Shadow of Death (12 page)

The house felt so empty. Natalie felt like her entire marriage had been a forgery. All the memories she had of them together…the dreams she'd held close to her heart…like the glass, it had all been shattered by the revelation she'd received earlier. There were so many questions. Questions she wasn't sure that she wanted answered.
Did Troy ever really love her? Had Troy ever had Cheryl in their home? Was she the only one he'd been unfaithful with?
“What does it matter?” she said aloud, wiping a tear before it fell. The reality of her marriage now was that it wasn't what she'd thought it had been. No matter what, it would never be the same.

When Natalie finished in the kitchen, she went upstairs and saw the broken pieces from Nate's toy car as a result of Troy's theatrics earlier. Of all the crazy stories that cheating husbands came up with, a bugged toy car had to top the list. The fact that it was still in this house was proof enough to Natalie that he'd been lying. The Troy she knew would never leave remnants of an unwanted listening device in their home. The Troy she knew? More like the Troy she
thought
she knew.

Natalie cleaned up the mess within moments of the doorbell ringing. That was fast. Aneetra had come much sooner than the hour she'd said. Natalie went to the door, ready to shower her babies with hugs and kisses, but was surprised to find their neighbor instead. “Hi, Natalie.” Charla stood wringing her hands as her left eye wandered in a direction of its own. “My mom told me to come and ask if we can borrow a piece of bread.”

Natalie looked over Charla's shoulder looking for Ann to come running behind her. Ann lived directly across from Natalie and Troy along with her adult daughter, Charla, who suffered from a rare compulsive eating disorder. Strangers who came in contact with Charla would not be able to tell from an initial encounter that she also had slight mental disability because she spoke clear and fast. “I don't believe she sent you, Charla. There isn't much she can do with a single slice of bread.”

“I'm for real this time, Miss Natalie. She's making me a sandwich and she only has one piece of bread and she needs two pieces for my sandwich.” Charla held up two fingers to emphasize her point.

“No. If Ann needs anything, I'm sure she'll call. You need to go back home.”

“I can't. I'll starve if you don't give us a piece of bread. Just because you're having a bad day, it doesn't mean that you should make me starve.”

“I'm not having a bad day, Charla. I'm also not giving you any bread. Now go home!”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire. You're having a bad day. A really bad day. So is Mr. Troy. You both seemed angry this morning. Let me come in and we can talk about it over cheese and crackers.”

Natalie checked her pockets for her cell phone so she could call Ann.
Darnnit!
She'd left it upstairs. On a good day, she could deal patiently with Charla's manipulative antics. At this moment, with all she's going through, Natalie cursed the day when she ever met the Harrows.

Ann and Charla had moved into the neighborhood shortly before the twins were born. Not the let's-be-friends-with-our-neighbors type, the extent of Natalie's contact with them was a wave whenever their paths crossed. That was until one day last spring when Natalie was on maternity leave. She was out walking Ean and Ebony in their stroller while Nate tagged along on his bicycle. As they made their way back home, Nate wasn't quite ready for his bike ride to end, so Natalie told him that he could ride for a few more minutes. While watching him, she rocked the twins back and forth in their stroller to keep them calm and began eating a protein bar.

Ann and Charla had been outside doing gardening work and Natalie waved at them simply to be polite because Ann was staring. The woman
always stared. Though Natalie hadn't known Charla's name at the time
, Troy had told her Ann's name. He'd met Ann previously when he was
out jogging and filled Natalie in on the details of their brief conversation.
That particular day, when Natalie was munching on her bar, Charla bolted across the street toward her after Ann had stepped into the house.
“My mom's trying to starve me to death. Can I have a bite, please?” She'
d asked having the nerve to open her mouth and lean causing some of her micro-braids to fall into her face.

Charla's face was elongated with a thin upper lip, almond-shaped eyes
,
and a prominent nose, but her overall appearance didn't appear to be that
of someone who was suffering from starvation. In fact, Natalie thought that Charla could benefit from a brisk walk or two around the neighborhood. She was a little on the obese side. Her request was so bizarre that Natalie stood still without giving a response.

“Please, ma'am. She's locked all the cabinets and refrigerators in our house and I'm so hungry.” Charla was on the verge of tears. Natalie figured she had to be pretty desperate to approach a stranger for food.
Natalie handed Charla the rest of the protein bar and watched her devour
it within seconds. “Ooh, can I have this too?” Charla snatched the pack of fruit snacks Natalie had on top of the stroller for Nate.

There were a lot of questions going through Natalie's mind such as Charla's age. She looked young…like maybe she was in her late teens or early twenties, but surely someone that old wouldn't be forced to live in a home where she was denied access to food. Thus, Natalie assumed that
Charla was a teenager and perhaps being abused in some manner. There
had to be some validity to her story because Charla had eaten everything
like she hadn't had a decent meal in weeks. She licked her fingers for remnants, not caring that dirt from doing gardening work was also getting in her mouth. Natalie was about to gather her children and go inside to call Troy and notify him of things when the other lady with braids, Ann, came running across the street. “Charla! I left you alone for a few minutes and you're bothering our neighbor for food. Go inside
and clean up. You are not having anything else until it's time for dinner!”

Seeing Ann go off made Natalie believe that this was indeed a case of child abuse. She wished she'd had more to give Charla, but Natalie was determined to help her by reporting the incident to Troy and letting him take it to the proper officials. Not knowing what other harm Ann was capable of, Natalie's first priority was to get her babies safely inside their home. “Nate, we're going inside,” she said, ignoring his unhappy moans about her request.

“Please wait,” begged Ann. “I know you are probably wondering what
the heck is going on, but whatever my daughter told you is a lie. She
suffers from Prader-Willi Syndrome, also known as PWS. It's a disorder
in which people want to eat constantly because they never feel full.” As she'd done with Charla, Natalie stood staring, not knowing what to say. “I swear to you that I'm not making this up. I have literature on the disease that I can bring over. Or, better yet, read this.” Ann pulled out her cell phone and opened a webpage to show Natalie who scanned the material because her curiosity about this mother-daughter duo had taken over.

Prader-Willi (PRAH-dur-VIL-e) syndrome is a rare disorder present at birth that results in a number of physical, mental, and behavioral problems…constant sense of hunger…may be stubborn, angry, controlling or manipulative…specialized care and supervision throughout their lives.

“I monitor what she eats because, if I don't, she could literally eat her
self to death.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“It's okay. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm Ann, by the way
.
I don't know if my daughter introduced herself, but her name is Charla.”

“I'm Natalie. Welcome to the neighborhood. I apologize that I haven't said this before.”

“Not a problem. It's nice to hear all the same. Who are these lovely little people?” Ann asked.

Natalie introduced the babies and Nate.

“It's nice to officially meet you all. I met your husband once before. His name is Troy, right?”

“Yes.”

“He seems like a nice guy. He gave me the name and location of the gym where he works out and I'm going to check it out as soon as I get settled. You look great for recently having twins. Tell me your secret. Are you a member of the gym as well?”

Natalie wanted to tell Ann that the swimsuit edition of her body told
a different story than what Ann could see. “Thanks. No, I'm not a mem
ber of the gym. I have a lot of exercise DVDs and games. I do those, or when it's nice like today, I like to go for walks. My husband works a lot and his schedule is often unpredictable, so I wouldn't have time to go to a gym even if I wanted to.”

“Is he a cop?”

“Yes. A homicide detective. Why do you ask?”

“I thought he had that law enforcement look about him. I started to ask him, but we didn't talk long and plus, I didn't want to come across as the nosey neighbor who asks twenty questions. I hope you don't mind me asking you. I'm trying to make small talk and get over the embarrassment of my daughter taking your food.”

“It's okay. I learned something new today. I'd never heard of that condition before. What's it called again, praterwilly?”

“Prader-Willi, like Prada, but with an ‘er' sound and though it's spelled with a ‘w,' it's pronounced with a ‘v.' Most people say PWS for short. In addition, Charla also has mild retardation. Well, nowadays,
it's called slight intellectual disability to be politically correct. It's common
for people with PWS to have intellectual disability. Their reasoning and
problem-solving skills are below par. Some people even have problems with articulating words, but we got Charla into speech therapy early on
and, as you can tell, she speaks extremely well. In Charla's case, her logic
is way off, but her communication is not. It's easy for her to make people believe that she's being mistreated. I assure you that's not the case.”

“I believe you,” Natalie responded with certainty.

“It's hard sometimes because I'm by myself now. My husband is no longer with us.” For the next fifteen minutes or so, Ann shared with Natalie her struggles of caring for Charla, whom Natalie learned was actually twenty. Ann admitted to having locks on the refrigerator and cabinets for Charla's benefit. She also had to keep the exterior security alarm activated at all times when they were inside the house to prevent Charla from sneaking out and looking through people's trash for scraps.

Ann, who was only thirty-six, had had Charla as a teen and had been married twice. Charla's biological father had died from a drug overdose when Charla was four. Ann married her second husband when Charla was six and both she and Charla took his last name. They'd moved from Cleveland to the Gahanna suburb of Columbus to get a fresh start after Mr. Harrow's recent death. Ann didn't say how he'd passed and Natalie didn't ask. She also didn't ask any details about the man she saw over there on a few occasions. Ann, however, did inform Natalie about some
other specifics about her life. Natalie learned that Ann worked from home
as an IT specialist, had no other children, both parents were deceased, and had one older sister. “Most people with Charla's disorder live in group homes, but that will be my last resort. When I need a break, I drive to Cleveland and leave her with my sister for a while. There's also a local facility I use from-time-to-time when my friend comes to town.” Ann's voice trailed off at the tail end of her sentence, like she was a bit embarrassed about the disclosure of having a “friend.” It was a little too soon after Mr. Harrow's death, in Natalie's opinion, but not being one to judge, she kept her thoughts to herself. “But, as long as I have breath in my body and the activity of my limbs, Charla will live with me. I'm all she has.”

“I'm sure you're doing a good job.” Natalie was trying to find a way to end the conversation. Nate, who was only four at the time, helped her out when he started holding his private and saying he had to pee. She, again, told Ann that it was nice meeting her and quickly made her way into the house with her children.

Since that time, it wasn't unusual for Ann and Natalie to engage in small talk whenever they saw each other outside. It was usually Ann who initiated it, often asking questions about Natalie, Troy, and their family. At first Natalie thought Ann was way too nosey, but then began to see her inquisitiveness as loneliness. Since their initial introduction, Ann had joined the gym where Troy was a member.

Natalie still wasn't the type to be overly sociable with neighbors, but she normally didn't mind when Ann stopped her to talk. She seemed liked a nice woman whose entire life had been dedicated to caring for Charla since she was sixteen. Natalie could only imagine the high level of stress she experienced as a two-time widow dealing with Charla's disorder. Ann had warned Natalie that Charla would do and say anything to get food and she'd been right. This latest tactic of asking to borrow a slice of bread was proof and Natalie's patience, in general, was at an all-time low.

“Charla, I'm not giving you anything else.
Go home!”

“I bet you'll give it to me if I tell you a secret. I saw a lady at your house today.”