A Grant County Collection: Indelible, Faithless and Skin Privilege

  She realized she was still holding the daisies, and she leaned down to put them on Sibyl's grave. When she looked back up, Greg was limping toward the parking lot. She kept staring, willing him to turn around. He didn't.

  WEDNESDAY

  NINE

  Jeffrey leaned against the tile, letting the hot water from the shower blast his skin. He had bathed last night, but nothing could get rid of the feeling that he was covered in dirt. Not just dirt, but dirt from a grave. Opening that second box, smelling the musty scent of decay, had been almost as bad as finding Abby. The second box changed everything. One more girl was out there, one more family, one more death. At least he hoped it was just one girl. The lab wouldn't be able to come back with DNA until the end of the week. Between that and analyzing the letter Sara had been sent, the tests were costing him half his budget for the rest of the year, but Jeffrey didn't care. He would get another job down at the Texaco pumping gas if he had to. Meanwhile, some Georgia state representative was in Washington right now enjoying a two-hundred-dollar breakfast.

  He forced himself to get out of the shower, still feeling like he needed another hour under the hot water. Sara had obviously come in at some point and put a cup of coffee on the shelf over the sink, but he hadn't heard her. Last night, he had called her from the scene, giving her the bare details of the find. After that, Jeffrey had driven what little evidence they found in the box to Macon himself, then gone back to the station and reviewed every note he had on the case. He made lists ten pages long of who he should talk to, what leads they should follow. By then, it was midnight, and he had found himself trying to decide whether or not to go to Sara's or his own home. He even drove by his house, too late remembering that the girls had already moved in. Around one in the morning, the lights were still on and he could hear music from the street as a party raged inside. He had been too tired to go in and tell them to turn it off.

  Jeffrey slipped on a pair of jeans and walked into the kitchen, carrying his cup of coffee. Sara was at the couch, folding the blanket he had used last night.

  He said, 'I didn't want to wake you,' and she nodded. He knew she didn't believe him, just like he knew that he was telling the truth. Like it or not, his nights had been spent alone for most of the last few years, and he hadn't known how to bring what he had found out there in the woods home to Sara. Even after what had happened in the kitchen two nights ago, getting in bed with her, climbing in between the fresh sheets, would have felt like a violation.

  He saw her empty mug on the counter and asked, 'You want some more coffee?'

  She shook her head, smoothing down the blanket as she put it on the foot of the couch.

  He poured the coffee anyway. When he turned around, Sara was sitting at the kitchen island, sorting through some mail.

  'I'm sorry,' he said.

  'For what?'

  'I feel like . . .' His voice trailed off. He didn't know what he felt like.

  She flipped through a magazine, not touching the coffee he'd poured. When he didn't finish his thought, she looked up. 'You don't have to explain it to me,' she said, and he felt as if a great weight had been lifted.

  Still, he tried, 'It was a hard night.'

  She smiled at him, concern keeping the expression from reaching her eyes. 'You know I understand.'

  Jeffrey still felt tension in the air, but he didn't know if it was from Sara or his own imagination. He reached out to touch her and she said, 'You should wrap your hand.'

  He had taken off the bandage after digging in the forest. Jeffrey looked at the cut, which was bright red. As he thought about it, he felt the wound throb. 'I think it's infected.'

  'Have you been taking the pills I gave you?'

  'Yes.'

  She looked up from the magazine, calling him on the lie.

  'Some,' he said, wondering where he had put the damn things. 'I took some. Two.'

  'That's even better,' she said, returning to the magazine. 'You can build up your resistance to antibiotics.' She flipped through a few more pages.

  He tried for humor. 'The hepatitis will kill me anyway.'

  She looked up, and he saw tears well into her eyes at the suggestion. 'That's not funny.'

  'No,' he admitted. 'I just . . . I needed to be alone. Last night.'

  She wiped her eyes. 'I know.'

  Still, he had to ask, 'You're not mad at me?'

  'Of course not,' she insisted, reaching out to take his uninjured hand. She squeezed it, then let go, returning to her magazine. He saw it was the Lancet, an overseas medical journal.

  'I wouldn't have been much company anyway,' he told her, remembering his sleepless night. 'I kept thinking about it,' he said. 'It's worse finding it empty, not knowing what happened.'

  She finally closed the magazine and gave him her full attention. 'Before, you'd said maybe someone came back for the bodies after they died.'

  'I know,' he told her, and that was one of the things that had kept him from sleep. He had seen some pretty horrible things in his line of work, but someone who was sick enough to kill a girl, then remove her body for whatever reason, was a perpetrator he was unprepared to deal with. 'What kind of person would do that?' he asked.

  'A mentally ill person,' she answered. Sara was a scientist at heart, and she thought there were concrete reasons that explained why people did things. She had never believed in evil, but then she had never knowingly sat across from someone who had murdered in cold blood or raped a child. Like most people, she had the luxury of philosophizing about it from behind her textbooks. Out in the field, he saw things very differently, and Jeffrey had to think that anyone capable of this crime had to have something fundamentally wrong with his soul.

  Sara slid off the stool. 'They should be able to do the blood types today,' she told him, opening the cabinet beside the sink. She took out the sample packets of antibiotics and opened one, then another. 'I called Ron Beard at the state lab while you were in the shower. He's going to run the tests first thing this morning. At least we'll have some idea how many victims there might have been.'

  Jeffrey took the pills and washed them down with some coffee.

  She handed him two other sample packs. 'Will you please take these after lunch?'

  He would probably skip lunch, but he agreed anyway. 'What do you think of Terri Stanley?'

  She shrugged. 'She seems nice. Overwhelmed, but who wouldn't be?'

  'Do you think she drinks?'

  'Alcohol?' Sara asked, surprised. 'I've never smelled it on her. Why?'

  'Lena said she saw her getting sick at the picnic last year.'

  'The police picnic?' she questioned. 'I don't think Lena was there. Wasn't she on her hiatus then?'

  Jeffrey let that settle in, ignoring the tone she gave 'hiatus.' He told her, 'Lena said she saw her at the picnic.'

  'You can check your calendar,' she said. 'Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think she was there.'

  Sara was never wrong about dates. Jeffrey felt a niggling question working its way through his brain. Why had Lena lied? What was she trying to hide this time?

  'Maybe she meant the one before last?' Sara suggested. 'I recall a lot of people drinking too much at that one.' She chuckled. 'Remember Frank kept singing the national anthem like he was Ethel Merman?'

  'Yeah,' he agreed, but Jeffrey knew that Lena had lied. He just couldn't figure out why. As far as he knew, she wasn't particularly close to Terri Stanley. Hell, as far as he knew, Lena wasn't close to anybody. She didn't even have a dog.

  Sara asked, 'What are you going to do today?'

  He tried to get his mind back on track. 'If Lev was telling the truth, I should have some people from the farm first thing. We'll see if he goes through with the polygraph. We're going to talk to them, see if anyone knows what happened to Abby.' He added, 'Don't worry, I'm not expecting a full confession.'

  'What about Chip Donner?'

  'We've got an APB on him,' Jeffrey said. 'I don't know, Sara, I don't like him for this. He's
just a stupid punk. I don't see him having the discipline to plan it out. And that second box was old. Maybe four, five years. Chip was in jail then. That's pretty much the only fact we know.'

  'Who do you think did it, then?'

  'There's the foreman, Cole,' Jeffrey began. 'The brothers. The sisters. Abby's mother and father. Dale Stanley.' He sighed. 'Basically, everybody I've talked to since this whole damn thing started.'

  'But no one stands out?'

  'Cole,' he said.

  'But only because he was yelling to those people about God?'

  'Yes,' he admitted, and coming from Sara it did sound like a weak connection. He had made an effort to back Lena off the religious angle, but he felt maybe he had picked up some of her prejudices. 'I want to talk to the family again, maybe get them alone.'

  'Get the women alone,' she suggested. 'They might be more talkative without their brothers around.'

  'Good idea.' He tried again, 'I really don't want you mixed up with these people, Sara. I don't much like Tessa being involved, either.'

  'Why?'

  'Because I've got a hunch,' he said. 'And my hunch tells me that they're up to something. I just don't know what.'

  'Being devout is hardly a crime,' she said. 'You'd have to arrest my mother if that were the case.' Then added, 'Actually, you'd have to arrest most of my family.'

  'I'm not saying it has anything to do with religion,' Jeffrey said. 'It's how they act.'

  'How do they act?'

  'Like they've got something to hide.'

  Sara leaned against the counter. He could tell she wasn't going to give in. 'Tessa asked me to do this for her.'

  'And I'm asking you not to.'

  She seemed surprised. 'You want me to choose between you and my family?'

  That was exactly what he had been asking, but Jeffrey knew better than to say it. He had lost that contest once before, but this time he was more familiar with the rules. 'I just want you to be careful,' he told her.

  Sara opened her mouth to respond, but the phone rang. She spent a few seconds looking for the cordless receiver before finding it on the coffee table. 'Hello?'

  She listened a moment, then handed the phone to Jeffrey.

  'Tolliver,' he said, surprised to hear a woman's voice answer him.

  'It's Esther Bennett,' she said in a hoarse whisper. 'Your card. The one you gave me. It had this number on it. I'm sorry, I –' Her voice broke into a sob.

  Sara gave him a puzzled look and Jeffrey shook his head. 'Esther,' he said into the phone. 'What's wrong?'

  'It's Becca,' she said, her voice shaking with grief. 'She's missing.'

  Jeffrey pulled his car into the parking lot of Dipsy's Diner, thinking he hadn't been to the joint since Joe Smith, Catoogah's previous sheriff, had been in office. When Jeffrey first started working in Grant County, the two men had met every couple of months for stale coffee and rubber pancakes. As time passed and meth started to be more of a problem for their small towns, their meetings became more serious and more regular. When Ed Pelham had taken over, Jeffrey hadn't even suggested a courtesy call, let alone a meal with the man. As far as he was concerned, Two-Bit couldn't fill a three-year-old girl's shoes, let alone the boots of a man like Joe Smith.

  Jeffrey scanned the vacant parking lot, wondering how Esther Bennett knew about this place. He couldn't imagine the woman eating anything that didn't come from her own oven, picked from her own garden. If Dipsy's was her idea of a restaurant, she'd be better off eating cardboard at home.

  May-Lynn Bledsoe was behind the counter when he walked into the diner, and she shot him a caustic look. 'I's beginning to think you didn't love me no more.'

  'Couldn't be possible,' he said, wondering why she was making an attempt at banter. He'd been in this diner maybe fifty times and she had never given him the time of day. He glanced around the room, noting it was empty.

  'You beat the rush,' she said, though he doubted people would be banging down the door anytime soon. Between May-Lynn's sour attitude and the tepid coffee, there wasn't much to recommend the place. Joe Smith had been a fan of their cheese and onion home fries and always asked for a triple order with his coffee. Jeffrey imagined Joe's sudden heart attack at the age of fifty-six had put some people off.

  He saw a late-model Toyota pull into the parking lot and waited for the driver to get out. The early morning wind was whipping up dirt and sand in the gravel parking lot, and when Esther Bennett got out of the car, the door caught back on her. Jeffrey went to help her, but May-Lynn was in front of the door like she was afraid he'd change his mind and leave. She was picking something out of her back teeth that caused her to put her pinky finger into her mouth up to the third knuckle as she asked, 'You want the usual?'

  'Just coffee, please,' he said, watching Esther quickly take the steps to the entrance, clutching her coat closed with both hands. The bell over the door clanged as she walked in, and he stood to greet her.

  'Chief Tolliver,' Esther said, breathless. 'I'm sorry I'm late.'

  'You're fine,' he told her, indicating she should sit down. He tried to take her coat, but she wouldn't let him.

  'I'm sorry,' she repeated, sliding into the booth, her sense of urgency as palpable as the smell of grilled onions in the air.

  He sat across from her. 'Tell me what's going on.'

  A long shadow was cast over the table, and he looked up to find May-Lynn standing beside him, pad in her hand. Esther looked at her, confused for a second before asking, 'May I have some water, please?'

  The waitress twisted her lips to the side as if she'd just calculated her tip. 'Water.'

  Jeffrey waited for her to saunter back behind the counter before asking Esther, 'How long has she been missing?'

  'Just since last night,' Esther said, her lower lip trembling. 'Lev and Paul said I should wait a day to see if she comes back, but I can't . . .'

  'It's okay,' he said, wondering how anybody could look at this panicked woman and tell her to wait. 'When did you notice she was gone?'

  'I got up to check on her. With Abby –' she stopped, her throat working. 'I wanted to check on Becca, to make sure she was sleeping.' She put her hand to her mouth. 'I went into her room, and –'

  'Water,' May-Lynn said, sloshing a glass down in front of Esther.

  Jeffrey's patience was up. 'Give us a minute, okay?'

  May-Lynn shrugged, as if he was in the wrong, before shuffling back to the counter.

  Jeffrey took his turn with the apologies as he dabbed up the spilled water with a handful of flimsy paper napkins. 'I'm sorry about that,' he told Esther. 'Business is kind of slow.'

  Esther watched his hands as if she had never seen anyone clean a table. Jeffrey thought it was more likely she'd never seen a man clean up after himself. He asked, 'So, you saw last night that she was gone?'

  'I called Rachel first. Becca stayed with my sister the night we realized Abby was missing. I didn't want her out in the dark with us while we searched. I needed to know where she was.' Esther paused, taking a sip of water. Jeffrey saw that her hand trembled. 'I thought she might have gone back there.'

  'But she hadn't?'

  Esther shook her head. 'I called Paul next,' she said. 'He told me not to worry.' She made an almost disgusted sound. 'Lev said the same thing. She's always come back, but with Abby . . .' She gulped in air as if she couldn't breathe. 'With Abby gone . . .'

  'Did she say anything before she left?' Jeffrey asked. 'Maybe she was acting differently?'

  Esther dug into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a piece of paper. 'She left this.'

  Jeffrey took the folded note the woman offered, feeling a little like he had been tricked. The paper had a pink tint, the ink was black. A girlish scrawl read, 'Mama, Don't worry about me. I'll be back.'

  Jeffrey stared at the note, not knowing what to say. The fact that the girl had left a note changed a lot of things. 'This is her writing?'

  'Yes.'

  'On Monday, you told my detective th
at Rebecca has run away before.'

  'Not like this,' she insisted. 'She's never left a note before.'

  Jeffrey thought in the scheme of things the girl was probably just trying to be considerate. 'How many times has this happened?'

  'In May and June of last year,' she listed. 'Then February this year.'

  'Do you know any reason why she might run away?'

  'I don't understand.'

  Jeffrey tried to phrase his words carefully. 'Girls don't usually just up and run away. Usually they're running away from something.'

  He could have slapped the woman in the face and got a better response. She folded the note and tucked it back into her pocket as she stood. 'I'm sorry I wasted your time.'

  'Mrs Bennett –'

  She was halfway out the door, and he just missed catching her as she ran down the stairs.

  'Mrs Bennett,' he said, following her into the parking lot. 'Don't go like this.'

  'They said you'd say that.'

  'Who said?'

  'My husband. My brothers.' Her shoulders were shaking. She took out a tissue and wiped her nose. 'They said you would blame us, that it was useless to even try to talk to you.'

  'I don't recall blaming anybody.'

  She shook her head as she turned around. 'I know what you're thinking, Chief Tolliver.'

  'I doubt –'

  'Paul said you'd be this way. Outsiders never understand. We've come to accept that. I don't know why I tried.' She pressed her lips together, her resolve strengthened by anger. 'You may not agree with my beliefs, but I am a mother. One of my daughters is dead and the other is missing. I know something is wrong. I know that Rebecca would never be so selfish as to leave me at a time like this unless she felt she had to.'

  Jeffrey thought she was answering his earlier question without admitting it to herself. He tried to be even more careful this time. 'Why would she have to?'

  Esther seemed to cast around for an answer, but didn't offer it to Jeffrey.

  He tried again. 'Why would she have to leave?'

  'I know what you're thinking.'

  Again, he pressed, 'Why would she leave?'

  She said nothing.