“Calm down, Molly,” he said, spitting the twig onto the ground. “Calm down. I’m not saying that you are a suspect. I’m simply wondering why you’re here and letting you know that the abductor usually visits the crime scene shortly after the crime.” Officer Brown watched Molly’s back as she stopped walking. “Yup, there have been cases when killers have actually been at the scene while the police were investigating, within hours of the murder.”
Molly spun around, “Well, let’s hope that you are not investigating a murder,” she said, emphatically.
“Of course,” he said casually, and he turned to walk out of the woods, hesitating a moment later. “Molly,” he said with his back to her, “let me know if you find anything here, will ya?” he continued walking away. “Officer Brown!” Molly called after him. He turned. “Were you following me, Office Brown?” she asked with a hint of concern. “How did you know I was here?”
“Actually, I wanted to catch up to you, but you had driven away. So,” he paused, motioned around with his right hand, “I suppose, yes, I followed you.” “Why?” she asked. He stared blankly at her, puzzled. “I mean, why did you want to catch up to me after I was at the station?” she asked.
“Oh!” he said jovially. “I wanted to let you know that I looked into the Rodney Lett thing, and sure enough, he was buried in Delaware, so there’s no chance that he’s part of this. There’s no correlation between the two.” He looked pleased with the news.
Molly nodded, processing the information. She couldn’t help herself, she felt compelled to throw it back at him, “Well, I wasn’t really concerned that Rodney Lett was the one who took Tracey. I was more concerned that whoever took Kate might have also taken Tracey.”
“I told you, Molly, Rodney Lett is dead and buried.”
This is a positive journey I’m on, Pastor Lett reminded herself as she drove toward the Porters’ home. She realized that she’d been reminding herself of her role quite often recently. The events of late were reminiscent of her own journey, years ago—like opening an old wound. Celia is hurting, scared, and probably feels to blame, she thought to herself. It’s my job as her pastor to ease that pain and to relieve that guilt.
Anger grew within her as she thought of the procedures the police used to try and find Tracey Porter. The systems currently in place were the same lame checks and balances, in her opinion, as they had been twenty years earlier when they had investigated the disappearance of Kate Plummer. She grasped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned from white to red. Her mind turned to Rodney. How could anyone have looked at that big lug and thought he could hurt a child? She clenched her jaw and pulled the car to the side of the road, tears clouding her vision. She remembered Rodney’s face contorting with fear and pain for Kate when she had told him she was missing.
Rodney had sobbed. She remembered his pudgy, fisted hands, rubbing his tears away like a child might have done, but it had been Rodney’s reaction to the photo of Kate that had rocked Pastor Lett to her core. He had gone still as a statue. He had taken the photo out of Pastor Lett’s hand and had stared into the innocent eyes of Kate Plummer, as if he had, at that moment, through the image on the photo paper, connected with her. Rodney had said, “Girl in dark place.” Just like that—without explanation, without thought, or so it had seemed at the time. Those four words had terrified Pastor Lett.
She hadn’t wanted to leave Rodney that evening, but she had an obligation to the church. She had to complete her work, and then, she had promised herself, then she would focus on Rodney and try to understand those words—but it had been too late.
The phone call from the police had sent Pastor Lett rushing to the police station, chiding herself for having left Rodney at home alone. She had been taken to the interrogation room and had found Rodney sitting at that awful metal table, looking like a child caught sneaking a piece of candy from his favorite store—remorseful for an act he didn’t quite understand. The look he had given Pastor Lett when she had arrived—those big dark eyes pleading with fear—had filled her with remorse. Pastor Lett had gone to him, held him, and Rodney had sobbed on her shoulder. “Girl in dark place,” he had repeated. Pastor Lett stiffened at the words, having known full well why the police had brought Rodney in for questioning. Pastor Lett had thought, had hoped, that Officer Katan, a past member of the church who had known Rodney well and had been to their home for dinner, would protect her brother—but she was wrong.
The questioning, which had been futile at best, had left the police with little to go on.
“Rodney,” Officer Katan had asked, looking at Pastor Lett with an expression of apology, “do you know Kate Plummer?”
Rodney had rocked in his seat, a motion Pastor Lett had known too well—a motion that brought Rodney deeper into his own mind. Rodney had replied, “Girl in dark place. Girl in dark place.”
Again, Katan asked, “Rodney, do you know Kate Plummer?” He had taken Rodney’s rocking as affirmation of his knowledge.
“Wait!” Pastor Lett had pleaded. “He doesn’t know the girl. He’s only seen a picture of her!” she insisted. “Katan, he doesn’t know her!” Pastor Lett had turned frantically to Rodney, imploring him, “Rodney, tell them the truth. Tell them you don’t know Kate!” she had pleaded, but it had been like pleading with a child who knew he was right and didn’t understand the parental confusion.
Rodney had rocked harder, stating adamantly, “Girl in dark place!”
Then Katan had asked, “Rodney, where did you put her? Is she alive?”
Pastor Lett had stood abruptly, fisting her hands and breathing heavily. Rodney stopped rocking. He seemed to crawl inside his head for a moment, swimming around and coming out with a deep breath and an answer, “No pain. She’s with mommy,” Rodney had said.
Katan had hovered angrily over Rodney, yelling at him, “Mommy? Kate’s mother is not dead, Rodney. She has cancer, but she’s not dead! What the hell did you do, you big fool?”
Pastor Lett had stepped in between Rodney and Katan protectively. “Don’t you dare accuse him, Katan,” she had said sternly.
Rodney, confused by the anger, stood up, towering over Katan. Katan had squared his shoulders, staring at the large man’s thick chest. “Sit down, Rodney,” he commanded.
Rodney had looked down at him and said emphatically, “With mommy. Not in pain. No pain!”
Katan had taken that to mean that he had killed her.
Pastor Lett swooped into action—wrapping her arms around Rodney and allowing Rodney to cling to her, like a child fearing a stranger. Pastor Lett put her hand to the back of Rodney’s head, as if shielding him from Officer Katan. “Rodney, don’t say what you don’t know. You’re confusing Officer Katan.” She looked at Officer Katan and said, “He doesn’t know what he’s saying. Surely you see that.” Rodney watched Officer Katan out of the corner of his eyes. “Carla, Rodney not bad!” he said, tears striping his cheeks. “No, no, Rodney’s not bad.” Pastor Lett had assured him. The tears she had been holding back broke free. “Girl in dark place—with mommy,” Rodney whispered.
Pastor Lett had grasped for an explanation, her heart beat hard against Rodney’s cheek. “Look, Katan. You know Rodney. He didn’t do this. He…” she hesitated, her chest tight with fear, “he knows things sometimes.” She had tried to explain, knowing full well that Officer Katan might think she was crazy or perhaps arrest them both, but counting on Officer Katan’s compassion and his history of knowing Rodney. “He knows things that happen,” she said sheepishly, “sometimes before and sometimes after the event—but…it’s real.”