Seven Wakings Read online

  I hate to put him through this, but I’ll come back when it’s time to fall asleep.

  When I run through the woods, my emotions race. Feelings flit from fear for the missing kids, anger about my death, sorrow for my children, passion for Joe. Under foot, leaves crunch, twigs snap, mud slips. But I don’t sense any of it. I’m lost in the blur of my current reality. On the other side of the ravine, I’m stopped short by the sight of Lynette’s house.

  She and the kids are playing Frisbee golf in the front yard with Rico. They seem happy. Happy without me.

  I reel in my injured ego, pull leaves from my hair, and cross the street.

  Lynette and Kate seem to feel the energy change, look toward me.

  As I approach the yard, Rico jumps up and licks my face. I don’t know why he recognizes me in this body.

  “Hello,” I say and try to rally for another explanation.

  Lynette and Kate react. Their expressions are uniquely different: Lynette is curious, Kate suspicious.

  “I love you more than you could ever possibly know.”

  Lynette hugs me. “It’s about damn time. Where have you been?”

  I lean in to half-hug her and whisper, “You know Joe… the hot lawyer? Let’s just say we’ve come to know each other very, very well.”

  She is gap-mouthed. “Now, this is a story I have to hear!”

  “You should be so lucky.” I smile at her. Rico jumps around us.

  She rubs her hands together. “Details… I want details.”

  “All in good time, my friend. All in good time. Let’s just say… Greek God.”

  Mac sizes me up, searches for his mother behind a stranger’s eyes. “At least this one’s female. You’re getting closer to a mother type.”

  Kate opens Lynette’s front door for me and ushers me in. “So, we’re just supposed to suspend all doubt and believe that you’re our mom?”

  “God that would make this so much easier, Pumpkin.”

  Something in my retort, relaxes Kate’s shoulders. “That’s a plausible response.”

  “Using your big girl words today?” I put my arm around her. She doesn’t pull away.

  “It’s a spelling word for this week. All the words have a legal foundation like: conceivable, verifiable, incontestable.”

  She’s hinting at something. “So which am I?”

  “Conceivable…until further evidence accumulates.”

  “And how did this change of heart take place?”

  “Only you interject ‘Pumpkin’ and ‘Honey’ when you’re talking to us. Besides… Grandpa told me you’d be different.”

  I smile, squeeze her a little more.

  She puts her arm around my waist.

  Inside, Lynette starts making grilled cheese sandwiches, cutting vegetables, and mixing juice— knowing my response to the question, “Are you hungry?” is always yes.

  Mac watches me intently as we sit at her kitchen table.

  Abruptly I say, “I think I’m the bad guy.”

  Kate and Lynette turn toward me, and I detail the scene with the men in the driveway.

  “We should Google you.” Mac goes to the padded bench in front of Lou’s computer. Within seconds, pages pop up on Vanessa Montgomery. “Holy crap! You’re Richard Gilchrist’s daughter. You know… the billionaire.”

  I scoot in beside him. There are newspaper clippings from her wedding to Joe.

  “He’s a good-looking guy.” Kate sits down on the other side of Mac. “Dad would have killed for a head of hair like that.”

  “It’s chestnut,” I say. “…and wavy.” Lynette and Kate look at me, eyebrows raised. I try to mask my love-glow and ask Mac, “What does it say about him?”

  “Aren’t we supposed to be looking into you?”

  “Right after we look into him.”

  Mac Googles Joe. “Says here that he’s a prominent lawyer, handles the Gilchrist estate, and his mother is Chief Judge for the Baltimore City Courts. He’s been married for three years. No kids.” Mac clicks on a link for Richard Gilchrist. My body waves with static; he makes me physically ill. Every cell in my body reacts with revulsion. I turn away, don’t notice the other woman in the photograph.

  “Brunch is served.” Lynette brings the food to the table. The kids and I grab plates, glasses, and silverware.

  Sitting, I ask about the meds Vanessa takes. “What are clothes-a-pin and excited/recital/program used for?” I take a bite of the sandwich and pull the toast away slowly, trying to make long cheese strings. Mac always wins this unspoken contest.

  “I beg your pardon?” Lynette says.

  Mac makes squeaking noises and points to his longer lines of cheese.

  I snarl playfully at him. “Joe’s wife has to take them every day.”

  Lynette is thinking. “Do you mean Escitalopram and Clozapine?”

  “I knew you’d know what I was talking about.” I crunch a piece of celery as loud as I can next to Kate’s ear. She responds in kind.

  Lynette shoots me a can-we-be-serious-for-a-minute look. “They’re anti-psychotics.”

  All three of us look at Lynette, slack-jawed.

  “She’s crazy?” Mac says.

  Lynette says, “That’s not the term I would use, but yes, the medications indicate mental health issues. ”

  “Like what?” I drink water like I’m filling up for another round with Joe.

  “There’s no way of knowing. It could be the way she’s wired or she could have experienced things like severe attachment traumas, physical, mental, or sexual abuse, abandonment…”

  The phone rings.

  “I bet it’s Archer. If he gives you any resistance, tell him you have some new evidence he has to see.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin left over from my father’s gathering. His death feels like both a million years ago, and yesterday simultaneously. I’d give anything to be able to go back in time. I can’t believe I ever thought that life was too hard to live. Death is far more complicated.

  After a brief exchange, Lynette hangs up the phone and says, “He’ll be here in an hour.”

  “How are we going to get him to investigate Vanessa, and the men on bikes?” Rico nuzzles my leg.

  “What about the run-in you had with her dog, before you were killed?” Kate asks, mirroring my body language.

  “You mean the ‘Hell Dog’?”

  “Yeah. You said her dog nearly attacked you while she stood in the driveway talking to the guys from the Church.”

  “Okay…” I wonder where she’s going with this.

  “Well, I am my mother’s daughter. What if— after you were killed— I followed these guys, thinking the men seemed suspicious? Think about it,” Kate says. “If I watched from the woods, I could have seen the whole exchange this morning…and ‘found’ this envelope.” She pulls out the photos that were shown to me in Vanessa’s driveway. “Archer can use these as evidence, and take them to the Chief to protect these kids. Maybe it’ll convince him that the others aren’t runaways.”

  Apparently, I pause too long for Lynette’s liking. She puts her hands on her hips. “You want me to lie to a police officer and let your daughter perjure herself?”

  “To save kids, I’d do anything. Besides…” I joke, “I’m dying to know who killed me.”

  My joke falls flat. Lynette crosses her arms.

  Mac breaks the tension. “Archer will be here soon. We’d better go.”

  Lingering behind, Lynette says, “I just need to think about the psychological ramifications of…”

  I look at her like I could taser her.

  “Fine. I’m in. But if anything happens, you’re to blame.” She takes the dishrag from me and snaps out the wrinkles.

  “Duly noted,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  The kids follow me out the back door, and over to our house. As we sit at the computer to watch, I’m reminded that Lynette is the worst liar I have ever known. Before Archer even rings the bell, she fidgets like a crack addict.

  �
�Settle down.” I speak low into the phone. “You look like you’re Jones-ing.”

  Lynette stops pacing, takes a deep breath, then another.

  The doorbell rings.

  She opens the door, forces a smile. “Please… come right in.”

  Archer offers her a bag of pastries. “The guy at Highs said Emma used to buy these for you.” He removes his jacket. “I was looking for DeWayne there, but couldn’t find him.”

  “He… uh, checked into a rehab/shelter last night.” She hangs up Archer’s jacket. “Lou’s Place on 6th.”

  “I know about Lou’s. The guy that runs that place is a saint.”

  Lynette smiles. “Not when he leaves his dirty clothes on the floor.” Lynette picks up a sweatshirt and tosses it toward the basement door.

  “He’s your…”

  “My one and only.” Lynette opens the bag, peeks inside. “The last time I had this Danish was the day that Emma was killed.” She seems lost in thought, then gives Archer a quick hug. “Thank you. As Emma would say… ‘Your Momma raised you well’.”

  He laughs. “I was lucky to be adopted by great people.”

  “Oh…” Lynette looks flustered. “I hope I didn’t …”

  “No worries. They’re the best. Really.”

  Lynette heads to the kitchen for plates. “I wish I could say the same, but my folks are the reason I became a therapist. Nothing traumatic, just the usual dysfunction. But I can tell you that birth parents aren’t automatically qualified to raise kids, just because they can procreate.”

  Archer smiles. “Don’t I know it.” He sits in his appointed chair.

  Lynette puts the pastries on a side table and moves past the small talk. “Have you thought about how to move forward?”

  “Honestly…I wish I had something concrete to go on. The idea that Emma’s murder is related to the kidnapping cases seems like a stretch.”

  Lynette clenches her jaw; glances at the camera. “What if I have some new evidence?”

  “Why would you have evidence?”

  “In my goddaughter’s— Kate’s— zealousness to make sense of her mother’s murder, she followed two men that Emma saw, twice, on the morning she was killed. Just this morning Kate found this.”

  Lynette hands Archer the envelope. He removes the photos. “They’re just like the missing girls.”

  “Exactly.” Lynette gets up, pours two cups of coffee, and brings them back to the table.

  “Where did she find this?” Archer inspects the envelope.

  “In the woods, next to the first house on East Howard Road. The men left it there after an exchange they had with a woman.” Lynette takes a sip of her coffee.

  “That’s Vanessa Montgomery’s house.”

  Lynette looks surprised. “How do you…?”

  “Uh… I’ve looked into the Gilchrists for other reasons.” He picks up his mug, covers his expression.

  Odd response.

  “Kate overheard the men saying that they’re looking for a ‘sixth and final girl’ within the next five days,” Lynette says.

  Archer looks to Lynette. “Emma thought this could be a ring.” He looks through the pictures. “Why do you think they’re taking these girls? What happens in five days?”

  “I don’t know. But whatever it is, it can’t be good.” Lynette cuts her pastry into pieces, takes a section.

  Archer goes quiet. “Maybe we should talk to the families of the missing girls.”

  Lynette puts down her coffee. “What if we set off alarms for the person who killed Emma.”

  “I think it’s a chance we have to take.”

  Lynette smiles. “I think so too. Should we work on some questions together, and you can do the talking?”

  Archer nods.

  During the calls, Lynette listens in, takes notes, and writes down additional questions Archer should ask. As suspected, none of them thought their children ran away, none were involved in sexual relationships or with drugs, no suspicious activity, and— when questioned separately— none suspected abuse was going on in the family.

  Archer sets times in the afternoon to meet with each family. His goal is to get sworn statements on all the pertinent information including… each of them who called in their child as “missing.”

  Something occurs to me. I whisper in the phone: “When Archer meets with the families, have him ask who they filed the missing persons’ report with. Whoever said they were runaways and not victims is the one involved.”

  Lynette relays the message, then offers to type up her notes for him.

  Archer smiles. “I’m sure you’re faster than me, considering I use one finger at a time.”

  Once the documentation is complete, Archer stands and picks up the manila envelope. “Would it be alright for me to take this? I need all the evidence I can get.”

  “I’ll just make a copy.” Lynette walks to a scanner next to the kitchen table.

  The front door opens; Lou’s home. I can see that he’s taken off guard.

  “I always knew I’d find you with a younger man,” he teases.

  Archer laughs. “Your wife is helping me with a case. She’s been great.” He shakes Lou’s hand. “Nice to see you.”

  “She’s always great.” Lou walks to Lynette, hugs her from behind, and moves her hair for a quick kiss on the neck. “Marry up, Kid. You’ll never regret it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.” Archer puts his hands in his pockets.

  Lynette hands Archer the original envelope. “It’s been good working with you. We’ll talk soon?”

  “Absolutely. You’ve been very helpful. Emma was lucky to have you as a friend.” Archer goes to shake Lynette’s hand.

  She gives him a hug instead. “You’re family now.”

  “Our family is now up to four hundred and three,” Lou jokes.

  Something occurs to me. I whisper: “Have Archer test the envelope for prints.”

  Lynette conveys the information, and shows him out.

  Lou looks around. “Where are the kids?”

  “They,” Lynette stammers, “wanted to be at their Mom’s house.”

  “Should I go get them?” Lou slides his hands around her waist.

  Lynette looks over at the computer screen, with a what-should-I-do face. “No… I uh… think we need a little time ‘alone’.” She kisses him.

  “They’re going to have to get comfortable being over here.” He kisses her neck.

  “I know, let’s just give it another week or so.” She kisses him with passion, looks like she’s decided to distract him the old-fashioned way.

  I turn the computer off and realize that I’ll be gone in a week, forever. I look around for the kids, can hear them bumping around upstairs. At the top of the landing I see they’re in an epic battle of Sock’em Boppers.

  “Clearly, we all need to burn off some steam. Let’s go to the arcade.”

  “Really?” Mac stops.

  Kate lands a padded right punch to Mac’s cheek, sending him flying onto the bed.

  He pops up. “Good one!”

  I remember my secret stash. “Let’s check the coffee can.”

  They seem to realize that only I would know where we keep the petty cash. We race each other down the stairs.

  There’s two hundred dollars in the jar. “Let’s take forty.”

  “Really, Mom?” Mac says.

  I notice he says Mom. “Why not? We’re celebrating!”

  Mac runs outside.

  Kate looks at me. She knows I mean that we’re celebrating the little bit of life I have left. I put my arm around her. “You never know what can happen. Who could have predicted this?” I gesture to my body.

  She smiles. “Should we call Lynette; tell her where we’re going?”

  I get hit with a pang of resentment. “Let’s give it about a half hour. I think she and Lou are ‘celebrating’ in their own way.”

  Kate looks at me. “That’s what you call an ‘over-share’.”

&n
bsp; “You’re going to have to get used to living in a house where a couple expresses love for each other.” I put the lid back on the coffee can and place it back in the cabinet.

  “You mean as opposed to your sexually repressed singleness?” She crosses her arms.

  “I wasn’t repressed. Just never found anyone that interested me the way your dad did.” I realize I have a teaching moment. “Besides, sex is sacred. And if you don’t treat it that way, the thrill will be gone before you’re even married.”

  “Mom, I’m the oldest virgin I know. And I’ve heard this speech before. It’s always ends with: Value yourself, in order to be valued by others. Give yourself away and your spirit will be bankrupt.”

  I give her a hug. “I didn’t know you actually listened.”

  “To every word. Even when I pretended not to.”

  Outside, we realize that we have a transportation issue. Even though Kate has her license, my car was government owned and taken back by CPS.

  “There’s always Grandpa’s bike,” Mac says. “I can sit in the basket, Kate on the bar, and you can peddle.

  “That’ll be a sight,” I say.

  We sneak Dad’s bike out of his garage and pile on. Peddling, I quickly realize that, while Vanessa looks great, she’s not that strong. Kate and I have to change positions halfway through the ride. Once at the arcade, we call Lynette to tell her where we are, and then exhaust our money on the games and our bodies on Dance, Dance Revolution.

  Afterwards, we ride home in the dark. Dropping the kids off at our house, I tell them I’ll see them both in the morning. They know I have to take Vanessa home. I’ll leave Dad’s bike in the woods for them to pick up tomorrow. They hug me, then walk side-by-side to Lynette’s house. The image of them walking away is a painful one. I distract myself by riding into a star-filled night.

  At Joe’s door, I’m filled with a mix of emotions: glad to see him again, envious that Vanessa will wake up next to him, scared that I’ll be one day closer to real death.

  I knock.

  As he opens the door, I forget everything and get lost in his eyes.

  “Where have you been? I nearly called the police.” He hugs me.

  “I… had business to take care of.” My stomach growls, as I walk through the door.