Kisscut

  Lena turned as he backed out of the park. A large mobile home, she guessed a doublewide, was on the other side of the road. Unlike the ones in the park across from it, this trailer looked more like a house. There was something like landscaping in the front yard, and a cinder block foundation covered the bottom portion. Someone had painted the concrete blocks black to offset the white trailer, and a large covered deck served as a front porch. To the side was a carport, and beside this was a large diesel semi.

  “He’s a truck driver?” Jeffrey asked.

  Lena thumbed down to the proper space on the form. “Long hauler,” she told him. “Probably owns his own rig.”

  “Looks like he makes some money from it.”

  “I think you can if you own your own truck,” Lena told him, still skimming Mark Patterson’s file. “Oh, wait,” she said. “Patterson owns the Kudzu, too. He put it up as collateral when he bailed out Mark.”

  Jeffrey parked in front of the Patterson trailer. “Sure doesn’t take good care of it. The park, I mean.”

  “No,” Lena answered, looking back across the road. The Patterson house was a stark contrast to the desolate-looking Kudzu Arms across the street. She wondered what this said about the father, that he would take such pride in his own home, yet let the people living less than thirty yards away live in such squalor. Not that it was Patterson’s responsibility to help people out, but Lena would have thought the man would try to pick himself some nicer neighbors, especially with two kids in the house.

  “Teddy,” Lena told Jeffrey. “That’s the father’s name.”

  “Marla pulled his sheet back at the station,” Jeffrey told her. “He’s got a couple of assaults on him, but they go back about ten years. He did some time on one of them.”

  “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  A large man stepped from the trailer as Jeffrey and Lena got out of the car. Lena guessed this was Teddy Patterson, and she felt a momentary flash of panic because he was such a physically large man. Taller than Jeffrey by a couple of inches and at least thirty pounds heavier, Patterson looked as if he could pick up both of them in one hand and toss them across the road.

  Lena felt angry that she even took note of his size. Before, Lena had felt like she could take on anybody. She was a strong woman, muscular from working out in the gym, and she had always been able to push herself to do whatever she wanted to do. Now, she had lost that feeling, and the sight of Patterson gave her a slight chill, even though he wasn’t doing anything more threatening than wiping his hands on a dirty dish towel.

  “You lost?” Patterson asked. He had that look about him that all cops learned to recognize: Teddy Patterson was a con, right down to the jailhouse tattoos clawing up his arms like chicken scratches. Lena and Jeffrey exchanged glances, which did not seem to be lost on Patterson.

  “Mr. Patterson?” Jeffrey asked, taking out his badge. “Jeffrey Tolliver, Grant Police.”

  “I know who you are,” Patterson shot back, tucking the dish towel into his pocket. Lena could see it was soiled with what looked like grease. She also took note of the fact that Patterson had not bothered to acknowledge her.

  Lena opened her mouth to speak, to let him know that she was there, but nothing came out. The thought of him training his animosity on her brought a cold sweat.

  “This is detective Lena Adams,” Jeffrey said. If he noticed her fear, he did not seem to register it. “We’re here to talk to Mark about what happened last night.”

  “Alright,” Patterson said, running the words together like most people in Madison did, so that it came out more as “Ahte.”

  Patterson turned his back to them and walked toward the house. He stood in the doorway as Jeffrey passed, crowding him on purpose, and Lena could see that the man was a lot taller than she had thought from the car. Lena was not sure, but Patterson seemed to narrow the space between his stomach and the door jamb as Lena passed through. She turned slightly so that she would not be forced to touch him, but even then Lena could tell from the smile on his face that he knew she was feeling intimidated. She hated that she was so transparent.

  “Have a seat,” Patterson offered, indicating the couch. Neither Jeffrey nor Lena took him up on this. Patterson’s arms were crossed over his barrel chest, and Lena noticed that his head was about three inches from the low ceiling. The room was large, but Patterson filled the space with his presence.

  Lena looked around the trailer, trying to behave like a cop instead of a scared little girl. The place was orderly and clean, certainly not what she would have guessed if she had met Teddy Patterson in a bar somewhere. The room they stood in was long, a kitchen at one end, with a hallway to what she assumed was the rest of the trailer, then the room they stood in, which had a medium-sized fireplace and a big-screen television. A floral scent was in the air, probably from one of those plug-in air fresheners. The living room seemed feminine, too, the walls painted a light pink, the couch and two chairs covered in a light blue with a matching pink stripe. A quilt was over the couch, the pattern complementing the decor. On the coffee table, a bowl of fresh cut flowers was surrounded by women’s magazines. There were some nice framed prints on the walls, and the furniture looked new. The carpet, too, was freshly vacuumed. Lena could see Patterson’s footprints indenting the pile where he had walked.

  “We just need to talk to Mark about what happened last night,” Jeffrey told Patterson as Lena continued her survey of the room. She stopped midturn, seeing a picture of Jesus hanging over the fireplace. His pierced and bleeding hands were open in the classic “let’s be pals” Jesus pose. Jeffrey seemed to notice the painting at the same time, too, because he was staring at Lena when she made herself look away. He raised his eyebrows, as if to ask if she was all right. Lena could feel rather than see Patterson assessing this exchange. Of course he had heard about what happened to Lena. She could only imagine what kind of pleasure Patterson was getting out of reviewing the details of her assault in his mind. The hold this gave Patterson over Lena was suffocating, and she made herself look the other man right in the eye. He held her gaze for just a second, then glanced down at her hands.

  She knew exactly what he was looking for, and Lena was fighting the urge to tuck her hands into her pockets when a small woman with a ravaged look about her walked up the hallway, asking, “Teddy? Did you get my pills?”

  She stopped when she saw Jeffrey and Lena, putting her hand to her neck. “What’s this about?”

  “Police,” Patterson said, looking away quickly. Something like guilt flashed in his eyes, as if his wife might guess what he had been thinking about Lena a few seconds before.

  “Well,” she said, a wry look on her face. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  She was a small woman, probably no taller than Lena’s own five-foot-four. Her dark blonde hair was thin, her scalp showing through in places. She looked almost emaciated, like pictures Lena had seen in history books of Holocaust survivors. There was strength to her, though, and Lena imagined this was the woman who was responsible for keeping the trailer so neat and organized. Underneath her sickly appearance, she had the stance of a person who knew how to take care of things.

  “I knew you were coming,” the woman said, “so I know I shouldn’t feel surprised.” Her hand stayed at her neck, nervously playing with a charm on her necklace. Lena guessed from the Jesus on the wall that it was a cross.

  “Mrs. Patterson?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Grace,” she told him, holding out her hand. Jeffrey shook it, and Lena took the opportunity to let herself study Teddy Patterson. He watched his wife and Jeffrey with a slack expression on his face. His shoulders stooped somewhat when his wife was in the room, and he did not seem so threatening in her presence.

  “We want to talk to Mark,” Jeffrey told the woman. “Is he around?”

  Grace Patterson gave her husband a worried look.

  Patterson told his wife, “Why don’t you sit down, hon?” Then, as if he needed to explai
n this to Jeffrey, he said, “She’s been sick lately.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Jeffrey said. He sat down by Grace on the couch and nodded to Lena, indicating that she should sit as well. Lena hesitated, but did as she was directed, sitting in one of the chairs.

  The light coming through the window hit Grace Patterson just right, and Lena could see how pale she was. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her lips were an unnatural shade of pinkish-blue. Lena realized the woman matched the living room perfectly.

  Grace spoke. “I appreciate your not interrogating Mark last night, Chief Tolliver. He was very upset.”

  Jeffrey said, “It’s understandable that he would need some time to recover from what happened.”

  Teddy Patterson snorted at this. Lena was not surprised. Men like Teddy Patterson did not think that people needed to recover from things. He was actually more like Lena in that regard. You dealt with it and you got over it. Or, at least you tried and did not whine about it.

  “Is his sister around?” Jeffrey asked. “We’d like to talk to her, too.”

  “Lacey?” Grace said, putting her hand to her necklace again. “She’s at her grandmother’s right now. We thought it would be best.”

  Jeffrey asked, “Where was she last night?”

  “Here,” Grace answered. “She was taking care of me.” She swallowed, looking down at her hands in her lap. “I don’t usually ask her to stay with me, but I had a very bad night, and Teddy had to work.” She gave him a weak smile. “Sometimes the pain gets to be too much for me. I like having my children around.”

  “But Mark wasn’t here?” Jeffrey said, even though that much was obvious.

  Her face clouded. “No, he wasn’t. He’s been a bit difficult to control lately.”

  “He smacked up his sister a while back,” Patterson told them. “I guess you got that on his sheet. He’s a real shit, that boy. Nothing good coming from him.”

  Grace did not make a sound, but her disapproval traveled through the room.

  “Sorry,” Patterson apologized. He actually looked contrite. Lena wondered at the hold Grace had over her husband. In the space of a few short minutes, she had subdued the man.

  Patterson said, “I’ll go fetch Mark,” and left the room.

  Lena caught herself running her tongue along the back of her teeth again. For some reason, she could not speak. There were questions to ask, and Lena knew that Jeffrey wanted them to come from Lena, but she was too preoccupied to focus. Her goal was to get out of this trailer and away from Teddy Patterson as quickly as possible. The truth was that even with his wife sitting three feet away, and Jeffrey right beside her, Lena felt scared. More than that, she felt threatened.

  Lena tried to take her mind off the claustrophobia she was feeling. She stared off into the kitchen, which was roomy but not large. Strawberry wallpaper lined the walls, and there was even a clock with a strawberry on it over the kitchen table.

  Grace cleared her throat. “Mark has had a bad time lately,” she said, picking up where she had left off. “He’s been in and out of trouble at school.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Patterson,” Jeffrey said. He sat up on the couch, probably to establish a sense of rapport. “How about Lacey?”

  “Lacey has never been in trouble a day in her life,” Grace told him. “And that’s the God’s truth. That child is an angel.”

  Jeffrey smiled, and Lena could guess what he was thinking. Usually the angels were the ones who committed the most heinous crimes. “Is she dating any boys?”

  “She’s thirteen,” Grace told him, as if that answered it. “We don’t even let boys call the house.”

  “She couldn’t have been seeing anyone on the side?”

  “I don’t see how,” Grace answered. “She’s home from school every day when she’s supposed to be. Whenever she goes out, it’s always with a group of her girlfriends and she always comes back in time for her curfew.”

  Lena could sense Jeffrey trying to catch her eye, but she ignored him.

  He asked, “What time is her curfew?”

  “School nights we don’t let her go out, of course. Fridays and Saturdays, nine o’clock.”

  “Does she ever sleep over with anybody?”

  Grace looked as if she had just realized that Jeffrey’s interest in Lacey was more calculated than she had originally thought. The look was similar to the one Dottie Weaver had given Lena just hours before, but there was far more menace in Grace Patterson than there had been in Dottie Weaver.

  She demanded, “Why are you asking so many questions about my daughter? It was Mark that little girl pointed the gun at.”

  Jeffrey said, “Dottie told us that Lacey and Jenny were friends.”

  “Well…,” she began, the hesitancy still there as she obviously tried to think a step ahead of Jeffrey’s questions. Finally, she said, “Yes, they were friends. Then something happened and they stopped hanging around each other.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s been a few months since that happened. We haven’t seen Jenny around for a while, and I know Lacey hasn’t gone over to her house.”

  “Did she tell you why?”

  “I assumed it was some silly little disagreement.”

  “But you didn’t ask her?”

  Grace shrugged. “She’s my daughter, Chief Tolliver, not my best friend. Little girls have their secrets. You can ask your ex-wife about that.”

  He nodded at this. “Sara said Lacey’s a great kid. Very smart.”

  “She is,” Grace agreed, and she seemed pleased to have her daughter complimented. “But, it’s not my place to pry if she’s not ready to talk about it.”

  “Maybe she wouldn’t mind talking with someone else about it?”

  “Meaning?”

  “Do you mind if I talk to her?”

  Grace gave him another sharp look. “She’s a minor. If you don’t have cause, you can’t talk to her without my permission. Is that right?”

  “We don’t want to talk to her as a suspect, Mrs. Patterson. We just want to get some idea of what state of mind Jenny Weaver was in. We don’t really need your permission for that.”

  “But, I’ve just told you that Lacey hasn’t seen Jenny for a while—probably since Christmas. She wouldn’t have any idea about this.” Grace gave a polite but humorless smile. “I do not want my daughter interrogated, Chief Tolliver.” She paused. “By you or by Dr. Linton.”

  “She’s not suspected of any wrongdoing.”

  “I want to keep it that way,” she said. “Do I need to call the school and tell them that she is not to talk to anyone without either her father or me in the room?”

  Jeffrey paused, probably thinking that she knew a hell of a lot more about the law than they had initially suspected. Schools were very friendly with law enforcement, and since administrators served as in loco parentis while the kids were on campus, they could allow interviews.

  Jeffrey said, “That’s not necessary.”

  “Do I have your word on that?”

  Jeffrey gave a quick nod. “All right,” he said, and Lena could hear the disappointment in his voice.

  “We’d still like to talk to her,” Jeffrey said. “You’re more than welcome to sit in on an interview.”

  “I’ll have to talk to Teddy about that,” she told him. “But we can both imagine what he’ll say.” She gave a slight almost-smile, ending the hostility. “You know about daddies and their little girls.”

  Jeffrey sighed, and nodded again. Lena knew that Teddy Patterson was more likely to slip on his wife’s Sunday best than to let his daughter talk to a cop. Cons learned to distrust the police early on, and despite the fact that he had been out of prison for a good while, Teddy still seemed to be practicing this.

  To his credit, Jeffrey did not completely give up. He asked, “She hasn’t been sick lately, has she?”

  “Lacey?” Grace asked, obviously surprised. “No, of course not. Ask Dr. Linton if you like.” She put her hand to her che
st self-consciously. “I’m the only one in the family who’s ever been ill.”

  “She was going to church? Lacey was?”

  “Yes,” Grace told them. She smiled again, and Lena could see that her teeth were slightly gray. “Mark was, too. For a while, anyway.” She paused, looking at the fireplace. Lena thought she was looking at the painting, but then she noticed there were pictures of the family on the mantel. They were the kinds of snapshots every family had, kids and parents at the beach, at an amusement park, out camping in the woods. The Grace Patterson in these photos was a little heavier and not so sunken-looking. The kids looked younger, too. The boy who must have been Mark looked around ten or eleven years old, his sister around eight. They seemed like a happy family. Even Teddy Patterson smiled for the camera in the few shots that showed him.

  “So,” Jeffrey prompted, “they went to the Baptist?”

  “Crescent Baptist,” Grace answered, her voice animated for the first time. “Mark seemed very happy there for a while. Like some of his nervous energy was being directed, finally. He even started doing better in school.”

  “And then?”

  “And then…” She shook her head slowly, her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. Around Christmas, he started to get bad again.”

  “Christmas this past year?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “I really don’t know what happened, but the anger was back. He seemed so…” Again, she let her voice trail off. “We tried to get him into counseling, but he wouldn’t show up. We couldn’t make him go, though”—she looked down the hallway, as if to check to see if they were alone—“his father tried. Teddy thinks that people should be like him. Boys, that is. Or men, I should say. He has strong ideas about what’s acceptable.”

  “There was a church retreat at Christmastime. Did Mark go on that?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “This was around the time he started to act up. He was grounded, and his father wouldn’t let him go.”

  “Lacey went?”

  “Yes,” she smiled. “She’d never been skiing before. She had a wonderful time.”