JEFFREY WALKED around to the dock behind Sara’s house. The moon was high above the trees, and a breeze was coming in off the lake. Jeffrey stood in the grass, watching Sara, feeling some of the stress start to drain out of him. She sat in one of the two deck chairs on the dock, her legs crossed at the ankle in front of her. In the moonlight, Jeffrey could see she was staring out at the rocks in the water. The greyhounds were with her and she rested her hand on Bob’s head. She was wearing a pair of shorts and one of his old shirts. Jeffrey stared at her, thinking that she looked even better now than she did the night before.
She turned in her chair when she heard his footsteps on the dock. Billy and Bob kept their heads down, staring out at the water.
“Don’t let them scare you,” Sara teased.
“They’re so ferocious,” Jeffrey said. He went on one knee to pet Bob on the head. The dog rolled over, kicking his left leg into the air as Jeffrey scratched his belly.
Sara put her hand on Jeffrey’s shoulder. “How’s Lacey?”
He sighed. “Better. The sleeping pills are wearing off, but she’s still groggy.”
“Did they find anything?”
“There was no evidence of recent abuse,” Jeffrey said.
“Just recent?”
He nodded. “There were signs that something happened before.”
Sara seemed to sense he did not want to give specifics right now. She asked, “What did her father say?”
Jeffrey kept scratching Bob’s belly, enjoying the simple pleasure. “He said he’s glad to have her back.”
“Does he have a problem with me talking to her tomorrow?”
“Not last I checked,” Jeffrey said. “He still thinks it was all Dottie.”
She stroked his hair back behind his ear. “Have they identified the kids yet?”
“They’re running the fingerprints now. Who knows what will come up? One of them sounded Canadian. This boy…” He let his voice trail off, not sure he could tell Sara what they found in that house. It was like a cancer, rotting his brain every time he thought about it.
“What about the day care behind the house?”
“She had just started working there,” Jeffrey said. “Maybe a week or so. All the kids are being checked out, but they’re thinking she didn’t have time.”
Sara asked the question that had kept him up at night, “Do you think you’ll ever find Dottie?”
“We’re hoping she doesn’t know we picked up on Jenny’s social security number,” he said, giving Billy equal time behind the ears and on his belly. “She’s picked up mail there before, according to one of the workers. She’s been renting the box about a year now. Mail from two other boxes has been forwarded there.”
Sara pressed her lips together. “Sounds like she knows what she’s doing.”
“We’re coordinating with the credit card company. They’re mailing it out tomorrow. It should be in the box in a couple of days.” He shrugged. “From there, we just sit and wait. She shouldn’t take long to get it. I’m sure she needs the money to set up shop, wherever she is.”
“You think that’s what she’s doing?”
He gave her a sad smile. “The guy at the post office says there’s another card from a different company in the box right now.”
“What’s with all the cooperation?” Sara asked. She knew better than anyone that people were reluctant to assist the police these days. “Didn’t they ask for a subpoena?”
“No,” Jeffrey told her. “It’s amazing how helpful people are when you tell them that children are involved.”
“So,” Sara began. “What next?
“We’re going to have to coordinate with the school, find out how many kids were involved in this thing.”
“I want to check every file at the clinic.”
“Will Molly help you?”
Sara nodded. “I already talked with her. We need to be careful about this. The hard part is going to be dealing with the hysterics whose kids never had contact with Dave Fine or Dottie or Grace.”
“You think people will do that?”
“Yes,” Sara answered. “You can’t blame them, but we’re going to have to find a way to screen out the real cases from the bogus ones. We’re lucky in a way that this was happening to older kids who can talk about what happened.”
“They didn’t look that old in the pictures.”
“The FBI will have someone assign ages to the kids. They’ll use the Tanner scale. There are certain markers that tell you how old a kid is.”
“I hate that there’s even such a thing.”
“Do you want me to go to the school with you?”
Jeffrey sighed, thinking about how hard the next few days were going to be. Of course, it wasn’t her job to talk to Lacey Patterson, either. He said, “I know you don’t have to, Sara, but do you mind?”
“No,” she told him. “Of course not.”
“What I want to know is why do the kids protect these people?” Jeffrey asked, because that was the one thing that he could not understand. “Why didn’t Lacey or Jenny talk to one of their teachers, or go to you?”
“It’s hard for them,” Sara explained. “Their parents are all they have, all they know. It’s not like they can move out and get jobs. A lot of times parents convince them that it’s normal, or that they don’t have an alternative.”
“Like Stockholm syndrome,” he said. “Where the victim falls in love with the abductor.”
“That’s a good analogy,” Sara told him. “Their parents set up this pattern where they abuse them, then buy them ice cream. Or they guilt them into doing what they want, or trick them. Kids don’t know that it’s not supposed to be that way.” Sara sighed. “And the fact is, the kids love their parents. They want to please them. They don’t want to get their parents in trouble. They want the behavior to stop, but they don’t want to lose their mother and father.” She paused. “There’s a real dependency there. The parents cause the pain, but they’re also the ones who take it away.”
She continued, “I’ve also been thinking about the baby.”
He didn’t look at her, but said, “Yeah?”
“Grace’s baby was a girl. Maybe Jenny thought she was protecting the baby. Maybe that’s why she helped Grace get rid of the baby.”
He thought it over, thinking that Jenny was so afraid of Grace she would’ve done anything to avoid her wrath. Jeffrey finally said, “It’s possible.”
“I really think that’s why she did it,” Sara said with conviction. “I think Grace made her help kill the baby and Jenny was so upset all she could think to do was kill Mark, the father.” She sounded so sure of herself that Jeffrey looked up at her. He could see how this was eating her up inside as much as it was him.
Jeffrey stood and stretched his arms up to the sky. He did not want to think about this anymore. He did not want to know that there were other kids like Jenny and Mark out there, being abused by their parents. He did not want to think about Dottie Weaver holding on to Lacey Patterson so she could exploit the child. Something had to give. Jeffrey did not think he could go on knowing that Dottie Weaver was out there doing whatever she wanted to children. He did not want to think about her preying on another small town somewhere.
He said, “It’s almost cool out here.”
“Isn’t the breeze nice? I’d forgotten what it was like.”
“It doesn’t bother you to be out here in the dark?”
“Why would it?” she asked.
He looked at her. “Sometimes I think you’re the strongest person I know.”
She smiled, indicating that he should sit beside her.
He sat in the chair with a groan. Jeffrey had not realized until that moment just how tired he was. He leaned his head back, looking up at the night sky. Clouds obscured the stars, and it looked like August was releasing its stranglehold on the thermometer. Fall would come soon, and the leaves would drop from the trees and the air would turn colder and Jenny Weaver would still be dead.
Jeffrey asked, “Did you release the body?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“What about the baby?”
“I talked to Brock. He’s donating the service. There’s a plot in the Roanoke Cemetery.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“I already took care of it,” she said. “Will you go to the service with me?”
“Yeah,” he answered, feeling it was the least he could do.
“Paul Jennings said to tell you to remember what he said.”
Jeffrey was silent.
“What did he say?”
“That I shouldn’t blame myself for what happened,” he told her. “That I shouldn’t make myself live with that guilt.”
She reached over and squeezed his arm. “He’s right.”
“He said I should blame Dottie.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Dave Fine blames Dottie, too.”
“It’s not the same thing,” she told him, sitting up in her chair. “Jeffrey, look at me….” She waited until he did. “You did what you had to do.”
“I stopped Jenny from killing Mark so that he could turn around and hang himself,” Jeffrey told her. “He still hasn’t regained consciousness. He might never.”
“And that’s your fault?” she asked him. “I never knew you were so powerful, Jeffrey.” She listed things out: “You made Jenny Weaver point a gun at Mark, you made Mark hang himself. Did you bring Dottie here, too? Did you make her abduct Lacey? Did you make Dottie work with Grace Patterson at that hospital? Did you make her do those things she did to children?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“But, you are,” she insisted. “If you want to blame somebody, blame me.”
He shook his head, saying, “No.”
“I saw all of them,” Sara pointed out. “I saw Mark and Lacey practically from the time they were born. Jenny was a patient of mine. Is it my fault?”
“Of course it’s not.”
“Then how is it yours?”
Jeffery leaned his head on his hand, not wanting Sara to see how upset he was. “You didn’t pull the trigger,” he said. “You didn’t kill her.”
Sara got out of her chair and knelt in front of him. She took his hands in hers and said, “You know how I told you I worry about you when I don’t know where you are and the phone rings?”
He nodded.
“I worry because I know you,” she said, squeezing his hands for emphasis. “I know what kind of cop you are, and what kind of man you are.”
“What kind of man am I?” he asked,
Her voice took on a softer tone. “The kind of man who wouldn’t hesitate to be the one to kick in that door instead of Lena. The kind of man who risks his life every day to make sure that other people are safe. I love that about you,” she insisted. “I love that you’re strong, and that you think things through, and that you don’t just react.” Sara put her hand to his cheek. “I love that you’re gentle, and that you worry about Lena, and that you feel responsible for everything that happens in town.”
He started to speak, but she pressed her finger to his lips so that he would not interrupt her. “I love you because you know how to comfort me and how to drive me crazy, and how to make my dad want to beat you to a pulp.” She lowered her voice. “I love how you touch me, and how safe I feel when I’m with you.” She kissed his hands. “You’re a good man, Jeffrey,” she told him. “Listen to Paul Jennings. Listen to me. You did the right thing.” She held his hands to her lips and kissed his fingers.
She said, “It’s okay to question yourself, Jeffrey. You did that, and now you have to move on.”
He looked out at the rocks jutting from the lake, and wondered if there would ever be a day in his life when he did not think of Jenny Weaver, and the role he had played in her death.
Sara told him, “You’re a good man, Jeffrey.”
He did not believe her. Maybe if he still didn’t feel pain in his knee from jumping Dave Fine, or remember how good it felt to kick Arthur Prynne in the gut, it would be easier. Maybe if he didn’t still see that set of frightened eyes from the back of the closet in Macon.
“Jeffrey,” Sara repeated. “You’re a good man.”
“I know,” he lied.
“Know it in here,” she told him, pressing her fingers to his chest.
Jeffrey brushed Sara’s hair back behind her ear, and all he could think to say was, “You’re so beautiful.”
Sara rolled her eyes at the compliment. “Is that all you’ve got to say?”
He offered, “Why don’t we go inside, and I’ll answer you in greater detail?”
Sara leaned back on her hands, a smile playing at her lips. “Why do we have to go inside?”