Dream With Little Angels Read online

  “I’m not dumb,” he said. “I know that.”

  “Great,” my mother said into the phone. “I’ll be right there.”

  She hung up and set the phone on its stand. “What did Officer Jackson want?” I asked.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t answer by telling me to mind my business. “The initial forensics report on Mary Ann Dailey’s in.”

  “And . . . ?” I asked.

  “And we’re gonna stop at the station on our way home,” she said. “Chris and Ethan are already there, along with one of the experts from Mobile. Apparently he showed up before sunrise this morning. I assume that won’t mess up your boys’ schedule or nothin’?” she asked.

  I could tell she was being sarcastic, but I don’t think Dewey did. “No, ma’am,” he said. “That should be fine.”

  She nearly laughed. “What about your mother, Dewey? Think she’ll be okay with you bein’ out a bit longer?”

  “I reckon she won’t care either way,” he said. “Most likely she’s back to sleepin’. She don’t normally get up before noon on the weekends. She must’ve gone to the bathroom or somethin’ if she saw my note.” It sounded cold the way he said it, but I knew it was true. I saw in my mother’s eyes that she did, too.

  “I can’t believe the expert from Mobile works on Saturdays,” I said. “And so early, too. He must’ve started on the road before five.”

  “Police work ain’t like normal work,” my mother said. “Sometimes you gotta work odd hours.”

  As we pulled up to the station, I thought my mother was about to tell us to wait in the car, but even the short drive up Main Street had calmed her down considerably. By the time the car was in PARK, she hardly even seemed upset anymore.

  “Can we come in and say hi to Chief Montgomery?” I asked my mother.

  She thought this over, closed her eyes, and answered with a deep breath. “Fine. Just tell me you two actually learned somethin’ today. I still can’t believe last night didn’t open your eyes all the way, Abe.”

  “I already told you I did learn somethin’ last night,” I said. “It just weren’t the thing you thought I did.”

  “It wasn’t the thing I wanted you to learn, would be more precise,” she said.

  “Well, next time maybe you should tell me what I should be learnin’ upfront. I think maybe that might make it easier for everyone.”

  She pretended to understand this. “Maybe. Do you at least know what you were supposed to have learned this morning?”

  “That I don’t sneak out of the house?” I asked.

  “So far so good,” my mother said hesitantly. “And?”

  “And that me and Dewey don’t follow our neighbors tryin’ to figure out what it is they’re doin’ that’s so suspicious.”

  My mother shook her head. “You should’ve just stopped with that ‘I don’t follow our neighbors’; the rest of it is all some sort of figment of you boys’ overactive imagination. Which, I might add, I’m beginnin’ to find a mite disturbin’.”

  “But,” I started, “what if—”

  “Abe,” she said, “just drop it. Understand? Trust me, this is somethin’ you should’ve done a long time ago.”

  Out my window, two old men strolled past on the sidewalk. Seemed like the whole town was awake. Except probably Carry and Dewey’s mother.

  I searched my mind for some way to make my mother see that it wasn’t our imaginations at all and that she was just being blind because of some silly rule she had about neighbors, but I came up completely empty.

  “You know what I learned?” Dewey asked.

  My mother tilted her head back and stared at the car’s ceiling. “What’s that, Dewey?”

  “That I should be as untruthful as possible from now on,” he said with complete, utter confidence.

  My mother looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine. She gave me a look of exasperation that near on made me laugh. I could tell she was close to giving up on trying to get anything through to Dewey. “Do me a favor, Dewey?” she asked.

  “What’s that, ma’am?” Dewey asked back.

  “Just . . . just don’t tell your mother what it is you think you learned. And maybe go back to havin’ learned nothin’ this morning. How does that sound?”

  “Confusing.”

  “Good enough,” my mother said, and opened her door.

  “So, are we coming, too?” I asked.

  She bent and stuck her head back inside, looking over the seat at Dewey. “Well, I don’t rightly trust you two alone in my vehicle, so I guess that’s the only option I got.” She winked at me and I knew we were no longer in any sort of trouble. I started wondering if we really ever were. I think my mother might have used up all the anger she had on Carry’s boyfriend last night.

  “Don’t touch anything,” she said as we followed her inside the station. “Or at least please try not to?” She watched Dewey head straight across the room to the water cooler just as he’d done the last time she brought us here together and added, “Or at least nothing important.”

  Dewey looked back at her.

  “No, Dewey.” She sighed. “The water cooler ain’t important. You’re fine.”

  Officer Jackson and Chief Montgomery leaned over what was usually my mother’s desk. One of the forensic officers I recognized from the swamp that day in the rain sat between them on my mother’s chair. His hair looked freshly cut, even shorter than it had been then. Even his goatee looked trimmed. Up close, he looked much older than he had that day in the rain. His eyes were a dull blue that looked up from the pictures and file folders strewn across the desk as my mother approached.

  “Leah,” Chief Montgomery said, “you remember Officer Philip Diamond from Mobile? Officer Diamond, this is Detective Leah Teal.”

  Officer Diamond half stood from his chair and shook my mother’s hand. “Nice to see you again,” he said. Not only did he look older, but when he rose from his seat, he also seemed much taller than I recalled.

  A black hardcover notebook was lying off to the side. I hadn’t seen it before and guessed it belonged to Officer Diamond. It was almost as though he had completely taken over, although if my mother minded at all, she didn’t show it.

  Officer Jackson and Chief Montgomery were both in uniform. My mother, of course, was not. Neither was Officer Diamond, who wore a black collared shirt and tan pants. As he once again fell back into my mother’s chair, a musty cologne wafted through the room, nearly making me cough. He didn’t smell nearly as pretty as Carry did now that she wore perfume.

  My attention was drawn to a gurgling and bubbling across the room, where Dewey was slowly filling up one of the paper cups that I’d never seen anybody but him actually use. I looked back to the four officers crowded around the files and pictures, keeping a few steps behind my mother so as not to look conspicuous. I guess I did all right, because they ignored me while they talked about Mary Ann Dailey.

  I had a pretty good view of the stuff scattered across the gray desktop, but I purposely avoided looking at them photos. From the slight glimpse I did catch, I knew right away they weren’t the sort of pictures I wanted in my head. It was already hard enough getting to sleep having to deal with the image of Mary Ann Dailey lying in that shallow hollow of dirt beneath that beautiful willow out there in the mud.

  “So what do we have?” my mother asked.

  Officer Diamond slid the black book across the desk and lifted it in his hands, flipping through a few pages before finally answering. “Well,” he said, “for starters, we found a nice assortment of food in her stomach, most of it only partially digested. She had eaten shortly before her death, probably within a couple hours. Three maybe, at most.”

  “What sort of food?” my mother asked.

  “Let’s see,” Officer Diamond said. “Biscuits, blueberry jam, potato chips, garlic dip, and a chocolate bar.” He glanced up. “Most likely, we figure it was a Three Musketeers.”

  My mother’s hand came up and rubbed he
r eyes. “Sorry,” she said, “I’m usually more awake than this, but doesn’t all that sound more like she was at some slumber party, sittin’ round watchin’ movies? It certainly don’t seem like she was bein’ raped and made ready for killin’.”

  Officer Diamond nodded. “Exactly. And it’s all pretty much like that. We even found traces of ice cream and cake in her intestines that had been consumed earlier on.”

  “All we’re missin’ is the soda pop and pizza,” Officer Jackson said.

  Officer Diamond looked up at him. “No, we even found that, too. Well, the soda pop, anyway. Traces of root beer coating the lining of her bladder. ’Course other than that, the rest of her bladder and bowels were pretty much empty.”

  “Right,” my mother said, as though this made perfect sense to her. None of it made any sense to me, other than that it sounded like Mary Ann Dailey got to eat much better than me. “What sort of physical evidence have you uncovered?” my mother asked.

  “Not a helluva lot,” Officer Diamond said. “Three hairs other than her own on her entire body. Two of ’em belonged to Garner’s dog, and the other came from Garner himself. Then, of course, there’s all that blood of the victim on Garner’s shovel, as well as dried skin matching that of the suspect.”

  My mother picked up a pen from the desk and tapped it against her lower lip. I think it was the only thing still on the desk that actually belonged to her. That and the stuffed dog I bought her for Mother’s Day. Across the room, Dewey finished filling the paper cup and placed it on top of the cooler before beginning to fill a second one. Nobody but me noticed.

  “Anybody else’s blood on that shovel?” my mother asked.

  Officer Diamond shook his head. “Just the girl’s.”

  Frowning, my mother tapped her lip some more. I could tell she was disappointed about this information. She cast a glance to Officer Jackson. “What about the boot prints you were tryin’ to get?”

  He shook his head. “Wasn’t enough definition to get anything worthwhile. The downpour washed all the details away. Even any tire tracks we may have hoped for were too messed up by the time we got there. What little we did manage to get seemed to be congruent with Garner’s work boots.”

  My mother let out a deep breath. “Well, I suppose, given what we’ve got, so far it sounds like we got the right man.”

  “Oh, there was one more thing,” Officer Diamond said. “We found light traces of organochlorine compounds and ammonium nitrate on the victim’s skin. That’s not a huge surprise, mind you—these are basic chemicals regularly found in farm-use insecticide and fertilizer. All very consistent with her being kept on a farm or a ranch of some kind. We even found light particles of hay dust in her lungs and hair, even though her hair had been recently washed.”

  Dewey placed cup number two on top of the cooler and started on number three. Sometimes I had no clue what went through his mind.

  My mother shook her head, confused. “He washed her hair?”

  “Quite often, judging by the soap residue left on her scalp and the rest of her body,” Officer Diamond said. “Bathed her and washed her hair, probably once every two days or so.” He looked back down at his book. “Oh, and there were a few boll weevil bites at the base of her neck. We also discovered traces of chicken feces particulate on her skin. Our theory is that she was dragged from wherever he kept her to whatever vehicle he brought her to the murder scene in after her last bath. At that point, she was likely already dead.” He paused. “So, as I said, everything points to her being kept on some kind of farm or ranch.”

  “Well, we already knew that,” Officer Jackson said.

  My mother stared off at the far wall. “Does Bob Garner still have chickens?” she asked.

  They all looked at each other, waiting for one to answer. After a few awkward seconds, I took the initiative. “Yes, he most certainly does. At least a dozen and a big ol’ cock. Me and Dewey saw ’em that afternoon we showed up and Mr. Garner was working on his tool shed.”

  I think my voice startled them. Until now, they had forgot I was standing there listening.

  “Abe,” my mother said, “why don’t you go play with Dewey?” She looked over at the three full cups of water precariously balancing on top of the cooler while he filled number four. “. . . Or find something else to entertain yourself with.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I was the only one of all of you who knew about the chickens. And you know what? I can tell you right now, she wasn’t kept on Mr. Garner’s ranch.”

  “I agree with the boy on that one,” Chief Montgomery said, looking up from the series of photographs he’d been going through. He gave my mother a look I took to indicate his displeasure at having me present. “Or, if she was, Tiffany Michelle Yates certainly isn’t. We searched that entire ranch, every square foot of it, going through it with a fine-toothed comb.”

  “Unless she’s well hidden,” Officer Diamond said.

  “She’d have to be very well hidden, Phil,” Chief Montgomery said. “Seriously, there’s no way. We went through that place from top to bottom. Twice.”

  “I already told you,” I said. “Mary Ann Dailey wasn’t kept there, so why would Tiffany Michelle be there?”

  With an exasperated sigh, Chief Montgomery leveled his gaze at my mother. “Why is your boy here, Leah?”

  “Hang on a sec, Ethan.” She turned to me. “Why do you say Mary Ann Dailey wasn’t kept at Mr. Garner’s ranch?”

  “Didn’t you listen to what Officer Diamond said?” I asked. “There were boll weevil bites on her neck. Since when do boll weevils go anywhere near cattle ranches? They attack cotton fields. Everyone knows that. I can’t believe none of you do.”

  “Watch your tone, young man,” my mother said.

  Chief Montgomery scratched the back of his neck. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before. “Actually, the boy’s right, Leah. There are no cotton farms anywhere near Bob Garner’s place. The chance of there being boll weevils is pretty much zero.”

  A mess of emotions swelled in my chest. I felt as though I were suddenly important. I also suspected I would be getting a firm talking-to the moment we returned to the car. After a few seconds of struggling between the two, I decided it was worth speaking out for.

  “So Garner had the girl somewhere else, hidden on the property of one of the outlying farmlands, most likely,” Officer Jackson said. “Then, when the time came, he moved her to where we found her last Saturday.”

  “I assume Bob’s still not talking?” my mother asked Chief Montgomery.

  He shook his head solemnly. “Not about anythin’ important, anyway. Just about how disappointed your daddy’d be if he knew what was going on.”

  My mother’s gaze dropped to the floor.

  Chief Montgomery leaned across the desk and reached out his big arm and put a firm hand on her shoulder. “Leah, he’s playin’ the only card he has left. Don’t let it get to you. Problem is though, without a confession, we’re stuck runnin’ with whatever clues we can dig up. Which, as of now, means we gotta start lookin’ for Tiffany Michelle Yates on some piece of farmland in or around Alvin.”

  “And if we don’t find her then?” my mother asked.

  “We make a decision at that point about what to do next. We may have to widen our search to neighboring towns, I dunno. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. Hopefully, new evidence will show up just by searching our own town.”

  My mother looked over to Officer Jackson. “Alvin has like, what? Eight thousand or so acres of surrounding farmland?”

  “Actually,” he replied, frowning, “it’s closer to twelve.”

  “Great,” she said, sarcastically. “Thanks, Chris, you just made me feel a lot better. Anyway, I gotta get these boys home.” She looked over at Dewey, just about to place cup number five on top of the water cooler. “You better drink all them, or I’m gonna make you ride in the trunk.”

  Dewey’s eyes grew wide. I think he feared my mother because, next thing I kne
w, he had quickly downed every single cup.

  My mother smiled at me. “Now we really have to get him home before he has to go to the bathroom.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Mom drove Dewey straight to our house after our stop at the police station. It was a good thing too, because by the time we got there, Dewey had already started wriggling around in the backseat. My mother noticed in the rearview mirror. “Dewey, you want me to drive you straight home instead of making you ride your bike?”

  “No, ma’am,” he said, “I’m fine.”

  “Dewey, you look ready to pee your pants any minute,” she said.

  “Think of waterfalls,” I whispered to him.

  “Shut up,” he whispered back.

  “Well, then,” my mother said, “how ’bout coming in and using our toilet before headin’ home. Will you at least do that?”

  He considered it a minute. I couldn’t figure out why he was so opposed to admitting he had to go. I know if I had just downed five full cups of water, I wouldn’t hesitate to take up an offer like that. Most likely, I’d have already made my mother pull over so I could go in the woods. Finally, after more wriggling, Dewey conceded. “Okay, ma’am. I will do just that. And I appreciate the offer very much.”

  “It’s not a problem, Dewey,” she said. By the way she said it, I could tell she wanted to once again add something to the effect of you really are a strange boy, but she didn’t.

  “I’ll get your boys’ bikes out of the trunk. You go ahead and go inside and”—she looked at Dewey nearly bending over now that he was standing outside the car—“and do your business.”

  I ain’t never seen Dewey run as fast as he did then. He barely said thanks as he tore up the front steps, flung open our door, and raced down the hallway. I came in shortly afterward to find Uncle Henry standing there questioningly. “What’s going on with Dewey?” he asked.

  “It’s a long story,” I said.

  Uncle Henry nodded knowingly. I think he was growing accustomed to my and Dewey’s stories always being long and sometimes unusual. Outside, I heard my mother’s trunk slam shut and, a few minutes later, she came in and took off her boots. “Is he still in there?” she asked.