The Girl Next Door (26 page)

“That’s great. I need it yesterday,” said Andre apologetically.

“No problem,” said Stan.

“Think of it as a favor to Doc Avery,” said Andre.

Stan tucked the clipping into his pocket and patted it. “Consider it done.”

N
INA
went to the grocery store, stocked up on soup, frozen dinners, and a few of her aunt’s
favorite candy bars, and brought them back to put in the refrigerator. She looked
at her watch. She needed to finish up in Aunt Mary’s room before she went to pick
her aunt up at the nursing home. She took a minute to try and get the phone number
of Calvin’s aunt and uncle in Seaside Park, the nearest shore town to Hoffman, but
it was unlisted. She figured she would try Jimmy at work when she
got back from the nursing home. Surely he would know. At least Rose and George hadn’t
called looking for Jimmy. That was a good sign that he had probably made it home all
right yesterday. She checked her watch again and hurried down to Aunt Mary’s refurbished
bedroom.

In the daylight, it looked pretty good, she thought. She threaded the laundered curtains
onto their rods and hung them up again. She stepped back to admire them, and bumped
up against the boxes of newspapers she had looked through the night before. As she
replaced them in the back of the closet, the memory of her nightmare came back to
her. That image of the baby in the box made her shudder. Don’t think about it, she
told herself. It was just a dream. Get busy. You’ve still got a lot to do. She reached
for the paintings, which she had stacked on the dresser when she’d taken them down.

Which one goes where? she wondered, as she began to rehang them. There were a couple
of small flower paintings that hung on either side of the large mirrored bureau. Nina
put them up, moving them around until she thought they looked right. Aunt Mary could
always change it, she thought, if she had gotten the order wrong.

The largest painting was one of Nina’s mother’s watercolors, which Aunt Mary kept
over the bed. It was her last painting, the one she’d been working on at the time
she died. It was a spring scene that had been painted at the Madison Creek Nature
Preserve. To Nina’s untrained eye the painting looked finished, although her mother
might have had more she wanted to do to it. The dominant colors were pastels—yellow,
lavender, and spring green. The painting showed two boys fishing on the bank of the
creek. Lilacs were in bloom all around them, the flowers reflected in the surface
of the quiet water. It was a painting full of light and joy, and Nina’s eyes filled
with tears at the sight of it, knowing that it was the last her mother had ever done.

She rehung the picture, and then took a final, satisfied look at the room before she
closed the door, gathered up her bag, and headed for the car. But as she drove toward
the nursing home, her mind wandered back to the painting, and her mother.

Each day, Nina remembered, fair weather or foul, Marsha would carry her paints and
easel down to the park and set up among the trees, out of sight and careful not to
disturb the birds and the squirrels or the people who were strolling, or, as in the
case of these two boys, fishing. Patrick used to tease their mother that her green
sweatshirt was her camouflage outfit. Nina could picture her mother there, hidden
among the leaves, those sweet, keen eyes focused on the scene in front of her.

Nina had actually recognized the very spot her mother had painted in the picture over
Aunt Mary’s bed. It was one of Marsha’s favorite locations. It was right near the
spot where … Nina’s heart skipped a beat. She forced herself to watch the road, but
her concentration was jolted. It was right near the spot where that baby had been
found on the day of Marsha’s murder. The baby who had disappeared. She tried to remember
what had happened. The boyfriend—what was his name? Travis something. He told the
police that someone had kidnapped the child. But everyone thought he had killed the
child and gotten rid of it. He had, as it turned out, brought it to the park to bury
it. To bury it right near where Marsha used to sit so quietly and paint. Was that
it? Nina wondered. Had her mother seen that man, Travis, burying that poor dead baby?
Did he find out somehow that she was a witness? Or did he notice her watching him
and follow her home? Was that why she was killed?

Nina turned the car into the nursing home driveway, shaking her head. No. Impossible.
If Marsha had seen someone doing that, she would have called the police right away.
The police would have dug up the baby and arrested the man. And
her mother never said a thing about it. Which was impossible. Marsha would have told
all of them about it immediately. No, that wasn’t what had happened. Thinking hard
about it, Nina remembered. A dog had dug up a black plastic garbage bag. The dog probably
tore the bag open and the dog’s owner must have seen the baby inside and called the
police. That’s what had brought the police out. It had nothing to do with her mother.
It was just a coincidence. It was her dream that made her think that. The dream had
merged the headlines in the paper. She parked the car and took a deep breath. Stop
imagining things, she scolded herself. Go get your aunt.

A
UNT
M
ARY
was sitting up in the armchair of her room, fully dressed, when Nina arrived. “It’s
not like you’re anxious to get home or anything,” Nina said wryly.

“I admit it,” said the elderly woman with a smile. “I’m ready to go. I hate to think
I might end up in a place like this one day. Promise me you won’t move me out of my
house unless I’m a hopeless case.”

“I promise,” said Nina gravely.

An aide in a pink smock, with a name tag that read
TAMALA
, bustled in and began stripping the hospital bed. “Is she telling you how mean to
her we are around here? Here, honey, take these last few pills.”

Aunt Mary obediently swallowed the pills with a cup of water and then shook her head.
“I told her you are all angels of mercy, but I can’t wait to get home.”

The aide gave a boisterous laugh. “I don’t blame you, honey.”

Nina picked up Aunt Mary’s little suitcase. “How about these flowers?” Nina asked.

“I told Tamala to put them in the common rooms,” said Mary.

“I guess you’re ready,” said Nina, glancing up at the clock. She wondered if she would
be able to get her aunt home and situated and still be able to hunt down Calvin Mears.
She had to talk to him. It was the only way she was ever going to find out the truth.
“I’ll take this suitcase out and bring the car around,” said Nina.

Nina’s aunt noticed her looking at the clock. “I’m such a bother,” she said.

Nina immediately felt guilty. “Don’t talk like that,” she said.

A
NDRE
palpated the abdomen of the middle-aged black man lying on the examining table and
made some notes on a clipboard that lay on the rolling stainless steel tray beside
the table. “Okay,” he said to the patient. “You can sit up now and pull down your
shirt.”

The inmate grunted as he swung his sturdy legs over the edge of the table. His dark
skin had an ashen tone to it, and there were large dark circles under his eyes. “So,
what’s the matter with me, Doc?” he said, as he stretched his T-shirt over his belly
and adjusted the orange tunic top over it.

“I need a little more information before I know the answer to that,” Andre said. “I’m
gonna send you out for X-rays. After I get them back we’ll talk more.”

“All I got left on my sentence is two years,” the man said. “I don’t want to die before
I see the other side of that wall.”

“We’ll try to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Andre said. He walked over to the barred
window of his examining room and called out to the armed man sitting beside the door.
“Eddie. You can take Mr. Bishop back now.”

“Thanks, Doc,” murmured Bishop wearily.

Andre clapped the inmate gently on the back as he opened the door and delivered the
man to the guard in the hallway. Then he sat down at his desk to record his notes.

Dwight Bird, his hands encased in disposable plastic gloves, entered the examining
room from the infirmary, cleared the paper off the table, balled it up, and put it
in the trash. Then he replaced it with another long sheet.

Andre looked up from the desk.

Dwight glanced around before he spoke to be sure they were not overheard. “Your boy’s
not flying,” said Dwight.

“What?” asked Andre.

“You heard me,” said Dwight with a sly smile.

“How did you … ?”

“I was eavesdropping when you were talking to Mazurek.”

“Dwight …” Andre protested. “You want to get in more trouble?”

“Don’t worry,” said Dwight. “I am never ending up here. I promise you that. Besides,
if anybody gets in trouble for this, it’s gonna be you.”

Andre nodded ruefully. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You’re welcome,” said Dwight, ambling back to the intake area.

Andre sat and thought for a minute. So Calvin Mears was still in the area. Stan had
already delivered the Seaside Park address along with the phone number. But Andre
knew better than to call and inquire. If Calvin was staying with his aunt and uncle,
a call like that would send him running. Andre knew what he had to do. He got up,
walked to the door, and looked out. The guard who had accompanied Bishop, relaying
him to another colleague, was returning to his post. “Eddie,” Andre called to the
young man as he resumed his position outside the infirmary door. “This is an emergency.
I’m gonna have to leave.”

·   ·   ·

O
NCE
they arrived back at the house, Nina came around to the passenger side of the car
and unfolded her aunt’s walker. Aunt Mary inched her way up the path to the front
steps and into the house while Nina hovered beside her.

“It takes me a while,” said her aunt.

“You’re doing fine,” Nina assured her, although she felt her own anxiety rising as
they hobbled along slowly.

As they crossed the threshold, Aunt Mary sighed. “Oh, it’s good to be home.”

“Why don’t we get you settled in your room?” Nina asked.

Her aunt nodded. “It would feel good to get in my own bed for a little bit.”

They inched across the living room and down the hall. “When we get to the door here,
I want you to close your eyes,” Nina said.

“Close my eyes?”

“Come on. Just do it.”

Obediently, Aunt Mary closed her eyes. Nina switched on the bedside lamp and the one
on the bureau, and then told her aunt she could look.

Mary’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness. Nina. What did you do?”

“This room seemed a little gloomy. I decided to brighten it up,” Nina said proudly.
As she spoke, she helped her aunt to seat herself atop the newly washed bedspread.

“It’s wonderful,” said Aunt Mary. “It’s absolutely beautiful. And you’re right. It
had gotten so dingy. Ever since Uncle John died I’ve been meaning to have it painted
but I never got around to it. Oh, Nina, you are an angel. I just can’t get over it,”
said Aunt Mary. She pulled her afghan up over her legs and sat up against her pillows,
gazing around in amazement.

“When did you have time to do this, Nina? With all that’s happened …”

“Well,” said Nina, placing the suitcase on the bed and unpacking it, “my father helped
me.” She felt tears rising and pressed her lips together. Then she took a deep breath.
“We got a good start on it together, but I have to admit, it was only half done when
you called to say you were coming home. I stayed up most of last night finishing.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have. You need your rest,” said Aunt Mary.

Nina went to the closet and took out a hanger to hang up her aunt’s bathrobe. “I didn’t
get it all done. I didn’t do the closet. I started to empty it out, but then …” Nina
stopped, not wanting to mention the old newspapers she had found in the boxes. “I
didn’t have time to finish,” she said, her voice trailing away.

Aunt Mary grimaced. “Did you find the newspapers?”

Nina turned around and met her aunt’s gaze. “Yeah. I found them.”

Aunt Mary gazed at her sympathetically. “I hope it didn’t upset you too much. I would
have warned you if I thought you were going to be in there.”

Nina shook her head. “I was a little … surprised at first.”

“I kept them away from you at the time it happened,” said Mary. “There was so much
going on. It was all so terrible. I felt like I had to shield you from it as best
I could. I never turned on the news when you were around. I hid the papers. But I
knew … I had a feeling that someday you might want to see them.”

Nina sat down on the edge of the bed. “In a way I didn’t want to read about it, and
in another way I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Of course,” said the old woman.

“It brought that day back to me so vividly. You never know until it’s too late that
it’s a day that will change your life forever.
That afternoon I was thinking it would be the best day of my life.”

“You were? How come?” her aunt asked.

“Well, I had a crush on the boy next door and he asked me to the movies. Oh, I was
on cloud nine. And I remember it was a great day for Patrick, too. He found out that
day that he was accepted at Rutgers. We were both so excited. We had no inkling of
what was about to happen.” Nina shook her head at her own innocence. “I had no idea
that was the last time I would ever see my mother. I can still picture her … wearing
that old green sweatshirt of hers. She’d gone down to the Preserve to paint that afternoon,
but she had to come home ’cause all the police and reporters were in the park. That
was the day they found that missing baby, remember? The one that was killed by his
mother’s boyfriend, or whatever?”

Aunt Mary frowned. “You mean the Kilgore baby?” “That was it. The Kilgore baby” Aunt
Mary shook her head. “That wasn’t the Kilgore baby they found.”

“It wasn’t?”

Aunt Mary shook her head. “They never did find April Kilgore’s baby. Although no one
doubts that that boyfriend of hers killed the baby. He ended up in jail for hitting
April Kilgore so hard that she lost the hearing in one of her ears.”