The Church of Dead Girls (35 page)

“Someone murdered Jaime Rose,” said Ryan.

“You're shitting me.” The cat jumped onto the floor.

“Did you do it?”

“No way.”

“Why'd you run?”

“You'd run too if a million cops came screaming after you. What were we supposed to do, stand still? How was he killed?”

Ryan decided not to answer that. “I'm going to have to take you downtown.”

When Ryan brought Shannon into City Hall without handcuffs, Captain Percy was still directing the search. Ryan realized he should have called, but he had been afraid that a bunch of troopers would come tearing over to his house. A dozen men were in the office, including my cousin, and they stared at Shannon as if he were pink and had feathers. Ryan took him to a holding cell, then locked him inside. Jesse was in the next cell. The brothers looked at each other but didn't speak.

Ryan turned back to Percy. “Those kids didn't kill anyone.”

“That's not for you to decide,” said Percy.

Later that evening Ryan went searching for Barry. He wasn't home and his mother wasn't home either. She was baby-sitting for Sadie. Ryan went over to the college, looked through the library, and at last decided to go by Aaron's.

It was nine-thirty. Aaron opened his front door. Glancing over Aaron's shoulder, Ryan saw Barry sitting on the couch with a glass of milk in one hand and a sandwich in the other. A spot of peanut butter was on his cheek.

Barry was frightened. “Someone's looking for me,” he told Ryan. “Someone's been calling my house. When I pick up the phone, no one's there.”

Neither Barry nor Aaron had heard about Jaime. When Ryan told them, Barry threw himself onto the couch. He lay there for a moment, then his shoulders began to heave.

“Who did it?” asked Aaron. He seemed watchful and he looked at Ryan suspiciously.

“We don't know yet,” said Ryan. He understood that Aaron suspected that he had killed Janice, but it surprised him that Aaron should suspect him of involvement with Jaime's death. He wanted to tell Aaron that he had loved Janice and would never have hurt her, but the idea of a connection between the murders of Janice and Jaime began to fill his mind.

“Do you have any idea who might have done it, Barry?” asked Ryan.

“Why should I?” Barry kept his face pressed into the cushions.

“Because maybe the same person is looking for you.”

A
ll week there was the sense that the person responsible for the missing girls was growing more reckless, though whether from a desire to save himself or harm himself there was no way to know. But it made me think about Sadie's fear that someone had tried to break into her house on Sunday night. I was tempted to put it down to nerves because I just didn't want it to be true. I told myself it was impossible, that no one would try to break into her house. But then it happened a second time and this time it was more frightening.

Imagine being alone in a house at night and hearing a noise, a floorboard creaking or a window sliding up. The mind at once interprets what it might be: something benign like wind or the house resettling or something wicked. You wait for another sound. You hear the furnace click on, the humming of a light, a clock ticking. Lists of alternatives roll through your mind. If you feel guilty or scared, maybe you fear the worst. If you feel content and live in a place you think safe (but what is safe?), you might return to your book. Then comes another noise.

Saturday night Franklin and Paula went out to dinner in celebration of their three-day-old marriage. Ryan was supposed to join them with Cookie Evans, then he had to work. Cookie excused herself as well. She was so disturbed by Jaime's death that she had closed the beauty parlor for the rest of November. And she would have left town if the police hadn't asked her to stay.

Franklin and Paula drove to the Colgate Inn in Hamilton. Franklin said they would be back by nine-thirty. Mrs. Sanders came over and made dinner for Sadie. There was some question as to how late she could remain but it was agreed that if she had to leave early Sadie would come to my house.

As usual, Mrs. Sanders spent the evening watching TV. Shadow was shut up in the basement because of Mrs. Sanders's allergies. Sadie took a shower, then read in her room, which was across the hall from the living room. At times, she could hear Mrs. Sanders's laughter rising over the laughter of the TV audience. Then at nine-thirty the telephone rang.

Sadie thought it was her father calling to say he would be late, but then she heard Mrs. Sanders say, “Who is this?” And then: “What do you mean he's been hurt?” Sadie went out into the hall just as Mrs. Sanders hung up the phone.

“Something's happened to Barry,” she said. “I've got to get home right away.”

Sadie was wearing her pajamas. “Should I get dressed and come with you?”

Mrs. Sanders looked at her watch. “Your father should be home any minute. You'll have to go to that man's house.” She meant me.

Mrs. Sanders began pulling on her coat. “We have to hurry.”

Sadie put a coat over her pajamas and followed Mrs. Sanders onto the front porch. Her car was parked in the driveway. “You scoot now,” she said. “I'll watch from the car till you get there.”

Sadie was halfway across the Danielses' front yard as Mrs. Sanders backed out of the driveway. It was then that Sadie heard her dog barking. Shadow was still in the basement. Mrs. Sanders backed onto Van Buren and stopped. By then Sadie was between my house and the Danielses' and she waved to Mrs. Sanders to go on and Mrs. Sanders pulled away. But Sadie, instead of continuing to my house, stopped and turned back toward her own. Shadow was upset at being left alone and Sadie knew that I wouldn't mind if she brought the dog with her.

Sadie ran back across her yard and up the front steps. It is probably fortunate that she made no noise. Her dog kept barking and for the first time it occurred to Sadie that Shadow was frightened. The barking had a frenzied quality. Sadie ran down the hallway. Then, as she was about to open the basement door and the dog fell silent, Sadie heard the back door rattling.

She thought it was the wind, but looking through the darkened kitchen she saw the silhouette of a man against the glass. At first she thought the person might be Aaron, but he was too big to be Aaron. Shadow started barking again and Sadie saw the man pause and raise his head. The man's gloved hands were pressed against the glass with the fingers wide apart. His face was a round dark blur between them. He turned his head slowly as he stared into the dark kitchen.

Sadie was afraid to go back down the hall to the front door since the living room lights were on and she would cross the person's line of sight. She was afraid that if the man saw her, he would grow even more desperate, that he would rush around to the front. Sadie's bedroom had an extension phone. She would call the police. First, however, she opened the door to the basement. Shadow jumped up on her, then dashed into the kitchen barking. The dog's paws slid and clicked on the kitchen tiles.

Sadie hurried into her bedroom, picked up the phone, and found it was dead. The dog was barking and leaping at the back door. Quickly, Sadie opened the bedroom window, which looked out on the side yard toward my house. I expect we should be grateful that Franklin's many activities had kept him from putting up the storms. Sadie swung her legs over the sill and hopped to the ground. At that moment Shadow jumped up, putting her paws on the sill. Sadie lifted her through the window. Suddenly she heard glass shatter as the window in the back door broke inward onto the kitchen floor.

Sadie dropped Shadow onto the ground. Instead of staying with her, the dog dashed around toward the back of the house, barking again. Sadie was too frightened to call the dog and draw attention to herself. She aimed and ran to my house.

By nine-thirty I was thinking about going upstairs. I like to read in bed till I feel sleepy. Since I had not heard from Sadie, I assumed that Franklin had gotten home. Maybe it would be truer to say that I had forgotten about them. I was still reading Daphne du Maurier's
Jamaica Inn,
and its desolation and stormy weather filled my mind.

However, when I heard Sadie's footsteps on my front porch, I quickly rose from my chair. The porch light was on and I saw her through the glass. She kept knocking rapidly, though she must have seen me coming. She wore an oversized jacket and kept looking back over her shoulder. I sensed her terror even before I opened the door. It gave me a chill.

“He's back!” she cried. “I saw him!”

I looked out across the dark yard. I could see no one.

“Who?” I asked.

“I don't know,” she said almost angrily. “Whoever was trying to get in the house.”

I led her into the living room and asked her to explain. She was quite frantic and wouldn't sit down. Her jacket was a red plaid mackinaw belonging to Franklin and Sadie was almost lost in it. On her feet were an old pair of sheepskin slippers.

During the week I had thought of buying a gun like many of my neighbors were doing, but even the idea of a gun frightened me and so I hadn't done anything. The only time I shot a gun was at the state fair as a child but I suppose it wasn't a real gun, and anyway, I missed. But I had a flashlight and I went out onto the porch and shone it around the yard. I heard no noise. The dog had stopped barking. I meant to call the police, but as I stood on the porch I saw a car driving down the street. Then I noticed the orange triangle on the door. I signaled with my flashlight and the car, a cream-colored Mazda sedan, pulled to the curb. I recognized the car even before the driver got out. It was Leimbach and he was alone.

The oddness of his being there by himself didn't occur to me at first. I felt glad to see him and I hurried across the yard.

“What's the matter?” asked Leimbach. He wore a heavy overcoat and a scarf.

I explained that Sadie had said someone was trying to break into her house through the back door. Immediately, Leimbach got out of the car and hurried toward the house. I ran after him, mostly because I didn't want to be left alone. Sadie came with me. I still had my flashlight, and as the beam slanted across Leimbach, I saw he was carrying a pistol in his right hand, what is called an automatic. I should have been comforted by this but I wasn't. As he ran, the tails of his overcoat flapped around his knees. Sadie whistled for Shadow but there was no response.

We entered the house. It was very quiet. Leimbach hurried down the hall, turning on the lights as he went. Our feet seemed to make a lot of noise. The window in the back door was broken. Leimbach tried to step around the glass but some of it cracked beneath his feet. He opened the door. The screen door was ajar. The screen had been cut and the hook lifted.

“I'll call the police,” said Leimbach. He was businesslike and excited at the same time. He held the pistol down along his leg. With his overcoat, he looked like a larger person and I thought of the silhouette Sadie had seen. Leimbach picked up the kitchen phone. “It's dead.”

Leimbach had a phone in his car and we went back outside. The wind had gotten stronger and it was cold.

Sadie kept whistling for her dog. “Where's Shadow?” she said. “She won't come.”

After Leimbach called the police, he hurried to see where the phone line from the street entered the house. We went with him even though the good fortune that had led him to appear so promptly had begun to worry me. On the other hand, Leimbach spent hours every day driving up and down the streets. The fact that he had arrived so fortuitously wasn't enough reason to suspect him. I stayed with him and shone my light for him. The phone line came into the northern corner of the house and went down the wall by the porch. It had been cut. The copper wire shone in the light. When she saw it, Sadie moved closer to me.

We went back around the house and I climbed the front steps; Leimbach and Sadie were a few feet behind me. I shone my light into the dark corners. I found myself thinking that if anything happened, I'd be too frightened to scream. Franklin's porch extended across the front of the house and at one end a glider hung from the ceiling. It was swaying slightly. Something lay on the seat. I took a few steps toward it.

I must have made a noise, because Leimbach hurried up to my side. “What is it?”

I was afraid I might drop the light. “A hand,” I said.

It lay on the seat of the glider: a woman's pink, slender hand. At first I thought it was real until I saw how the wrist was finished off with a sort of attachment: a mannequin's hand.

Leimbach stood beside me. “Oh God,” he said.

“That wasn't there before,” said Sadie. She held on to my arm. I shone the light around the yard but I saw nothing. The glider swayed and the hand rocked back and forth, almost as if it had some life to it. I could feel Sadie shivering.

“Where's Shadow?” she said. “Why doesn't she come?”

I had no answer for that.

The police and Franklin and Paula arrived at the same time a minute or so later. There were two police cars and my cousin was one of the four policemen in them. Leimbach said someone had tried to break through the back door and the window was smashed. Chuck and two others immediately ran around the side of the house. They had flashlights and the lights swung across the dark backyards. I tried to tell Franklin and Paula what had happened.

Sadie gripped her father's hand. The bulky mackinaw made her look like a slightly smaller version of Franklin. She was no longer concerned for herself but was worried about her dog. “Shadow,” she called. “Come on, girl.” Then she would listen.

After a few minutes Chuck came running back. He told the other policemen to call the station and get Ryan and Captain Percy. Then he turned to Franklin, trying to speak softly so Sadie wouldn't hear. “There's a dead dog back there, a cocker spaniel. Its neck is broken.”

Sadie ran toward the backyard, followed by her father. The dog lay by a tree about twenty feet from the porch, a dark patch on the ground. Sadie threw herself on the dog, hugging its body and calling Shadow's name. Blood ran from the dog's mouth and nose and it got on Sadie's coat and on her face. Franklin gently pulled her away from Shadow, picked her up, and carried her to the house. Sadie had her face buried in his neck. I followed him into the living room.

“Where's Mrs. Sanders?” asked Franklin.

“She had to leave,” I said.

I had never seen Franklin so stricken. He sat by Sadie and kept touching her hair. Getting a wet washcloth, he washed the dog's blood from her face. Sadie lay curled on the living room couch, weeping. After a while, she fell asleep. Paula covered her with a blanket and sat beside her. I thought of myself in Franklin's place: almost to lose your daughter because you had been slow. Maybe Franklin and Paula had stayed for dessert or a second coffee or a brandy. Maybe they had sat in the car kissing before driving back to Aurelius, and because of this Sadie had almost been killed.

Within the next hour there was a lot of confusion as police arrived and explanations were made. Nothing was found of whoever had been trying to get into the house, though fingerprints were taken. The dog was sent to the lab as well, since Shadow might have bitten or scratched whoever had killed her. Percy spoke particularly sharply with Paul Leimbach, asking how he happened to be in the area and why he was alone when the Friends usually patrolled in twos or threes. Leimbach said that he often went out by himself and that he went down Van Buren Street four times each night. Percy also told Leimbach to show him the permit for his pistol. Leimbach was cool but helpful. Whatever dislike Percy had for Leimbach was clearly reciprocated. Percy's suggestion—never explicitly stated—was that Leimbach himself might have been the man at the back door. Ryan didn't interfere but watched carefully, as if prying into Leimbach's brain with his eyes.

Aaron arrived around eleven. He had heard a garbled report downtown and he came to make sure Sadie was safe. The question came up why Mrs. Sanders had left early. Sadie had said that something had happened to Barry. Ryan repeated this to Aaron.

“Nothing happened to Barry,” said Aaron. “He was with me the entire time.”

Percy sent two troopers to Mrs. Sanders's house to ask about the phone call. Our naïveté was remarkable. It amazed us to think that the person who called Mrs. Sanders might be the same person who tried to break into Franklin's house. It amazed us that he would know about Barry and his mother, that he seemed to know us so well. Even though the evidence indicated this person was one of us, we were astonished all over again each time the possibility was raised. How could it be one of us? Who? A policeman? A neighbor?