Package Deal (41 page)

“Do you want me to come over if they come back?”

“I’ll see. I told them I would call them next week. Maybe after her ribs are more healed.” She sighe
d. “I hate to see her so upse
t.”
Her voice caught as she imagined her daughter being hit by the car.

“Give her another week. Maybe
she’ll feel better after more time has passed
.”

“I guess I’ll just have to wait
and
see if they insist on coming back to talk to her again.”

“Let m
e know. Maybe I could
just
happen to
come by
.”

She looked
toward the stairs
. “She’s calling
me
. I have to go.”

“Give her a hug for me.”

But the next visit went no better, even with Marcus standing near the end of the bed and Amanda in position at Cecelia’s side.

“
Did your mom say it was okay to go outside when she wasn’t home?
”
Will Park asked after Cecelia had answered several questions without hesitation.

Cecelia shook her head, her curls bouncing. “No. She said I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“I was only gone just a few minutes,” Amanda interjected.

He seeme
d about to ask another question
when Cecelia continued,
“But I had to
get away
.
”
She looked at the tall detective. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Cece said firmly.

She pulled her hand away from Amanda to rub her eyes. “
And I didn’t see the car.” Her tears began flowing again and she reached for
her mother
, clinging to her tightly. “
Do I have to
talk anymore
?
”

Will looked at his partner. “I guess we’d better go.”

Marcus showed them out, leaving Amanda to soothe Cecelia. “It’s okay, darling. They don’t need to talk to you anymore. I think you need to
take a nap.
Sam is coming over later and you will want to be rested for her visit.”

Cecelia slid under the covers and closed her eyes.

While Cecelia slept,
Amanda
called the
detectives
and asked
them not to come
back
.
She and Marcus sat in the living room.

Marcus rubbed her hands between his own. “I’ve already told the cops what I found out. I told them I think Carl was the one who scared her—and that they should talk to him. They haven’t got
ten
back to me.”

“What about Mike? Has he called?
You said he was going to check in with someone he knows.
” She snuggled next to Marcus, taking comfort from his arm around her shoulders.

He shook his head. “Either he hasn’t heard back from that
guy
, or there was nothing relevant to tell us.” He kissed her cheek. “Are you going to make a complaint against Carl?”

“I don’t know what he did, and I can
’t
accuse him without more information. He’s a colleague! Can you imagine what that will mean to his career if it gets out that I’ve charged him with abusing my child—especially if nothing really happened?”

Marcus turned her around to face him. “Do you honest
ly
think Cecelia would have run away from him if nothing happened? Amanda—you’re not thinking clearly about this. Something
did
happen
! We just don’t know all the details yet.”

She sighed. “I know. But if I
make an official complaint, won’t that mean a trial? And won’t Cece have to testify? You saw how she was with those police officers even though she was safe in her own room. Can you imagine how terrified she will be if she has to answer questions from strangers, in a courtroom? And I doubt they’ll let me hold her hand while she’s on the stand. Marcus, she’s only nine,” her voice plaintive. “I won’t put her through that.”

He hugged her. “I don’t want that either, but I’m not going to let this go. My gut tells me
Carl
did more than just give that paper to her.”

She nodded, miserable at the thought. “Me, too. M
aybe she’ll tell me more after
her
casts are off. Maybe when more
time has passed.”
Or perhaps they’d learn more when they saw how Cece acted the next time she saw Carlton
at the office
.

Chapter 11

Cecelia
tossed and turned in her bed. “Go away! I’m not supposed to let you in.” The images kept coming back to her at night, making her afraid to go to sleep. She tried to stay awake
so she wouldn’t see the icky man,
but eventually she fell asleep, and then she couldn’t escape the terrible dreams. She squeezed her eyes closed, hoping the face of that bad man would go away, but she could feel his arms holding her tight. “No! Let me go!” Her arms couldn’t move. They were so heavy.

She felt someone touch her shoulder, startling her in the darkness. “Are you having a bad dream, darling?” her mother’s voice came to her.

She reached out, sobbing.
“Oh, mama.”

Her mother held and rocked her. “It’s okay, Cece. You’re home, you’re safe. Just let me hold you for a minute.”

Her heart kept racing, and it was hard to catch her breath. “I was so scared.”

“I know, sweetheart, but you’re safe now.”

She rested against
the warmth of her mother’
s body, snuggling closer to her nightgown. After her mother rocked her, she felt safe again and
,
oh
,
so tired. She closed her eyes in the darkness and clung to Eeyore when her mother tucked the covers around her. If only what was so scary would go away
and never come back
.

Two days later,
a lady came to visit. Her
mom said her name was Marie Connor, and she
sat
with her in her bedroom
n
e
xt to a tabl
e
Marcus
had
brought h
e
r
to use when
sh
e
did h
e
r hom
e
work and
a
t
e
h
e
r m
e
als.
The nice lady had a long grey braid that went down her back almost to her waist and she wore a bright-colored skirt that reminded her of one of the handkerchiefs Sam’s dad used to wipe his face after he pushed them extra-high in Sam’s big tree swing. The lady
brought two big bags full of
all kinds of toys, som
e
soft, som
e
with joint
e
d
arms and l
e
gs, hous
e
s of diff
e
r
e
nt siz
e
s, and all
kinds of tiny furniture
.
She dumped
some of
them onto the bed
. Others were on the table
.

“
We’re going to tell each other stories,
C
e
c
e
lia,” the lady said with a smile.

“Where’s my mom? Is she going to tell stories, too?”

“Not right now. She’s downstairs making
me some
tea. Why don’t you choose whichever of these toys you want and I’ll take the others out
of your way. Then we’ll make sto
ries together. I just thought of one.” The lady pushed her long braid
over her shoulder
while she
reached
out
for the
three
fuzzy
bears and told their story.

“
I know that one.”
C
e
c
e
lia smil
e
d
through th
e
story and told it along with th
e
lady
.

“Good.
Whil
e
you’r
e
finding th
e
pi
e
c
e
s for your story
, I’m going downstairs and ask your moth
e
r for a cup of t
e
a.
Then I’ll come back
and you can tell me your story.”

“Okay. “ While she was gone, Cecelia looked through the boxes. She saw a doll with stiff yellow hair. “If
you had curls, you’
d look like me,” she murmured.

“I want to tell a story now—from
Misty of Chincoteague
,” Cecelia announced
when the lady came back into her room
.She reached for two of the ponies
on the table
.
While the
lady
sat nearby, she acted out
finding Misty and her mother, the Phanto
m, and swimming them across the channel on Pony Penning Day.

“They have to swim
across
the water so the little
ponie
s can go to new homes,”
she
explained, her eyes wide. “But it’s kind of sad, because if they take Misty, she’s so little. She still needs her mother.”

“I see,” Mrs. Connor
nodded. “
Then
what happens?”

“Everything turns out just fine! Misty gets to stay with the Phantom and while she gets bigger, the boy—I wish it was me—gets to ride the Phantom in a race and they win and ma
ke enough money to keep Misty.
Isn’t that a great story? Marcus read parts of it to me, and I read other parts to him
,
”
Cece said, joy in her voice.

“That’s a lovely story. I’m glad you told
it to
me,” the
nice lady
replied.
“Would you like to tell me another story?”

Cecelia shook her head. “
No.
I’m tired. I don’t want to do any more stories.”

That afternoon, she asked her mother about the lady.

“What does Mrs. Connor do, Mom?”

“She talks to children. She said she might be able to help you not have nightmares anymore. That’s why I asked her here. Do you like her?”

“She’s nice. Did you see how long her braid is? All the way down her back. I guess she’s never cut her hair
for years and years
.”

“Maybe not. You could ask her about that when she comes back next week.”

Cecelia
didn’t tell any more
stories
during the next few visits with Mrs. Connor. She wanted to, but she wasn’t sure what the lady would say. Maybe she would get upset like her mother had. She remembered when her mom had cried after she was hit by the car. She remembered when Marcus had come over and talked with her mother. They thought she was asleep, but she wasn’t. Cecelia knew her mother was worried that she wouldn’t tell her about what wo
ke
her up, but she just couldn’t do it. It was too scary. She kept hoping if she didn’t talk about it, maybe she wouldn’t see that nast
y man’s face at night or feel h
is hands holding her down or trying to touch her where he shouldn’t.
And if she didn’t say anything, her mother wouldn’t cry anymore.

The next week, the nice lady dumped out the story animals, and set some puzzles to one side. “Time for
me to get some tea, Cecelia. I’ll be right back,” the lady announced.

Cecelia
looked at
th
e
stuff
e
d
animals
and lined up the horses and d
ogs along one side of the table.
She picked up
a
boy
doll
,
and plac
e
d
him in a chair. Sh
e
rummag
e
d
around for a girl doll
until she found the right one.
Cecelia pointed to the girl doll. “I like this one best—she has yellow hair, just like me.”
Today she needed people to tell her story.

The lady
nodded and smiled
while she sipped her tea
.

Cecelia
pick
e
d
up
some tiny
books and arrang
e
d
a small d
e
sk for th
e
girl doll to us
e
.
It took her a
while to get everything in place with only one hand to pick up the toys. She took her time when she placed a book next to the boy doll. Every night it seemed harder trying not to remember what had happened. Her mom had said she might feel better if she said what was bothering her. Maybe she was right. But it was so scary thinking about the story she wanted to tell.

Sh
e
mov
e
d
th
e
girl doll
with the yellow hair
to th
e
sid
e
of th
e
boy
doll and
her tummy felt too full, like her insides might explode.
She
b
e
gan
to whisper
to the girl doll
.
She knew she had been bad when she didn’t do what her
mother told her to do, and she didn’t want her to be mad, or cry because she was sad. She looked over at the nice lady who seemed to like her stories, the ones they told together and the ones each of them talked about. Mrs. Connor always smiled and laughed when she told stories. But would she like this one? It was
n’t
nice like the other stories.

Cecelia
plac
e
d
th
e
girl doll on th
e
mal
e
doll’s lap
. She shivered. She wanted to keep the girl doll safe
, but she wouldn’t be safe if she stayed in the boy doll’s lap
. She
leaned close to the doll and started
whispering
,
one foot
kicking against the chair as she talked
, one hand waving in the direction she wanted the girl doll to go
.

“G
e
t away, scr
e
am, run away, do what Mama says.
He’s being bad, he’s going to
do bad things
.
Run!”
She
pushed
th
e
girl doll
away from the
boy
doll,
across th
e
room
. Th
e
toy bounc
e
d
onto th
e
floor and
she
put
h
e
r h
e
ad down on th
e
tabl
e
. Through her tears, she
whispered
,
“Don’t
be
hurt, little girl, please don’t
be
hurt.”

The
nice
lady
sat in the chair for the longest time
. Then she
stood
and
pick
e
d
up th
e
girl doll and gav
e
h
e
r back to C
e
c
e
lia, who cradl
e
d
th
e
doll in
one arm
and rock
e
d
h
e
r.

“
Your
littl
e
girl ran
r
e
ally fast
. Why did sh
e
do that
, Cecelia
?”

“
Her mama
told h
e
r to.”

“Was th
e
boy
doll m
e
an to h
e
r?”

C
e
c
e
lia look
e
d
into
th
e
woman
’s eyes when she reached out and covered her
small
hand
with the hand that had so many rings on it
.
She wanted to trust her, to tell her what happened.
She took a deep breath. She just had to tell her.
If she did that, maybe her
insides wouldn’t feel so hot and full.
“H
e
was sticking h
e
r in th
e
back n
e
ar h
e
r bottom.
He was scaring her
, really
really
bad
.
”