Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

And met Lulu. That horse – and Maggie – were my salvation. At first I was like a little ghost, always watching. Then one day Maggie put a brush in my hand. I’d brush that horse and feel connected again. Like I was part of the world. When I’d have a nightmare or a panic attack, Maggie would carry me out to the barn and put the brush in my hand. It’s a wonder Lulu wasn’t bald after all that brushing. But I’d brush Lulu and bathe her. Later, I’d ride her and whisper my secrets in her ear. The wind in my face, the freedom of being able to go anywhere I wanted, the act of caring for an animal . . . It healed me, a little at a time.’
    She sighed. ‘And then one day it was just me and Maggie in the barn with the horses and it all came out, all in a rush. That’s the only time I’ve ever seen Maggie cry. I was terrified after I’d told her. I never wanted Mama to know. Mama stood up for me with her family, lost them because of me. My dad was gone, because of me.’
    ‘Please tell me that you know now that it wasn’t because of you.’
    ‘I know that in my head, but I still don’t believe it. The other reason I didn’t want her to know was that Mama would have never let me rest until I told her Beckett’s name. And then he’d kill her. Of that I had absolutely no doubt.’
    ‘I guess I can understand that.’
    ‘I was homeschooled for a long time, because even when I started talking again, it was years before I was ready to go to a normal school. Years before I’d let anyone touch me other than Mama and Maggie. If I heard anyone say, “Did you miss me?”, I’d be a mess for days and poor Lulu would get the brushing of her life. If Beckett popped up and said it, I was back to almost square one.’
    ‘It’s a wonder you didn’t have a nervous breakdown.’
    ‘I did have one. The first time he popped up was when I’d finally started at the local school. I was eleven. My first day, I was headed for my bus and somebody bumped me from behind. I dropped my books. I’d bent down to gather them and a man stopped to help. I looked up to say thanks and there he was.’
    ‘My God.’
    ‘Yeah. He said, “Did you miss me?” and then said, “You look pert near cooked” and tried to grab me. The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital, waking up. I’d run away, screaming in my mind. Ran into the street and nearly got plowed by a bus. I tripped trying to get away, hit my head. Ended up in the hospital.’
    Joseph’s face had grown very dark. ‘He needs to die, Daphne.’
    ‘I know. But that’s not why I’m telling you this. These are the things that will come out if I have to tell grieving, angry parents why I didn’t turn him in sooner. Why I waited seven years to turn him in to the FBI.’
    ‘Who told you Beckett was dead.’
    ‘Because the county records department told them so. You think that Beckett faked his own death?’
    ‘It’s the most straightforward explanation. If he was dead, he’d be off the grid. He wouldn’t have to worry about anyone looking for him.
    ‘He could kill with impunity. I’d like to read the autopsy report. I wonder if he found a body or procured one by murdering the person. Somebody has to be dead to get the ME to sign off on the document itself.’
    ‘McManus was going to the county records office first thing in the morning, but we may be able to see a copy of the certificate on line.’
    ‘Can we do it right now?’
    ‘Sure. Let’s put at least one of these questions to rest right now.’
    Wheeling, West Virginia, Wednesday, December 4, 11.45 P.M.
    ‘Hey, kid. Ford. Are you okay?’
    No . I’m not okay . Ford looked up at the ceiling. Numb. When he’d first opened his eyes and seen his mother’s face . . .  I thought everything would be all right . His biggest worry had been for her. When she let herself get worn down, she got a cold.
    And every time she sneezed he still worried the cancer had come back.
    When he’d opened his eyes the next time? It had been to see . . . nothing. Because there had been a goddamn pillow in my face .
    He’d heard his mother. Her war cry. If he’d been Beckett, he would have been terrified. Now I know his name . Because my mother told it to me . Because she’d always known.
    She’d yanked the old asshole off him like the guy was a fifty-pound third grader.
    Don’t mess with my mama , he thought with a tiny spear of pride. She was like a mother lion, defending me . No . I don’t want to be