Where Petals Fall Page 9

  Deputy Lyle sat behind a giant wooden and metal desk, the same desk that Junie remembered from her youth, when he had been Officer Lyle. He’d gone gray around the temples, and his once slim waist had expanded with age, but his welcoming grin and friendly eyes remained.

  “Juniebug, how are you?”

  “Well, I’m thirty-one, for one thing, so not really a bug anymore,” she joked.

  “Heck, you’ll always be that smiling little girl who came into the station with her father, reporting a car that didn’t stop for a passing turtle.”

  Junie sat in a metal chair across the desk from Deputy Lyle, feeling twelve years old again. She looked around the familiar police station, remembering the day her father had brought her in to report the turtle incident. He’d held her hand in his. He hadn’t wanted to bring her in. He’d told her it wasn’t an offense to not stop for a turtle, but she’d insisted. Her father had spent the next two weeks making Turtle Crossing signs with Junie and posting them up on trees around their neighborhood.

  “I’m sorry about your dad. He was a good man.”

  Junie looked down at her lap. Her heart swelled with pride. Guilt tamped at that swelling. Of course he was. I’m such an idiot. “Thank you.”

  “How’s your mom holding up?”

  “Oh, you know, as well as to be expected. Dad’s death was so sudden, it’s still really fresh. She’s not really used to it—none of us are.”

  “I don’t think we ever get used to it.” He leaned forward on the desk. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure? I haven’t seen you since you brought that beautiful baby girl around.”

  Junie fiddled with her keys. Her face flushed. “Sarah. She’s four now.” Junie didn’t want to talk about Sarah. When people asked how Sarah was, Junie had to decide if she was going to say all positive things, which is what most people wanted to hear—she’s happy, loves school, has tons of friends—or if she was going to say the truth—I think she’s happy, she only speaks to me, she isn’t really accepted easily by other children, she wets her bed and sucks her thumb. Oh, and her dad wants to label her as emotionally disturbed. “I’ve been thinking about Ellen Olson.”

  “I wondered when you’d come around about that. You two were thick as thieves.” He cleared his throat. “Your mom, the Getty Girls, they all worried over you day and night. Do you remember that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We all wondered what would happen, if you would be okay.”

  Junie shook her head. She had no memory of anyone doting on her. She felt Deputy Lyle’s eyes on her, as if he were gauging her reaction. “I have moments of memories. You know, Selma telling me not to worry, that sort of thing. I just can’t remember anything around the actual event. I don’t really remember what happened. The investigation, I mean. Brian hates to talk about it, so all I really know is that she was there one day and gone the next.”

  Deputy Lyle stood and opened the drawer of a filing cabinet. “That’s pretty much what did happen, Juniebu—Junie.” He removed a thick green file and leafed through it. He let out a long sigh and sat back down in his chair, eying the framed photograph of his daughter, just a few years younger than Junie, which sat on the corner of his desk. “You sure you want to dredge all of this up again?”

  “That’s the thing. There’s nothing to dredge up. I have zero memories of what happened when she disappeared or afterward. It’s like I blocked it out—and all the weeks around it, or something—and I feel like I’ve disrespected our friendship by not remembering.” Junie hadn’t realized that she’d been carrying that guilt until the very moment the words left her lips. As much as it hurt, she was almost relieved, saying the words aloud, as if she’d been carrying them around like a burden, and a great weight was lifted. She brushed her hair from her face and said, “I think I need to understand what happened. I mean, I know they didn’t find her, but did you guys have any idea what happened? Who took her?”

  Deputy Lyle set the open file down on the desk.

  Ellen’s seven-year-old face smiled up from the last school photo ever taken of her. Junie’s heart jumped. She hadn’t seen Ellen in so many years. The ache of missing her came rushing back. Junie’s hand shook as she reached for the photograph. “May I?”

  Deputy Lyle nodded. A gentle smile plumped his cheeks. “Junie, the way these things work, it’s not like in the movies, where clues are left on sidewalks and wrapped up in a half-hour episode. We traced Ellen’s whereabouts and came up with nothing. No witnesses, except the librarian who had seen her leave the library. She’d said goodbye to her, and Ellen had told her she was going home for dinner.”

  Junie stared into Ellen’s eyes, barely registering his words. There she was, the Ellen she had spent every moment of her childhood days with. The Ellen she’d taken for granted as always being there—a friend at the ready, whether it was Saturday morning at seven a.m. or an afternoon after school. Ellen, whom she ached to talk to, to laugh with, to see.

  Deputy Lyle cleared his throat, calling her attention back to him. “After that, she vanished.”

  Junie handed him back the photograph. “Vanished? People don’t just vanish.” Junie’s heart raced. She thought of Sarah playing in the yard by herself and made a mental note not to allow her to do that anymore. Vanished.

  “Right, we know that. We talked to…those we thought might have seen her.” His eyes drifted to his lap.

  “Like who?”

  Deputy Lyle shifted in his chair. “People along the route home. People from the school, the library.”

  “The school?”

  “Yes, in case she had gone back to the school. Brian had thought she might have gone there. Sometimes she stopped by to play in the playground, heck, all the kids did. We checked the creek, in case…”

  “And did you find anything?” Just ask him! She fidgeted with her hands.

  “It rained that evening, making it hard to find anything. Even the search dogs couldn’t nail down a scent. There seemed to be a trail to the school and to the creek, but you girls used to go there all the time, and there was no indication of a struggle, or even that she’d been there.”

  “It just makes no sense.” I can’t ask him. I have to. Junie wanted to know about her father—had he been questioned? Even though Shane had put her father’s integrity into perspective for her, Junie still needed to hear the truth from Deputy Lyle. She was afraid to ask. Junie loved her father, and part of her didn’t want to disappoint him, even though he was no longer living. She didn’t want Deputy Lyle to think poorly of her, either. Junie bit her lip and stifled the urge to ask the question.

  “No, it doesn’t make sense, but not all things do. We’re not far off the interstate. The thought is that someone might have scooped her off the sidewalk, and—’”

  She had to do it. She couldn’t keep herself from asking. Her heartbeat sped up, as if it might burst from her chest at any moment. “Did you question my father?” There, I said it. Shit.

  Deputy Lyle squinted. “Your father?”

  Junie knew he was waiting for her to say something, some rationalization as to why she’d asked. I saw a vision of him. I have a funny feeling. I’m an idiot. She sat in silence, feeling foolish for pursuing the question.

  “Yes.” He nodded. “We questioned your father. We questioned all of the teachers, neighbors, her family.” He crossed his arms. “What’s this really about, Junie?”

  “I don’t know. I just want to get a handle on it. Were there any primary suspects?”

  “Is there something about your father that is troubling you?”

  His eyes narrowed. He looked at her more intently, as if he could see into her thoughts. Was it her imagination, or had he straightened his back, sat taller, more in control of the conversation? Yes. She was sure of it. He’d changed into cop mode right before her eyes.

  Junie sighed. “No. I just thought that understanding what had happened would help, but I’m left with the same questions that I had when I came in here.” I just want to know
for sure that Dad wasn’t a suspect.

  Deputy Lyle came around the desk and sat on the edge of it. He folded his arms across his chest and softened his voice. “There is little in life worse than when a child disappears, Junie. It’s hard when we don’t understand what happened, or why, but we have to accept it and move on. I know it’s hard, without closure, and with losing your father, but let it rest, Junie. Don’t make yourself crazy over the past. Your father was a good man.”

  What about when the past becomes your present? Junie stood to leave, feeling as though she now had more questions than she did when she’d arrived.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “We thought you’d be back ages ago,” Ruth said sharply.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I got a little tied up at the bakery.” Junie leaned over and kissed the top of Sarah’s head, inhaling the soft scent of Johnson’s Baby Shampoo. Sarah didn’t look up from the game on Ruth’s laptop. Sadness swept through Junie like rushing heat. She wished her daughter would wrap her arms around her neck and croon about how much she’d missed her.

  “I wish you would have called. I was worried.”

  The tone in Ruth’s voice made Junie realize how self-absorbed she’d been. She’d left her mother to care for Sarah, expecting it to be acceptable, and it was acceptable, but that didn’t make it right. Ruth was strong, but Junie was expecting too much from her. She’d slipped into spoiled teenager mode too easily, leaving Mommy to deal with whatever she couldn’t at the moment. She stood before Ruth and took both of her hands in her own. “I’m sorry, Mom. You’re right. I should have called.”

  Ruth looked away, then back at Junie, and Junie watched her furrowed brow soften. “It’s okay. I’m just—”

  “No, Mom, it’s not okay. I’m really sorry.” She wasn’t going to allow Ruth to let her off the hook that easily. She was being selfish. She needed to pay more attention to her mother’s feelings. Was Junie mollycoddling Sarah in the same way? She had to wonder.

  “It’s fine, Junie. Really. I’m just tired.”

  “As well you should be. I’ll try to be more thoughtful.” Junie sat down at the table. “Have you heard from Brian? He was gonna call when he got back to Virginia, but I haven’t heard from him.” She tossed her cell phone on the table. “I was hoping it was a cell issue.”

  “No,” Ruth said. “He’s busy and probably upset. He’ll call when he’s ready.”

  Golden boy Brian. Why was she upset over the way her mother made excuses for Brian? Ruth saw the kindness in him, that he was a loving father and a generous husband, and he was all those things, but there was another side to Brian—a side that only a wife could see. Junie would be lying if she called him mean or even unloving, but there was definitely something that flashed cold at times when she needed warmth. Ready may never come. “I was thinking about taking Sarah to the park. Do you want to come?”

  “No, I think I’m going to lie down for a while. What about dinner?” Ruth opened the fridge and stared into it.

  Junie stood and put her arms around Ruth, hugging her close. “We have more food from the neighbors than we could ever eat. Go, rest. We’ll grab something ourselves, ’kay?”

  Ruth nodded, and Junie wondered how she might ever get past her father’s death. She’d heard about spouses losing their will to live when their partner died. The thought sent a shiver up her back and a wave of nausea through her gut.

  “Want us to stay?” Junie asked.

  “No, please, go. Sarah needs some activity.” Ruth laid her hand softly on Sarah’s head. Sarah didn’t even flinch. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to rest a bit. If I need anything, I can always call Selma or Mary Margaret.”

  And just like that, Junie realized exactly how very apparent her inability to nurture was. She longed to be relied upon in that same confident way that Selma and Mary Margaret were. If her own mother wasn’t feeling taken care of by Junie, was her own family?

  Junie buttoned Sarah’s yellow sweater as Sarah stood motionless, nonplussed. They stood before the swings, which hung still above a circle of mulch. The seesaw perched on its angled mount, lonely and bare, the blue paint chipped, names etched deep into the wood. Junie walked over until she stood next to its center. She reached out and ran her finger along the initials, long ago scratched into the seesaw with a sharp, gray rock. The etching, “E + J,” was now filled with paint. Only the faintest outline of the letters remained. Fogginess bloomed in the back of Junie’s mind, moving forward like dark storm clouds. Junie leaned against the seesaw, grasping the edge within her fingers. She could see Ellen’s face, smiling, laughing at the edge of the woods. She heard her own, younger voice. “No, Ellie! We’re not allowed!” Ellen turned and disappeared into the woods. The darkness in Junie’s mind masked the evening with a blur filled with flashes of Ellen’s screaming face, her arms reaching far above her head, palms out. Shit. Not now. Junie dropped to her knees, her face in her hands. The rhythm of the chains that held Sarah’s swing grated at the edge of her mind. Sarah. Junie lifted her eyes, looking through her fog at Sarah’s outline on the swing. She blinked again and again until her vision cleared and her heartbeat began to slow.

  Sarah swung, oblivious to her mother’s plight. She kicked her legs forward and back, swinging slowly.

  What the hell is happening to me? Junie stood on shaky legs. Her eyes scanned the edge of the woods. She had to clear her head, figure things out. Deputy Lyle hadn’t clarified anything relating to Ellen’s disappearance, and Junie felt like she was at a dead end. Ellen had to be showing herself for a reason. She must be missing something.

  “Sarah, let’s go for a walk.” She heard the tension in her own voice and mentally ticked it down a notch.

  Sarah continued swinging, her gaze straight ahead.

  “Come on, honey. Let’s go to the creek.” She slowed Sarah’s swing and helped her down to the ground.

  Sarah took her hand. Her eyes remained flat, but her lips curled into a smile.

  The brush thinned as they walked hand in hand deep into the woods, toward the sound of trickling water. Junie’s heartbeat slammed against her chest as Ellen’s giggles played in her mind. No, Ellie! We’re not allowed! Junie had spent her youth yielding to her father’s warnings about the danger of being near the creek. Only derelicts hang out back there. The creek is deceptively deep. Anything can happen. She’d spent her teen years ignoring those same warnings, secretly spiriting away into the woods around the creek.

  Trees were etched with hearts and initials from young sweethearts. They followed a well-traveled path, the dirt below them packed hard and bare. They passed Lovers’ Rock—an enormous boulder that couples could climb atop to be out of sight when they were feeling amorous. Junie had visited the secret love nest only twice that she could remember. Both times were with Tommy Dee, a middle school crush. She’d tried to entice Brian into going there with her, a playful little jaunt to experience what it might have been like with him, lacrosse star extraordinaire, had they been together in high school, but Brian would have nothing to do with the childish games.

  The familiar scent of damp earth became stronger as they neared the creek, inciting a trembling in Junie’s limbs that she didn’t understand. It dawned on Junie that she could remember before Ellen had disappeared, and she could remember starting school in the fall, but she was not certain how much time she had lost. Was it days? Weeks? How far back, how many details, did most people remember from when they were seven years old? As they walked toward the creek, she tried to retrieve particular memories to define just how much time she had forgotten—or blocked out.

  Sarah pulled to the side and stopped walking. Junie continued forward, stopping when Sarah’s arm became immovable. She turned around. “Sarah?”

  The edge of Sarah’s yellow sweater was caught on a bramble.

  “Oh goodness,” Junie said, and began pulling the poky spines from her daughter’s sweater. “How’d this happen, sweetie?”

  Junie followed Sarah’s s
ilent gaze beyond the bramble to the edge of the creek, where it arced toward a thick tree. Beneath the tree, a mass of large rocks spilled into the creek. Atop the rocks lay two red roses.

  Junie’s hand covered her gasp. Sarah struggled toward them. Junie squeezed Sarah’s hand in her own, urging her back toward the park. Sarah whimpered, pulling toward the thorny brush.

  Great. When Sarah got her mind set on something, it was hard to break her focus. “Sarah, let’s go back. It’s getting late.” And Mommy’s getting anxious.

  Sarah would have no part of a retreat. She tugged with all her might, flailing her blond hair from side to side and clawing at her mother’s fingers. Sarah loved roses as much as Junie loathed them. Sarah broke free from Junie’s grasp, running on her tiny legs toward the flowers. Junie hurried after her, ignoring the spiky thorns as they snagged her jeans. A chill ran through her when Sarah picked up the carefully cut green stems and smelled the beautiful blooms.

  Junie reached for the stems. “Honey, they’re prick—”

  At that very second, Sarah screamed, dropping the roses to the ground. She held her bloodied finger straight out in front of her, her eyes clenched shut, her pain-filled wail echoing in the woods.

  Junie reached for her. Sarah fought and screamed, batting at her mother’s hands.

  “Let me help you,” Junie pleaded. The setting sun streamed through a mass of trees, illuminating Sarah’s tortured face. Junie froze. It was her daughter’s voice that cried out, but it was Ellen’s fearful eyes, Ellen’s shaking hands before her. Junie tried to hear past the rush of adrenaline that coursed through her. Ellen. She knew it wasn’t Ellen, and yet she couldn’t see through Ellen’s fright. Junie shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Sarah. Sarah.