Suffer II Page 4

  “Her daddy built her that stage at our first house,” said Karla. “He adored his little bug. That’s what he called her. Little Bug.”

  “Is she singing?” asked Grey, leaning in closer to the photo.

  “Lord, honey, yes,” said Karla, handing Grey the photo album. “Singing her heart out was the only way she knew how to do it. That child memorized every single Disney song ever created. Her and her daddy would drive all over Louisiana looking for videos. But in that photo, she’s singing What a Wonderful World.”

  “She’s singing Louis Armstrong.” said Grey, laughing. “How old is she in that picture? Four?”

  “Oh, no,” said Karla. “She was almost seven in that photo. Emily was a tiny little thing. She’s singing that song because it was my favorite. I started singing it to her when she was a few weeks old. It was our song, you know.”

  “It’s a great song,” said Kate, looking over at Grey. “I sang it to Caleb all the time. He loved it too.”

  Grey looked at Kate then dropped his eyes back down to Emily. It was the moment when he began to realize that there was a bond – a connection – between Karla and Kate that he’d never fully understand. They were mothers who lost their children to monsters.

  “Ms. Karla,” said Grey, bringing her out of her fond memory and back to her cold reality. “I found these journals in Emily’s room. Did you know about them?”

  “I did. She wrote in them almost every day, but I never read them. I swear.”

  “There’s a lot to read here, and I need to take my time,” said Grey. “Would it be okay if I took them with me for a few days? I promise you I’ll return them as soon as I finish.”

  “Of course,” said Karla, looking at them with tired eyes. “Take all the time you need.”

  “Thank you. I did read her last entry, though. Ms. Karla, who’s Tyler?”

  Chapter 6

  Little Bug

  (May 3rd, 2005)

  Dawson kicked the football with every ounce of strength in his twelve-year-old leg. His little brother, Tyler, could only watch as the ball sailed over his head, bounced in the street, and then disappeared over the privacy fence. Their family had moved to Boudreaux a week earlier, so they had no idea who owned the house that captured their ball.

  Tyler was two years younger, and much shorter, than his brother. He stood by as Dawson grabbed the top of the wooden fence and pulled himself up to look into the backyard. As soon as his head popped over the top, all he saw was a mouth full of teeth flying at him. He released his grip, fell on his back, and kicked himself away from the fence. Tyler was nowhere to be seen. As soon as he heard the ferocious barking, he left his brother for dead.

  “You’re such a chickenshit,” said Dawson, finding his brother back in their front yard, leaning over with his hands on his knees.

  “I thought that thing was coming through the fence,” said Tyler, catching his breath.

  “We gotta get Daddy’s ball back,” said Dawson. “He’ll kill us if we lose it.”

  “How we gonna do that?”

  “I’ll throw you over the fence,” said Dawson. “While the dog’s chewing on your face, I’ll get the ball.”

  “That’s not a good plan.”

  “Come on, stupid. Let’s go get it.”

  The brothers walked up to the front door of the house with the beast in the backyard. Dawson rang the bell and waited. Ten seconds was far too long for a kid to do nothing, so he rang again. The door opened.

  “Well, hello there,” said the woman, drying her hands with a dishtowel. “Can I help you boys?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Dawson, being brave and taking a step closer. “I’m Dawson and this is my brother, Tyler. We accidently kicked our football into your backyard. I was hoping we could get it back. It’s my daddy’s ball from when he played in college.”

  “So, that’s what all that commotion was about. Yes, come on in. My name is Karla Pierce. I’ll have my daughter come help you boys out.”

  Dawson and Tyler’s eyes grew wide when they walked inside the home. It was much bigger than theirs, and everything inside was clean and new. The ceilings were high, and everything on the tables and walls looked shiny and expensive. They stood at the bottom of the stairs as Karla yelled up for her daughter.

  “Emily,” said Karla, as the ten-year-old girl bounced down to the last step, “this is Dawson and Tyler. Could you take them into the backyard to find their ball?”

  Them!

  “Um, ma’am,” said Dawson. “If it’s okay with you, we’ll wait here.”

  “Kasey won’t bite you,” said Emily, sensing their fear. “She’s a sweet dog as long as you’re not trying to climb over our fence.”

  “I take it you boys live around here,” said Karla.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Dawson. “We live in the last house on the other side of the road. It’s a lot smaller than this one.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Karla. “You just moved in last week. I remember the truck. Tell your folks I’ll be coming by tomorrow to welcome them to the neighborhood.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I will. My mama will like that. She’s been sick lately, and she doesn’t have any friends here yet.”

  “Then I’ll bring her something guaranteed to make her feel better.”

  Emily walked the boys to the back door. They stopped in their tracks when they saw Kasey waiting on the other side of the glass. Tyler swore he saw blood dripping from its fangs.

  “Hey, pretty girl,” said Emily, kneeling down to Kasey and giving her a hug.

  When she stood, Kasey walked up to Dawson and put her nose in his crotch. Tyler had never seen his brother’s eyes so big or his body so rigid. Before he could leave his brother for dead – again – Kasey turned her attention to him.

  “That’s how she says hello to new people,” said Emily.

  When the terror of losing their manhood while still in their childhood passed, they became immediate friends with Kasey. “Is he one of those pit bulls?” asked Tyler.

  “No, she is a Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Hound.”

  “A catawhat?” asked Dawson.

  “A Louisiana…Catahoula…Leopard…Hound.”

  “He’s a hound dog?” asked Tyler.

  “No, she is not,” said Emily. “Not all dogs are boys. Just call her Kasey, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  After a few minutes of petting Kasey and getting their faces licked, they followed Emily into the backyard. Once again, their eyes grew wide. It was a wonderland.

  In the middle of the massive yard was the biggest in-ground pool they had ever seen. A water spout in the deep end shot a geyser ten feet into the air. Everywhere they looked were splashes of color from flower beds along the perimeter of the fence.

  A small pool house to their right had an extended tin roof. It covered a hidden seating area concealed by tall, flowering bushes. Tucked in the back left corner of the yard was a large playhouse built on a platform five feet off the ground. The only way to get inside was from the ladder that disappeared up into the middle of the floor.

  On the wide concrete skirt that surrounded the pool, there was a small raised stage on the other side of the water. It came complete with a red curtain and lights that hung from a metal pipe frame. Plastic folding chairs were in a rack beside the stage. The boys had forgotten why they were there until Emily walked up to them with a football.

  “I got it!”

  “Thank you,” said Dawson.

  “Can we go swimming?” asked Tyler, staring at the pool, having no interest in the football.

  “Sure, I guess,” said Emily. “Let me ask my mom if it’s okay.”

  With permission granted and a short list of rules from Karla, the boys kicked off their shoes, shed their shirts, and jumped in the water before Emily reached the backdoor. She returned a few minutes later wearing a fluorescent orange swimsuit adorned with bright purple flowers and pink goggles.

  When Emily’s father, Hank, arrived home from wor
k, it had been three hours since the boys’ feet had stepped on dry land. Having a pool to themselves was something the brothers hadn’t enjoyed since the green plastic turtle when they were toddlers. If it were up to them, they would’ve stayed wet until the sun went down.

  “Honey,” said Hank, taking a sip from his drink while standing at the back door.

  “Yes, dear,” asked Karla, lowering the flame on the stove.

  “Go get my shotgun. There are two boys in our pool with your daughter.”

  “Oh, stop it,” said Karla. “They just moved into the house at the end of the street. They’re both very sweet and polite.”

  “They all start out that way,” said Hank, opening the back door.

  He grabbed three towels off the patio table and headed for the pool. Kasey was the first to notice and darted toward him. Emily did the same when she saw her dog take off running.

  “Hey, Little Bug,” said Hank, wrapping Emily up in a towel like a burrito and then giving her a tight squeeze. “I heard your ferocious guard dog earned her pay today.”

  “She did, Daddy, but they weren’t burglars. Just boys.”

  “Like I said, she earned her pay,” said Hank, turning his attention to the frolicking in the pool. “You two tadpoles have names?”

  “Yes, sir, I’m Dawson, and this is my little brother, Tyler. Ms. Karla said it was okay if we went swimming.”

  “Either one of you try to kiss my baby girl?” asked Hank, narrowing his eyes and tapping his palm with a fist.

  “Daddy!”

  “He did,” said Dawson, pointing at his astounded brother.

  “No, sir, I did not! I swear!”

  “All right, come on out of there, boy. Looks like you and I are gonna have to fight.”

  “Dawson! Tell him the truth!”

  “Daddy, stop it,” said Emily, pulling an arm out of the burrito and putting it on her hip. “Nobody tried to kiss me.”

  “Okay, then,” said Hank, winking at Dawson. “I’ll let it go this time. You boys need to head on home. We’re about to have supper.”

  Tyler splashed his brother in the face as he made his way to the stairs. He walked up to Emily’s father and held out his hand. Hank could see the boy was nervous.

  “My dad told me whenever I meet the man of the house I’m supposed to look him in the eye and shake his hand.”

  “He told you to do it, not say it,” said Dawson, walking up behind him.

  “Your dad is right,” said Hank, shaking their hands. “You tell him his neighbor Hank is looking forward to meeting him.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Dawson.

  “Why are you so small?” said Hank, looking at Tyler.

  “Because I’m ten?”

  “That makes sense,” said Hank, handing him a towel. He turned to watch Emily walk inside before he started speaking again. “Did you boys have fun in the pool today?”

  “We did, thank you very much, sir. It was great.” said Dawson.

  “Well, since my wife loves to feed every stray cat and kid in the neighborhood, and you two looked like you were enjoying my pool, I’m guessing you both want to come back, right?”

  “Yes, sir, that would be awesome!” said Tyler.

  “Okay, man to man here. You two have to make me a promise that you can never break. Understand me?”

  “We do,” said Dawson. “Our mama always says you have to keep your promises or nobody will respect you.”

  “That’s the truth, son. So you know how serious this is.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, you two are always welcome in my home and can be friends with my daughter. But you both have to promise me you’ll always look out for her. Do you know what that means?”

  “We do,” said Dawson. “It means we protect her.”

  “It does, boys. And not just here at this house. Your promise to me means anywhere. If you’re at school and you see someone trying to hurt her, you be men and help her out. So, we have a deal?”

  “Yes, sir, we do.”

  “Before you leave, go inside and thank Ms. Karla for letting you go swimming. She really loves hugs, so give her one.”

  Hank sat at the patio table to finish his drink before dinner. Looking over at the stage that hadn’t been used in months, he sighed. His baby was getting bigger and more beautiful every day. He vowed to build an army of boys that would make the same promise as Dawson and Tyler. For the first time since her birth, Hank felt like he was starting to lose his little bug to the big world.

  “Those two are adorable,” said Karla, coming out to join her husband. “They both came inside, thanked me, and gave me hugs. You know how I love hugs.”

  “I do,” said Hank, reaching out for her and pulling her down on his lap.

  “Emily didn’t seem too pleased with you when she came inside,” said Karla, raising her brow. “She’s taking her bath now.”

  “Aw, I just gave those boys a little tease,” said Hank.

  “You asked if they tried to kiss her,” said Karla, pinching his arm.

  “You should have seen them,” said Hank, chuckling. “I asked and Dawson didn’t miss a beat. He pointed right at his little brother and gave him up. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.”

  “They’re nice boys, Hank. They’re very polite and respectful. It wasn’t too long ago Emily was the one trying to make new friends in a new place. It’s hard, you know.”

  “I do, honey. But it’s my job as a father to scare the crap out of every boy that comes around. Fear keeps them honest.”

  “Just don’t push too hard. She may end up resenting you for that.”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Have I told you how beautiful you are today?” said Hank, tightening his grip around his wife.

  “No, sir, you haven’t.”

  “You are, sweetheart. You are beautiful.”

  Chapter 7

  Crush

  Grey’s theory that the smaller the town the higher the concentration of churches and liquor stores was proven again in Boudreaux. After checking into his hotel, he set the bottle and a glass on the desk. Before opening the first journal, he took a sip and leaned back in his chair.

  In his thirteen-year career with the FBI, Grey had a front-row seat as a witness to the worst things human beings could do to one another. In the blink of an eye, an entire family’s world would be devastated beyond their comprehension. In their time of incredible pain, confusion, and fear, he would show up with a badge and then turn their world inside out.

  It was rare that a person became a victim because of a random act of violence. In most of the cases that he had solved, there was an existing relationship between the perpetrator and the victim. It could be as distant as an internet predator, or as close as a scorned lover, but the relationship was there. Finding the connection meant digging deep into an open wound.

  Taking a longer sip, Grey knew the connection he needed to find would be more difficult with Emily. She was a high-risk victim. Once he started that digging, experience dictated there would be a long list of suspects.

  She could have become a liability or owed money to a dealer or a pimp. She could have been killed by another junkie for the change in her pocket or the drugs in her purse. A client could have gone too far with role-playing or bondage sex. She could be a Jane Doe in the morgue in New Orleans after being found in an alley with a needle sticking out of her arm. They were all plausible explanations based on her lifestyle choices.

  He didn’t believe Emily deserved to die, but she was an adult who made decisions that put her at risk. She wasn’t a young girl abducted from the mall by a pedophile. She wasn’t the target of a delusional stalker. She wasn’t attacked on a jogging trail by a serial killer. She wasn’t tied to a chair and killed in front of her mother. She wasn’t Caleb.

  There were hundreds of cases across the country where the guilty were set free because of a flawed and weak judi
cial system. Even more were never caught because the cases didn’t draw enough attention in the media. Cases where victims were truly innocent and had nothing to do with the crimes executed against them. Grey understood the connection between Karla and Kate as mothers, but he didn’t understand why Kate chose Emily over so many others that could use their unique set of skills.

  As he sat the empty glass on the desk, he felt his phone vibrate on his hip. He refilled the glass before he answered. “Hey, Evan. How’s it going?”

  “More questions than answers right now.”

  “What are the questions?”

  “The glaring one is the complete lack of information about her anywhere. I mean nothing. The last interactions with any friends in social media or emails ended about halfway through her senior year. Even when she went missing, there was no mention on the internet, articles in the papers, or clips on television. It’s as if it never happened.”

  “As if she never happened,” said Grey.

  “Exactly. I was able to hack into a few accounts from so-called friends in high school.”

  “So-called?”

  “Yep. They turned on her quick. It went from normal online chit-chat to a crucifixion. Looks like the turn started right before Christmas. Earlier postings were all about how pretty, smart, and fun she was. After the holidays, she was a junkie and a slut. They turned their backs on her and warned other friends to do the same.”

  “Any mention of why?”

  “Nothing directly. I did find some mentioning of a combination holiday and birthday party after Thanksgiving. Emily’s birthday is in December.”

  “That’s interesting,” said Grey. “Emily’s last entry was about a party she was going to with her friend Tyler.”

  “I’m no detective, but my guess is something happened at that party. I’ll widen my search to whoever may have been there.”

  “Were you able to access her school records?”