Chapter Nineteen
After a week of running down false leads, I decided to take a breather. Marty and I had been working thirteen and fourteen hours a day, running down tips that had been coming into a hotline that the chief had set up.
I was exhausted by the time I got home and was so grateful for the warm welcome I received from the only one in the house that didn’t think I was some sort of monster. Roxy skidded across the tiles in her enthusiastic manner; one hundred and ten pounds of pure love greeted me with her tail wagging and her rump banging wildly up against my thigh.
I grabbed a biscuit from the ceramic green frog jar on the kitchen counter and handed it to her. As if I no longer mattered, she grabbed it out of my hand with her teeth and walked back to the corner where her bed was. She lay down and proceeded to devour it.
Now I wondered whether it was me that she was really glad to see, or if I was just nothing more to her than a delivery girl.
Bethany
was sitting on the couch watching television; she didn’t bother to acknowledge my arrival. She was still giving me the silent treatment.
“Did you do your homework?” It was more of a decree then a question. I was letting her know that I was still in charge. She wasn’t the only one that was angry.
The air was thick with her attitude, and I was getting ready to perform a very intense surgery on it.
Another few seconds of silence went by before she spoke, still not bothering to look in my direction.
“I can’t do research for my social studies report, I need my laptop,” she said, staring at the television. I knew she wasn’t watching it, she was just using it as a way to avoid me. Bethany was never much one to spend time watching television… but then it struck me—she had changed so much lately, I really didn’t seem to know what she liked anymore.
She was probably telling the truth, she couldn’t do much schoolwork without a computer. So I relented.
“You can have your computer back to do your homework, but you are not to send emails or go on Facebook… or any other social media sites. Is that understood?”
“Whatever,” she answered curtly.
I’d had enough. This attitude of hers was getting on my nerves. She really had not spoken to me since I told her she wasn’t to go anywhere near Dylan. I still had my doubts about him, as well as the other four suspects who had been up at the Forester place that night.
I pushed away a pile of schoolbooks and papers and sat down on the couch next to her.
“What the hell is going on with you, Bethany? Why are you acting like this?” I was fighting back tears. I didn’t want her to know how frustrated and hurt I was. I didn’t want to appear weak.
She turned away from me. I knew that she was trying hard not to cry herself.
I tried another approach. “Honey, please, talk to me!” I gently put my hand on her head, savoring the silky feel of her hair, praying she wouldn’t push my arm away like Tiffany did to Mrs. Bennett.
“He didn’t do it, Mom. I swear to you. You need to believe me. You never believe me anymore!” She was shaking so hard I grabbed her and held her to my chest. My lips gently kissed her wet face and hair.
It took her awhile to compose herself. She broke away from my embrace, her brown eyes so wet they looked like they were floating above their white background.
“Mom, you used to trust me, when did you stop trusting me?”
“Honey, I stopped trusting you when you started lying and trying to deceive me,” I responded. “I know you meant well, but you should have come to me immediately. When did you stop trusting me?” I asked her.
I think it finally sunk in; I finally made my point.
“I’m sorry… I am so sorry, Mom. I should have told you. Then maybe Kimberly would still be alive. I don’t want you to be mad at me.” She paused for a moment and then in a faint voice, “I swear Dylan and I didn’t…”
I didn’t know if I was ready to believe that they didn’t have sex, but I needed her to believe that I was willing to trust her. I needed my daughter back, but I also wanted her to know how wrong she had been.
I looked at my daughter’s face and my heart just ached. I now knew what unconditional love really was. I didn’t know what I would do, how I would feel, if my daughter was held accountable for participating in the cover-up of Dylan’s part in this whole mess.
I was now as guilty as she was by not telling my chief. I thought I could trust Marty, but I couldn’t say with any certainty that somehow my daughter’s participation in this whole incident wouldn’t get out.
I wiped away her tears with my thumbs.
“It’s okay, Bethany, I believe you. Will you promise me you will stay away from Dylan?” She started to protest. I could see her body language change: her shoulders got stiff and both her hands clenched into tight fists.
I continued.
“Just until he is definitely ruled out as a suspect; until I can say with complete assurance that he has nothing to do with either homicide. Can you promise me that?”
She was obviously reluctant, but she nodded. I felt some relief as I watched her tension appear to diminish.
“Okay, I will give you the computer back, but just for your schoolwork. Are we agreed on that?”
She nodded.
“Baby?” I pushed a lock of her blonde hair behind her ears. She looked at me with those big brown eyes and I could swear that I saw the old Bethany somewhere in there. Her eyes were still moist with tears, her wet eyelashes so black it looked as though she was wearing mascara.
“I’m sorry I hit you, I never should have done that,” I apologized.
She gave a curt nod.
I had her attention now. It was as good a time as ever to try and get some answers. I was convinced that getting a better perspective of the dead girls would lead to their killer.
“Bethany, tell me about Jamie and Kimberly. Do you have any idea or feelings about who would want to hurt them?” Does anyone stand out in your mind as being targeted by either of the girls?”
She shook her head. “No, they were equal opportunity bitches.”
I winced at her language, but let it slide.
“Sorry,” she said, attempting to soften her tone.
“What about the girls who were with her? Dylan said Jamie was pretty bitchy to them.”
Suddenly she sat up and I could see the wheels turning in that beautiful little head of hers. I knew exactly what she was thinking. If she could help me figure out who killed the girls, Dylan wouldn’t be an issue any longer.
“Jamie was brutal to both Lisa and Tiffany… especially Tiffany, because of that thing she does with her face. I don’t know why they even wanted to hang out with Jamie in the first place. I guess cause they wanted to hang with Katie, and Katie was friends with both Jamie and Kimberly.”
I was entering the country of female adolescence, a territory that I hadn’t visited in three decades. I grew up an only child and I was more interested in finding a way to change the world than making paper-thin friendships. I never needed someone else’s acceptance to feel good about myself, and I thought I had instilled that in my children. I know I was successful with my son Cliff—he was a leader among his peers. If he got into trouble, it was without a doubt his own idea.
Until last week, I would have believed the same about my daughter. Now I questioned my intuition.
I needed to keep the conversation going.
“What about Katie? Is…” I corrected myself. “Was Jamie mean to her?”
My daughter gave me a look that could only be interpreted as, “Really, Mom, you are clueless,” but she was too kind to say it out loud.
“No, Katie is kind of like… well, no one messes with her. She doesn’t give anyone a second thought, except maybe for Dylan and that new boyfriend of hers. She’s nice, but kind of shallow. You never know what Katie is thinking.”
“What about Kimberly? Did she pick on Lisa and Tiffany?” It was a theory that Marty and I had tossed back and forth. We wondered if the two girls formed some sort of alliance to pay back their abusers, but that would mean Lisa had lied to me and that just didn’t play right in my mind.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I believed Lisa Padilla’s story. And much to my dismay, if I believed Lisa was telling the truth, it would mean that Dylan couldn’t have killed Jamie Camp.
“Yes, I definitely heard Kimberly making fun of Tiffany’s tics. Tiffany was so humiliated once she ran into the bathroom at school crying. I was there the day when Dylan found out about it and told her to stop.” She immediately gasped, suddenly regretting what she had said. I could tell she was worried that what she had said could implicate Dylan in the girl’s murder.
“Mom, Dylan wouldn’t hurt anyone, he’s always stood up and told people, even if they were his friends, to stop. He might look tough, but he’s not mean.”
My mind was in overdrive, trying to take in what she had told me. I was willing to let Lisa and Dylan go as possible suspects. I wasn’t quite sure that she had convinced me that Tiffany, or Katie Hepburn, couldn’t be our assailant, or both of them together.
I was about to ask her to tell me what she knew about Katie when my cell phone buzzed.
I recognized Chief Bergman’s number immediately. I glanced at the time. It was seven o’clock. The chief knew I was going to make it an early night. The fact that he was calling now gave me an uneasy feeling.
I touched the green icon on the screen and accepted the call.
I listened intently as he explained about the frantic call he got from Mayor Knox. His stepdaughter hadn’t come home from school, and hadn’t been seen since early this morning.
Bethany
was watching me and trying hard to hear the other end of the conversation. She knew something was wrong, and didn’t say a word until I disconnected the call.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“Honey, I have to go.” I glanced at my watch again. “Dad should be home soon,” I told her as I grabbed my car keys.
I wanted to believe that Katie was just pulling some teenage stunt and she was with a friend, or with Cameron. I tried to convince myself that it was just some minor misunderstanding and she would show up.
I wanted to believe it was nothing.
“What is it?” Bethany asked again, this time a little bit more demanding.
“It’s probably nothing.” I got up, trying not to let her feel my own panic building, but I had to tell her something.
“Mayor Knox called in to report Katie missing.” I grabbed my purse.
“Did you see Katie at school today?” I questioned her as I walked toward the door to leave.