Shattered (46 page)

Lisa was glad for Scott's solid presence at her side. She leaned against him and held on to the rail, and breathed very consciously in and out, as she watched this woman she had considered almost as an aunt talk so casually about deciding to kill her.

"You never wanted to hurt anybody, did you?" The sarcasm was back in Detective Watson's voice. "I bet you didn't want to hurt that little baby we found under the fountain, either. But one of you suffocated her."

Robin gasped. Her lips trembled. The color drained out of her face. Folding her arms over her chest, she hunched her shoulders and seemed almost to shrink.

"We have evidence the baby was suffocated, Mrs. Baker." In contrast to Detective Watson's, Ms. Bernard's voice was almost gentle.

"It wasn't me. Andy did it. Old Mr. Carmody--Miss Martha's father--told him to do it, but Andy did it. I didn't even know. I wouldn't have agreed to that. She was so sick, but she was the sweetest little baby. Miss Martha loved her so. I did, too. We took care of her, Miss Martha and I. The doctors all said she was going to die. But we didn't think so. Miss Martha prayed and prayed and prayed over her. And we thought she was getting better. Then, that night, that night all these terrible things happened, it was maybe one in the morning and Miss Martha had gone to lie down in her bed for a little bit. I--I had come back in, all shaken up, you know, and I was rocking that little baby in my arms, just rocking her so we could both feel better. She was a little bitty thing, wouldn't hardly eat, but I'd gotten her to go to sleep by rocking her, and then Mr. Carmody came in and took her. Just took her away from me. And I didn't know a thing that was happening until Andy came back carrying the baby, all wrapped in the blanket she'd been wrapped in when Mr. Carmody took her, all dressed in the same clothes, but not the same baby. I knew she was not the same baby. I knew what baby she was, because I'd watched her being born in the kitchen of that cursed house just a few hours before. Then Andy told me what they'd done, what Mr. Carmody had told him to do. He'd told him to smother my little baby, because the doctors had said she was going to die anyway, and if her baby died it would kill Miss Martha. So Mr. Carmody was going to save his daughter, save Miss Martha, whom he loved like nothing you've ever seen, by giving her a healthy baby who would live to grow up. He was going to give her that Garcia woman's baby. There wasn't anything I could do."

Detective Watson made a sound, but something--Lisa suspected something Ms. Bernard had done, such as kick him under the table--stopped him. Instead, Ms. Bernard spoke, her voice still very gentle.

"Mrs. Grant--Miss Martha--didn't realize that it was a different baby?"

Robin shook her head. "Mr. Carmody, he made sure of that. He went and got Miss Martha up out of her bed that very night and took her off to a sanitarium--I guess you'd call it a psychiatric hospital now--and told them she was having a nervous breakdown because of her baby's health. He had a lot of money and a lot of influence, Mr. Carmody, and he knew a lot of people. They kept her for a month, and by the time she got back we'd all settled down and the baby--the new baby--was thriving, and Miss Martha never noticed any difference. She only knew that her baby was well and she was so happy. You couldn't help but be happy for her, happy it had worked out so that she didn't lose her baby. After a while, we all, Andy and I, and Mr. Carmody, just kind of forgot what had happened. Just moved on, you know."

Just moved on.
The words echoed through Lisa's mind. Just moved on, after having murdered an entire family and a helpless infant and wrenched her out of the life she had been born into and given her someone else's life.

She couldn't bear to think about it too much. If she did, it seemed as though she could feel the earth starting to shake under her feet. Everything she knew seemed to shimmy and shift. She must have made some kind of movement or sound that was indicative of distress, because Scott's arm tightened around her.

"You okay?" he whispered.

She nodded, grateful for his strength. He was the rock she would lean on until she got her equilibrium back, the lifeline to which she would cling with both hands until the storm eased.

"I love you." It was the merest breath in her ear, but she heard it and nodded. Then she rested her head on his shoulder, knowing that he knew that she loved him back.

"Okay, Mrs. Baker, let's move on to the night the Garcia family died. You want to tell us what happened?" Detective Watson was looking at Robin without any sympathy whatsoever.

Robin sighed. Her arms dropped so that her hands were once again resting palm down on the table. She looked at him, then at Ms. Bernard, who gave her a small, encouraging smile.

"I wasn't there, you know. At least, not at first. Not at their house. Where I was was at Grayson Springs. Miss Martha was with the baby, and I was down in the kitchen fixing supper, because it was suppertime and everybody has to eat, no matter what happens. This man came banging on the back door. I opened it. Wasn't any reason not to, far as I knew then. He said he was Michael Garcia and he'd come to see Mr. Carmody about a matter that had to do with his daughter. He was real loud, real rude. Well, Mr. Carmody must've heard him, because he came into the kitchen. He seemed to know who he was, and he took him back outside to talk. We were being real careful not to let anything disturb Miss Martha in those days, because she was so sick about her baby. Andy told me later that Mr. Carmody did know who he was, that he'd had a private detective checking into Mr. Grant because he thought he was being unfaithful to Miss Martha while they were up there in Washington, and he'd found this guy and his family, and knew all about the bad things Mr. Grant was doing, about the second family that he had. Mr. Carmody hadn't said a word because he didn't want Miss Martha to know, but he knew everything, knew about Mr. Grant's girlfriend moving her family right down here near us, knew the whole thing. Andy knew, too, because Mr. Carmody had sent Andy over to kind of check them out and report back. Andy had been there several times. He told me he always hid in the woods there by the house, and they were so thick and overgrown nobody ever knew he was there." She paused to take a breath, and Detective Watson made an impatient gesture.

"So, what happened after Mr. Garcia and Mr. Carmody went outside?"

"A few minutes later Mr. Carmody came back in. Only he was white, and he looked real mad. He didn't say anything, just went on back to whatever he was doing, but a few minutes later Andy came in. He said Mr. Carmody wanted to see him. A few minutes later Andy and Mr. Carmody left together. Andy had this look on his face--he's my brother, I know that look, and every time I've ever seen it, Andy's getting ready to get himself in trouble. I didn't like to ask him anything in front of Mr. Carmody, but then I was looking out the kitchen window and I saw Andy putting his rifle in his truck before he got in and drove off after Mr. Carmody, who was in his Mercedes. That's when I decided to follow them. By the time I got there, Mr. Carmody's car wasn't anywhere in sight, and neither was he, but Andy's truck was there, parked right up behind the house, so anybody passing wouldn't be able to see it from the road. The back door was open, so I went inside. There were already three people shot in that house. That Michael Garcia was lying right by the door, and a woman was lying in the hall. She wasn't dead, but she was bleeding real bad, blood coming out everywhere, and that's when I realized she was pregnant and having a baby right there and then. She could talk. She said, 'My babies,' and kind of jerked her hand toward the next room. I went in there, and I saw a boy. Just a little boy, and he'd been shot, and he was dead. The door was standing open, so I went outside and I saw a flashlight moving around over in the woods, and then Andy came out of the woods. I said, 'What have you done?' That kind of thing, and he told me he'd only done what Mr. Carmody told him to do. Then he said I had to help him, that the little girl had run out of the house and was hiding in the woods. He was supposed to find her and kill her, too."

Lisa heard a sharp in-drawing of breath, and realized that it was Barty. Glancing past Scott, she saw that he was pale. Of course, that little girl, that woman, they would have been his family, too.

"So, did you find the little girl?" Ms. Bernard asked the question.

Robin nodded. "We did. She was all huddled down under a bush. We might not have found her, but she had a dog with her, a big black dog, and when we got close the dog started barking, and so we found her. When Andy turned his flashlight on her, she had her arms wrapped tight around this doll, and she wouldn't open her eyes and look at us for nothing."

Barty made a choked sound and grabbed hold of the rail. Scott leaned over to say something to him. Barty shook his head, which Lisa took to mean he was all right.

"So, Andy killed her." That was Detective Watson, his voice flat and hard.

Robin shook her head. "No, he did not. I wouldn't let him. I couldn't do nothing about what had already been done, but I wasn't letting him kill a helpless little girl. I would have stopped the other if I could."

"He didn't kill the little girl?" Ms. Bernard gave her a surprised look. "Then what happened to her?"

"I made him take her out of there, her and her doll and that dog, because we didn't want to leave anything that might give what Andy had done away. It was just a plain old black dog, the only thing that might identify it was that it was wearing a blue collar that had its name, which was Lucy, and an address, which was up in Maryland someplace, on it. We took the collar off, and we kept that dog at Grayson Springs for many a year after that, and not even Mr. Carmody knew it was the same dog."

"What happened to the little girl?" Detective Watson's voice was sharp.

Robin looked at him. "I made Andy take her up to our sister Judy in Montana. We changed her clothes, cut her hair, made her leave her doll behind because we were afraid somebody might be able to trace it. Lisa found it down in the basement one day, when she was about three or four, and since Miss Martha was with her there wasn't much I could do but let her have it. So much time had passed by then I didn't see what harm a doll could do. Anyway, Judy and her husband couldn't ever have kids, and she wanted one so much. I told Judy that her dad had killed her mom and himself and there was no other family and it was a terrible mess, but she could have the little girl if she would keep her mouth shut about where she came from. I told her nobody else wanted her, and down here they'd put her in a home if she didn't take her. Judy was just as excited as could be."

Barty was clinging to the rail, leaning toward the glass, biting his lip. Lisa watched as Scott put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Are you saying Marisa Garcia is alive?" It was Ms. Bernard who was sounding sharp now.

Robin nodded. "She's living up in Montana still. She's a nurse. She's Mary Frye now."

Everything seemed to stop as they all, Ms. Bernard and Detective Watson in the interrogation room, Lisa and Scott and Barty behind the glass, stared at Robin.

Robin continued, "So I took the little girl away with me and left Andy to clean up the mess. He told me later when he got back in the house the woman had died but her baby had been born and was alive. He'd had some paramedic training in the military, so he knew how to take care of it, and that's what he did. After he got finished getting rid of the bodies, he brought it to Mr. Carmody." She took a deep breath. "And that's what happened."

36

A little more than two weeks later,
on a bright, sunny Saturday afternoon, Lisa stood just past the security checkpoint in Lexington's small airport, waiting for her sister to deplane. The very fact that she had a sister was something she didn't fully have her mind wrapped around yet, but it was true, and she was looking forward to seeing what could be made of the relationship. Scott was with her, and so was Barty. Unlike herself and Scott, who were casually dressed, Barty was in full judge mode, wearing an expensive suit and tie that were clearly designed to impress. He was nervous, Lisa could tell, and excited, too.

She and Barty were on better terms than they had been for years. They'd talked, last Sunday afternoon in Scott's apartment when Barty had stopped by, and he had apologized for practically disappearing from her life. Now that she knew the truth, he said, he was finally free to explain.

"I was devastated when Angie and the children disappeared like that, but I didn't know what to do. At first I thought--hoped--that somehow she'd persuaded that thug husband of hers to just move them somewhere else, somewhere away from Martha and her family. For a long time I kept expecting Angie to get in touch. When she didn't, I . . . I, well, I just decided to leave it alone, for everyone's sake. No, for my own sake. That's the truth. I was trying to stick it out with Martha--we weren't compatible at all, and if I'm being honest, which I'm trying to be, I had really just married her for her money and her family's connections, anyway. But then you started to grow up, you were a little girl and not a baby anymore, and you started to look just like Angie. Just like Marisa. At first I couldn't believe it. But as the resemblance grew more marked, I knew there wasn't any way it was just coincidence, and I knew who you had to be. It scared me to death. I didn't know what had happened, not for sure, but I suspected Mr. Carmody had a hand in it. He was a ruthless old bastard, if you'll forgive my French. I was scared, and I wanted to get away from him and Grayson Springs and everything and everybody associated with it, and that meant getting away from you. I should have told somebody, I know, should have gone to the authorities with what I suspected, but if I had, I would have ruined myself, too. So, I just kept quiet, and went away, and made a new life." They were sitting on the couch, and he took her hand, and she didn't pull it away. It felt as though they were in some way the sole survivors of a terrible accident. For better or worse, they were connected for life now. "That makes me a coward, doesn't it? I apologize, Lisa. I see now how unfair it was to you."