the hell would I lie about that? If I’d been talking with Becky—and I wish I had kept in touch—then I’d say so. There’s nothing for me to lie about. That’s ridiculous.”
“There are several passages where your sister has not just mentioned your name, Kelly,” said Raintree, “but where she has mentioned you as her sister, too.”
Quietly, almost to herself, Marlene muttered, “Becky has no friends. Not here, not at school.”
“That can’t be. I haven’t spoken to her since I left Spires. She was just a little kid.”
“So you have no knowledge of any boys she might have been interested in?” Sturgess said. “You wouldn’t know if, say, she had a crush on some young fellow from town?”
“There are no young fellows from town,” Marlene said. “This was some stranger.”
“No,” Kelly said.
“Or no boy that might have had some interest in her?” Raintree added.
“No,” she repeated. “I’m not lying to you.”
“Of course not,” Raintree said. He pulled his hands from his pockets, rubbed them together quickly. “I suppose we’ll all have to wait for young Becky to come back around to us before we can clear up this little mystery then, yes?”
“Do you have any leads?” her mother said.
Raintree just shook his head. “Not of yet,” he said, “but we’ve got several men on it, Mrs. Kellow.”
“Confidentially speaking,” Sturgess began, “three hunters disappeared up in these woods about a month ago. Now, we don’t have any reason to believe these disappearances are in any way connected to your daughter’s attack, but it doesn’t hurt to make certain. We’re looking into it.”
“Doesn’t hurt,” Raintree agreed. “But we don’t really think…”
“No, we don’t,” Sturgess said.
“Three hunters,” Marlene Kellow said to herself.
Sturgess stood, clapped his hands together. “And she’s doing all right?” he asked Kelly’s mother. “The poor thing…”
“Doctors have been keeping abreast of her condition,” Marlene said. “They suspect she should come around soon enough.”
“Well that’s good news,” Sturgess said.
“It is,” Raintree said, scooping up his fedora from the end table. He looked at Kelly. “I was hoping our conversation would have proved useful.” He pulled out a card and handed it to her. “Perhaps you’ll give me a call if…well, if you remember anything. I keep my cellular on twenty-four-seven. So…well, whatever.”
“Or if you just want to talk,” Sturgess interrupted.
“Yes,” Raintree said, “or just talk.”
Without word, Kelly took the card. Beside her, her mother stood stiffly from the couch, smoothing out her blouse, and clasped both hands together between her breasts. She was still staring at her—Kelly could feel her eyes pushing against the back of her head, the side of her face when she turned. Was it possible for her mother to be as bitter as she herself was about sending her to an institution when she was only fifteen years old? Maybe bitter about the years since, years that had surrendered to silence, to no communication? And, if she was bitter, did she have any real right to be?
I don’t care, Kelly thought. Bitter or not, it doesn’t change the past, doesn’t change anything at all.
“Thank you for coming out,” her mother said to the detectives. “I’m just sorry for…”
“No,” Raintree said with a wave of his hand. Then he smiled at Kelly. “Really, it’s all okay.”
“Never hurts to try,” Sturgess said.
His partner smiled even wider. “No,” he said, “it doesn’t.”
“Excuse me,” Kelly said as they turned to leave. “Could I see Becky’s diary?”
“That’s up to your mother, dear,” Sturgess said.
“You still have the diary, Mrs. Kellow?” Raintree asked.
“I do,” Marlene said, and shot her daughter a sideways glance. “I’m not sure I like the idea of strange people continuing to flip through it, however.”
Strange people, Kelly
“There are several passages where your sister has not just mentioned your name, Kelly,” said Raintree, “but where she has mentioned you as her sister, too.”
Quietly, almost to herself, Marlene muttered, “Becky has no friends. Not here, not at school.”
“That can’t be. I haven’t spoken to her since I left Spires. She was just a little kid.”
“So you have no knowledge of any boys she might have been interested in?” Sturgess said. “You wouldn’t know if, say, she had a crush on some young fellow from town?”
“There are no young fellows from town,” Marlene said. “This was some stranger.”
“No,” Kelly said.
“Or no boy that might have had some interest in her?” Raintree added.
“No,” she repeated. “I’m not lying to you.”
“Of course not,” Raintree said. He pulled his hands from his pockets, rubbed them together quickly. “I suppose we’ll all have to wait for young Becky to come back around to us before we can clear up this little mystery then, yes?”
“Do you have any leads?” her mother said.
Raintree just shook his head. “Not of yet,” he said, “but we’ve got several men on it, Mrs. Kellow.”
“Confidentially speaking,” Sturgess began, “three hunters disappeared up in these woods about a month ago. Now, we don’t have any reason to believe these disappearances are in any way connected to your daughter’s attack, but it doesn’t hurt to make certain. We’re looking into it.”
“Doesn’t hurt,” Raintree agreed. “But we don’t really think…”
“No, we don’t,” Sturgess said.
“Three hunters,” Marlene Kellow said to herself.
Sturgess stood, clapped his hands together. “And she’s doing all right?” he asked Kelly’s mother. “The poor thing…”
“Doctors have been keeping abreast of her condition,” Marlene said. “They suspect she should come around soon enough.”
“Well that’s good news,” Sturgess said.
“It is,” Raintree said, scooping up his fedora from the end table. He looked at Kelly. “I was hoping our conversation would have proved useful.” He pulled out a card and handed it to her. “Perhaps you’ll give me a call if…well, if you remember anything. I keep my cellular on twenty-four-seven. So…well, whatever.”
“Or if you just want to talk,” Sturgess interrupted.
“Yes,” Raintree said, “or just talk.”
Without word, Kelly took the card. Beside her, her mother stood stiffly from the couch, smoothing out her blouse, and clasped both hands together between her breasts. She was still staring at her—Kelly could feel her eyes pushing against the back of her head, the side of her face when she turned. Was it possible for her mother to be as bitter as she herself was about sending her to an institution when she was only fifteen years old? Maybe bitter about the years since, years that had surrendered to silence, to no communication? And, if she was bitter, did she have any real right to be?
I don’t care, Kelly thought. Bitter or not, it doesn’t change the past, doesn’t change anything at all.
“Thank you for coming out,” her mother said to the detectives. “I’m just sorry for…”
“No,” Raintree said with a wave of his hand. Then he smiled at Kelly. “Really, it’s all okay.”
“Never hurts to try,” Sturgess said.
His partner smiled even wider. “No,” he said, “it doesn’t.”
“Excuse me,” Kelly said as they turned to leave. “Could I see Becky’s diary?”
“That’s up to your mother, dear,” Sturgess said.
“You still have the diary, Mrs. Kellow?” Raintree asked.
“I do,” Marlene said, and shot her daughter a sideways glance. “I’m not sure I like the idea of strange people continuing to flip through it, however.”
Strange people, Kelly
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