Paddy Plays in Dead Mule Swamp (19 page)

“You aren’t doing things with us
because you have to?”

“Not any more,” I said. “I only have a
son. I never had girls to sew and cook and giggle with. You’re
definitely more to me than an assignment. Both of you.”

“You have a son?” Sunny
asked.

“I do. He’s in college, almost grown
up. His name is Chad.”

“Does he visit you?” Star wanted to
know.

“He hasn’t been to this house yet.
I’ve only lived here since spring, remember.”

“Oh. I forgot that. You don’t seem
new. I mean, you don’t act like a city person.”

“Yeah, not like Dad’s friends,” Sunny
put in. “They don’t care about anything except their clothes and
cars and stuff like that.”

Star added, “I didn’t like that
brother and...”

“Hey, wasn’t that Dad’s truck?” Sunny
interrupted with a loud voice, twisting to try to catch a better
look at the black pickup that had just sped past us, going south on
Kirtland.

“Can’t be,” said Star. “He said he was
going back to Chicago, that he had to be at work today.”

“It looked just the same,” Sunny
insisted.

“There are lots of black trucks
around,” I said, recalling a black truck I’d encountered all too
recently.

We turned left on Sheep Ranch Road,
and a few minutes later I pulled into the Leonards’ long dusty
driveway. Star thanked me for the day, then quickly let herself out
and headed for the trailer. Sunny, who was in the other front seat,
unclipped her seat belt and turned toward me.

“I don’t miss her—my mom,” she said.
“Everybody feels sorry for me, but I don’t know how to answer their
questions, because I don’t really feel anything. I don’t remember
her at all. There isn’t anything to miss.”

“Maybe you don’t want to let yourself
feel sad,” I suggested.

“Maybe, but not really. I can’t miss
her, because I never knew her. Grandma and Grandpa didn’t want to
think she had run away, so they never told us what she was like.
She’s like a ghost, and now the ghost can go wherever it came from
and leave us alone.”

“Is that what you want?” I
asked.

Sunny’s chin slipped down toward her
chest. “I don’t know. I wish she had run away, because then I could
always hope she’d come back, and there would be some good reason
she had to go away for a while, and then we’d be together again.
Now she can’t ever come back.”

“I know; it’s hard to have to give up
that dream, isn’t it?” I reached my hand over to the girl. Instead
of taking my hand, Sunny leaned across the space between the seats
and put her head in my lap. She began to cry. It was an awkward and
uncomfortable position. I wasn’t sure what would be the best thing
to do. “Sit up a minute,” I said gently. I kept my hand on her thin
arm, hoping she’d realize I wasn’t pushing her away.

She sat up, and I managed to slide
over into her seat, lifting my legs over the gear console. She
crawled into my lap, like a very little girl, put her arms around
my neck, and leaned her head on my shoulder. The tears came then,
and big racking sobs that shook her body. I just held her, patting
her back and brushing the wisps of hair that had escaped her corn
rows away from her face.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a few
minutes. “That was stupid.”

“It’s never stupid to be sad when you
lose something that’s very important to you. We all have to let
that sadness out, and tears are good for that. It’s what we do next
that matters.”

“What do you mean?” she
asked.

“Some people, when they have to let go
of a dream, get angry and blame everyone else or act like they were
cheated. Some people get depressed and stay sad for months or even
years; sometimes those people blame themselves for what happened.
But healthy people kind of mentally stand up, brush the dirt off
their knees, mend the hole in their jeans, and decide to find out
what dream is next. People like that know they have people who love
them.”

“You mean, like how Grandpa and Star
love me.”

“That’s exactly what I
mean.”

“And you love me too?”

“I do, Sunshine. May I call you
that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Just for special times?”

“I’d like that.”

I pulled a couple of tissues out of
the box on the floor and handed them to her. She wiped her face and
blew her nose.

She giggled. “I’m really too tall to
sit on your lap very well.”

“Entirely too tall.” I looked up into
her eyes. Mine were wet, too.

Sunny wiped a drop of wetness from my
cheek with her thumb. “How did you get in my seat anyway?” she
asked, but with a grin. “You can’t drive home from over
here.”

“I’ll just have to push you out and
walk around the car.”

“I think it’s time you go let Paddy
out of his cage. I have to give my grandpa a hug.” She gave me a
quick, firm squeeze, and then showed me one of her genuine “sunny”
smiles. In a flash she was out of the car, and running toward the
trailer. She turned and waved to me once more from the steps. Sunny
was back.

Chapter 28

By the time I got to my house, I was
sure my body was aching in every possible muscle, and my heart also
was experiencing a little twinge or two. I let the dog out briefly,
then fed him. I swallowed two ibuprofen and crawled into bed with
my book. I didn’t even change the bandage on my arm. I don’t think
I read more than two pages before I was sound asleep.

The dog was barking in the distance
under a pale moon. I saw him racing toward the house with a long
white bone in his mouth. There was something wrong with that. Star
and Sunny were chasing after him and laughing. Paddy became the
skeleton of a dog holding a fleshed-out arm torn from a body. I
came awake with a jerk. It was pitch black. There was no moon and
no arm, but the very real dog was having a fit. Paddy was racing
back and forth between the two bedroom windows whining, barking and
pawing at the window sills.

I threw off my light blanket and
stepped to the window without turning on the light. I didn’t want
anyone who might be out there to see me. I could barely make out
the dim shapes of my Jeep and the county car side by side in the
driveway. Paddy was still going nuts, so I grabbed his collar and
tried to calm him. Had a new guard just come on duty? But Paddy had
never barked at their arrival before. I had no idea what time it
was. Actually, I had no idea what time the deputies changed shifts,
either. That would have been a good thing to ask of Milford, but I
hadn’t thought of it. My eyes were refusing to focus; I squinted at
the lighted digital clock and saw 1:32.

“Shhhh, Paddy,” I whispered. He
stopped barking, but remained alert. “What did you see?” The
old-fashioned windows were set low in the wall, so I sat on the
floor with my hand on the dog’s back. There was very little light
outside, but I rubbed my eyes and stared at the trees where the
lawn met the forest. I studied the spaces carefully, but saw
nothing. Paddy gave a low growl that vibrated under my hand along
his rib cage. Then I saw it. A dark figure separated itself from
the trunks of the trees and moved smoothly until it disappeared
behind another large bole. Paddy’s growling was getting louder, but
I really didn’t want him to bark. I grabbed his head in my hands
and looked at him. “Be quiet. Quiet!” I said softly but sternly.
“We aren’t going to chase after someone this time. Let’s go call
the police.”

I hadn’t gotten used to the
portability of a cell phone. It was still on the charger in the
kitchen, and the house phone base and handset was there too.
Leaving the lights off, we went downstairs, and I dialed the number
for the Sheriff’s Department, again looking at the card I had
posted on the wall.

“You have reached the Forest County
Sheriff’s Department. If this is an emergency, please hang up and
dial 911, otherwise remain on the line for assistance.” I had
reached a recording. I chose to wait. While the call was being
transferred to a human I looked out the kitchen window and once
again saw a dark shadow moving between the trees. Whoever it was
seemed to be moving away from the house, and toward the
road.

“Officer Harvard Brown. How may I help
you?”

“Harvey?” I couldn’t believe my
luck.

“Yes, Harvey Brown. Who is this
please?”

“Ana Raven. I’m so glad I got someone
I know. There’s a man, I think it’s a man, prowling around my
house. He’s just inside the line of the woods.”

“Can you see him now?”

“Not right this minute, but I could
just a few seconds ago. Paddy... the dog, was barking and he woke
me up.”

“Can you describe the
person?”

“Not really, maybe a little taller
than average, solid build, wearing dark clothes I think. It’s hard
to tell. There’s almost no light outside tonight.”

“Hold on, Ana.”

Abruptly, I was put on hold. I took
advantage of the time to make sure the doors were locked, and to
look out other windows. I couldn’t find the elusive figure
anywhere. After what seemed like several minutes, Harvey came back
on the line.

“Ana?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“I’ve called the officer who is out at
the grave site. He’s going to try to check it out, but it could be
a decoy to draw him away from there, so we have another car on the
way as well. Detective Paul Peters lives in Cherry Hill, and he’ll
be at your place in under ten minutes. I’ll stay on the line with
you until one of them comes to your house.”

“All right,” I said. “But, do you
really think that’s necessary? The person doesn’t seem to be
approaching me. I can’t find him at all now.”

Harvey’s voice became firm. “This is
an official murder investigation. Someone has managed to keep a big
secret for seven years. We don’t know who it is, or the motive, or
even if there are multiple people involved. We don’t know very much
at all, except that someone is really interested in the grave site,
and your property is the easiest access. You may know something you
aren’t even aware of. Keeping you safe is most definitely
necessary. Could you tell anything else about this person? Race?
Gender?”

“Well, I guess I didn’t notice a light
face and hands. But that might not mean anything. The person could
be wearing gloves and a mask, or even camouflage paint. I think it
was a man, but I’m not even positive of that. I’m
sorry.”

“That’s OK. It’s much better for you
if they keep their distance.”

“I agree. I’m not really interested in
being shot at.” I recalled being chased through the woods just a
couple of months earlier.

“Did you hear any vehicles go by this
evening?”

“I went to bed very early, in the
afternoon actually, so I didn’t hear anything at all until the dog
began barking.”

“Are you sick?”

“No, I was just tired, and sore from a
little fall I had on Friday.” I didn’t really want to explain that.
“Harvey, can I ask you a question? Maybe a difficult
question.”

“Sure, Ana, I’m a deputy, but we know
each other from church. That should count for
something.”

“Does Ralph Garis have a problem with
African-Americans?”

There was a pause, just enough that I
knew Harvey was going to choose his words carefully. “I’ve never
had a confrontation with him, but when he does come to church, he
manages to avoid talking to me, or my family. Why do you
ask?”

“He seems to be antagonistic toward
Family Friends helping the Leonards. I wondered if it was because
the girls are bi-racial, or if he just doesn’t like them because
they are from Hammer Bridge Town.”

“DuWayne spent a lot of time at his
house when we were all kids. He never squawked about anything
then.”

“Maybe his attitude has something to
do with Frank.”

“Maybe. Frank’s different now. Ralph
probably wants someone to blame for that.” Harvey shifted topics
and became official once again. “Peters is almost at your place. He
should be pulling into your driveway right now.”

I heard the sound of a quiet, powerful
engine. Then the night became still again. “Yes, I think he’s
here.”

“Good. Stay in the house until he
comes to you. He’s going to check around outside first. I’ll sign
off now, if you’re all right.”

“That’s fine, Harvey. I appreciate
your concern. Thanks.”

“All in a day’s work. Good
night.”

The connection was broken. Paddy
hadn’t become agitated at the approach of the police car. Perhaps
he’d become accustomed to the sound of their engines over the past
few days. Working slowly in the dark, I made myself a cup of tea
and waited, sitting at the kitchen table.

I had almost finished drinking it when
there was a knock at the kitchen door. I checked to see who it was
through the window, and the man on the stoop was holding a folder
open, displaying a badge. I let the detective inside and turned on
a light. Peters was younger than Dennis Milford. He was dressed
casually, in jeans and a pale yellow shirt. His blond hair wasn’t
combed. I suspected he’d been called out of a warm bed to check on
me. He had the good sense not to mention my daisy pajamas. I was
glad the pajamas had long sleeves and covered my bandaged
arm.