The Silent Girls (24 page)

“Who?” Grout squeezed her shoulder. She was frailer than she looked. He could break her shoulder easily. She was old. An old, wicked woman.

“It’s not what you think. He would never do—” She sagged in the chair, and Grout thought she might expire. Feared it. But he squeezed her shoulder tighter anyway.

“Who? Who would never do what?”

“My. Monster.”

Chapter 53

R
ACHEL’S DISAPPEARANCE.

The words slammed in Rath’s brain as he drove Moose Alley at a reckless speed.

Rachel’s disappearance.

R
ATH MET
F
ELIX
at his apartment, a tight one-bedroom tucked under the steep eaves of a Victorian attic, a living area just spacious enough to wedge a futon couch and stretch your legs without quite touching the opposite wall.

Rath did not sit and stretch his legs. He paced as Felix told him what he knew about the meetings and the strange girl Rachel had met at both meetings. The girl didn’t match Mandy’s description, but she’d been at two different locations. She’d been forceful and insistent, trying to convert Rachel.

A sound in the apartment came from the bathroom. A sharp squeak.

It festered in Rath’s ear.

“Why was this girl at two different meetings?” Rath asked as he trod back and forth.

“I don’t know,” Felix said.

Rath paced. The odd chirping sound came again from the bathroom, needling. “What’s that damned noise?” he said.

Felix looked at him, confused.

“Can’t you hear that?” Rath said. “That noise in the bathroom.”

“
Oh,
Ernie and Bert. Canaries. We have two canaries.”

“I can’t think in here.” Rath clunked down the steep staircase.

Outside, he paced on the icy sidewalk. The snow was falling harder, in ghostly motes.

“Tell me more,” Rath said, “about this girl.”

“She doesn’t fit the girl you thought. She was older, mid-twenties. Lived somewhere closer your way than the second meeting place.”

“Where was that?”

“Danvers. Some old church rectory. I was supposed to go, but Rachel insisted I study. I couldn’t stop her, she’s—”

“I know.”

“She left a message on my cell after the meeting sort of in hysterics, about how this girl was evil. And how she, Rachel, needed to be alone. Needed a break.”

“Did you check to see if her car was parked near the rectory?”

“I don’t have a car, and I just found out she wasn’t at home when I called you.”

Rath wasn’t thinking clearly, his mind a walled maze that led to the center of one chronic thought:
Rachel’s missing.

“Fuck.” Rath ran to his Scout and jumped in, fired her up. “Get in,” he barked. As he pulled onto the street, he snapped his fingers at Felix. “Tell me more.”

“I don’t know more
,
” Felix said. “I should have never talked her into doing it.”

“You talked her into it?”

“She wanted to. She just needed a nudge. Because of what happened last month. I told her that was exactly why she should do it.”

“What happened last month?” Rath wanted to throttle Felix.

“The pregnancy.”

“Pregnancy
?
”

“That’s why Rachel was so
busy
not returning your calls.” Felix’s voice was shaky. “You got my daughter—”

“Not Rachel. Penny. Her roomie.”

“You got another girl—”

“
No.
Penny got pregnant on a one-night stand. And she went bat shit, screaming how her life was over. Rachel thought Penny was going to hurt herself, so she finally dragged Penny to Family Matters. Just to get, you know, perspective. While we were at the place, these protestors kept calling Penny and Rachel sluts and murderers who were going to burn in hell. It was a shit show. We went a few times, but Penny miscarried, so—”

“You went, too?”

“Rachel needed me.”

Rath shook his head, just when he wanted to kill the kid. “This girl Rachel thought might be our girl. Did she have any tattoos? Piercings? Scars or birthmarks? Anything that sets her apart?” Rath said.

“Purple hair.”

“OK, good. Anything else? The way she talked?”

“Nothing.”

“Did she dress weird? Slutty or like a Quaker? I don’t know. Anything.”

Felix rubbed his face. “There was one thing.”

“Tell me.” Rath squeezed the steering wheel.

“She wore the same shirt, just two days later. I mean, I’ve done that. Who hasn’t?”

“What kind of shirt?”

“A New England Patriots jersey.”

Rath stared ahead in astonishment. It hit him like a sledgehammer in the chest. The baby seat
.
Gale, Mandy’s roommate, had said she worked for a day care. She had claimed she was a virgin
.
She’d ripped him for thinking she was easy, for judging her. When she’d talked about Mandy’s books, she’d said it wasn’t like they were the copies of the Bible. The plaque on the wall, for Race for Life and the trophy for Hero for Life. Not for cancer. But for saving lives of the unborn. Pro Life races and rallies. Gale had told Rath it was Mandy’s note on the refrigerator. Mandy’s handwriting. And he’d taken her word for it. Mandy hadn’t written the notes. Gale had. It all fit.

A truck horn blared behind, and a logging truck whooshed past him. Rath slowed to dial Grout. The call didn’t connect. No bars.

He hit the gas, the Scout chugging up to 67 mph when it started to shake. He kept it pegged at 67 mph and dropped the cell in Felix’s lap. “Check for bars and hit redial as soon as you see even one; when it rings, give me the phone.”

They didn’t get service until an hour later, five miles outside of Canaan.

Felix hit redial, and Rath held his palm out for the phone.

Voice mail. Damn it. “Grout. Call me. Now. Rachel’s missing.”

Chapter 54

R
ATH YANKED THE
car into the driveway behind Gale’s VW.
Got you.
He jumped out, commanded Felix “Stay put!”

He stalked across the yard, eyeing the baby seat in the car, and something else, too. The black beads he’d noticed the first visit, hanging from the rearview. Rosary beads.

Rath pounded so hard on the screen door, he dented it.

The front door opened, and Gale stood there, sleepy-eyed and mussy-haired, her lips dry and split as she cracked her back, her vertebrae making tiny popping sounds like bubble wrap twisted in a fist. “What’s with the pounding?” Her eyes were bloody egg yolks, her hair streaked Patriots’ red and blue. Purple, where it had run together.

Rath pushed past her, inside.

She spun on him, an athletic move that belied her heft. “You can’t just—”

Rath crowded her. “Why do you have the baby seat in your car?”

She blinked her eyes clear.

“Why do you have that baby seat in your car?” Rath repeated, squeezing her shoulders.

She shook his grip free. She was
strong,
easily strong enough to overpower other girls. “I
told
you. I work at a day care.”

“What day care?” Rath turned toward a movement to see the cat batting a paw at his boot. He kicked at it and sent it skittering under the couch.

“Hey!” Gale screamed.

“Answer the question.”

“Better Days Play School,” she snapped.

“Sit.” Rath ordered.

Gale’s eyes searched his face for a sign of weakness then flopped into the chair. “Happy?”

“No,” Rath said. “You’re a liar, and my daughter is missing because of you.”

“Your daughter?”

Rath held up his phone screen to show Gale a photo of Rachel. Gale swallowed.

“Know her?” Rath said.

Gale shook her head.

“Liar,” Rath said, pacing, wiping spittle from his mouth. “Goddamned liar.”

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain in my home.”

“The Lord?” Rath wagged a finger, nicking the end of her fat nose. Gale’s face was rigid with offense and insolence. Rath drew a deep breath, the pissy odor of the cats’ litter box burning his nose. “I’m going to check with that day care,” he said.

“
Go
for it.”

“You said you were a virgin,” Rath said, jabbing a finger at her.

She looked like she might bite it off.

“I am.”

Rath’s hand buzzed to smack her. “Did you have an immaculate conception? Did your Lord’s hand anoint your womb? Because that Post-it was yours, with the word Erythromycin on it.”

“Fuck you.”

“There’s our saintly virgin showing her true face,” Rath said. The liar.”

“I am
not
lying. I
am
a virgin. In the eyes of the Lord, which is all that matters.” She pressed her face in her hands, sobbing. Rath was too intimate with grief to be fooled. It was genuine. It shook him. She looked up, face flush. “I am a born-again virgin. OK? I had sex.
Once.
Four years ago. Before I found God. I fell for a guy’s sappy lines, convinced myself he cared. He didn’t. Not about anything besides my flesh
.
” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “All I could think was I was carrying a problem. And.” Her face grew ashen. “All I wanted was to be rid of my problem. Getting pregnant was a mistake. What I did after was a sin. Jesus forgave me. But I can’t forgive myself. I walk around like my heart’s just been cut out.”

Sob story,
Rath thought. “We have a list of missing girls, all of whom you met at those meetings.
You
are the link.”

“After what I did to my own baby, I’d never harm another soul after that.”

Rath didn’t believe her. She wasn’t beyond hurting others, not in the name of a higher purpose, her zealotry a prism through which evil could be construed as godly. If she could convince herself she was a virgin, she could convince herself of anything.

“You’re part of The Better Society.”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin in pride.

Rath could feel the violence trembling in him. “You met my daughter at meetings.” She nodded.

“Did you harm her?”

“
No.
”

“When’d you see her last?”

“I was trying to talk to her after the meeting, and she freaked and ran off.”

“Why have you been going to these meetings if you aren’t pregnant?”

“To save souls.”

“And how do you
save souls
?”

“I let girls know that the thoughts in their heads are the Devil’s thoughts. Not their own.”

“Why’d Rachel freak out?”

“I mentioned what happened to her mother, your sister, and—”

Rath watched her mouth move but heard no more sound come from it. He shook his head clear. “How do you know about my sister?”

“Rachel used her mother’s married name on the sheet. I googled it and found the story—”

Rath stared in horror.

“
You
told her it was a
car wreck
?” Gale said. “And you call
me
a liar?”

Rath slapped Gale across mouth. She stared at him blankly as her lip swelled with blood.

“Where’s my daughter?” Rath said.

“I don’t
know
.”

“You lied about being a virgin. About the Post-it note and handwriting. How do I know you’re not lying now?”

“I am a virgin, in our savior’s eyes. I admit I omitted the earthly truth because I’m ashamed. I do pretend I’m pregnant now, at the meetings, God forgive me. But I kept the Post-it stuck to my bathroom mirror to remind me of my sin every time I look in the mirror. When you asked if you could keep it, I couldn’t say no. I had to act nonchalant. I’m ashamed. And when you asked for a handwriting sample, I wrote the grocery note to continue to cover.”

Rath pressed his thumbs to his temples and looked out the window. The wind was up, rocking the trees. Snow blew like white ash of nuclear fallout. From his cortisone injection site a wave of heat radiated down the back of his legs now.

“Where did you get the idea to go to these meeting to save souls?” Rath said.

“Leslie, my boss at the day care.”

“Tell me about her.” If it wasn’t Gale snagging these girls, it was someone using her for information. Manipulating her.

Gale exhaled. “The day care is for young, single moms who want to finish high school or need to work. Moms like I could have been. And for pregnant girls who decide to have their child and place them into adoption. We give refuge.” She touched her swollen lip and winced.

“Tell me about your boss.”

“She’s taught me so much. She was a missionary in the most
primitive
places, where savages still believe in multiple gods or no god at all. She brought Jesus into my life when I confided in her about my own abortion—”

“How did you come to do that?”

“I was saying one day how I could relate to these girls. And she read it in my face. She’s seen it all. She’s like a Mother Teresa. She even
met
Mother Teresa. She touched my hand. It was the kindest touch I ever felt, and said, `You’re a lost soul in Satan’s grip.’ That got me pissed. We snakes, we don’t want to hear the truth.
Satan, the serpent of old, who is the real enemy of God, will not share in his peace.
She told me I was a godless serpent because I had killed my own baby.” Gale took a breath. “I got up to leave, but she convinced me to stay, and she read me Bible passages. She gave me her very own personal pocket Bible and told me to read some myself and think on it, and I did, and it spoke to me.”

Gale plucked a dog-eared pocket Bible from between the couch cushions. “This is it,” she said, setting the Bible in Rath’s lap as if he needed it more than she. He fanned the page edges with his thumb, the inside marked with red ink. He slipped it in his pocket.

“She was right,” Gale said. “I was a serpent. And had to ask forgiveness. You see?”

Rath saw. He saw Gale really didn’t know where Mandy or Rachel was. She was a pawn. “How long before she suggested you save souls?” Rath said.

“A month? There’s only so much I could do picketing. I didn’t want to be a screamer. I wanted to reach out with love and truth. So, I went to meetings. And reported on them. Which girls could most likely be brought to the side of God. Which ones are lost to Satan.”

“And you give your boss names?”

“From the lists. They aren’t always accurate. But I befriend the girls, and they confide, tell me their real names and stories. That’s why I googled Rachel, to find out more about her so I could befriend—”

“
Manipulate.
What else do you share with this boss?”

“Everything. Backgrounds, families, boyfriends, grades, trouble with drugs or alcohol. It helps us understand how hard it will be to deliver them to God.”

Good genes, Rath thought. That’s what each missing girl had in common. Each had a trait that set them apart in some respect. The Star Athlete. The Gifted Musician. The Honor Student. The Beauty.

“Did you tell her about Rachel?” Rath said.

“Not yet.”

“What does your boss do with the information?”

“What else is there? She determines which ones might be most likely saved, along with their unborn child of course.”

Rath took out the photos of the missing girls and fanned them out for her to see. “Have you seen any of these girls since the meetings?”

“Why would I? We couldn’t save them. They had their abortions.”

“How do you know?”

“They stopped coming. I assumed—”

“These girls have never been seen again. Except . . .” Rath tapped a finger on the photo of Julia alive. “ . . . Her.”

“Well, good, see —”

Rath handed her the photo of Julia’s corpse. Gale’s face collapsed in a ruin of shock.

“A goat’s head was carved into her belly,” Rath said, “her feet cut up as if she’d fled for miles over every mountain—” A thought skittered across his brain.
Every mountain.
But the thought escaped.

Gale bowed her head, murmuring, in prayer, tears dripping into her lap.

“Mandy,” Rath said. “Do you know if she was pregnant?”

“She had no boyfriends and . . . No.”

Rath’s cell buzzed. He grabbed it. A text. Grout.

Busy busy. With Betty Malroy in CT.

Recognize this mug?

Rath opened the .jpeg. Saw the photo. An old one. From the eighties perhaps. A boy. His face disfigured. He looked vaguely familiar. But the photo was bad. Grout must have taken a photo of the original with his camera, and the original looked like a Polaroid. Washed out. Still there was something about the kid. His.

“Fuck,” Rath said, and burst out the door.