Hold Back the Dark (22 page)

Kyle’s eyes turned sly. “That’s right. It wasn’t my dog.”

Elise leaned forward. “Whose dog was it, Kyle? Whose dog did you kill, and why is it a message for Dr. Gannon?”

Kyle crossed his arms over his chest, and pressed his lips together. “Get her in here and I’ll tell her. You two can go fuck yourselves.”

“No, Kyle. I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s going to get fucked now. New fish like you? They’re going to be
so
happy to see you in lock-up. Why, I bet you’ll be the belle of the ball.” Josh stood up from the table.

“You’re going to send me into the general population? No way! I’ll go back to Vacaville, back to the hospital.”

“I sincerely doubt that, Kyle. You’re a parole violator now, and I think you’re going to do time like a big boy. I think you’re going to see what it really means to be locked up.” Josh pulled his cell phone out of his pocket as he walked out of the room.

Once they were outside, he said to Elise, “I’m going to call Clyde and see if there’s any way he can find out whose damn dog it is.”

A
imee let herself back into the condo, wondering who else might be able to cast some light on Taylor’s drawings. Marian Phillips hadn’t had any idea what they meant. Carl Walter had known Taylor for years; maybe he’d have some idea what the pattern could represent.

Aimee dug in her purse and found the card he’d given her at Whispering Pines. His cell phone number was at the bottom. She felt a moment of unease. He was another adult male who’d had access to Taylor. Could he be the person who molested Taylor all those years ago? It didn’t seem right. When a victim lives near the abuser, it’s rare that the abuse happens only once. Everything pointed to something traumatic happening to Taylor around the time her family moved to Sacramento, not an ongoing cycle of abuse.

She picked up the phone and dialed.

“Carl Walter,” he said, his baritone voice strong.

“Mr. Walter, this is Aimee Gannon. I’m the psychologist who’s helping Taylor. We met at Whispering Pines the other day when you were visiting her.”

“Of course,” he said. “How are you? What can I do for you?”

“I’m fine, thanks. I was hoping you could look at something. Taylor keeps drawing the same pattern over and over again. I was wondering if you’d have a few minutes to take a look at one of her drawings and tell me if it means anything to you. I think figuring out what the drawing is about could be a huge step in helping her.”

“I’m happy to do anything that might help Taylor.”

Excellent. “Would you be free today? I could bring the drawing to you.”

“Sure. How about this afternoon around three?”

Aimee jotted down Carl Walter’s home address, and hung up feeling like she was finally starting to tie up the loose ends.

“It’s got a microchip in its shoulder,” Clyde told Josh when the tech called to report on Kyle’s “gift” to Aimee.

“One of those chips people implant in their pets so that they can be tracked?”

“Yep.” Clyde sounded deeply satisfied with himself.

Josh rolled his shoulders, trying to release some of the tension in them. “So whose dog was it?”

“I don’t know, dude. It’s not a database I normally need access to. I don’t have any of the codes. I called the company that made the chip, but their customer service line is closed on the weekends. I can’t hack into it.”

Someone had to know how to get into the database. “Who would have access?”

“I dunno. Veterinarians, I suppose.”

“I’ll come pick up the chip in about half an hour. Have it ready for me,” he said as he pulled out the Yellow Pages and began looking for a twenty-four-hour veterinary service.

The Walter home was very nice. Perhaps even a shade nicer than Orrin and Stacey Dawkin’s home. It was a two-story Meditteranean with a red tile roof and a veranda that ran across the front of the house in Land Park. There was a detached garage with a granny apartment over it in back, and a front patio with a stucco wall that matched the exterior of the house. Through the wrought iron gate that secured the driveway, Aimee could see a basketball hoop attached to the garage and glimpsed a swingset in the backyard. It was exactly the kind of house Aimee had grown up in and she knew that appearances like these could be very deceiving.

Of course, sometimes a cigar was just a cigar, and placid exteriors hid nothing dark inside.

She parked behind the silver Honda Odyssey in the driveway, then walked through the container garden in the front patio and rang the doorbell. A petite blond woman with a heart-shaped face opened the door. She had on jeans and a white blouse and white sneakers. She smiled. “You must be Dr. Gannon. Carl said you were coming at three. Come in, please.”

Aimee followed the woman into the house.

She turned. “I’m Sarah, Carl’s fiancée.”

Understanding dawned for Aimee. Sarah must be the mother of Sean’s new stepbrother. Aimee put out her hand. “Thank you for letting me disturb your Sunday afternoon.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. Carl said it was important. He said he might be able to help Taylor.” Sarah’s open, sunny face clouded a bit. “I didn’t know Taylor all that well. You know how teenagers are. They don’t want to hang out with grownups, but I knew Stacey and Orrin. It just breaks my heart. Who would do such a thing?”

“I wish I knew,” Aimee said. Sarah stood and shook her head, but made no move to get Carl. The silence stretched and began to feel awkward. Finally, Aimee asked, “Is Carl here?”

Sarah looked startled. “Oh, of course. I’ll go get him. Do you want something to drink? A soda or something?”

Aimee shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

Sarah headed off down a hallway calling, “Carl!” and Aimee sat down on the sofa in the living room. The room was immaculate and sun-filled. There were no shoes lying on the floor, no magazines on the coffee table, and no dust anywhere—a feat in Sacramento. Aimee pulled the file with Taylor’s drawings out of her briefcase and set it on her lap.

Carl came down the hallway, followed by Sarah. “Dr. Gannon,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

He sat down on the other side of the coffee table in an overstuffed chair. Sarah stood behind him, clasping her hands. Carl followed Aimee’s glance behind him and said, “Thanks, Sarah. I’ve got this.”

She nodded and left the room. Aimee couldn’t help but get the impression that she had been waiting for orders and was relieved to have been dismissed.

“Now, what is it that you wanted to show me?” Carl asked.

Aimee had been thinking of how to introduce the topic. “I’m not sure how much detail you have about what the police found at Orrin and Stacey’s home.”

Carl leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. His lightweight sweater bunched around his biceps and outlined the breadth of his shoulders. His brow creased and he glanced downward. “I’m afraid I haven’t wanted to delve too deeply into that. Losing Orrin has been so painful.” His head came up and he looked directly into Aimee’s eyes.

“I can only guess at how difficult this is for you. It’s been hard enough on me, and I barely knew them. Are you sure you feel up to this?” she asked.

He nodded, his thick sandy brown hair falling forward over his forehead. “Anything to help. Anything at all. One of the most difficult things is how powerless I feel in this situation. I want so much to do something to help, and there doesn’t seem to be anything at all.”

“I know what you mean. I feel as if I’m grasping at straws myself.” Aimee opened the file. “Taylor apparently drew a set of symbols on the wall of the living room after she found her parents.” Aimee opted to leave out the fact that Taylor had used her own blood to do so.

“Really?” Carl asked. “Do the police think it’s a clue?”

Aimee smiled ruefully. “Not really, but I think it has to mean something. I’m not certain if it has to do with what Taylor saw that night, or something else entirely. I just know it seems to be important to her. She’s continued including the symbol in her drawings at Whispering Pines. I’m hoping that if I can figure out what the symbols mean, then I’ll be able to help her. At the very least, I’m hoping that we can help her come out of the catatonic state the shock of finding her parents has put her into.”

“I see,” Carl said, nodding his head. “Do the police think she saw something that night?”

Aimee shook her head. “At this point, I think they’re more likely to consider her a suspect than a witness. They haven’t ruled out the idea that she might be involved somehow.”

“Sean,” Carl said, standing. “Come on in. Maybe you can help with this, too.”

Aimee turned to look behind her. Sean Walter had come into the living room from the same hallway that Carl had emerged from a few minutes before. The resemblance between father and son was remarkable. “Hey, Sean,” she said.

Sean smiled at her nervously. “Dr. Gannon, what are you doing here? What is it that I can help with?”

“Dr. Gannon has brought some drawings that Taylor made,” Carl said before Aimee had a chance to answer. “She was hoping I could tell her if they mean anything to me. She thinks they hold some kind of key to Taylor’s behavior.”

“Really?” Sean said. Aimee could swear his face went a little bit pale.

Apparently Carl noticed as well. “It’s okay, son. Sit down. We’ll look at them together. It’ll make it easier if we have each other here.” He turned to Aimee. “Sean had been working very closely with Orrin at Dawkin-Walter Consulting since he came back to California. They’d become quite close over the past six months. I know this has been a huge blow to him, as well.”

Sean nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down for a moment. “Orrin was a great guy. I was learning a lot from him. There’s nothing like having a mentor in the real world to show you the ropes. I really miss him.”

“I’m so sorry. I know it’s hard, but I’d be very grateful if you would take a look at these drawings, too. You’re closer to Taylor’s age. Maybe there’s some reference here that you’ll grasp that we old folks will miss.” Aimee smiled at him.

Sean smiled back and sat down in the matching chair next to his father’s.

Aimee pulled Taylor’s drawings out and spread them across the coffee table in front of the two men, then looked from Carl to Sean. Carl steepled his fingers and looked from one drawing to the next. “She’s nothing if not consistent, isn’t she?” he murmured.

Aimee nodded. “It’s part of what makes me think it means something important to her. She drew it the night of her parents’ murder, and as soon as she began to draw at Whispering Pines, it turned up again and again. I found it in a drawing she did for me months ago, too.”

“I see.” Carl shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t see anything there that I recognize. Could it be some kind of code or something?”

“Maybe, but if it is, I don’t know how to break it.” Aimee looked over at Sean and was surprised to see him shoved back into his chair, fingers gripping the arms so tight that his knuckles had turned white.

“Sean,” she said, “are you all right?”

He nodded, but didn’t speak.

“Do you recognize something?” Carl turned to his son and laid his hand on Sean’s knee. “Is there something you see there that you want to tell Dr. Gannon about?”

Sean’s head turned slowly toward his father. He stared at him for a moment and shook his head. “N-n-no, Dad.” He swallowed hard. “Sorry. I can’t help but think about how horrible that night must have been for Taylor. I keep imagining her coming in and finding Orrin and Stacey. I keep wondering what I would feel like in her shoes.”

Orrin clapped Sean on the knee and said, “You’ve always been a kid with a big imagination. This might be one of those times you might want to turn it off. There’s no point in tormenting yourself about it. It’s a tragedy, but we can’t change it now.”

Sean’s gaze did not leave his father’s face. He simply nodded his head up and down once, then again. He looked almost as if he’d been hypnotized. “Of course. You’re absolutely right.” He looked back at the drawings.

“Does it ring any bells at all?” Aimee asked.

Sean chewed his lower lip. “I’m sorry. I can’t think of anything. Are you sure they mean something? Maybe they’re just…I don’t know…drawings?”

Aimee smiled. “I suppose they could be. It’s certainly what the police think. I just can’t seem to let go of them, though. I feel like there must be a reason for her to draw them so often.”

“What were you hoping they meant?” Carl asked, his head cocked to one side.

Aimee shivered. There was something almost predatory in his stare, like a hawk gazing down on a field mouse. “I thought maybe they might be windows from a certain room. Or a decoration from something that might indicate a certain time or a place. I’m not sure what else to consider.”

The front door banged open and a little boy, all elbows and freckles, came rushing in. He saw Carl and screeched to a halt. Carefully, he sat down on the floor, took off his shoes, and put them in the shoe rack by the door.

Aimee stared. She’d seen Simone’s boys come in from playing outside. They were a rolling, tumbling stream of dirt and chaos. This child looked like he’d be more likely to eat his shoes than get dirt on the Berber.

“Hey, Thomas,” Carl said.

“Hey, Dad,” the boy said, walking into the living room. Then he grinned and said, “Hi, Sean.”

“Hey, buddy, what’s up?” Sean stood up and walked over to Thomas.

“The sky.” Thomas grinned up at him.

They high-fived.

“Thomas, I’d like you to meet Dr. Gannon,” Carl said.

Thomas’s face went serious and he stuck out his hand. “Hello, Dr. Gannon. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Thomas.”

Aimee smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Have you been out playing?”

“I’ve been out looking for Bingo. We can’t find him.”

“Who’s Bingo?” Aimee asked.

“He’s my dog. I’m real worried about him.”

Aimee looked from Sean to Carl. She could have sworn she saw a bead of sweat on Sean’s upper lip.

“Hey, champ. I’ll go out and help you look later, okay?” he said.

“Will you? I don’t know where he’s hiding. I’ve looked everywhere.” Thomas’s lower lip quivered.

Sean put his hand on the boy’s back. “Maybe I can think of a few more places to look.”

“Thanks. Is Mom in the kitchen?” Thomas looked up at him.

“Yep.”

As he walked past, Carl grabbed the boy, turned him upside down, and tickled him. Thomas squealed and kicked.

Aimee turned to say something to Sean, and saw the strangest look on his face. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to cry.

“I really appreciate you helping out like this, Crystal,” Josh said, leaning over the counter and giving the round little veterinary assistant at Emergency Vet Services a big smile.

Crystal’s pale skin flushed pink right up to the dark roots of her limp blond hair. “It’s not a problem. Plus it’s kind of cool to say I assisted the police. I mean, we do a lot of good stuff here. We save animals every day. But helping in a homicide case? That’s not something that goes on all the time.” She shoved her black-framed glasses up her nose.