“Sure. It happened July 10th, a Sunday. I remember because I don’t make a habit of drivin’ after dark, but my sister in Thompsonville had a potluck. By the time we got the dishes washed, it was after ten p.m. I drove home real slow. My eyes don’t work too well in the dark. I come around a curve, just past Sapphire Lane, and there she stood on the side of the road, wearing nothin’ but a yellow t-shirt and shorts, and only one single shoe. If I hadn’t been lookin’ so hard, I’d’a run her right over.”
“Why are you so sure it’s Susie? There are a lot of young blonde women who live around there.”
“Oh, I figured you’d say that. I knew because of that yellow t-shirt with the red lips and tongue stickin’ out. Not somethin’ I ever would have let my daughter out of the house in.”
Abe jotted down her comments. Liz had told him Susie went to a Rolling Stones concert in Detroit during July 1972, a little over one month before her disappearance. She had bought the t-shirt there. Liz had not been a fan of the shirt, but respected her daughter’s right to wear what she wanted. Abe suspected Liz’s dislike of the shirt helped her realize it was absent after Susie went missing.
“Is it possible that another young woman was wearing the same shirt?” He knew it was. Eyewitnesses were rarely reliable, but he didn’t say so.
“I’m sure all kinds of young women wear that hideous shirt, but no. This was the same girl from the paper. I’d bet my life on it.”
“Can you remember what else she wore?”
“Just what I told you. Blue shorts, and one sneaker. I thought she must have gone mad.”
Abe stared at the words, the same description the trucker had given.
“Did you speak to her? Did she wave?”
“No. She likely had her thumb stuck out, but I had no intention of pickin’ up a hitchhiker in the middle of the night. I drove on by.”
“Did you see anyone pick her up after you passed her?”
“No. I looked back and didn’t see her in the mirror, but it was dark, so I didn’t expect I would.”
Chapter 28
Hazel
“My goodness,” Liz smiled as she walked into Hazel’s yard.
Tables crowded the yard, loaded with donated household items, clothes, tools, and even furniture.
“A lot of people donated.” Hazel beamed. “Everyone loves Orla.”
Liz smiled and picked up a glazed black and orange vase.
“That was my mother’s,” Hazel told her.
Liz frowned.
“You’re selling it?”
Hazel nodded.
“The attic is filled with her stuff. Next week will mark three years since she died. It’s time to let a few things go.”
Liz stepped to Hazel and wrapped her arms around her.
“I’m approaching three years without Susan. I haven’t parted with so much as a sock. You’re a stronger woman than me.”
Hazel hugged her back, resting her head on her shoulder.
“Weird, in a way,” she murmured. “You lost a daughter three years ago, and I lost a mom.”
Liz pulled back, studying Hazel’s face.
“Perhaps that’s why we’ve been brought together,” Liz said. She sighed and gazed at Hazel’s garden. “If only it could have been under happier circumstances.”
She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small pearl bracelet.
“This was Susie’s.” She handed the bracelet to Hazel. “Can I ask why you want something that belonged to her?”
Hazel took the piece of jewelry, the fake pearls shining in the sun, and thought of the girl standing on the dock.
“I read the tarot. I wanted to do a reading about Susie, and it helps to use a memento. I promise I’ll return it.”
Liz gazed sadly at the bracelet.
“It has no value. Susan didn’t wear much jewelry. Jerry bought it for her to wear with an Easter dress during grade school, and she took a liking to it. The last couple of years before she disappeared, she mostly wore it on her ankle.”
“I’m partial to ankle bracelets myself,” Hazel told her, tilting her leg so Liz could see the hemp anklet she wore beneath her long skirt.
Calvin pulled into the driveway and jumped from his car, followed by an explosion of yellow balloons. He held the ribbons clutched in his hand.
“Nearly lost the bunch of them in the parking lot,” he announced.
“They’re perfect,” Hazel called. “I’ll help you tie them.”
Liz and Hazel took balloons and moved among the tables, tying the balloons to the legs.
“Orla’s favorite color is yellow,” Hazel confided.
“Susan’s was green. Her graduation from high school was like a leprechaun’s birthday party.”
Hazel smiled.
She spotted Mr. Sullivan’s pickup moving down the road. He parked at the curb and moved to the back, lifting out a cardboard box.
“Hi, Patrick,” Liz said, offering to take the box.
He nodded at Liz, and then Hazel.
“Fiona and I really appreciate you putting all this together,” he said. “There’re clothes in that one. I’ve got tools and some other stuff.”
When he returned with a small wooden rocking horse, Liz shook her head.
“Oh, no, Patrick. Don’t give away Orla’s rocking horse.”
“It wasn’t Orla’s,” he said.
Hazel glanced at Liz, but neither of them asked the question.
He answered anyway.
“Fiona and I lost our infant son.”
“I’m sorry,” Susan murmured.
“Me too,” Hazel added.
She considered the three of them, such different people, experiencing such similar pain.
“Someone donated a first edition of The Catcher in the Rye! For a garage sale,” Calvin yelled as he dug through a box. "Hazel, I’ll give you twenty bucks for it right now.”
Hazel rolled her eyes.
“He loves books,” she explained. “Sure, Calvin. Put your money in the lockbox.”
“Abe’s article’s been shaking things loose,” he said. “Had three cops stop by my house in the last two days.”
“No cops at mine,” Liz sighed. “But half a dozen reporters. I try to remember there’s no bad publicity, but Jerry’s taken to sneaking across our neighbors’ back lawn and borrowing their car if he needs to go to the store.”
Patrick nodded grimly.
“Fiona’s not one for the attention, either. She hasn’t opened the store since the article came out.”
“Did she read it?” Hazel asked.
He shook his head.
“Unlikely. She’s hangin’ by a thread. My sister Effie’s coming for a visit this weekend. She has a way with Fiona, calms her.”
“That’s Liam’s mom?” Hazel asked. Orla had told Hazel about her aunt, who she loved like her own parents. The woman drank beer and swore while knitting booties for Liam’s baby daughter.
“That’s her. She’s a brute, though she barely reaches my shoulder. Used to thump me good as kids. She still keeps me in line. Orla and her are thick as thieves.”
“Good,” Liz murmured unpacking a box of coffee mugs. “It’s important to have support right now. The early days are the hardest.”
Hazel saw tears welling in Patrick’s eyes, and he turned away.
“Channel six news,” Calvin announced, pointing at a news van pulling up across the street. “You guys ready to raise some reward money?”
By the end of the day, they’d raised over eight hundred dollars. Nearly everyone who purchased items from the sale donated an extra few dollars.