josie because he was completely and utterly infatuated.

It was still too soon to go back and try to take her again. No matter how much he wanted it, not enough time had passed. Instead, he tried to focus on his career. A paycheck provided a necessary distraction from extracurricular activities. But a lack of income didn’t stress him in the least. He was a saver, not a spender, and planned for lean stretches. A frugal lifestyle was a worthwhile sacrifice because it allowed him time to come and go on a whim. And now, time had become the enemy. What he wanted, he could not have. His video collection from past victims quickly became monotonous, mildly amusing, at best. He wanted what was out of reach, Josie.

The sexual cravings grew, and he needed to do something.
Someone else. I need to find someone else
. It was that simple. Warm, live flesh was the only cure to his summertime blues.
Who will it be?

He reached for a
New York Times
newspaper on the desk, and the search began. It was always the same, done with one and on to the next. Even from the time he was a boy, he always worried about what would come next. And two decades later, only one thing had changed, his capability. A boy’s inclinations evolved into a man’s skill.

* * *

The house he grew up in was, in all aspects, normal. It was a traditional three-bedroom, two-bathroom, fifties-style ranch home in a Florida suburb. It sat amongst a neighborhood with hundreds of other homes, basically identical in outward appearances. Middle-income, working people were the inhabitants.

His parents occupied the master bedroom of the home, and Ricky had one of the remaining two bedrooms to himself. Being the only child was easy. Both his parents worked, and he was free to do as he wished. Too much free time made way for idle hands. The family next door had two daughters, each a few years older than Ricky. He used to think of ingenious little ways to peep, finding them changing or bathing. Even as a child, when he would catch a lucky break and see them naked, a weird sensation ran through his body. It was mysterious and pleasing, a secret he felt but knew not to share. In those early days, desire awoke inside his heart and could never be undone, innocence unveiled.

He spent hours in his bedroom, strategizing a likely time for it to happen again. Even normal childhood activities were avoided in preparation for when his next chance might be. If it came along, he didn’t want to be sidetracked.

* * *

He was grown now with years of experience under his belt. As he flipped through the newspaper, suddenly, as if ripped from a world of despair, hope burst into reality. A black-and-white picture of a beautiful little girl stared back at him. The face was young, innocent, and perfect. Enamored, he quickly browsed the article and made up his mind.
Yes. This is her
.

All the information was there. Her name and general location were more than enough to go on. He gently folded the page so that nothing except her pretty little face showed. He pulled up a program used to find people on the computer, and his fingers scurried across the keys.

In West Virginia, Lindsay Watson and her extraordinary gift waited. She was worthy of his attention.

Chapter Twenty

O
n Saturday evening, same as always, Isaac came home and parked his old Chevy in the detached garage. He had not wanted to leave after the arrival of the letter, but with encouragement and reassurance from Tom and Charlie, he let go of his fear, the instinct to stay, protect, and control, and returned to the job. It took a while for the anxiety to fade. Reason told him that worry did nothing to change the circumstances. Sarah and Josie were in capable hands, and he had to relinquish the negative thoughts and move on with life. And just like he had hoped, the second day of work was easier than the first, and the third was easier than the second. Nerves settled, and the world expanded again.

Inside the kitchen door, Josie came running. She jumped into her father’s arms and squeezed. “You’re back!”

“Did you miss me?” Their faces were less than a foot apart, and her hands were on his cheeks.

“I always miss you.”

I always miss you
. The answer was so simple yet different. There was a maturity to it, one that had not been there before, like the last four days had aged her.

“I missed you, too.” He kissed her and put her down.

She’s growing up right before my eyes
.

Sarah wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged. “How was work?”

“Good. It was … good.”

“Yeah?” She looked up to him, knowing how hard it was for him to leave after the surprise on Wednesday morning.

“Yeah.” He searched for the words. “Liberating, I guess. How were things here?”

She tiptoed and kissed his curvy lips. There was a brightness in her eyes that had been gone for too long. “Good. We actually had some fun.” She shrugged. “Is that weird?”

It was a little strange to hear they had fun.
But at the same time, what else were they supposed to do?
The comment did, however, catch him off guard. And it wasn’t just her but also Josie. The whole energy of the house was different. It was better, like a shadow was lifted.

“Not weird, just … different.”

The arrival of the letter had sent Sarah into near hysterics. Fear, not just sorrow, stacked on top of Caroline’s death, and the burden was too much to bear. Then after a sleepless night, a switch flipped. The situation was no less painful, but she granted forgiveness to the unfairness of life, and gave up hope that the past could have been different. Pining for Caroline did nothing to protect Josie. And just like that, her outlook shifted.

Tom came in the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “Well, where’d you go?”

“Hey, Dad.” He released Sarah and hung his flannel shirt on the coat rack. “I stayed up north the whole time.”

“No fires?”

“Nope. All that rain has things pretty settled.”

Helen came in from the hallway and set a glass of iced tea on the table. “Good to have you back.” She hugged him.

“It’s good to be back.”

“You went over Taos?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Did you see the house?”

“You know, that reminds me.” He scratched his stubble and cocked an eyebrow. “A moving truck was parked in the driveway.”

“Good,” Tom chimed. “I hired a guy to take away that old sofa your mother refuses to get rid of. I can’t do it while she’s around and thought this would be a good opportunity.” He chuckled at the inside joke.

“That sofa,” Helen informed, “belonged to my mother, her mother, and her mother’s mother.”

“So that would make it … what? Your great-great grandmother’s?”

“That’s right, buster. It would.”

“All I’m saying is, just because it’s sentimental, doesn’t mean it’s useful.”

“Well, if old means useless, you’d better be glad I’m sentimental, or I’d throw you out with the couch.”

Tom looked around with his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face. “I guess I should be thankful she keeps me around. What do you think, Josie?”

She was smiling too. “I don’t think you’re useless, Pa Paw.”

“There. You see, honey,” he said. “Josie doesn’t think I’m useless.”

“Josie, I don’t really think your grandpa is useless. He’s just a nag about that couch, and I don’t care what he thinks. It has history.”

“Nobody else knows the history, nor do they care to. To them, it looks like a piece of wood covered with soiled canvas.”

“My great-great grandfather made that sofa from the scrap wood of an old wagon, and my great-great grandmother covered it with fabric from flour sacks. Nobody thought anything of it back then, except for ‘Hey, that’s creative.’” Helen’s Italian passion showed through. The enthusiasm was contagious and put everyone in a good mood. “Folks were poor and admired her craftsmanship. The frame’s been repaired since, and I’ve had the fabric cleaned.”

Isaac looked from one to the other like a spectator at a high-tempo tennis match. The topic was old, and the argument repetitive, but the spirit was great. It meant something. This restored, positive atmosphere was not a product of his imagination. It was real, and it was relief, the beginning of a new normal.

Chapter Twenty-One

T
he next morning, after breakfast and coffee, Tom and Helen drove back to Taos. They longed for home after being away for four weeks, but the good-byes were not easy. Isaac stood in the front yard with Josie and Sarah, waving until his parents were out of sight. It was just the three of them. Their life was never going to be the same.

“We should probably get ready,” Sarah said. “Anna’s doing this meeting for us, and it would be nice to get there early.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“It won’t be easy. Nothing with this is. But if it means keeping our family safe, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

At the Smith’s house, Isaac helped Anna’s husband, Riley, set up for the meeting. They pushed all the living room furniture aside and made rows with folding chairs. Sarah was in the kitchen with Anna. An assortment of veggie trays, fruit platters, and finger foods were prepared while they visited. It had the look of a party but not the feel.

Josie went upstairs with Jason with strict instructions to not let him do anything unsafe. She promised, and they went to play.

At twelve o’clock, the guests began to trickle in. All of them lived in or around the neighborhood. In attendance were the elderly, newly retired, empty nesters, and other young couples with kids. Despite the age range, everyone shared the common goal of keeping the street safe.

They were in their seats, munching on snacks, when Anna stepped to the front and called their attention. “Thank you for coming. As I explained in the letter you received, we are here to discuss the safety of our neighborhood. This isn’t just for Isaac and Sarah. It’s for all of us. We all have or know kids who run around without supervision.” She scanned the room. “Because of recent events, I’ve asked someone to speak who can help us keep things, as much as possible, like they were and teach us what to be more aware of. I think everyone knows our chief of police, Charlie Biddle.” She raised her arm, palm up, toward the back of the room.

Charlie?
Isaac had no idea he was there or that he was coming. He turned to look for his best friend and found him at the food table with a half-covered plate of snacks.

Clearly, Charlie was not ready, and the look on his face was that of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He quickly straightened up, set the plate down, and swallowed the last of his punch.