Chasing Amanda (21 page)

“That’s right, sweetie. Come to me.” Pastor Lett reached out and pulled the kid’s reluctant body close, “What were you doing, honey?”

The kid stared up at her—big round beautiful eyes, innocent and scared. Pastor Lett held the kid at arm’s length, her heart pounded with love and admiration, mixed with an underlying grief. She hated holding the kid hostage like that. She knew the kid should be outside, enjoying life, not stuck in this damn dungeon.

The kid began rocking, barely noticeable at first. Pastor Lett had seen it before, a slight rock back and forth, almost non-existent, yet she understood the message—the kid was uneasy, frightened.

“Sweetie, let it out. I can help,” Pastor Lett urged. “Let’s see what I’ve brought you!” she said, reaching for the bags. The kid eyed the bags curiously. Pastor Lett reached deep inside the bag and pulled out a stuffed bunny. The kid’s eyes lit up, and Pastor Lett handed the prize over, gratified. The kid held it tight, then tucked it under one arm.

“There’s that smile I love,” she said. “Let’s see what else I’ve brought you.” The kid moved closer, less afraid, renouncing the rocking for the promise of gifts.

Pastor Lett reached into the bag and pulled out a brown shirt and white sweater. “What is this?” she teased. “It looks like clothes.” Pastor Lett held the clothing up, pretending to inspect them. “Hm, they look to be just about your size.” She glanced at the kid, “Let’s just see if they might fit.” She held them up. “Yup. Perfect. They must be yours!”

The kid snagged the clothing from Pastor Lett’s hands. Pastor Lett watched the kid smell the clothing, smile. Her spirits lifted. As much as she loathed material items bringing joy, at times it was all she had to offer. She was well aware of what she had done, what she would continue to do, but people had forced it upon her. She was compelled to live a lie. It was unfair, and she knew it. The kid was often left alone, and she hated that, but she knew, or at least she hoped, that God would look over their place, protecting them from harm, protecting them from the cruel, unforgiving world.

The kid stared at the bag, wordlessly asking for more. Pastor Lett pushed aside her melancholy thoughts and laughed a little. “Oh, you want to see what else I might have brought? Don’t you have enough yet, kiddo?”

The kid smiled.

“Okay, well, let’s see,” she said, trying to keep the mood lighter than it had been. She put her arm in the bag and pretended that the item was stuck, cringing and pulling backward. “I can’t get it out,” her voice was strained as she pretended to use all of her strength to retrieve the contents of the bag.

The kid’s face contorted, painfully waiting for the prize to be revealed.

“It’s stuck in here,” Pastor Lett said. She pretended to be yanked into the bag, flailing her head and arms and falling to the floor.

The kid laughed.

Pastor Lett’s voice was muffled by the bag, “Help! Help! Honey, I’m stuck!”

There was a moment’s hesitation—then Pastor Lett felt warm hands on her back as the kid tried to pull her from the bag. She used all of her strength to remain in the bag, continuing the game, relishing in the kid’s delight. After a minute, they both fell backward, tumbling together, laughter filling the dimly-lit room. Slowly, their laughter faded, and Pastor Lett peeked in the bag, creating a dramatic scene—eyes wide, arms outstretched. She turned to the kid, “No way am I going in there again.” She sat back on her heels. “You go,” she instructed.

The kid approached the bag tentatively, looking into it, then back at Pastor Lett. A shake of the head and a smile egged her on.

“Uh-uh,” she said. “Why do I have to do all of the dirty work? It’s just not fair!” she said, pretending to pout. “You can do it. You’re strong,” she urged.

Pastor Lett felt her heart melt like chocolate on a warm afternoon. She wanted to grab that one word and tuck it away safely in her pocket. Instead, she scrambled around in the bag, like she was wrestling with an animal. Suddenly, she stopped thrashing and backed out of the bag, cradling a small box in her hands. She sat on the floor next to the kid whose eyes were wide with anticipation. The kid reached for the box, crouched next to Pastor Lett, and looked over the box, slowly lifting the lid, and removing the gold chain. The kid stared, mesmerized. Tears of joy slipped down the kid’s cheeks. Pastor Lett had never imagined that a necklace would evoke such a reaction. The token, an icon of Pastor Lett’s love, hung from the chain like a star in the sky, sparkling and bright.

The kid clutched the necklace as if it might disappear.
Not to worry
, Pastor Lett thought to herself.
I will be here to make sure it stays right where it belongs
.

When Molly finally made her way downstairs, she found Cole stewing in front of a football game. She came to sit on the coffee table in front of him, blocking his view of the game. She held his gaze until he abruptly clicked off the television and gave her his full, enervated attention.

His eyes said, “Well?” but she didn’t know where to begin to fill the breach. The tension was deafening.

She tentatively reached for his hand and said, placatingly, “Cole, how could I know that this would happen? No one even knows I’m looking for her, really.”

“No one even knows,” he said, mocking her. “Someone does,” he said, accusingly. “That little present you just got,” he sneered, “is a threat.”

Molly peeled her gaze away, “I don’t think…” she began timidly. “Maybe it’s not really a threat,” she tried, lamely.

Cole threw his arms up in the air. “What?” he yelled. “Do you know, do you even have a clue, how dangerous this is?”

She stood with her hands at her side, wanting to say something, anything to make him understand why she had to pursue this, but words failed her. Finally, she took a deep breath and, deciding not to tell him about the other notes, released the air slowly, trying to keep control of her emotions. She turned and looked into his scornful eyes.

“Oh, Cole,” she began, “I can’t help it. I feel like I
have
to find her.”

Cole let out a hiss of anger. “Molly, why do you think you can find this girl? You couldn’t help Amanda, and you can’t help Tracey!” he yelled.

Molly was too hurt, too angry to speak.

Cole looked away, momentarily ashamed, but the anger came raging forward, “How much more do you know than the police? It sounds like you’re all over the place—in the woods, at the Perkinson House. Don’t you think if she were in the Perkinson House, someone would have found her? Why don’t you just ask Pastor Lett? I’m sure she’ll tell you she’s not there.”

Molly fumed.

“For God’s sake, Molly, she didn’t take her. I have no idea how you can live like this, wondering, tracking things down. Where do you get the energy, much less the desire? She’s not even your daughter.”

“I know she’s not my daughter, Cole!” she yelled through angry tears. “What if I
can
find her? The police didn’t find her necklace,
I
did. What am I supposed to do? Turn my back on this little girl? Walk away like I know nothing when clearly someone, somewhere is trying to send me messages about her? Let her die like I let Amanda die?”

Cole sat on the couch, his eyes focused on nothing.

Molly was caught between walking out and never coming back, and trying to bridge the gap between them. Cole dropped his head into his hands. Molly eyed the foyer, then looked at the photos littered around the room of them in happier times. She walked over to Cole, stood between his legs, put her hands on his shoulders, and leaned her forehead against his. She whispered, “What if it were Erik, and one person was being given details, and that one person ignored them? Would you want that to happen?”

He whispered back, “No, of course not.” He pushed Molly aside and walked out of the room.

Molly listened to the rhythm of Cole’s heavy footfalls and the hum of the treadmill. She settled in front of her computer and opened an email from Hannah.

Molly, I saw your car here today. Sorry I missed you. Were you out running? Hannah.

Molly replied, responded to a few other emails, and was relieved to reach the last one which was from Newton Carr.

Molly, I’m glad I found you today. I thought everyone knew about the campsites, but I suppose not. You should stop by some time. I can fill you in on much of the history of Boyds. I can even show you Colonel Boyds’s grave. He was an amazing man.

Take care, Newton.

P.S. The photo you saw was actually of another home in Boyds that no longer exists. As I mentioned before, Molly, please stay away from the Perkinson House. Grant the Perkinson family their privacy.

Molly clicked back to her Inbox. “That was fast,” she said when a new email from Hannah arrived.

Molly, I’m glad you enjoyed your walk through the woods. Next time, though, why don’t I go with you? Hannah.

Molly replied,
Sounds great!

The newspaper clipping nagged at Molly. She retrieved it and scanned the article.

Relief of one sort was provided today to the family of Kate Plummer. The prime suspect, Rodney Lett, was found beaten to death in the home of his sister, Pastor Carla Lett…The body was taken to Delaware for burial in the family plot…The body of Kate Plummer has not been found. Rodney Lett’s confession included a statement that the girl was with her “mommy.” Police interpreted the information to mean that she was dead. Mrs. Plummer, a cancer patient, is alive, though it is unclear if Rodney Lett understood that at the time of Kate’s disappearance.

She tossed the article on her desk, “So that’s their proof?” Molly was disgusted with the realization that the police could lead such a shallow investigation, and that the search would be dropped without ever finding Kate’s body.

Frustrated by the fight with Cole and her internal conflict, Molly decided to try and put their argument behind them. She went downstairs to their exercise room. “Almost done?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he huffed. Cole hated to run, but as he did with most aspects of his life, he did what he was supposed to do because it was best for him, not because it was something he enjoyed.

Molly dressed for dinner and then looked beneath her pillow, confirming that her evidence was still in place. She thought of Tracey, out there somewhere, terrified, hungry, cold. Molly ran her fingers over the necklace, then picked up the candy wrapper. Instantly, she tasted apple candy. Her palm became warm, and she could feel Tracey’s soft little hand grasping the wrapper. She could feel her fear, her breathing becoming rapid, shallow. She closed her eyes, hoping for more—slowly, gray images came to her:
trees, leaves, the wooden boxes.
The wrapper grew cold and fell from her hand.

Molly jumped when Cole put his hand on her shoulder. She pushed the pillow down over the wrapper and the necklace. “Good God, Cole,” she said, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” he said.

Café Miletto was quiet. There were four other tables with patrons, two young couples, one older couple, and a couple who appeared, from behind, to be middle aged. They sat in the corner with their backs to Molly and Cole. Molly reached for Cole’s hand across the table, trying to mend the widening abyss between them. Cole withdrew his hand.

Molly blinked back tears and gazed out the window, inadvertently listening to the couple that sat nearby. Their voices were hushed whispers.

“As long as you have to,” the man replied. “If you come out now, can you imagine the terror it would bring to the community, the distrust?”

Molly recognized the voices and chided herself for listening. At that point, she couldn’t help it, she was drawn into their conversation, listening for the sake of curiosity.

“You did what you felt like you had to do. People will be angry, maybe try to railroad you. Send you to jail even,” Newton whispered adamantly.

“Look what I’ve put the kid through.” Pastor Lett sounded beaten down.

Molly looked over, her heart speeding up.

“I’ve put that kid in a prison and for what? Somehow, what started to be about the kid, ended up really just about me. I’m so selfish.”

Molly was riveted by their conversation. Cole looked at his menu, unaware of her fixation. He reached across the table and grabbed Molly’s hand. The relief she felt was overshadowed by her curiosity.