At the End of the Road (22 page)

“Mrs. Edwards?”

Louise looked up at the beckoning nurse and followed her back to the exam room. Grace sat in the same spot on the exam table with a sucker in her mouth that had stained her lips a deep neon blue. One of those sugar-free safety lollipops with the soft loop handle instead of a stick. She looked as though she hadn’t moved, but the white butcher paper was now creased and wrinkled and a little bit dirty.

“I can see nothing physically that would explain your daughter’s mute state. She communicates quite readily with head movements and facial gestures.”

“So she’s okay?”

“Does your husband ever hit the children? Touch them?”

“No. I don’t understand.”

“While there is nothing physically wrong with her vocal cords, Grace indeed has undergone a physical trauma. And perhaps more importantly, a psychological one.”

Louise stared at the doctor. She was having trouble following his words. Not because of the accent, but because her mind could not comprehend the concept that he was trying to convey to her.

“I examined your daughter, Mrs. Edwards, and I found evidence of trauma to Grace’s genital area.”

“What?” Louise asked. It was the only response she could manage.

“There was no physical evidence to collect, semen I mean, because it’s been too many days. And, frankly, I think an object was used. There were some abrasions to her inner thighs. Some tearing internally.”

Louise just could not comprehend what this man was saying to her. His words echoed in her mind. Such harsh, hateful words. She looked at the doctor and said, “Boyd would never . . .”

“I’m afraid that I’m required by law to report this.”

“No!” Louise shouted. “She lost her doll. You don’t understand. She loved that doll. She’s just upset. She’ll grow out of it.”

The doctor folded his brown hands under his chin in thoughtful repose. Louise could smell him. His cultural odor mingled with antiseptic. She wanted to vomit.

“Mrs. Edwards, you can live with someone your whole life and never even scratch the surface of who they really are. Unless he admits it, or unless Grace speaks up, his crime will almost certainly go unpunished. Unless, of course, you believe in Karma. There is no real evidence. Still, it must be reported to DFACS.”

“D-facts?”

“The Division of Family and Children Services.”

face, and her vision blurred so that she had trouble seeing the traffic. She had failed Grace. That was all she could think. She had failed Grace. She had waited too long to leave Boyd. Maybe she wasn’t being selfish by leaving him. Maybe she wasn’t thinking of only herself. Maybe some maternal instinct deep inside her had urged her to take the youngest children and leave. But she waited too long to obey that instinct.

“Mama,” Kyle said. “Are you okay?”

When Louise looked at her son, she saw two images of him through the prism of tears.

“Kyle, has your father ever touched you?”

house soothed him.

Boyd Edwards was a profoundly confused man. Confused and disturbed at what he had found lurking inside himself, and even more disturbed that forces outside him had converged to disrupt his life so completely. With the boys at Bible camp, the house was empty, the comforting sound of the ticking clocks his only accompaniment while Boyd read (yet again) the note his wife had left behind when she took his two youngest children and deserted him.

Yes, he had hit Louise, so he had to face that in himself. He had to acknowledge to himself that, yes, he was capable of that. The truth was that he didn’t even remember having done it. When Louise had told him that she wanted a separation, Boyd’s mind had raced through all the implications of that word, then he had blacked out for just a second. When he came back to himself, Louise was crying, her hands covering her face.

Secretly, Boyd did not believe in God or Jesus Christ. He saw little difference between the idea of a God who healed the sick and rose from the dead, and stories they told children about an immortal man in a red suit who drove flying reindeer around the globe to deliver presents. Nonetheless, Boyd lived a Christian life, and he thought of himself as a Christian. As such, there were certain expectations placed on him, and certain expectations he placed on himself. Boyd may not have been a true believer, but he truly believed in Christian values. Eden Road. He had purposefully brought his family here to grow. This was his Garden of Eden. Louise was his Eve. The rural Georgia where he had been raised was largely gone now, but Boyd had found Eden Road—a little piece of what was. And just as there had been a corrupting serpent in the original garden, corruption had been brought here as well. But who had brought it?

Louise had said that he just used her for sex. Well, who was he supposed to use?

A separation. It had caught him by utter surprise. He thought that he and Louise were happy together. Until just about a week ago, Boyd had certainly been happy. Well, not happy, that was not his nature; and not even content, for contentment was not in his nature either; but certainly he was satisfied. Or, again, he had been until a week ago. In fact, he had already been well on his way to finding a way of being satisfied with his new situation in life—until the social worker showed up at his door accusing him of molesting his little girl.

It just didn’t make sense. Someone had touched his little girl. It had not been him. His wife had left him and his daughter had been molested. Boyd’s mind raced past the ticking of the clocks, and he was almost grateful for the loud knocking at the door that forced him to get up.

scene at the reservoir to the Edwards house. Her gut had told her that Kyle Edwards was involved in this, and the evidence she observed confirmed it. But not enough. A pair of sneakers and a car seat adjusted all the way forward was not enough to point the finger at Kyle. It was not enough for her to say his name to the sheriff or the GBI, to thrust Kyle Edwards forward as the first and only lead in a multiple homicide.

But it was far, far too much to let go.

and rather than invite her in, he stepped out onto the front porch with her.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Boyd Edwards? Father of Kyle Edwards?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m Kyle’s father. Don’t worry. He’s safe.”

“Why wouldn’t he be safe?”

“I reckon you all figure a man who would violate his own daughter might not stop with just girls.”

“Sir, I don’t understand what you’re telling me. I need to speak to your son.”

“He’s gone. My wife took him and my daughter. She left me.”

“Sir, what happened to your daughter? Can you tell me that?”

“They say I molested her. As you damn well know.”

Dana took a step back. She just realized that she could very well be standing face-to-face with the man who killed Melodie Godwin.

“Sir, where has your wife taken them?”

“I don’t know. I’m the bad guy, remember?”

“Sir, I’m sorry to have disturbed you. And I’m sorry that trouble has come to your family.”

Dana got back into her patrol car, turned around, and headed back up the driveway. The field of corn to her right had been picked, and the stalks were already turning brown and withering. Dana didn’t want Boyd Edwards to see her using the radio, so she waited until she pulled back onto Eden Road before calling dispatch. She asked to be patched straight through to the sergeant. Jesus, how could she have been so stupid? Was it ego again? If Boyd Edwards was responsible for Melodie Godwin and whoever else’s bodies that were in that car, then she had just personally alerted a murderer that the authorities were interested in him. She had to let the others know.

To her left, Dana saw Kenny Ahearn sitting out on his porch, and she immediately thought of that day in his storage barn, how nervous he had been to have her snooping around. The car under the tarp, the flash of powder blue paint, the smell of the dead possum.

drive; her mind was racing, trying to put all this together before she made another stupid mistake. A public mistake. She picked up the radio, keyed the mic, and said into it, “Dispatch, cancel that last request.”

Dana walked up the ramp. “Mr. Ahearn, how are you today, sir?”

“Just fine, Officer, just fine.”

“Sir, this is rather embarrassing, but do you remember the other week I was out here talking to you?”

“‘Course I do.”

“Well, sir, I misplaced my notepad that day, and I’m pretty certain that I might have left it in your storage shed out back there.”

“Why don’t you run back there and check? I’m sure it’s not locked. That boy never locks it back.”

“Thank you, sir.” Dana noted the dramatic change in Mr. Ahearn’s disposition. He seemed to welcome her presence. In the shed, Dana saw immediately that the car was no longer there, the tarp lay folded neatly in the corner. There was a faint smell of bleach, and the concrete floor had been scrubbed clean. That was all she needed to see.

find what you were looking for?”

“’Fraid not. But thank you.” She didn’t ask about the car, if it had been sold, or maybe stolen. She did not want to arouse suspicion any more than she already had. She wanted to talk to Kyle. She still needed to come forward with her sergeant, but there was no urgency now. Melodie Godwin was dead. She wasn’t going to get any deader. Best to get her facts straight. Be sure. But first she just wanted to talk to Kyle. She would check with the utility companies. If Louise Edwards was using her real name, it shouldn’t be a problem. If something had happened to the little girl, there would be a case open at DFACS. They were traceable. She would find Kyle.

“Take care now,” Kenny Ahearn called out as Dana got back into her vehicle.

ner. It was fight or flight time, and Kyle could see no more opportunities for flight.

Kyle did not like this new world. Where once he had the woods and pasture to explore, now he had asphalt and alleys. He did not belong here, and the other kids could smell that wrongness on him. It was safer to sit inside the apartment and watch TV, but that was not in Kyle’s nature. He had to be outside. To be able to think, to try and comprehend what had happened to him and his family, he had to be outside.

His mother had taken him away from Eden Road. Away from his father. His father seldom talked to Kyle, and in fact, Kyle felt that he barely knew the man, but, still, he was all Kyle had ever known. His brothers put most of their energy into avoiding Kyle, so, again, it was not that he missed them so much as he missed the idea of them. The constancy of them.

He was glad to be away from the paralyzed man. Now he was in a place where that man could no longer influence him, no longer control him. Already, Kyle felt better in that regard. He felt relieved that he no longer had to bear the burden of not knowing what new obscenity each day would bring. The paralyzed man could not find him here.

Kyle did not know what Kenny Ahearn had done to Grace. In fact, his mind would not even allow itself to speculate in that direction. He had gone with his mother today to take Grace to the clinic, and when they were finished there, his mother had been crying and Grace still would not speak. And Mama had looked at him and asked Kyle if his daddy ever touched him. Kyle knew instinctively just what she meant. He knew about the men who touched little kids and realized that his mama thought his daddy might be one of those nasty men.

Just a little while ago, he had been sitting on the couch with Grace while their mother lay down to take a nap. Grace had reached over and grabbed hold of Kyle’s hand. She had looked at him, and she had spoken to him. Her voice was just a tiny whisper. “I’m scared, Kyle,” she had said. “I’m scared he’s gonna come get me. You have to save me.”

Kyle was walking through the apartment complex. There were so many people here. And so many different kinds of people. Kyle wondered how he could get back to Eden Road. How could he stop the paralyzed man? Would Grace be okay again if he could somehow put an end to Kenny Ahearn? He needed to go back. There was Melodie Godwin. Who was going to save her? If Kyle could stop Mr. Ahearn, then he could save Melodie. It was his fault that Melodie had run up against the paralyzed man in the first place. It was his fault that Grace had run up against him too. But was it too late to save Grace? Would the knowledge that Kyle had put an end to it soothe Grace’s mind?

A second and then a third boy fell in line with the first. They were older than Kyle. They could tell he was out of place. Kyle pretended that he was unaware of them, but tried to walk to a place of safety. A fourth and a fifth boy joined the pack, and Kyle knew that he had been targeted.

And how was it possible to put an end to it? What could Kyle do that he had not already done? He was just a boy.

Kyle had been heading toward the road outside the complex. It was a busy access road that fed into the highway. Cars and trucks flew down it. If he could cross it, there was a bus station and shopping plaza that sprawled along the far side. But Kyle saw too late that a steep drainage ravine separated the apartment complex from the access road. Kyle peered down into the ravine. It was deep, and the bottom was littered with weeds and jagged chunks of construction debris. The side of the ravine was a sharp, dangerous drop, but Kyle could get down it with little problem. The banks leading down into Sweetwater Creek were steeper. The true problem was that the far side was a flat concrete wall that supported the access road. It was a sheer vertical plane. If he went down into the ravine, he would be trapped. And he would be completely out of sight down there. The boys could do anything they wanted and not be seen.