A Child is Torn: Innocence Lost (12 page)

In third grade, she met her best friend Debbie Cohen. Debbie’s parents were divorced and she lived with her single mother. The two girls developed a special kinship and they became inseparable. Debbie taught my mother everything she needed to know about being Jewish; my mother sucked up the culture like a sponge. She was convinced only Jewish women got to live the good life, and she didn’t want to end up like her mother—someone else’s maid. She made it her life’s quest to find herself a Jewish husband, and when Gracie Rubin, n
é
e Kelly, set her mind on something, no one was going to stop her.

After graduating high school, my mother and Debbie went on vacation to Miami. It was there she met my dad, who coincidently was also on vacation and lived in upstate New York. When she found out he was Jewish, where he lived, and that he was studying to be a lawyer, she got her claws in him and never let go.

My paternal grandmother disapproved of my mother, who wasn’t Jewish, but finally relented to her charm. She accepted the relationship after my mother promised to raise her future children in the Jewish religion. It was a no-brainer for my mom. If her children were to be successful in life, there was no other alternative.

I knew nothing would drive my mother crazier than if I brought home a cop—especially one not of the Jewish faith. I looked at the card again, deciding to file it somewhere safe. Maybe I would get up the nerve and call him, tell him it was to discuss Brad Madison.

The phone rang and interrupted my thoughts.

“Hey girl.” The cheery voice at the other end of the line was my best friend, Diane. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”

I loved being around Diane, but we could never find enough time to hang out. Diane was always upbeat and optimistic; to her, the glass was always half-f. She would complain to me, “Not only do you think your glass is half empty Hope; you secretly think someone peed in it.”

I couldn’t disagree, but then again, Diane didn’t have my job and she had never had to go through a divorce. When she graduated high school, she moved to NYC and got a job as a file clerk for the New York Yankees. Two years ago, she became the administrative assistant to the CEO. I was surrounded by broken little souls; Diane was surrounded by handsome athletic hunks with tight butts.

“Hi, Di. What’s going on? How’s life in the city?”

“Great, listen,” I heard her sipping something, probably her usual Diet Coke. “You’re not going to believe this. I met this guy last night, really cute. His cousin or somebody knows my boss, and he got invited up to the suite. Anyway, we got to talking and he’s from Fallsburg.” I could tell she was excited; I could almost see her hands flapping around accompanying her words. “Anyway, he asked me out, and I’m going to come home next weekend. Time for a visit with my parents, anyway.” She rushed on. “I told him I would meet him for dinner, but you know me, better safe than sorry. I don’t know him, so I told him I would bring a friend, he said fine.”

I knew where this was going.

“Diane, don’t tell me—I’m the friend.”

“You got it.”

“I don’t know.” I hesitated. “I have so much on my plate right now.”

“Hope, come on. You have to get out. When was the last time you were out on a date?”

I thought back and remembered the last disastrous blind date she had set me up on. The guy was all right at first, but he had trouble keeping his hands to himself. I started to remind her.

“Look,” she interrupted, “I’m sorry about that last one. I didn’t really know him. He was friends with my cousin Susan. Trust me, I’ll never let her live that one down. Come on, please?”

She was pleading now. I could tell she was really attracted to this one.

“When and where?” I asked.

“This coming Friday night. The Yankees are away and I have the weekend off. I’m going to take the train up Thursday night. My dad is picking me up.”

“I’ll tell you what, Di. Why don’t you call me when you get to your parents’ house?”

“Thank you, thank you. I love you.”

We spent a few more minutes making small talk, and then she told me she would call me Friday morning with more details.

We hung up, and I was left wondering what she had gotten me into this time.

October 2011

Jean

In the month that followed the Madison homicide, Jean was kept busy with other matters, both at work and home. Questions about what had contributed to a homicide by a ten-year-old boy were left unanswered. Occasionally she would pick up the file and reread it.

The forensic lab work came back with proof that the bloody footprints and the fingerprints on the thermostat were Brad’s; his were the only ones found in the house. The coroner estimated that the parents were dead for at least twenty-four hours before they were found which meant that Brad was in the house alone with his dead parents and whoever the killer was (and she still wasn’t convinced that it was Brad), may have lowered the thermostat in that one room intentionally. The question was, why? Was it to slow down the decomposition of the bodies or to throw investigators off on the time of death?

Whenever the case was brought up, she would argue vehemently that there was no way a kid that age would know to do that. It had been her twelve-year-old daughter who convinced her she may be wrong.

One week prior, she had invited Moran and Connie over for dinner. They were celebrating Cliff’s pitching a no-hitter, which resulted in his team winning the play-offs. What really got everyone excited was the fact that a scout from the University of Florida had asked them to come to visit the school, inferring a scholarship was available for Cliff.

To make the celebration even greater, Joe and Connie had gotten word that Annie was finishing up her tour of duty and would be home for Christmas. Celebratory mood or not, the conversation turned toward Brad’s case, and the issue of the thermostat. Once again Jean argued that there was no way that ten-year-old boy would have known to do that.

It was Bethany who spoke up. “Mom, everyone knows that. All you have to do is watch NCIS, or any of those crime shows. They use that scenario all the time. My favorite is the lady who killed her husband by bashing him over the head with a turkey drumstick, and then ate the weapon.”

Moran just chuckled. Connie hit him playfully.

“Ouch! What did you do that for?” He rubbed his arm acting like he was mortally wounded. He turned his attention back to Bethany.

“How about the guy who carved that giant piece of ice into a machete and chopped up his friend, then just mopped up the evidence?” he asked, trying hard to look serious.

“Joe!” Connie hit him again, this time harder.

“What? What did I say?” He looked up at her feigning bewilderment, the smile on his face causing his greying mustache to spread out in both directions.

Don’t worry about it, Joe. Sometimes the conversation around here gets a lot raunchier than that,” said Glenn.

Realizing the conversation was going to get more serious, both Bethany and Cliff excused themselves and started to clear the dishes.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of the dishes, you guys can go,” Jean told them.

“Told you. Stepford children,” Joe whispered in this wife’s ear, deliberately loud enough for Jean to hear.

 “You know he’s just jealous,” Connie said apologetically. “Annie never offered to do the dishes.”

“My beautiful daughter,” he boasted, “who looks just like her beautiful mother, is a wonderful young lady.” He leaned over to kiss his wife.

“Yes, she is Moran,” Jean agreed. “Thank God she takes after her mother, and not her daddy!”

“Amen,” they all said in unison.

Moran and Glenn went into the den to catch the rest of the Yankee game, and Connie and Jean cleared the table and started to do the dishes. It was their time to chat, woman-to-woman, mother-to-mother.

“It’s still bothering you Jean, isn’t it? Joe says you have reservations about this boy’s guilt?”

Jean started to run the water, filling the sink with suds. She waited a minute, and then turned the faucet off.

“You know, I have looked at it from every angle. That boy killed his parents in a horrific way. There’s no evidence of anyone else being there. His uncle, who I just don’t like or trust, has a valid alibi. Everyone— teachers, parents, neighbors—all say the kid was not abused or neglected. He was well cared for and loved. I called last week and spoke to the doctor at the hospital and she said he still isn’t talking. She says he is as sweet as can be, but very quiet and just isn’t saying much. They’ve done a whole mess of tests on him; brain scans, blood, and nothing—nothing! She claims the kid is very bright. High IQ, well mannered. I can’t help but think we’re missing something here, Connie. As a cop, as a mother, I just feel like there has to be an answer. A logical one.”

Connie knew nothing she could say would help comfort her friend, so she just leaned over and gave her a hug.

That evening as they got ready for bed, Jean got under the covers and put her head on Glenn’s shoulder. “I guess I just need to let it go,” she softly told him.

He kissed the top of her head and turned off the light.

“When you’re ready to let it go, Jean, you’ll let it go. I don’t think you’re ready. It can’t hurt to keep looking.”

She squeezed his hand and turned onto her side, closed her eyes and fell into a much-needed, deep sleep.

Chapter Seven

Marty

The weather was starting to cool down and Marty and the Captain had been in fall-cleaning mode. Packing up summer clothes, unpacking winter coats and sweaters, and taking down the screens that covered the wood frame windows that desperately needed painting. Large sycamore leaves covered the lawn, and no matter how fast they raked them up, they continued to fall, blanketing the ground.

It was one of those rare weekends Marty was off, and he was going to make the most of it. The two men, beginning to sweat from exertion, sat down on the red brick stairs that led into the mudroom and sipped from ice-cold bottles of beer.

“What time is your date?” The Captain asked, turning the bottle upside down, not wanting to miss one drop.

Justin had been busting his chops for days. He had met some girl at the Yankee game last weekend and the girl—probably one with a brain—was hesitant to meet Justin alone. Marty finally relented and told him he would go the Liars’ Den with him to meet this girl and the friend she was dragging along.

“Justin is coming over at seven tonight. He wanted to stop by and say hi. Says he misses you.”

The Captain smiled. After Theresa passed away, the Keal house became Justin’s second home. There was almost always something going on; the basement was always filled with kids playing pool or ping-pong. He also recognized that at the time, Justin was just plain lonely. He was a latch key kid—the only child of working parents who had often left him to fend for himself. When Justin found out that dinner at the Keals’ never consisted of TV dinners or mac and cheese, he became the Captains tenth child. For some reason, Marty felt a stronger bond with Justin than he did with his own identical twin. Although the brothers loved each other, the two of them would constantly bicker and fight. But just let someone else give the other a hard time and it was “Katie bar the door.”

Even in adulthood, the twins would constantly compete with each other. When Marty got a position as quarterback on the football team, Tommy became the star of his basketball team. When Marty joined the police force, Tommy joined the fire department. When Tommy got engaged, Marty got engaged. But when Tommy got married, Marty got scared. He realized that the only reason he had asked the girl to marry him was because he didn’t want Tommy to outdo him. Two weeks before he was supposed to walk down the aisle, he broke the engagement. Luckily for him, his fiancé had cold feet as well, and she was just as relived as he was—especially since she’d been seeing someone else behind his back. She ended up marrying the other guy six weeks later; her parents were grateful the wedding dress and other expenses didn’t go to waste.

On the other hand, Marty and Justin never seemed to want to outdo each other; rather, they complemented each other. If Justin did well in math, he would help Marty with his math homework. If Marty got an A in English, he would help a struggling Justin with his spelling. Justin not only became the Captain’s tenth child, but Marty’s ninth brother.

“Well, why don’t you take a shower and get yourself cleaned up? This may be my future daughter-in-law you’re going to meet.”

“Yeah sure, Pop. This is Justin we’re talking about. I’m sure the girl’s bust size is bigger than her IQ.”

“Ah, come on, he’s not that bad. That little redhead he was going out with was nice. What happened to her?”

“Her company moved to San Diego and she couldn’t turn down the offer. He’s still in rebound mode.” Marty got up and took his dad’s empty bottle. “I’m going to take that shower. If he gets here before I come down, entertain him will you?”

“No problem. I’m going over to Uncle Billy’s for dinner, so if I’m not home when you get back, that’s where I’ll be. Hopefully you’ll be the one coming home late,” he said with a wink.

Marty chuckled and walked back into the house. As much as he wasn’t in the mood for a blind date, he was almost looking forward to going out and socializing. It’d been a while.

He was just finishing getting dressed when he heard Justin and his father greeting each other. He took one last look in the mirror, pulled the comb through his hair one more time, and walked downstairs.

Justin whistled. “Damn Marty. You’re so lucky I’m not gay.”

“You’re looking pretty spiffy yourself.”

Justin was an inch shorter than Marty and paler in complexion, with thick copper-red hair that hung in a straight bang just above his eyebrows. He had dark-blue eyes and freckles sprinkling his nose. He was wearing a black T-shirt that hugged his thin, muscular chest. About twenty pounds lighter than Marty, his snug jeans fit slightly below his waist. A leather belt adorned with a turquoise and silver buckle which gave him a slightly country look.

Another reason their friendship worked so well was that they tended to attract totally different woman. There was never an occasion where they had fallen for the same girl, nor had the girls they were attracted to fallen for the friend instead.

Feeling less anxious now, Marty bade his dad goodnight and got into Justin’s car.

“I have a good feeling about tonight,” Justin remarked.

Marty just smiled; for some reason he did too.

The parking lot of the Liars’ Den was overflowing with cars, some haphazardly parked in the grassy areas. It was karaoke night, and bits of loud music leaked out every time someone opened the door.

“Ready man?” Justin asked, small specks of moisture building up above his lip. He reached out and gently punched Marty’s stomach, then wiped the sweat from his lip. He took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

The bar was crowded, the seats and booths almost filled to capacity. Justin looked around nervously. “There.” He nudged his friend. A tall attractive redhead stood against the bar, facing them. Her hair reached down to her waist; she had legs that seemed to go on forever. She spotted Justin and broke into a wide smile.

Seated on a stool next to the redhead sat a petite brunette. Her back was towards them, and the light reflected off hair that was the rich color of chocolate pudding. Justin and Marty walked over to join them.

“Diane,” Justin began as he leaned over to give the redhead a peck on the check. “This is my friend Marty. Marty, Diane.” As Marty was about to greet her, the brunette turned around.

Diane was about to introduce Hope to Justin when she realized something strange was happening between Hope and Marty. It took her about five seconds to realize no introductions were necessary.

“You two know each other?” Diane looked from her friend to Marty.

“We’ve met,” Hope answered.

Justin’s nervousness started to melt away. “There are some empty tables in the back room. Let’s grab one.”

He put his arm behind Diane and led her through the crowd that was starting to mill around the bar. Hope and Marty followed.

It was quieter in the back, the music muted. They found a table and sat down.

“So how do you know each other?” Diane asked Marty. She moved her chair closer to Justin, their thighs touching. “Oh I am sorry, Hope. This is Justin, Justin, Hope. You two don’t know each other do you?”

“No, nice to meet you Justin.”

“Same here.”

Diane leaned in again and was about to ask Marty a question when the waitress walked over, menus in hand.

“Marty,” Trina greeted him and handed him and the ladies menus. She stopped on Justin’s left. “Thyme,” she said with a bit of a sneer, and handed him a menu as well. She held onto it just a tad longer than necessary. She smiled at the girls. “Ladies, can I get you something to drink?”

Diane asked for a draft beer. Hope a Diet Coke.

“Marty, the usual?”

“Yeah Trina, thanks.”

She glared at Justin.

“I’ll have a Bud, Trina, thanks.”

“Sure, Thyme.” Her sneer turned into a smile. At first, Hope was taken aback by the waitress’s behavior, thinking there was some animosity between Justin and the waitress, maybe a past relationship. But when the waitress smiled she realized the exchange was playful, not bitter.

“Why does she call you Thyme?” Hope asked.

“That’s my last name.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled “Just-in-time?”

“When my mother went into labor, they got stuck in traffic and didn’t think they would make it to the hospital—nearly didn’t. She gave birth in the lobby. First thing my father said when they got to the hospital was ‘just in time,’ or so the story goes.”

“Must have been hard growing up with a name like that.”

“Wasn’t as bad as what my cousin had to go through.”

Marty knew what was coming and cringed. Hope caught it out of the corner of her eye. She knew she was probably making a mistake, but asked anyway. “Why, what was her name?”

“Anita.”

“Anita; what’s wrong with Anita?”

“Her maiden name was Shave.”

“He’s kidding me, right?” Hope looked at Marty for confirmation. He just shook his head.

“Nope, he’s serious.”

“That wasn’t the worst part,” Justin continued.

Marty wanted to hide, knowing what came next. “She broke up with her fiancé because of her name, a week before they were supposed to get married.”

Diane, being the braver of the two women asked, “Why?”

“His last name was Dick, her name would have been….”

Both women broke out in laughter. Marty noticed Hope’s smile, how white and straight her teeth were.

“Marty, he’s kidding this time right?” she asked, turning to him.

“I wish I could tell you yes,” he answered.

While Hope and Marty were talking, Diane grabbed Justin’s attention and they fell easily into conversation. They were interrupted when Trina came back with the drinks and took their orders.

“How’s the Madison boy?” Marty looked at Hope and for the first time noticed a small mole just above her lip.

Feeling a little bit nervous, she looked down at her drink and stirred the ice against the glass. She paused before she answered.

“He was much better today.”

“What about the other kid? Is he going to be alright? I was going to check with the hospital, but I got busy and forgot.”

She was impressed that he obviously cared enough to even think of making the effort to find out about Jeffrey’s welfare.

“They’re keeping him overnight for observation. He has a concussion, but he should be fine.”

“Do you mind me asking what happened, off the record?”

She looked over at him. She didn’t understand why, but she felt like the conversation with him was coming easier. She was starting to relax, and a warm sensation was growing in the center of her belly and spreading throughout her body. She wondered for a split second if someone had spiked her drink.

“No, it’s fine. I wish I knew. One minute he was swinging at the ball, the next minute he was swinging at Jeffrey. Not to make excuses, but Jeffrey has a mean streak and has been known to tease the other kids.”

She paused as if she was being careful about what she was going to say next. “Brad’s not talking, so we don’t know what set him off. Apparently, for some reason we have yet to determine, Brad has a very short fuse. Most of the time, he’s the sweetest little boy.”

“So you have no idea what’s the matter with him?”

“I’m afraid not. We’re all very frustrated. If you can’t figure out what’s wrong, you can’t give a diagnosis; without a diagnosis, you can’t help the child heal.”

He could see she was becoming emotional, so he tried to steer the conversation in another direction.

“How’s Gabby doing? He should be getting ready to retire soon.”

“Oh God, I hope not. I don’t know what we would do without him. Brad is obviously very attached to him. He’d rather hang out with Gabby than anyone else. How do you know him, or do you just know everyone in town?”

He laughed and then the conversation turned serious.