Mother (51 page)

Dave chewed thoughtfully. “As far as I can recall, she was always well-behaved. She used to draw quite well.”

“She’s a graphic artist now.”

Dave smiled. “As she should be. What I recall most about the girl was how much she loved her brother, Tim. He carried her around on his shoulder and doted on her.” He looked at Andy. “I dare say Priscilla was rather jealous of the two of them. She was always separating them and I recall wondering why.”

Andy nodded and told him about Claire being sent to the Vandercooth home so as not to disturb Timothy.

“Nonsense,” Dave said. “Nonsense typical of Priscilla. The woman was obsessed with her son. She probably felt her own daughter was her rival. I’ve seen it before.”

“That feels like the truth to me.” Andy picked up the other half of his sandwich. “While she ignored her daughter’s nightmares, she took the boy into her bed when he had bad dreams - and he was far too old for that sort of thing. The entire story made my skin crawl, but I’m not sure that means anything.”

Dave held his gaze. “The fact that she exposed herself to us during the Collins funeral tells us her morals are corrupt.”

Andy nodded. “True. But that doesn’t mean she actually abused the boy sexually.”

“Andrew Pike, let me tell you something and you take it to your grave.” He paused. “And I’m only repeating this because you’re part of the priesthood and the boy is long dead now.”

“I understand. Go on.”

“When he was a young teen, Priscilla forced Timothy to confess to me that he’d masturbated before church. The poor boy was humiliated, and he told me what Priscilla had done to punish him.”
 

Andy forgot to eat as Dave recounted Timothy’s story. When the old priest finished talking, he couldn’t find his own words. “That’s … just wrong.”

“It was technically a confession, so I couldn’t say anything, but I spoke to Priscilla immediately afterward. Since she knew about his so-called self-abuse, I sat her down and explained that while the church didn’t condone it, that it was an old-fashioned stance, and part of growing up. She argued that it was a sin. I told her that I felt a sin was something that hurt yourself or others, and asked how Timothy’s actions had hurt anyone. She just stared at me for a moment - I think she was hatching a plot - then told me that because I was a priest I knew nothing about lust. Then she started unbuttoning her blouse with one hand and touching her thigh with the other. I had never been so shocked in my life.”

“Is that when…”

“She seduced me? No, but I watched. The woman opened her blouse and opened her legs and displayed herself to me. I’m a normal man. Between my excitement and my shock, I just sat there. I really didn’t know how to react. Then, she dropped her skirt and came toward me. She wore hose held up with a black garter belt, and no underwear. She walked straight up to me - I was sitting down - and pressed her privates to my face, and said, ‘This isn’t hurting anyone, is it?’”

“And? What did you do?”

“I might have succumbed right then and there but her genitals reeked of that terrible perfume she likes to wear.” Dave made a face. “I was very polite - too polite due to my surprise - and I carefully moved out of range, stood up, and asked her to leave.” He shook his head. “I wish I’d been that strong later when she became really serious about seducing me.”

“Why do you suppose she did that?” Andy asked.

Dave set aside the last of his sandwich and took a long pull on his beer before replying. “My answer may surprise you.”

“I doubt it.”

“I think that Priscilla was sexually excited.”

“Priest as forbidden fruit?”

“No, not that time. I was simply handy. I believe she was excited because of what she had done to her son.”

“That’s sick.”

Andy’s stomach knotted. “What did you do?”

“I avoided her as much as possible and tried to make myself available to Tim, but he never spoke of it again. He avoided me. There was something about the way he looked at me after that … I suspect she told him I was a pedophile, or something equally heinous. I would put nothing past her. Nothing.”

“She’s the one who spread the rumor about Quinton Everett. You’re lucky she didn’t say that about you, too.” Andy’s stomach clenched as he realized he was also a prime target for such an attack. “Babs told me she wants to help Claire move out. She feels it’s dangerous for the girl to stay there.”

Dave studied him. “She’s probably correct. Prissy Martin is poison. Poor Timothy. He turned to drink. He left town to be with his girlfriend, but had an injury and Priscilla brought him home. He ended up committing suicide not long after.”

“Babs?”
 

“Hello, Jason. I wondered if you might have a few minutes to talk.”

Worry kindled in his chest. “Sure. Of course. Is everything okay?”

Only silence. And then, “Are you somewhere private?”

Jason looked around the empty hotel room. “As a matter of fact, yes. I’m in Denver on a short business trip. I’ll be back tomorrow, but I’m alone, yes. Is everything okay, Babs?”

“It’s nothing to worry about right now, but I …” She sighed. “I went to see Claire yesterday. I wanted to talk to her about some things, but decided against it when I saw her. She looked so frail that I didn’t dare risk upsetting her.”

“Is this about-”

“It’s about Priscilla. I should have spoken up sooner.”

Jason’s heart beat faster, his chest tightened.

The line was silent a moment, then Babs spoke in a rushed tone. “I know you’re planning on getting out of Priscilla’s house, and I think that’s a very good thing. But I also think you need to leave as soon as possible. I realize Claire’s on bed rest but I don’t think you ought to wait. As I told Claire, I’d be happy to come and tend to her at your new place while you’re at work. She’ll never be alone. I want you to get yourself, your wife, and your unborn child out of that house as soon as you can. I’m happy to have you all stay with Carl and me until your house is ready.”

Jason wasn’t sure what to say. After reading some of Tim’s journals, he felt the same way, but why was Babs telling him this now? “What happened? Has something happened?”

“Not yet, but I’m afraid it might. I just don’t want to see Claire hurt.”

“Claire hasn’t been herself, Babs. She’s been seeing things. Her emotions are all over the place and I think it goes beyond hormonal shifts. If there’s anything you know that might help me understand, I promise it won’t go further. Claire isn’t
Claire,
lately.”

“No, she’s not. Jason, I think of her as my little girl. I dare say I know her as well as you do - perhaps better, because I witnessed her childhood, up close and personal.”
 

Jason’s hand was tight around the phone. “Babs, please, can you tell me more? I don’t understand.”

There was a long pause, then Babs cleared her throat. “The first thing that really worried me was how Prissy clung to Timmy. She nursed him up until the day he went to kindergarten.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Kindergarten. She claimed he had an allergy to milk, and she had to. She told me she stopped nursing him once he was in school, but I’m not even sure that was true. But I do know that Claire was a bottle baby. She had no interest in nursing her. When Timothy was little, I offered to babysit him, but she refused, saying she couldn’t bear to be away from her boy. Yet she was happy to leave Claire with me - the first day home from the hospital, she had me take care of her baby girl so she could take care of Tim - who was ten and didn’t need any special care. She was horrible to Claire.”

“I’ve been reading some of Tim’s high school journals, and they back up what you’ve said. Prissy did and said things to Tim that were abuse, plain and simple. But what does it have to do with us leaving the house right away?”

“There were a lot of … accidents and illnesses like food poisoning. Claire and Timothy both had an unusual amount. I’ve always suspected Pris was behind many of them. I think she enjoyed the attention it gave her when one of her children was hurt. I wasn’t worried when I heard you and Claire were moving back. Claire told me you were planning to leave the house long before the baby came - if she hadn’t, I would have suggested it. In fact, I would have insisted. I thought things would be okay until Claire’s leg was broken. Now I don’t. When I saw Claire the other day … Well, something’s wrong, Jason.”

He was paralyzed. Stricken. Was it true?
And what has Prissy been doing to Claire? And how the hell did I miss it?
 

“Babs, are you saying Prissy had something to do with Claire’s broken leg?”

She hesitated. “I want you to promise me something, Jason.”

“Anything.”

“As soon as you get home, you pack your things, and get out of that house.”

After hanging up, Jason went to the window. The stars were hidden by incoming clouds from the north. He got online and checked for commercial flights. None was available. He’d have to wait till morning.

 
“Shit.”

He called Jake Fairview to tell him they needed to fly out tonight, but as soon as the guy picked up the phone, Jason heard the alcohol-thick slur in his words. There’d be no flying out now.

“Shit, shit shit!”

“Tomorrow is great.” Paul Schuyler smiled at Steffie Banks. They’d been Skyping for an hour, as they had almost every night since their first conversation. “I’m glad you can get away a day early.”

“I am, too, but if this is an inconvenience for you, I can catch a commercial flight. Or wait until Sunday.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll be all finished with work and I can be in Brimstone in time for dinner. We’ll fly back tomorrow morning. You
will
let me take you to dinner, won’t you?”
 

“No, it’s my town, I’ll take
you
to dinner.” She smiled back, making Paul feel just a little too happy. When Steffie had texted about being able to come a day early, he’d instantly rearranged things at work so he could accommodate her. He’d already cancelled the day’s classes so Jason could go straight home to Claire. Schuyler Flight School students would have the day off. He didn’t think they’d complain.
Easy peasy
.
 

“How’s Claire doing?” Steffie asked. “I was thinking of emailing her and saying hello.”

“I’m sure she’d like that. I haven’t seen her recently, but Jason’s a little worried about her. She told him she saw Timothy on Facebook.”

“What? That’s impossible.”

“She said she saw him, all the details were right. The pictures were old. He had a girlfriend on Facebook, too.”

“Well, that account has to be a fraud. If you know the girlfriend’s name, I’ll check her out.”

“Jason didn’t say, but I’ll ask. Claire insisted he look, but there was no account like that. Claire thinks it’s been removed. Jason thinks Claire may be imagining things. She’s been saying some odd stuff the last few days, I guess.”

“Like what?” Steffie looked concerned.

“He didn’t tell me, but he thinks she’s having trouble, with, you know, reality. He says Priscilla isn’t nearly as bad as Claire thinks she is, but that Claire seems to think her mother is Satan incarnate.”

On the screen, Steffie’s eyes went dark and she leaned in close. “Paul, listen to me. Seriously, Priscilla is probably
worse
than Claire thinks she is.”

“I don’t know how she could be worse. You know what that woman was like.”

“I do. I know more about her than I want to, Paul. Once Tim was away from her, when we were in Brimstone before his accident, he opened up. She did things to him. Bad things. She hurt him. And she hurt Claire, too.”

“Hurt her? How? Physically?

“Yes, and mentally. You’ve heard of Munchausen’s Syndrome?”

“Is that the one where people harm themselves to get medical attention?”

Steffie nodded. “Yes. And unfortunately, there’s a worse form of it - where the person harms their children, or others in their care.”

“Oh, my God.”
 

“And they not only get attention, they get to be seen as heroes of ‘saving’ the person they’ve harmed.”

Suddenly, the pieces fell together, and Paul felt a tight, cold sickness in his gut. “I never thought about it before, but she was always keeping Tim home from school. He was sick a
lot.
And she loved nursing him back to health.”

“And Claire had a lot of injuries. I remember Priscilla always saying Claire was a klutz.”

“I remember that, too. I thought that was a mean thing for a mother to say about her own daughter.” He paused. “Claire was always falling down the stairs, off swings and monkey bars or tripping. Broken bones. Seems like she had new bruises every time I saw her. Sometimes she limped. And I remember her having her arm in a sling several times.”

Steffie nodded, her mouth a firm line. “You were around her a lot, Paul. So was I. Now tell me, did you actually
witness
any of this clumsiness?”

Paul’s mouth went dry. “No. Not once.” He was having a hard time wrapping his head around this, but it rang true. Too true.
 

“If Tim hadn’t died, we were planning to bring Carlene to Arizona to live with us. After his death, I even called Social Services about her, but I don’t know what became of that. Nothing, I assume. They don’t like taking children from their parents, and I doubt they were able to find anything - if they even tried. Priscilla Martin is an expert at keeping up appearances, and she’s got that whole town in her pocket.”

“How could anyone hurt their own children?”

“You ask that like a truly normal person.” Her chuckle lacked humor. “Priscilla Martin obviously has narcissistic and sociopathic tendencies. Believe me, I’ve seen it too many times.”

“But she loved Timothy so much,” Paul said.

“That was obsession, not love. Big difference.” Steffie didn’t smile. “Sure, it’s possible Claire’s having trouble with reality. And the pregnancy could well be affecting her stability, but I seriously doubt she’s imagining things. I’m just glad Jason is there with her - it helps keep her safe from Priscilla.”

A chill ran down Paul’s back and the cold knot in his stomach tightened. “Jason’s away overnight. I sent him to Denver to check out a commuter jet.” He paused. “Good Lord, I had no idea. I wish I’d gone myself.”