Pam (3 page)

Am I well
?
Not in the least. I was well on October 6, 1986. Yes, I believe that was the last day I was well.

Did I snap? Absolutely. Not a single person on the face of the earth wouldn’t. I still lack emotions, and I’d like to attribute that to my medication. But it’s gone, anything I ever felt is gone. I am
a
shell. I will never be whole … ever.

Once news of the acquittal reached the hospital, I was moved from my normal room to a more scenic one
,
a
reward while I
a
waited my freedom. I would never be
truly
free;
I was haunted by
the past, by the last eighteen years
, the deaths of my children. Little faces I saw often in my dreams. In my room.

Shh. I would never tell a soul that.

“We know you didn’t hurt us
,
M
ommy,”
Mandy
said to me one night. “We know.”

“Who did?”

But she didn’t answer. She just disappeared.

It’s funny how the word haunted had come
up
many times over the years. It even came up in conversation with the Freedom Project when they were reviewing testimony
.
A coworker of Richie’s who used to bask in my
tales of our murderess ghost
suddenly turned that against me at the trial
,
s
aying that I
believed
I conjured a
spirit
who was saying bad things to me.
That I talked to people who weren’t there.
He even said he warned Richie. No way. He never said anything like that to
Richie
. And my telling him about the reverend telling me
things about the
murderess was just a joke.
It
was a joke
I carried on too long because Sharon kept trying to scare me with it.

Any time she was around, she
’d
jolt and say she saw him.

I believed in the spirit for all of three second
s
. But I never said anything at the trial. I believed in the system, innocent until proven guilty. That wasn’t it in my case.

“Longing?”
H
is mild voice startled me from my thoughts as I stared out the window,

I turned slowly. “Longing?” I asked.

“To go out there?”
T
he doctor
stepped into my room.

“No, I’ll be there soon enough.”

“You could sound a little more excited.”

I just shrugged.

“Are you scared?”

“
No
,
I’m not scared. Not scared at all. Worried, nervous about how it is out there
.”

He nodded. “Have you been learning ab
out how the world has changed?”

“Not really. I figure I
’ll
learn that as I go.”

“It’s changed a lot in eighteen years
.
”
H
e pulled up a chair. “Sit with me, Pam.”

I didn’t really want to, but I
walked
over to the bed and sat down.

“Can I be straight
forward with you?”

“Yes.”

“I appreciate and am thrilled that you approved us making an appointment with Dr. Andrews.
He’s a good man.
Used to work here.”

“I don’t remember him.”

“He didn’t see you as a patient. You’ll be starting anew with him.”

I nodded my understanding.

“I recommended that you be kept here,”
the doctor
said. “
While
outpatient care can help …”

“I have been here for eighteen years,” I said. “
If
things were gonna change, they would have.”

“My point exactly. You had an outburst just last week. Do you recall that?”

“No. And that nurse lies. She has before. You know that. She was in my room, going through my things.”

“What do you have that she would want to steal?” he asked.

“My journal.”

“I’ve read your journal. Really, there’s nothing in
there for her to want to steal,
”
h
e said.

“Not that one.”

“You have another?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“May I see it?”

“No. It’s mine,
my
personal thoughts. It’s hidden.
She was looking for it.”

“I see.”
He
folded hand hands over his
crossed
legs. I liked him, usually, but right then he was coming off
as
rather smug. “Pam,
won’t
you consider signing yourself in here for treatment
?
”

“No. Not at all. If you really feel that strongly, then why don’t you just sign me in
here?
”

“I tried. I was denied. You would have to sign for treatment.”

“There you have it
,
” I told him. “You seem to be the only one thinking I
shouldn’t
go.”

“No, the board just seems to think you
should
go. You’ve been here long enough. But …” He sighed. “Even for some occupational therapy. Just to get you ready to emerge into
t
h
e
world.”

“I will be fine. Freedom
P
roject got me a little starter apartment outside of Harford. That’s where Dr. Andrews is.”

“You still have no one.”

“I have Dr. Andrews to help
,
and I’ll find Sharon.
I will find her.
”

The doctor
looked down to this folder. “Sharon? You’re going to find Sharon.”

“Yes. I told Freedom Project about her.”

“And what did they say?”

“Her testimony was stricken from the record, but they would find her for me.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want you to find her,”
the doctor
suggested. “Have you considered that? She’s part of
a
past that was pretty bad.”

“I’ve considered it. But I have to find her.”

“Because you think she knows something?”

“I always did,” I replied. “
Especially
when she lied on the stand. Why would she lie? Mandy didn’t get out of school until ten minutes till three. I
wouldn’t
get to the bank at least
until
three.
She lied on the stand.
”

“You have
maintained
that repeatedly, along with other things. So you aren’t returning to Willow Brook.”

“Not to live,” I said. “
But I will. To find clues
;
someone knows something
.” I stood to go back to the window.

“The figure in the bushes.”

His words made me stop. “Yes.”

“Where exactly will you start to find these clues?” he asked. “Have you considered that?”

“I have.” I walked to the window. “And though I don’t know where to start to look for clues
,
I do know I can’t start until I’m out there.” My hand rested on the pane of glass. I was done talking. He wasn’t. But soon enough, like always, he’d give up and leave. I
just
kept my stare on the outside.

I had
managed to
bury
her
in
the back of my mind like a horrendously vivid nightmare. So many years had gone by
;
there were times I didn’t think it was real. That perhaps it never happened. I was faced with the truth of it when the news talked about her acquittal.

How was that possible?

Even the newscasters and talk show people found it hard to believe that the system was setting her free.

She deserved to be locked awa
y for the rest of her life. Now
because of a DNA sample she was going to be released. Richie was convincing in his testimony.
Scratch
or no
scratch,
h
e
said he saw he
r
do it.

What more di
d they need?

But Richie was dead.
I hadn’t seen him in years. Maybe he changed his story.

There was a part of me
that always felt guilty for lying on the stand. For saying I didn’t see her after three pm, when I did. But I was afraid
.
I was afraid if I told the truth that
there might be
the shadow of a doubt that
would
cause a not-guilty verdict.

I buried it, put it behind me, thought of her as dead and moved on. I had a child to care
for;
I was on my own with that child.

His father wanted nothing to do with him.

But my days of motherhood were short
-
lived. I believed for the longest time
that
Justin’s disappearance was a payback for my lies.

There was nothing that child did to warrant his abduction.

I wasn’t living in Connecticut at the time
;
I had moved to New York. I had to get away
;
even with my father living in Willow Brook
,
I couldn’t stay there.

I visited occasionally, not often and not
for
long.

We were at the
park;
he was playing with the other children
.
At five, he could do that and I felt comfortable sitting on the bench and watching. I turned my head
for
only a moment to speak to another mother.

Only a moment.

He was gone.

I never saw him again
.
T
hey never found any evidence
;
there were no witnesses. I believe in my heart of hearts he is still alive and imagine one day
that
a young man w
ill
knock on my door.

Another tragedy in my life.

Justin’s disappearance was the one and only time I felt a kinship with Pam. My child was gone as well
,
and they were looking at me as the suspect.

They sus
pected me for a very long. Like
Pam, I cried my innocence. Why would I hurt my own child?

The
horrific
deaths of
Mandy, Doyle and Lizzy wrenche
d
in my gut for a long time
,
and just as I started to move on, Justin vanished.

It was as if I was never meant to live a happy life, feel normal, safe
,
not scared.

Any man I was involved with left
;
two even died. Any friends didn’t last long.
Everything
I loved was taken away from me. I moved
constantly
,
o
ne
town to the next, working whatever jobs I could. Never good jobs or ones where people would remember me. I stopped getting close to people.

I stopped calling my
father
for
the longest time.

When I met those in the fellowship, it was by accident
,
and after a few weeks of attending their meetings, I swore life would get better.

Then the news of Pam arrived.

I thought she was gone, buried
forever.

She wanted to see me, talk to me.

Suddenly, all I kept thinking of was her children, my child, all the tragedy, the senseless tragedy.

It was something I couldn’t bear nor wanted to face.

Briefly
, it crossed my mind to emerge from my inner hiding, face her and face my demons. I dismissed
that
idea.

I
had hidden from the world for a long time. I wasn’t ready
,
nor did I want to back track to that life. If Pam wanted to find me, I was going to do my best to make sure it wasn’t easy.