Package Deal (40 page)

“Who made you afraid, darling
?”

“
Icky
—he’s so
ick
y.”

Marcus edged toward the bed and looked over Amanda’s shoulder. “Cecelia, was it Carlton?”

“
I don’t want to talk anymore
. I
’m tired
.”
She looked up at
Amanda
, tears spilling onto her cheeks.

Marcus l
e
an
e
d
forward and look
e
d
into th
e
child’s big blu
e
e
y
e
s. “Thank you, C
e
c
e
lia. You tak
e
a nap and f
ee
l b
e
tt
e
r and I’ll com
e
back lat
e
r—with
S
e
a Star
—so w
e
can r
e
ad tog
e
th
e
r. Okay
?”

She nodded and
looked at her mother
. “Is it
ok
ay
if Marcus r
e
ads
to m
e
?”

Amanda smil
e
d
through h
e
r t
e
ars. “Y
e
s, darling. It’s ok
ay
.” She sat with Cecelia until
her daughter
fell asleep.

She remembered all too well why she had told Cecelia to yell and to run.
Shocked
and sick at h
e
art
, she finally stood and
edg
ed
away from th
e
b
e
d
.

Marcus rose and
follow
ed her over to the window.
“Wh
e
n did you t
e
ll C
e
c
e
lia to do that
,
to y
e
ll and run?
”

“Wh
e
n sh
e
was fiv
e
, h
e
r pr
e
school had a good-touch, bad-
touch discussion. I told h
e
r if anyon
e
e
v
e
r tri
e
d
to touch h
e
r or grab h
e
r
in a way she didn’t like
, sh
e
was to y
e
ll as
l
ou
d as sh
e
could and run awa
y, as fast as
h
e
r l
e
gs would carry h
e
r
.
We ev
en had little practice sessions,
pretend play.
The lesson also talked about fighting off an attacker—scratchin
g and kicking and biting and sto
mping on toes, that sort of thing.
Do you think
Carlton
tried to do
som
e
thing to h
e
r
?”

“
I think th
e
cops will want to know what C
e
c
e
lia said.”

“Marcus, I will not have the police upset
ting
her. Y
ou saw how she was with you. S
he knows you
and likes you
. If strangers talk to her…
” Her eyes filled.

He nodded. “I know.” He
fumbled
in his
jack
e
t pock
e
t
for som
e
pap
e
r. H
e
wrot
e
down what C
e
c
e
lia said, dat
e
d
and tim
e
d
it, and ask
e
d
Amanda to sign it as a witn
e
ss. “I’m taking this to th
e
cops.
Maybe if they
talk to you, it’ll be enough.
I’ll com
e
back lat
e
r.”

Marcus left the hospital and called his brother.
He briefly filled him in on what had happened to Cecelia.

“
I have a bad feeling about this guy
, Mike
.
Amanda’s office-mate
.”

“What kind of bad feeling?”

“My gut tells me he’s somehow involved, but I don’t know how. He was so nervous when I talked to him he could barely hold his coffee cup.”

“Go with your gut, b
ro. It’ll never fail you.”

“I’m thinking
possible
sexual
assault or abuse
—
I just got done talking with Cecelia. She didn’t say that—
not
exactly, but she did say enough that I think that’s what we’re dealing with.”

“How old did you say she is?”

“Nine, going on ten.”

“
Must be a sick bastard.
What’s the guy’s name?”

Marcus told him. “He’s getting his degree from Wisconsin, if that’s any help, so he probably lived in or near Madison before he moved here.”

“I met a detective from there.
Let me make a phone call.
I’ll call you back if I fi
nd out anything.
What’re
you doing?”

“I’m working
the neighbors
. When I think I’ve exhausted everything, I’ll go talk to the cops and see if I
’ve learned more about what happened than they did.
I left my name at the station, but they haven’t called me back.”

“I’ll call you if I
learn
anything.”

“Whatever you can find—even if it’s nothing
—let me know
, Mike.”

After
Cecelia
came home from the hospital,
Amanda and
her
teacher arranged an every-other-day schedule to bring in assignments and to take back her homework so that she wouldn’t miss more school. When working on her homework, Cecelia seemed almost normal, except that she slept every afternoon
. T
he doctor
assured
Amanda
this
was an important part of the physical healing of her bruised body.

A week after she was no longer sleeping most of the afternoon, Amanda
asked Cecelia if she wanted her soccer team to visit.

The little girl’s eyes lit up, enthusiastic about visitors
for the first time since leaving the hospital
. Amanda called the soccer coach to arra
nge a visit the next afternoon.

“Cece!
Sam and your other soccer buddies are
here,”
she
called up the stairs. “
Do you want them to come see you?”

“Yes!
Send them up! I want to hear all about the game.
”

Amanda brought a p
late of
cookies upstairs
and passed them around,
heed
less of
the crumbs that
quickly
littered the floor
.

Sam was the first to decorate Cecelia’s arm and leg casts with names and hearts in different colors.

“Look at my casts, Mom! They’re not white anymore!”

Amanda
took comfort in
the giggles and conversation that ensued.
When the girls left, after promising to visit again over the weekend, Cecelia slept so
undly and
Amanda slowly began to relax.

Her mood changed, however, when the police arrived
two days later
.

“Let me take you
up
to her. She can’t come downstairs yet,” she explained.

Two officers, a man and a woman,
followed her
into Cecelia’s room
.

“Cece. These
officers
would like to talk to you about the accident.”

Cecelia’s f
ace slid from happy expectation
to fear
when she
eyed
the tall ma
n
and the
much
shorter woman
as they stood near her bed
. She reached her right hand for
Amanda
, who perched on her bed next to her.

“My name is Emily. We’d like to ask you some questions, Cecelia,” the female detective said.

When Cecelia’s grip tightened, and she started to shake her hea
d, Amanda said, “I
t’s okay, Cece. You’re not in trouble. They just want to ask you some questions. Let’s just see what the nice police officer wants to know. I’ll stay right here with you. Isn’t that right, Officer—uh?”

The
woman sat down on the nearby chair.
“Corbin, Professor Gardner. Emily Corbin.”
Sh
e
smiled at Cecelia. “I have a little boy almost your age, Cecelia. I see you like horses.” She pointed to a plastic pony lying near one of Cecelia’s books. “And your mom tells me you play soccer.”

Cece
lia relaxed her grip on Amanda’
s hand. “Yes. Does your boy like books about ponies?
Misty of Chincoteague.
That’s about po
nies. It’s one of my favorite stories.”

“I’ll tell him about it.” The police woman waited for
h
er
partner to
tak
e a seat near the window.
Amanda saw his name on the name tag pinned to his chest pocket: William Park.

“Cecelia. Your mom told us you were waiting for your friend, Marcus, that day you were hurt. Is that right?”

Cecelia nodded.

“Your next-
door neighbor
…
I think her name is Janet. Do you know her?”

The child smiled. “She’s nice. We make popcorn when she comes over.”

Emily Corbin nodded. “Janet said she heard you yelling. Were you trying to warn anyone else about the car—maybe another child?”

Cecelia looked first at her mother and then back at the man sitting at the window before turning to the woman police office whose voice was soft and reassuring. She shook her head. “No. I didn’t see anyone else outside.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to go in the street,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Amanda stroked her back.

“Did something scare you—to make you want to leave your house?” The police officer patted
Cecelia’s
hand and gave her a tissue.

Cecelia’s tears overwhelmed her and she began to cry harder. “I don’t—I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I don’t like talking about—”

Amanda
rose from her seat on the bed. “I think
maybe
you’ll need to try another time. It upsets her so much, and her ri
bs are still healing. They hurt
when she cries.”

She ushered the police
officers
down the stairs and out the door before returning to her daughter’s room and holding her close.

That evening, she spoke to Marcus. “It was horrible. She couldn’t get past
the
second
or third
question.”

“
Were they mean to her?”

“No, no. The
woman officer
who asked questions even sat down
beside
her chair.
She was very nice, her voice so soothing. And her partner just sat near the window, but Cece got upset
wh
en she asked her if something had scared her.”