“She was, at one time. They went to school together and Girl Scouts and I believe they both belonged to the youth group at the church.” She looked over at Father Murphy for corroboration. “Jamie and Kim were very competitive. They are both up for …” She stopped and broke down crying. Her son reached up and took his mother’s hand. Shaking her head she just turned, letting go of her son’s hand and continuing to join the rest of her family in the parking area.
It was the boy who stopped to finish his mother’s sentence.
“Kimmy and Jamie were both running for prom queen. My sister was going to win.” He spoke defiantly as he turned and walked rapidly away, trying to catch up with the other family members.
“Mrs. Weston, please,” I yelled after her, now running myself. The glass doors shut behind me. “Does your daughter know Dylan Silver?”
She stopped immediately in the middle of the parking lot.
“Yes, of course, Dylan and Kimberly dated on and off since grade school. Why?” It was a demand, not a question her voice was raw with emotion. She was jittery and she wanted to go. I was holding her up and I could feel the resentment.
I gently took her arm in an effort to lend her some support.
“I’m just trying to find out what happened Mrs. Weston, and I need as much information as you can give me. I know that you’re anxious to get to the hospital and be with your daughter. I know, trust me, I have a daughter of my own. Did your daughter and Dylan get along?” I probed gently.
She turned back to see her husband settling his little girl in the back seat of Officer’s Beck’s patrol car.
“Do you think Dylan did this, Detective? Do you think Dylan did this to my baby?” It came out in a moan, her voice catching in her throat.
“I don’t know, Mrs. Weston, we have been trying to find him, to talk to him. He is just a person of interest at this time.”
She shook her head as if she was trying to picture something in her mind.
“I don’t know too much about Dylan anymore, detective. Kimmy stayed in touch with him, but she had said that ever since his mother was diagnosed with MS, he has changed. She was pretty concerned about him. They were best friends for years. They would go steady and then have a fight and break up. It was pretty tame stuff. Dylan spent a lot of time at my house and I liked him, but when his father was killed, he changed. When his mother got sick, Dylan became very aloof and stopped coming around. Kimmy said he became angry and bitter.” She turned back to see her family waiting for her.
“I have to go, I have to go be with my baby. I can’t do this right now.” She shook her head. “Please find out who did this to my girl.” She turned and walked away as I let go of her arm.
As a cop, I wanted to detain her and continue the interview. As a mother, I just had to let her go and be with her daughter. My questions would just have to wait.
Chapter Ten
Sunday morning
Weekends for Marty usually meant hanging out with family and friends. Although finding whoever was responsible for the heinous acts was a top priority, the investigation had stalled.
Numerous samples and possible DNA were processed at both crime scenes and sent to the lab, but results took time, and sometimes the waiting was excruciating.
They did establish that the can of lighter fluid found at the first scene was in fact the incendiary that caused the burns to the first victim, Jamie Camp. Unfortunately, there were no distinguishable fingerprints on the can, and the footprint casts that were made at the scene were inconclusive. They had yet to uncover any evidence of what had caused the burns to Kimberly’s face, and she had yet to regain consciousness.
Marty had slept most of Saturday, but Sunday he was alert and raring to go. He decided this would be the day he’d finally pop the question.
Hope
and Marty were spending the day with the Captain and his friends, Justin and Diane, and their new baby.
They had been watching the Yankee game when Marty offered to get the refreshments. He walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer to get ice for their drinks. He had scooped up a dozen or so cubes when he saw the wallet sitting on top of a carton of Birds Eye frozen peas.
His father had mentioned the evening before in a phone call that it was missing and he thought it might have been stolen. Marty picked it up and dried it off. He opened it to find two hundred dollars in cash.
He walked back into the living room a with a Cheshire grin on his face.
“You looking for this, Captain?” He held out the wallet like a trophy.
The Captain’s face expressed relief.
“Where did you find it? I just called and cancelled all my credit cards and was going to make an appointment to get a new driver’s license.” He took the wallet from his son’s grip. The feel of the cold leather puzzled him.
“It was hiding between the frozen sausages and green peas. I’ve heard of ‘cold cash,’ Captain, but isn’t this going too far?”
“Very funny. Maybe you should change careers and try comedy,” he answered, skimming through the folds of the wallet, making sure everything was in place.
“Unless you think that the French fries or cauliflower have a background in petty larceny, I think you can rest assured that the contents are all there.” Marty told him, a wide smirk on his face.
“How the hell did it end up in there?” his father cried out in disbelief.
Justin
, overhearing the conversation, couldn’t resist butting in. “Maybe the IRS is freezing your assets, Captain.”
“Very funny, Justin, maybe you should go on the road with your friend here,” he hollered back to his son’s friend, placing the wallet in the back pocket of his pants.
Hope
and Diane walked back downstairs, the baby cooing in Hope’s arms. Now in a fresh diaper and smelling like baby powder, the infant drooled happily into a clean cloth thrown over Hope’s shoulder.
A patch of the white baby powder had found a home on the hip area of Hope’s slacks. Marty gently brushed it off.
Not knowing exactly what was going on, but taking notice of the look on the Captain’s face and noticing the smirk on Marty’s, she immediately came to the older man’s defense.
“Captain, is he giving you a hard time? We can retaliate by me taking over the preparation for dinner. Marty is probably just salivating for my meatloaf.” She grabbed a spoon with her free hand, brought it to her lips, and playfully licked it.
A look of pure panic crossed Marty’s face. He had been looking forward to his dad’s ribs the whole week. He loved this woman to death, but the fact remained, the woman could not cook if her life depended on it.
“Not fair. That would be considered cruel and unusual punishment, and there’s no reason for Diane and Justin to be collateral damage.” Marty gently took the baby from her and lifted him in the air. A stream of drool landed on Marty’s face.
Hope
admired the fact that Marty took it in stride. The carrot-top infant looked so natural in Marty’s arms. She envied him that. She, on the other hand, felt totally inept and inadequate. No matter how many times Diane told her that the fears she was experiencing were absurd and that she had the makings of a wonderful mother, Hope wasn’t convinced.
The fact that she was a successful and well-respected child psychiatrist had no influence on her fears. She felt insecure and knew that, although intellectually she wasn’t like her mother, it didn’t keep her from fearing that she would eventually end up emulating the woman. That thought scared her immensely.
Her thought process was interrupted when she suddenly became aware of Marty calling her name.
“Hope… hello! Marty to Hope…”
“I’m sorry, I was daydreaming.” She looked at him and took the corner of the rag that was on her shoulder. Standing on her tiptoes, she wiped the baby’s drool from Marty’s cheek.
“More like you were on another planet,” Marty informed her.
“I’m sorry.” Hope turned her attention to Marty’s dad.
“Captain, can I help you with anything?” She then turned to Marty. “Why don’t you take the baby and keep Justin busy and out of trouble? Diane and I will help the Captain with dinner.”
“No, no, Hope. This chef works better solo,” the older Keal told her, almost in a panic, as he shooed her away from the entrance to the kitchen. “Why don’t you and Mary just settle back and relax. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Diane,” Hope corrected him.
“Right, sorry. Diane, Mary… whatever… Go. I’ll call you in when dinner’s ready.”
Reluctantly, she grabbed Marty’s hand and joined their friends in the den.
“See Hope? Even Mr. Magoo knows what a disaster you are in the kitchen,” Marty told her as they walked into the living room.
“What’s with the Mr. Magoo? What was going on when we walked in?” Hope asked.
Justin
filled her in.
“Marty found the Captain’s wallet in the icebox. He mistook it for a safe.” Justin said, laughing as he took possession of the baby, who had been passed around and now was finally lying across his father’s knees.
Suddenly something the Captain had said just seconds before took on a new meaning, but her attention was diverted when she noticed that Diane was giving Marty a verbal spanking and was curious to know what they were talking about. She put her concerns about the Captain on hold and sat down next to Marty. Diane mysteriously shut up.
“Am I interrupting something?” she asked, as she helped herself to a Wheat Thin from a bowl on the coffee table.
Giving Marty a sharp look, Diane answered her, redirecting the conversation.
“No, Marty was just telling me about Mayor Knox’s son. I think I remember him. He was a little weird. Do you remember him, Hope?” Not waiting for an answer, she continued. “Didn’t he go to the sleep-away camp with us? I think they caught him stealing the girls’ counselors’ underwear one year. Remember?”
“Was that him? Creepy Cam?” she coughed, trying not to choke on the cracker.
“Probably,” Marty replied. “He’s a bit strange.”
“Do you think he killed that girl, Marty?” Diane quizzed him curiously, as she handed Hope a glass of water.
“Honestly Diane, I don’t know. So far, we can’t find any evidence showing that he was anywhere near the body. We are trying to track down this Dylan Silver kid. Right now, he’s our number one suspect, because he seems to be missing. We have an APB out on him now.”
“How’s the other girl doing? Has she regained consciousness?” Hope responded after taking a sip of the water.
He shook his head.
Justin
spoke up.
“You should have seen this girl… she was beautiful—‘was’ being the operative word. So was Camp. Word from everyone we spoke to was that they were both a couple of Class “A” bitches. Beautiful but bitchy.” He took a long gulp of his drink.
Hope
turned to face Marty.
“Do you think that is the reason the girls were attacked, Marty? Could it be someone jealous of the girls’ attractiveness? It would explain the burns to the face.”
He took hold of her hand, massaging it. He looked over at Diane, who was glaring at him. Hope caught the tension in the air.
“What’s going on with you two?” Hope asked, turning from Marty to Diane.
The baby grabbed onto a strand of Diane’s long red hair, and she fought to get him to release his sticky fingers. Using that as an excuse, she smiled and ignored Hope’s question. Getting up, she grabbed Justin’s hand.
“Let’s go take the baby for a quick stroll, maybe he’ll fall asleep,” she suggested.
Justin
was about to protest when he read the stern look he was getting from his wife. He knew that look and knew he was sunk. He put down his glass and reluctantly followed his wife and new baby out the front door.
Marty was just about to get down on one knee when they heard the commotion coming from the kitchen. Drawers were being slammed and the Captain was saying words he normally didn’t say.
They both got up and walked into the kitchen. Silverware was strewn all about. Pots and pans were on top of the counter. The kitchen, which the Captain normally kept in such immaculate condition and organized with what Freud would call anal retentiveness, was in disarray.
“What the heck is going on?” Marty asked his father, who was now red in the face.
“I can’t find the damn can opener!” he said, frustrated, throwing a towel at the sink.
Marty turned toward the counter where the electric can opener sat. Where it always sat. He looked over at Hope. There was a look of concern on her face.
“It’s right here, Pop, right where it always is.”
Marty walked over to the machine and moved it toward the front of the counter. “It’s right here,” he repeated it. “It’s right here.”
His father was standing in the middle of the room, looking confused. The man Marty perceived as brave and courageous… the man who survived a knife attack at the high-security prison he worked at for twenty-five years until he retired… the man who raised nine children as a single father after his wife died of cancer when Marty was only nine years old. Suddenly, the man Marty often thought of as some sort of superman looked vulnerable and tired. Marty was perplexed and didn’t know what to do.
Hope
walked over to the Captain and put her arm over his. She walked him to the long wooden table sitting in the center of the room… the same elongated oak table that served as a centerpiece for evening meals for the large family… the very same one that he often found himself sitting alone at, now that all but one of his children were married and had families of their own.