Before He Finds Her (33 page)

I will never, ever hurt you, Allie.

He added this vow to the one he made seven years earlier. They were vows he’d keep even if they divorced. He would honor her and obey her and protect her and love her till death do they part.

He imagined his wife kissing David Magruder. His hand on her ass.

“But I’m big mad at you, Allie!” he shouted into the darkness, and choked out a pitiful laugh. “I’m big, big mad!”

To the west, over land, a flash of heat lightning punctuated his words.

He lay back and drank some more. Looked up at the canopy of stars and silently mourned the end of this part of his life as the boat drifted and rocked and drifted.

23

September 29, 2006

Detective Isaacson received a call on her cell. She didn’t say what it was about. “I’ll be right there,” she said into the phone, and then offered to drive Melanie the couple of blocks back to her hotel.

Melanie didn’t want to spend a minute longer in the company of Detective Isaacson. “No, I’d rather walk,” she said.

After the detective left, Melanie remained in the booth and picked absently at her French fries. She had been attacked almost ten hours ago. Since then she’d been scanned, poked and prodded, stuck with needles, interrogated. Her injuries had been photographed for evidence. And now this detective was asking her to accept that her whole life was a lie.

Melanie found herself resenting Detective Isaacson—no, hating her—for laying all this on her. She had known the detective for less than a day. She had known Wayne and Kendra for fifteen years. It was too much, too fast. She sat in the booth a while longer and then walked numbly from the diner to her hotel. She felt tired but didn’t want to be alone in her hotel room, and her legs carried her toward the beach. It wasn’t a terribly long walk—she had driven it in only a few minutes—but she got winded easily these days, so she took it slowly.

We do not discuss the past.

She’d convinced herself that the reason was so simple, the pain and memory of loss, the sadness that threatened, always, to bubble over. We don’t discuss the past because that’s our way of dealing with the past. It’s how we cope with the present.

But what about Melanie’s lack of curiosity over so many years? What accounted for her easy acceptance of her aunt and uncle’s explanations? She had wondered about her mother, but never about herself. What if, at some deep level, she knew that if she ever probed too much into the puzzle of exactly how she and Wayne and Kendra had ended up hidden together in that remote West Virginia town, the pieces might not fit together so well? What if she knew she lacked the stomach for the truth? Might she not have been complicit, all these years, in her own ignorance—contributing right along with her aunt and uncle to the myth-making? Ramsey Miller, bogeyman, always about to get her. A terrible way to live—but far better than the possibility that you were being raised by your kidnappers.

But what about the letters from the U.S. Marshal’s office? Forged, she supposed. But if the detective was right about her aunt and uncle, then of course there was the most basic question of all: Why had they done it?

Her walk was on its way to becoming a substantial hike when she reached the ocean block. She hadn’t noticed the first time she’d been here that the houses were in states of decay. Hadn’t paid much attention to the trash on the boardwalk and the beach. Still, seeing the ocean made her wish she’d been seeing it all her life. She wished she’d grown up here. How dare her aunt and uncle convince her that Silver Bay was someplace to fear? She sat on a bench and watched the waves, putting off the return walk as long as possible. When the wind suddenly shifted, cooling the air, she told herself to get a move on.

The walk home left her sweaty and short of breath. She finally crossed the parking lot and was close to the hotel when she heard: “We sacrificed
everything
to keep you safe, and this is how you repay us?”

She turned toward the voice and scrambled to make sense of what she saw: her uncle leaning against the cement ledge near the front entrance.

“How did you—”

“You know you shouldn’t be here,” he said, and lowered his voice. “My god, Melanie, the one place on this earth you can’t be.” He squinted in the sunlight. “What happened to your head?”

“I got beat up. It doesn’t matter. How’d you find me?” But she knew.

“Of course it matters. You look—”

“Tell me how.”

“The young man you’ve been seeing had the decency to—”

“He had no right.” Melanie was already backing away. “And I have nothing to say to you.” She rushed away from him, into the hotel lobby.

He followed her inside before the automatic doors slid closed. Followed her right out the back sliding doors to the swimming area, which was deserted and consisted of several dirty chaise lounges around a small pool filled with murky water. Melanie sat on one of the chairs and put her head in her hands. Wayne sat on the lounge chair nearest her.

“Who hurt you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just got mugged, is all.”

“Figures—this place is a fucking nightmare.” His voice was harsh but whisper-quiet. “We were scared to death. I’m very angry with you.”

“I told you in my note not to worry.”

“Well, we did worry. We worried a lot. We thought
he
’
d
gotten to you.”

“Oh, stop it already!” She glared at him.

“Stop what?”

That damn detective. Melanie didn’t want to believe her. “Stop lying to me.”

“Honey, I’m not—”

“You kidnapped me, Uncle Wayne.”

“What? No. Keep it down. What are you talking about?”

“The witness protection program—I know you made it up.”

“That’s not true. Why would you think—”

“The police checked it all out. They spoke with the U.S. Marshals. It’s just not true.”

“The police? You went to the—” He shook his head. “Honey, the police are idiots. You know that. They obviously made a mistake. It’s been a long time and the files get...” He took a breath. “You shouldn’t be talking to law enforcement. You shouldn’t be here. It’s too risky. We’re not even allowed here. It’s like I always said...” She remained quiet, watching his mouth form words that were increasingly losing any meaning. “It’s like I said—we have to...”

With every fumbling word from her uncle’s mouth, Melanie became more certain. He had taken her and lied to her about it, inventing the sort of lies that made her afraid, lies that kept her within the tight perimeter of their trailer. “Why?” she said. “Why would you do that?”

He watched the pool for a few seconds. Large leaves floated in the water. “Growing up without parents, Melanie... the Hope Home for Children—you can’t imagine. The beatings, the daily humiliations... it didn’t matter how well you behaved.” He was looking at the leaves in the pool but seeing into his past. “The noise that never stopped—the crying and screaming and moaning. Older kids hurting the younger ones at night with rocks, with handmade knives. The smell of sickness. The stink of it. Vomit and piss and shit.” He looked at Melanie now. “At night I’d lie in bed and pray to die in my sleep. And then one day the place closed, and the people that took me—I knew it had to be better. But it wasn’t. She locked us in closets with no lights. She put out her cigarettes on my arms. And
him
. He was worse.” She had never seen tears in his eyes before. “No way was I going to let you live that way.”

“This is crazy,” she said. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“You’re the one who came here for answers, Melanie. So now you’re going to get them.” He took a breath. “The night your mother died, me and Eric and Paul—we went to a bar near the house, but we were worried about her. None of us grew up protected like you did. We had all seen the sort of things that people did to people. And Ramsey—your father—he was acting crazy that day. The look in his eyes—we’d all seen it before in other men. So when we left the bar, I drove back to check on them.”

“Eric Pace told me you were drunk and drove straight home.”

“You talked to Eric?” His eyes widened. “Well, sure, Mel—that’s what I told him. I had to keep the truth from
everyone
, even him. To keep you safe. Damn, Melanie, you know I don’t like talking about this...” He took a breath. “So we all left the bar together and got in our cars, but then I went back into the bar and had one more drink. I was afraid, you know? I didn’t want to go, didn’t want to face Ramsey. But I felt like I had to. So I stayed and drank one more beer, and then I got in my car and went over there. It was so much worse than I ever thought...” He swallowed. “I saw her in the fire, Mel. And I knew that Ramsey would go to prison, probably forever, and you’d become a ward of the state. I’ll admit, it all happened fast. I was practically a kid myself and didn’t have time to think any of it through. It was instinct, you know?” He looked distraught, remembering back. “I knew I had to keep you. I’d take care of you. Raise you in a good home. Give you what I never had. And when I found out that Ramsey was on the loose, it only proved I’d made the right decision to protect you. I knew that’s why I was put on this earth.”

“And Aunt Kendra—she knew all this?”

“She knew we could all be a family,” Wayne said. “She knew we could have a peaceful home where we look out for one another, which is all she’s ever wanted.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then no—she doesn’t know everything. She thinks everything is legal. I did her that favor.”

Of course: the letters. They were never meant for Melanie.

Every meal together as a family. Every night, going to bed and believing you knew the raw data of your own existence.

“My whole life, you’ve lied to me,” Melanie said. “Everything’s a lie.”

“No—that’s not true.” His eyes were begging her. “Your aunt loves you. And so do I. We’re a family.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You know we are.”

She wanted to get up and plunge into the water, cleanse herself of everything she was hearing. But even the pool was dirty.

Her skull throbbed. “I need to take some Tylenol.” She got up and walked toward her room. She let Wayne follow her. In the room, she took two pills and lay on the covers of her bed while Wayne paced the small carpeted area.

“Forget what I said about working in the garage,” he said. “You can pick up where you left off at the college. Take any course you want.” More pacing. “If you want to be on that newspaper... well, I guess that’s okay, too.”

The school newspaper? Did he not understand anything she was saying?

When he tore open the complimentary packet of coffee grounds, Melanie’s stomach seized. “Please don’t make coffee.” He frowned at her. “My headache is making everything smell bad.” He shrugged and dropped the opened packet into the trash.

“You’re almost eighteen,” he said, taking a seat at the table by the window. “I know we have to start treating you like an adult. I mean, I get that,” he said. “But we can make it work. Everything’s on the table.”

Nothing was simple. Wayne had lied to her for years, but not about sacrificing everything for her safety. And she felt safer around him, still—even now, protected in a way that was familiar and seductive. She could almost chalk this whole trip up to some failed Nancy Drew sleuthing, the stunt of an impulsive teenager, and head home to Fredonia. But she also understood exactly why she felt so tempted: As long as she was with her aunt and uncle, she’d never have to be responsible for herself or anybody else.

“No,” she said. “I’m never going back there.”

“Honey—”

“I can’t live this way anymore. I won’t. I’m going to find my father.”

“You won’t find him,” he said. “Not if the police and F.B.I. can’t.”

“Well, I’m trying, anyway. You might as well go home. Phillip’s on his way—he’ll take care of me.”

“Him? I find that hard to believe,” Wayne said, and they both watched through the window as a police cruiser pulled into the lot.

“That’s probably for me,” she said. “Because of this.” She touched her forehead.

“Melanie, this is a bad place.”

“Okay. But I should go out there. I doubt either one of us of wants an officer coming to the room.”

When she got out of bed, he reached out and touched her arm. “You never should have come to Silver Bay,” he said.

She wondered if she would ever feel his touch again. “Go home, Uncle Wayne.” And in case he needed to hear it: “Don’t worry—I’m not going to turn you in.”

It was Officer Bauer, who’d come to take Melanie to the station.

“Why?” she asked.

“Detective Isaacson wants you there.”

“Why?”

“I suppose she wants to talk to you.”

“Can I make a call first?” Melanie asked.

“Can it wait until we get there?”

“Not really.”

She had to borrow the officer’s cell phone. Phillip picked right up.

“I’m in Trenton!” he announced as brightly as if he had just entered Emerald City.

She was furious at Phillip for telling Wayne where she’d gone, but there was nothing she could say with the officer standing right there. All she could tell him was to meet her at the Silver Bay police station, not the hotel. She handed the phone back to the officer, who pocketed it and opened the back door for Melanie. “Watch your head,” he said.

For nearly an hour, Melanie sat on the hard wooden bench in the station’s cramped lobby, her headache not helped any by the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Only a few people came and went, taking no notice of her. At some point she heard rain on the roof. Finally, Detective Isaacson hurried into the room from somewhere within the station’s depths. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, “but if we didn’t pick you up at the hotel, there’d be no other way to reach you.” She shook Melanie’s hand. “You might think about getting a cell phone. Thanks for coming. Coffee?”

“No.”

“All right. Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

Melanie’s body tensed. Every time they talked, Melanie learned something she didn’t want to know. The alternative was to choose not-knowing over knowing, and that option was starting to have its appeal. Nonetheless, she followed the detective down a narrow corridor with an uneven floor. On the wood-paneled walls hung framed photographs of police academy graduating classes—trim officers with proud postures and eyes that seemed to follow her accusingly.