The Girl in the Woods (21 page)

W
hen Birdy arrived home after seeing Jennifer in the jail, Elan was waiting for her. He’d had a haircut and it looked good on him.

“I didn’t know you were going to do that,” she said, looking him over. “I like it. It’s cleaner.”

“It was getting a little on the scruffy side,” Elan said. “How was your day?”

“You don’t want to know,” she said.

“That means I would want to,” he answered.

She didn’t say anything.

“Another of those ‘Elan, I can’t talk about it’ kind of things?”

“Yeah, sorry. You want to take a walk? I picked up a couple of sandwiches at Whiskey Creek.”

“Sure,” he said. “We can talk about something other than whatever cool thing you did today and I can tell you about how much I hate school. Or at least most of it.”

“Deal,” she said. “We can talk about other things too.”

“Ugh. I don’t like the sound of that,” he said.

Birdy acknowledged his remark but disappeared into the bedroom to change into jeans and more appropriate shoes, and the two of them took off. The sun was low as they walked along Beach Drive toward the little waterfront village of Annapolis. They walked outside to the fishing pier jutting out over the water, pointing to Bremerton. Just as they reached the end, a floating fishing platform, a ferry’s wake rolled under the dock, bobbing it up and down.

“This feels like being drunk,” Elan said.

Birdy took a hard look at her nephew. “How would you know how that feels?”

“I’m sixteen,” he said a little sheepishly. “Not
six
. Not that the age matters much in our family.”

She handed him a sandwich. “You’ve been on your best behavior here, haven’t you?”

“Yeah. I’m doing all right,” he said, happy to see that there was actually meat in the option she bought for him. “I’m making friends. I like it here.”

“That makes me happy,” she said.

“Can’t I just live with you?” he asked.

She looked out thoughtfully as a man and little boy went past on a small boat with a purring outboard motor.

“You have a family, Elan.”

He swallowed a bite. “Yeah, and that includes you.”

“Family members tell each other the truth,” she said.

“I’m not lying,” he said.

“You know what I’m getting at, Elan. Talk to me.”

Elan squinted into the setting sun.

“All right. Mom’s having an affair with a guy at work. I caught them in bed when I came home from school early. By the way, it was
my
bed. Isn’t that gross?”

Birdy stayed quiet. A seagull swooped down low to grab a piece of lettuce that had slipped out of Elan’s sandwich.

“Elan, that’s a problem for your parents.”

“It was
my
bed, Aunt Birdy.”

“That is pretty bad. Did you talk to her about it?”

“Not really,” he said. “It was just the end of what I couldn’t take anymore. I know about everything.”

His words hung in the salty and breezy air. Birdy didn’t want to push any further just then. If it was what she thought it was, there would be no point in doing so. There was nothing that could be done about it.

“Does your dad know?”

Elan balled up the white butcher paper that had wrapped his sandwich. “You going to eat the other half of yours?”

“It’s veggie,” she said.

Elan pulled the zipper up on his hoodie, then shrugged a little. “I don’t care.”

Birdy handed him the sandwich.

“You know he’s not my dad,” he went on. “Why do you keep calling him that?”

Birdy took the wadded paper from his sandwich and hers and put it in the paper bag.

“He raised you,” she said. “That’s why.”

Elan seemed to like the sandwich enough to eat Birdy’s half in four bites.

“I hate him,” he said. “I hate both of them. I wish they’d just fall into a big hole somewhere and never crawl out.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Birdy said.

Elan spoke with his mouth full, but she didn’t admonish him this time. “Well, you asked. That’s how I feel,” he said, swallowing.

Birdy put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his puddled brown eyes.

“You are going to be all right, Elan,” she said, meaning every word. “I promise you.”

Elan didn’t want to leave Port Orchard. He’d settled in. He was trying to make a new life before his old one, back home, circling the drain, sucked him down, into oblivion.

“You know everything, don’t you, Aunt Birdy?”

“Your grandmother says I do have an answer for everything,” she said. “But really, I’m just like everyone else. We’re all doing the best that we can do. You’ll get to a good place. I believe in you. So I guess, I’m sorry to say, I do have an answer for everything.”

She smiled warmly at Elan. This was a good kid.

“I can forgive you,” he said.

“Thank you. You know that I love you, Elan.”

He turned away, not wanting her to see him cry.

“Someone has to.”

 

 

They returned to Birdy’s house, mostly in silence, though the subject of a dead opossum in front of their house and how it had gone from mush to bones did come up. Birdy didn’t give him all the gory details about how that little feat was accomplished. He didn’t ask.

On the front steps was a Target shopping bag.

“Wonder what this is?” Birdy said, struggling to open the knotted opening.

“Does Target deliver now?” Elan asked, dumping their dinner bag into the trash can on the side of the house.

Birdy stayed silent, peering inside.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I think they’re some letters.”

“Don’t we have a mailbox for that?”

“That we do.” She closed the white plastic bag peppered with red bull’s-eye logos.

“Do you have any homework?”

Elan made a face. Their bonding time was clearly over.

“Some,” he said.

“Good,” Birdy said, heading to her office. “Let’s get to it. So do I.”

 

 

With the exception of one, each in the bundle of letters had been addressed to Ted Roberts, 511 Camellia Street, Port Orchard. The return address was what appeared to be an apartment on E. Dynamite in Scottsdale. All but one had been sent by Jennifer Drysdale.

As a precaution that there might be something related to the case on the envelopes or on the papers held within, Birdy put on latex gloves. She arranged them in date sequence.

The first one had been written on lavender stationery. She lifted it to her nose to see if it had been scented. Jennifer Roberts had seemed like the type to send perfumed love letters. This one hadn’t been. It was, however, handwritten.

The missive was interesting for a couple of reasons; Birdy had no idea how Ted and Jennifer had met, and yet they’d rendezvoused in San Diego. The navy was there, so maybe it was just happenstance that Jennifer and Ruby and Micah had been there. The other oddity in the note was the return address and the postmark. Birdy knew that Jennifer and Bobby had split up by then, but Jennifer never alluded to that marriage. She acted like she was merely a widow and not a two-time loser. Maybe she was embarrassed about the short-lived marriage to Bobby, but it was also possible that she didn’t want Ted Roberts to think she was unstable and went from man to man?

As she had been doing all her life.

Birdy called Kendall and told her about the letters. She could hear Steven talking to their son Cody in the background and the clatter of dishes.

“Sorry to bug you,” Birdy said. “Thought dinner would be over.”

“It’s
never
over around here,” Kendall said with a short laugh. “What’s up?”

Birdy explained that someone had dropped off letters that might have been written by Jennifer Roberts.

“I have two questions,” Kendall said. “I wonder who did that? And also, don’t keep me hanging, what do they say?”

“I don’t know the answer to the first one, and so far, nothing much. I’ve only read one. But I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’ll bring them to your office first thing tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” Kendall said. “The boys are loading the dishwasher and they still don’t know how to do it the right way. See you tomorrow.”

Birdy thought the same thing about Elan and the way he attempted to help out around the house, but she never told him. Loading dishes at all was a blessing. After he went to bed for the night, she found herself putting plates and glasses in the order they needed to be.

It must be a guy thing,
she thought.

She put down her phone and started on the next letter, though it was not really a letter, but a greeting card. It was sent about two weeks after the first. The outside was a picture of a prickly pear cactus, with full moon-glow yellow blooms and a glistening webbing of spikes ready to wreak havoc.

Inside the manufacturer printed:
The only thing that hurts more than bumping into one of these is not seeing you.

The message was handwritten on the bottom of the card and continued to the other side:

Birdy stopped reading and fished for her drugstore readers. Her eyes were tired, and Jennifer had a teeny tiny handwriting. Having found her glasses, Birdy went to get something to drink. She opted for a diet soda over a beer. Elan’s crack about her family’s problems with drugs and alcohol resonated a little. She passed by his bedroom. He was on the phone. She could only pick up bits and pieces and she didn’t linger.

“She’s a lot nicer to me,” he said. “I like her a lot. I haven’t been this happy probably ever.”

He was talking to his mother. It was sweet, but if she’d had to bet on it, she figured his comments probably didn’t set well with his mom. Summer thought life was a competition and she’d been saddled with the losing team.

Birdy sat down and opened the next envelope from the Target bag.

This one was postmarked two months later. It was a pretty big gap in time.

Birdy thought of calling Kendall just then. Jennifer had set a trap. If she’d been pregnant, then where was the baby? The gestation for an elephant was about two years, not for a human. And they’d been married for almost a year and a half.

The next envelope was also addressed to Ted Roberts; inside was the identical prickly pear cactus card.