Read The Girl in the Woods Online
Authors: David Jack Bell
The Girl in the Woods (13 page)
Diana came over and took her seat on the couch again with the folder tucked under her left arm.
"You told me that you had a fight right before she went back to school, and that was the last time you saw her. But you did talk to her after the fight?"
"We talked on the phone a couple of weeks before she disappeared. It was the best conversation we'd had since our fight at Christmas. I just told her that I loved her and supported her whatever she wanted to do. She said she enjoyed working, that it was nice to get up in the morning with a clear purpose and a definite goal. 'It's just cleaning houses, Mom,' she said. 'But it feels good to do something.' I understood. I've worked all my life. She said she liked the people she was working for but might have to move on to another family."
"Why?"
"She didn't say. She didn't act like it was a big deal. In fact, she seemed kind of happy about moving on. I understand that, too. There's something that feels good about leaving one job for a better one. Or one you think is going to be better." She had let the ash build up on her cigarette again. "I called their house, the Boltons. Told them who I was and asked them if they knew what was going on in Margie's life before she disappeared. It's pretty humiliating to have to call strangers and admit that they might know your own daughter better than you do. Believe me, I didn't like it one bit. But I had to call. They had seen her three days a week for the past few months. And they saw her the day she disappeared."
"But they didn't know anything?"
Kay's lip curled. "I spoke to the lady of the house. She was a royal bitch. Acted like I was a telemarketer calling. I thought maybe we could speak mother to mother, but this rag didn't have the time of day for me. She told me she barely knew Margie and that she really had to go because the agency was sending over a new housekeeper for them. She didn't even say she was sorry."
Kay shook her head, the disbelief still real after twenty-five years.
"How long after Margie disappeared was this?"
"A week. The cops were giving me the runaround so I took matters into my own hands." She gave me a sly, proud smile. "After that, I got two phone calls."
"From who?"
"The first one came from the cops. One of the detectives called to tell me to stop bothering witnesses. He said if it happened again, they could press charges against me for harassment or something like that. I wasn't harassing them. My daughter disappeared. I have my rights. But he told me to let the police do the investigating."
"And who was the other call from?"
"Mr. Bolton. He called to apologize for his wife's behavior. Told me that she was under a lot of stress lately and all this stuff about her having a root canal and being on pain medication. He said she didn't normally act that way, but I wasn't buying it. People don't just try on that behavior out of the blue. She was a bitch from one end of the day to the next. I know the type."
"Did you ask him about Margie?"
"He gave me the same song but in nicer terms. He said they didn't know her that well, but she was a nice girl and to let them know if they could do anything to help. I was up front. I asked about starting a reward fund. I didn't have any money to do it with. He said he thought that was a lovely idea and he'd certainly look into it. That was the last I ever heard from them. I didn't want to call again and get in trouble with the police. And by that time, they were saying they thought Margie ran away."
"The party line."
"You should talk to those Boltons. They still live there. I've been tempted to go right to their door many times over the years, but I never have. Maybe I will before the cancer gets me."
"If anybody talks to them, it should probably be me." Diana patted the envelope. "I guess these articles have a picture of Margie in them."
Kay nodded. She appeared to have something else on her mind.
"What?" Diana asked.
"You need to know that there are forces in New Cambridge that don't want us to know anything about what happened to Margie."
"You mean the Boltons?"
"I mean
forces
. Take that any way you'd like. You're not from New Cambridge, but you'll find out."
forces
. Take that any way you'd like. You're not from New Cambridge, but you'll find out."
Diana had something else on her mind, and Kay's words didn't fully register. "I wanted to ask you a question," Diana said. "Yesterday you said that not feeling someone was the worst thing. But I think not existing is the worst thing, don't you? And that's what has happened to these people. Your daughter. My sister. They no longer exist. They're not alive or dead. Could there be a worse fate?"
Kay's eyes moved toward the muted TV. They looked dry and vacant. "To be the one left behind," she said, her voice a whisper.
Kay didn't appear to have any more interest in or use for Diana. She looked as though she thought Diana was already gone. Diana gathered her jacket, and before she was through the door, the sitcom was back on. The crowd laughed and the music swelled, and Diana could only imagine that whatever obstacle the characters had faced had been neatly wrapped up in a bow and given to the audience as a gift. Just once she'd like to see someone not get what they want. She was sure it would help her feel less alone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Diana was halfway home, the accordion file on the passenger seat, the rain falling heavily enough that she was forced to turn the wipers up to high, when her cell phone rang. She managed to keep one hand on the wheel and both eyes on the road while she extracted the phone from her jacket pocket.
She recognized the number on the screen. Vienna Woods.
She wouldn't be home anytime soon.
* * *
They had moved her mom to the second floor.
Maria met her at the nurses' station, the hair unfurling from the tight bun just a little, an indication that the day had already been longer than she anticipated. She didn't bother to guide Diana back to the private office, but instead chose to speak to her right there in the open.
"Your mother's illness has moved to a later stage."
"But she was fine." Diana remembered the slap and the scene at the art show. "I mean she was okay. Certainly better before she went to sleep."
"There's no predictability to these things. They can change rapidly."
"So what happened exactly?"
Maria, apparently realizing for the first time that she had a strand of hair out of place, reached up and tucked it behind her ear.
"She woke up inconsolable this morning. She was thrashing and crying out. Mrs. Platcher tried to talk to her. Your mother scratched her face. It was terrible, like she really wanted to hurt Mrs. Platcher. Like she was going for her eyes."
Diana felt the muscles in her stomach contract. She felt sick.
"We had to put her in restraints and sedate her. But it didn't do much. She kept thrashing against the restraints so much so that we feared she might hurt herself. We've had patients break bones that way. They can snap a wrist or an arm. I've seen it happen."
Maria looked like she needed Diana to appreciate the gravity of the situation. "I believe you," Diana said.
Maria nodded. "So the decision was made to bring her up here, where we have the facilities and the personnel to handle someone in that condition."
Diana knew what that meant. Bigger restraints. Brawnier orderlies. Better drugs.
"If your mother's condition improves, then we'll certainly consider moving her back downstairs..."
But she might as well have added,
Fat chance of that
. Diana understood that these things rarely moved backwards, that her mother had a progressive condition, one that headed in only one direction.
Fat chance of that
. Diana understood that these things rarely moved backwards, that her mother had a progressive condition, one that headed in only one direction.
"I understand," Diana said. "Thanks. Is she asleep? Can I look in on her?"
Maria cleared her throat. "Well..." She reached up and fiddled with the strand of hair again, even though it was still in place.
"What? I can't see her?"
"You can see her. Of course. I would never say you can't see your own mother, even though it is past normal visiting hours..."
"Then what?" Diana said.
"Well...we've noticed, some of us on the staff, that your mother's condition seems to worsen whenever she receives a visit from you."
"If you're talking about the other day—"
"It's not just the other day."
Some sort of alarm or call button began to beep behind the nurses' station, a low, insistent whine. After a number of long seconds, a nurse appeared and shut it off, then left again. She didn't even glance at Diana and Maria.
"We, the staff and I," Maria said, "think that your mother associates your visits with her missing daughter. She thinks you are your sister, and whenever you are here, she becomes quite agitated. This morning was a good example of that. She kept saying your sister's name, saying that she was in danger."
"I've told you that's a traumatic event for my mother. She hasn't moved past it. She refuses to move past it."
Maria smirked, and Diana knew she'd expressed herself the wrong way.
"She's not
capable
of moving past it," Maria said by way of correction.
capable
of moving past it," Maria said by way of correction.
Diana nodded, trying her best to look appropriately chastened.
"The bottom line is that the danger toward your sister is perceived as being quite real for your mother. She's experiencing it on a regular basis as a result of your visits."
"Are you saying I shouldn't come here anymore?"
"We're asking you to visit less frequently for the foreseeable future, until we have the chance to evaluate your mother's condition further."
Diana swallowed. She thought she hadn't been coming enough.
"You're asking me not to come at all," she said.
Maria started to say something, another euphemistic explanation, but she stopped herself and nodded. "Yes. That's what we're asking."
The nurse who had shut off the alarm returned, a stethoscope draped around her neck, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Diana watched the nurse let out a long breath and wondered why she didn't let one out herself. She had been carrying the burden of her mother with her for so long that to be released from that obligation, even for a short time, should feel like the removal of a giant weight. But in that first moment, Diana couldn't see it that way. She saw it as an abandonment of her mother, and hadn't the woman suffered enough of that in her life already?
"Can I see her now? Tonight?"
Maria looked sympathetic. "Sure. She's asleep anyway. You can take a look in."
She led Diana to her mother's new room, a private one with no TV in sight. Diana saw right away that her mother's wrists and ankles were in restraints, even though she was sleeping peacefully.
"Is that still necessary?" Diana said.
"It is. Until we know she can be calm, she has to stay that way."
Diane approached the bed. She saw the angry red marks on her mother's arms where her body had worked against the restraints. Her fingernails were broken and torn, and her upper lip looked puffy, as though she had been struck.
Diana pointed. "Her mouth."
"It happened in the struggle."
Diana nodded. Vienna Woods wasn't the greatest facility in the world, but she never felt as though her mother was mistreated there. She watched her mom sleep, just like she had the other night, and once again she seemed so calm, so placid, as though there had never been and could never be a problem with her.
But Diana knew that more lurked beneath the surface there, just as the visions floated beneath the surface of her own conscious mind, like a shark hunting for prey, waiting to strike. And Diana couldn't help but wonder if she were looking at a version of her own future, one that would be spent in mindless rage and restraints.
Fifty-fifty chance
, Maria had said. Were the visions just the beginning of this long descent into oblivion?
, Maria had said. Were the visions just the beginning of this long descent into oblivion?
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