The Ravine (20 page)

All through the night, Joanna kept pushing Danny to forget about his insane scheme and to drive away with the young man waiting in the
garage. At one point, he had a moment of clarity and decided to forget about his absurd plan. Joanna rejoiced that she had finally reached him, but then he abruptly turned around, rushed into the living room, and cut the cord to the lamp. He decided in that instant that it was too late to turn back. How would he ever explain cutting the cord to Rachel and the kids?

Danny began to walk up the stairs, the cord dragging at his feet, convinced he was past the point of no return, unaware of the dark figure at his back, urging him toward the horrid actions that would soon result in so much misery.

When it was all over and she sat by the window early that morning, trying to let the cool breeze assuage the pain that racked her body, she felt she had in some way failed. Perhaps it was too late now to do anything for this family. Perhaps she should ignore this particular problem. Perhaps it was really none of her business. The agony and horror that filled this world were much bigger and stronger than she was. Perhaps she was too old and tired to take on this problem. Better to leave it for someone younger.

And then she saw her father’s smiling face in the reflection in the glass, confident and happy, and she was reminded of the amazing healing power of the Lord. She laughed when she recognized the true author of her doubts, and how skilled he was at subtly encouraging her to quit. But she saw it for what it was: just another devious trick.

Don’t worry, Dad, your scrappy little girl won’t give up without a good fight
, she thought, and then she said in a bold, loud voice: “Okay, now I’m ready.”

C
HAPTER
12

A Thread of Light

To love and win is the best thing;

To love and lose, the next best
.

—William Makepeace Thackeray

A
FTER
D
AVE
T
HOMPSON
drove off, the group sat in stunned silence until Tom came back into the dining room, and they were sure they were alone. Pete was the first to speak.

“Well, I’m grateful he was so open with us, but it still feels like there’s a lot of unanswered questions,” he sighed.

“That’s for sure,” agreed Mitch. “You’ll never convince me that Vonda just sat out there in the car all night, didn’t hear anything, and fell asleep. It doesn’t add up.”

Mitch heard himself speaking and felt disingenuous as the words came out of his mouth. In the back of his mind, he knew that it was somehow easier to focus on the mysteries surrounding the crime than on the awful brutality of Danny’s actions. While it was true that there was probably more to the story, there was no escaping the fact that Danny had killed his wife and child and then committed suicide, in each instance in the most gruesome way imaginable. Playing detective created an artificial wall that provided a bit of a respite for the group, however, and so they all indulged.

After a few minutes of rehashing the meeting with Detective Thompson, the group moved on to the particulars of the funeral service. Because Rachel’s older sister, Terry, hadn’t been heard from in several years, and no one knew how to contact her, the burden of making all the decisions regarding the service, burial, and other issues had fallen on Maryann, Pete, and Sam. Pete and Sam admittedly had had very little contact with Rachel, Danny, and the kids over the last ten years, so their role was a bit removed. It was really Maryann, as the adult child, who would bear the brunt of all the ugly choices to be made over the next few days.

Of course, there was the big, fat elephant that had shoved its way into the living room, and had sat there huffing and puffing, ignored until this point. Sam, who was never one to avoid a conflict, bluntly brought it up.

“So, are we going to have a service for just Rachel and Evan, or should we include Danny, also?” There it was. Had the mother, father, and child died in a car accident, there would be no need to ask the question, even if the father had been driving drunk, and had caused their deaths. This was a whole other set of circumstances, however.

Maryann was adamant. “There’s no way in the world that I would ever agree to include Danny in the service with Rachel and Evan. I already spoke with Tony and told him that, and he said that he was okay with it. He was disappointed, for sure, but he said he and his parents would make the arrangements for Danny later next week. He also said that he wanted to pay for all of the burial expenses for Rachel and Evan. I told him he didn’t need to, but he insisted.”

“Boy, that must have been one awkward discussion.” Pete said. “You really have to let the rest of us do some of this stuff, Maryann.”

Maryann suddenly looked so young to Carolyn (she was only twenty-two, after all), and so she took her hand and said, “I agree; just tell us what you need us to do. Anything.”

“Well, Carolyn, I was thinking of asking you to do the eulogy for Rachel at the service. Of all of us, you were the closest to her, and I think that’s what Rachel would have wanted.”

Carolyn looked over at Mitch and he was nodding and smiling, and so she smiled for the first time that day, and said, “Maryann, I would be proud to do that. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to get through it, but I’ll do my best.” Her response made it clear to Mitch that he needn’t mention the very vivid dream he’d had that morning.

“Thanks, Carolyn, and one more thing, if you don’t mind. The police told me that we could go to the house later today to select some clothing for Rachel and Evan and get some photos of them to display at the church. I was planning on going over there around three, and I would really appreciate it if you would help me pick out her dress and something for Evan to wear.”

Carolyn gasped at the idea of going to the house so soon after the murders, and was surprised the police would allow them to visit an active crime scene. “Are you sure they will let us do that?”

“That’s what the sheriff in charge told me. He said we could only go on the first floor, though, and could only stay a few minutes,” Maryann replied.

“Do you mind if Mitch comes as well?”

“No, of course not.”

“Maryann,” Mitch said, “why don’t we come by and pick you up a little before three, and we’ll go over together?” Mitch imagined there would be television crews staked out in front of the house and didn’t want her to have to face them alone.

After they discussed a few other particulars, it became apparent that it was time to leave, though everyone resisted making the first move. Paralysis had set in due to the fact that there was something so grim and unnatural about the tasks that faced all of them, Maryann in particular. Her eyes had taken on a permanent glaze, and her movements seemed
robotic. Carolyn found it hard to believe that Maryann, the little girl who had already known such tragedy in her young life, now had to carry this burden. At least they would be able to help her through the visit to Danny and Rachel’s house later that day. Now Maryann displayed maturity beyond her years yet again.

“Thanks so much,” she said to Tom and Anna, “both of you, for letting us meet here, and for arranging the meeting with Dave Thompson. It would have been horrible to have gone down to the police station and put up with those awful reporters.”

“Maryann, it’s the least we could do,” they said almost in unison.

When Mitch and Carolyn climbed into their car, they simply sat there, immobile, trying to absorb and process all that they had learned in the last few hours. When they had arrived, they had been under the impression that Danny had snapped and shot his wife and child and then himself. The details Dave Thompson had shared moved this tragedy into a whole new realm. Carolyn sat quietly, staring ahead, exhausted, perplexed, angry, sad, unable to process the enormity of the events that had taken place over the last forty-eight hours. The complexity of emotions left her with an overwhelming feeling of dread. A dense fog had descended, and at that moment she couldn’t imagine ever again feeling an emotion that might be described as “normal,” let alone something presently as foreign as “happiness.” Mitch looked over at her and thought she was probably in shock.
This must be what shock looks like
, he thought.
What if she never comes out of it? What if she sinks deeper?
He realized that the impact on his wife would be much more severe than on him. He felt helpless and frightened.

“Are you all right?” he offered, expecting her to nod mechanically that she was. Instead she looked directly at him and said, “I don’t think I will ever be ‘all right’ again, Mitch,” and she turned to continue her silent vigil. This was not good. Mitch always needed to fix things, and right now things were very broken. When he suggested they go check
in at the hotel, Carolyn vehemently shook her head from side to side. So they continued to sit there in silence.

And then Mitch remembered an incident, just a few years ago, when Frankie was six months old, and Mitch had stupidly placed him on the kitchen table in his infant seat while he was making a snack. The game was on and it was halftime. Mitch was watching their three boys, and he figured he’d whip up a sandwich just before the second half. His sixth sense told him he shouldn’t place the baby on the table (okay, Carolyn’s rule was that the infant seat should
never
be placed on the table), but he reasoned that he was just a few feet away, and it would only be for a minute or two.

He kept up a running dialogue with the baby, glancing at him every few seconds to keep him amused and make sure he was okay. He didn’t notice, however, that Frankie’s rocking had caused the chair to creep to the edge of the table. In the instant it took to cut the sandwich in half, the chair tipped over and he smacked his head on the tile floor just before Mitch could grab him. That awful crunching sound would haunt Mitch for years.

He picked Frankie up and screamed for Carolyn. At first the baby was wailing, and then he suddenly stopped crying and went silent. When Mitch and Carolyn felt the back of his head they were convinced serious damage had been done, and so they rushed everyone into the car and Carolyn raced to the hospital while Mitch sat in the backseat and begged his son to cry or make any noise at all, but he just looked at his father with a terrifyingly blank stare.

After the CT scan, the specialist said there was indeed a fracture, but the only thing they could do was to wait and monitor the progress. If his brain swelled, they would have to operate, but there was a possibility he would be fine and it would heal naturally. However, it was obvious the entire medical staff was mightily concerned at little Frankie’s total lack of responsiveness.

Mitch and Carolyn were beside themselves with worry, but all they could do was wait and pray. Then Mitch realized that he should call Pastor Tim, Tim McConnell, the associate pastor of their church. The indefatigable Tim immediately agreed to drive directly to the hospital, despite the fact he was on another ministry call over an hour away, way up in Bainbridge, and it was now snowing heavily and well past ten o’clock when they reached him.

Mitch and Carolyn were sitting quietly when they heard a flurry of activity, accompanied by shouts of greetings, and presumed Pastor Tim must have arrived. They immediately felt better as soon as they laid eyes on him.

Despite being a small man, he seemed larger than life, partially due to his perpetually ebullient smile and relentlessly positive demeanor, and partially due to his shaggy black hair and bushy beard. Everyone at church adored the man and always joked about how much he resembled one of Jesus’s apostles, which in fact he was.

It was around midnight when Tim arrived, hurriedly brushing the snow off his shoulders and stomping his boots. They thanked him for coming out so late at night, particularly with the roads in such poor condition. Tim pooh-poohed this, threw his overcoat and scarf on a chair, and immediately went to the patient’s bedside. He gently kissed Frankie on the forehead and bent close to him, whispering. The baby appeared to be sleeping soundly.

Carolyn and Mitch were explaining how things had happened and Frankie’s medical condition, when Tim suddenly lifted up his head, looked at them with a broad smile, and said, “He’s going to be fine.” Almost laughing, he added, “All we have to do is pray.”

Right then there was a shift in the room. The atmosphere changed, and Mitch and Carolyn tentatively started to laugh along with Tim, though they didn’t know why, and it made absolutely no sense at all.

“Pastor Tim!” They turned to see one of the nurses, an attractive, middle-aged black woman, who had helped to get Frankie settled a while before. She immediately caught him in a clinch and burst out laughing. “I’m so glad to see you, Tim. You’re just what the doctor ordered!”

“Billie, it’s been ages! How are you? Are you still singing at Redeemer?”

“I sure am, Tim! And will be for as long as the Lord blesses me with another breath, you can bet on that!”

They caught up on old acquaintances, and then turned their attention to the baby in the bed. Mitch was a bit dumbfounded, and didn’t know what to say, so he immediately put his foot in his mouth.