CHAPTER 30
Someone knocked on the interview room door. Anderson answered it and stood in front of the opening, blocking me from seeing who was there.
“He’s here,” a disembodied voice said. “Room four. I don’t know how much good he’s gonna do ya. Guy’s so drunk it was all he could do to walk in on his own.”
“Okay. Let him sleep it off while I finish up here. How are the rest of the interviews going?”
“Check a clock, Anderson. It’s tomorrow already. We got most everybody’s statements. Sent ’em all home. The boss is coming in the morning.”
“Thanks. Secure Sleeping Beauty’s door, then go on home yourself. We’ll review the statements tomorrow.”
Anderson closed the door and returned to his spot behind Sally.
“Were you talking about my father?” I asked. “Is he here?”
“We have to hear what he has to say about all this,” Anderson said.
“Don’t hurt him. He’s more fragile than he looks. He’s sick.”
“You still feel the need to protect him, don’t you?” Sally asked.
“Does that make me crazy?”
“No. And I’m going to tell you again. You’re not crazy.”
“Nobody’s going to hurt him?”
“You heard Detective Anderson. Your father’s sleeping it off in an interview room. We didn’t question him earlier. We needed to get to your truth before we brought him in. His rights will be protected. You need to take care of you.”
I turned my head toward Anderson. He looked tired.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not at all,” Sally assured me. “A few more questions and we’ll have an officer drive you home. I’ll bet you’re ready for a long shower and even longer sleep-in.”
“I have to be at work.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now.” She settled back in her chair. I wondered how she kept calm and relaxed after so many hours in this room. Anderson looked ready to drop, yet Sally had the appearance of someone who hadn’t any need for a second wind. “You said you never saw your mother alive after she and your father argued in the kitchen.”
“He wasn’t arguing at first. My father was begging. It was my mother telling him she was leaving. She made him so angry. We were her family. You can’t blame him. I was mad, too.”
“You told us Phillip Jasper was surprised to learn your mother hadn’t taken you with her when she left your father. He couldn’t have known the reason was that she was dead. We have no evidence whatsoever that your mother was planning on leaving you. So I’m wondering if you can start challenging that notion when it pops into your mind.”
I thought about that for a bit. “Maybe.”
“Maybe, too, you can accept the idea that when you heard about the body being found, your subconscious realized it had to be your mother’s body. Childhood fears returned. But this time combined with an adult’s awareness of what truly happened. That tension between morbid fear and appetite for justice caused a split. You needed a way to bridge the two . . . to resolve things . . . to protect yourself while allowing room for truth. In that moment, Mimi appeared.”
“I don’t know. She’s so real.”
“You’ve seen the surveillance footage from Biogenetics,” Anderson said. “No Mimi. You’ve heard from the folks in History. No Mimi. No faculty job. We have a statement from your friend, the pharmacist, stating he’s certain it was you who purchased the DNA kit.”
“Carl Crittens? You interviewed him?”
Anderson nodded toward the one-way mirror. “Every time you mentioned a name, we brought ’em in. Every place you said you and Mimi were, we pulled what evidence we could.” He tapped an earpiece in his left ear I hadn’t noticed before. “I’m getting updates after each interview. Nobody’s seen Mimi. I could show you the recordings from Hotel Red’s cameras. Your story checks out. You were sitting out on their patio having your gin and tonic. Right when you said. But you were sitting there alone.”
“But I . . . she . . .” I turned to Sally and shook my head. “These memories I’m having of my mother now . . . Phillip Jasper kissing her . . . my father . . . my father . . .”
“Those memories have always been there,” Sally said. “Too scary for a twelve-year-old to handle. Your mind created Mimi. It was her job to hold the memories of your terror.”
“I don’t . . .”
“You’d witnessed your father’s murderous rage,” Sally explained. “Mimi kept you one step removed from your terror. She allowed you to ignore your fear and keep your relationship with your father. To your eyes he was the only person left in your world. You were a kid. You needed a parent. Someone to protect you. You clung to the only one you had left. Can you see how Mimi and this entire experience allowed you to tell what you knew you needed to, yet still stay safe? When you saw your father kill your mother . . .”
“I never said that! How many times do I have to tell you?” My agitation rose despite my fatigue.
“Relax, Tess.” Sally had gone back to the voice she used when she made me feel so tired and heavy. “You’re as safe here as you’ve always been. Some memories are emerging. The rest will come in time. Don’t fight them. Close your eyes again. Can you do that for me?”
I looked at Anderson. Then at the mirror where who-knows-how-many people were monitoring my every word. Checking them out and whispering into Anderson’s ear.
“I won’t let anyone harm you,” Sally soothed. “Close your eyes.”
I looked at her one more time, hoping she could read my plea for protection. She nodded her encouragement, and I did as she asked.
“It was a very scary night for you.” Sally’s voice came to me from the other side of my quivering eyelids. “You were a little girl. You’d seen horrific things. Heard vicious words. You went up to your bedroom. You needed to get away.”
Sally stopped speaking. I kept my eyes closed. My breathing slowed. Once again, my body felt heavy and warm. Then she spoke again.
“What did you do up there in your room?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I’ll bet you can. Call that childhood bedroom of yours to mind. Imagine how it was decorated. Was there a desk for you to do homework? Perhaps a tree outside your window. Color in the details.”
It took me a while to respond. “My bedspread is chenille. White. With a ballerina dancing on her tiptoes.”
“Very good. Think back to that day. Are you sitting on your bed?”
“No.” My voice sounded as if I was hearing it through a long metal tube. “I was on the floor. By the window.”
“What were you doing?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Try. Picture twelve-year-old Tess. She’s scared. She’s run to her bedroom to escape. What is she doing?”
“She’s hiding.”
“Of course she is. What a clever little girl.”
“She’s behind the drape. Curled up. No one can see her.”
“You’re doing fine. Tell me what happened next.”
My breathing grew shallow and rapid. My hands tightened into fists. “It got dark. I had to go to the bathroom, but I was too afraid to move. I didn’t want to pee my pants.”
“I can understand that.”
“Then he came in. My father. Tess. Tess. Where are you? He didn’t sound angry anymore.”
“And then?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Tell me what you see. What picture is your mind giving you?”
“He pulled back the drape. Looked down on me hugging my knees against my chest.” I inhaled a loud, short burst of air.
“What’s happening now, Tess?”
“He’s pulling me up. Onto my feet. Your mother’s been bad. Very bad. You shouldn’t have told me. You made me do it. Why did you tell me?”
“And you believed him, didn’t you?”
I ignored her question. “I asked my father if I could go to the bathroom. He looked so sad. He hugged me close and tight. Then he released me. Go on. You don’t have to be scared anymore, Tess. Mommy won’t hurt you ever again. You’re my little angel. I’d do anything for you.”
“What came next?”
My forehead wrinkled in concentration.
“I see dark. Full-on.”
“Where? Where was it dark?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. There’s rumbling. Motion.”
“Are you in a car?”
“Maybe.”
“Is your father driving? Is your mother in the car with you?”
“I don’t know.” I rocked back and forth. “It’s even darker now. Muddy. I’m scared. Don’t be frightened, Tess, he said. We’ll go home soon. I have one last thing to do for you. Then we can forget all about the hurt Mommy caused.”
“Where are you?”
“I hear splashing. My shoes are getting wet. I need these shoes for gym class. Daddy’s going to be upset if they get ruined!”
“You’re doing great, Tess. What’s Daddy doing now? What’s making the splash?”
I stopped rocking. My chest heaved with the rapidity of a machine gun.
“Tell me what you see, Tess. What do you hear?”
“Rocks. I hear rocks thudding against one another.”
“What do you see?”
“A pile. Half in, half out of the water.”
“Are you piling those rocks?”
I didn’t answer.
“Is Daddy piling the rocks?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is Daddy forcing you to help?”
I banged my fists against my legs.
“Daddy’s piling the rocks down by the water. What are you doing, Tess?”
“I don’t remember.” I opened my eyes and pushed my chair away from the table. “I don’t remember!” I screamed.
Sally got up and came to me. She knelt and rested a comforting arm across the back of my chair. She rested her forehead against my shoulder. I remember thinking it seemed like a motherly thing for her to do.
“I want to go home.”
Sally patted my arm, then stood to face Anderson.
“She’s spent. We have a good idea of what happened. Let her go home,” she suggested. “Let’s all of us get a good night’s rest. Tess can come to my office tomorrow. We can work more on the rest of what she’s been repressing all these years.”
I turned my own pleading eyes toward Anderson. It took him a while to answer.
“What time tomorrow?” he asked Sally.
She looked at me. “Does ten o’clock sound okay? Does that give you time enough to rest?”
“I have to go to work,” I whispered.
“You let me handle that. Ten o’clock?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. “My clinic’s on Regent. Not far from you, actually.”
I took her card and ran my thumb across the embossed lettering. “I don’t know . . .”
“I can help you put all of this behind you,” she said. “You can finally be free to grieve your mother. Free to live your own life. Without fear.”
I kept my focus on her business card.
“Ten good for you, Tess?” Sally asked.
“What about Mimi?”
Sally gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Mimi served a purpose. She gave you the courage to tell us the truth. She’s giving you the courage now to heal.”
Anderson shuffled in place, running a hand over his almost-there hair. “C’mon. Let’s get an officer to drive you home.”