Fifteen years ago - Kansas
Her foot pumped up and down, the only indication of her impatience. She sat in the armchair, her legs crossed at the knee, her right foot hanging in mid air. Up and down, up and down. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart. Sitting on the sidelines was not something she did well, but this time she had no choice. She stared at the television, not watching, not listening, and every few minutes would glance at the clock, dismayed at the sight of so few moments having clicked by since her last glance. She dragged her eyes back toward the television, forcing herself to pay attention. Watching as a game show contestant dressed as an ear of corn, choose door number two and won a goat, the groans of the studio audience were drowned out by crunch of driveway gravel under the weight of tires. Running to the window that looked out on the front yard, she pulled back the curtain, peeking outside. Letting out a short shriek of joy, she hopped in place, clapping her hands, and ran to the door, flinging it open, throwing herself into the arms of her boyfriend. He had to drop the satchel he was carrying to catch her, and steady them both before they fell off the porch. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him in to her, his hands found their usual place on her back. "Did you get it? How'd it go?" The questions flew out of her mouth in rapid succession. In answer, he walked her backwards, back into the trailer, and shut the door behind him. He moved his hands from her back so they rested on her hips, and he gently pushed her to arms length away from him, staring at her, suddenly serious. Her smile faded and her face fell. He grinned at her expression and quickly bent down grabbing the satchel and bringing it up, above his head. Unlatching the clasp, he turned the satchel upside down, allowing hundreds of bills to fly through the air. She screeched with delight, grabbing at a few bills as they floated past her face. She danced, turning and jumping across the carpet of money, clutching the bills she had grabbed to her chest. He watched her celebration from the doorway, smiling at her happiness. She stopped turning, giggling as she watched the last few bills land on the floor at his feet. Her eyes swept over the litter of money, widening in surprise of how much of the floor it covered. One. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars. She said it in her head, in capital letter, then grinned up at him. "It worked!" She exclaimed, throwing herself back across the room and back into his arms. "It worked, it worked:" she continued to repeat those same words over and over again, as he kissed her neck, her collarbone. Her exclamation had reduced itself to a mummer as he laid her down, and made love to her on top of the money scattered on the floor.
Later, he was still stretched out, lying naked on the money. She buttoned her jeans and slipped back into her shirt. "Com'on, we've got to get going." She said as she stood and zipped her jeans.
"Wher'we going?" He asked, and rolled lazily onto his stomach.
"Away. We have to go away now." She tucked in her shirt and slipped her feet into sandals. She kneeled by his head, gathering the money. "Come on," she commanded, slapping his bare back with her hands.
"Ouch." He playfully complained, reaching for her.
"NO. Get up and get dressed. We have to go now."
"Jeeze. Ok." He stood and grabbed his own pair of jeans and headed to the bathroom. He didn't close the door, and she cringed as she heard him. She quickly gathered the rest of the money, stuffing it back into the satchel and leaving it by the front door. She looked behind her, toward the bathroom, cringing again at his sounds. She knew she was ready. She'd been preparing for this part for as long as she'd been planning the rest. Grabbing the bat, she stood to one side of the alcove that led to the bathroom. Holding the bat up and off her shoulder, she knew she'd only get one shot, so she had to make it count. This was her World Series. She heard the flush and then the rustle of denim as he pulled his jeans on. "Honeybaby" he called from the hallway, she heard his steps, bracing herself, taking one last deep breath. He appeared, suddenly, from the alcove, she swung with all the strength she could muster, making contact with his forehead. Startled, he stared at her in amazement and confusion then fell straight back, landing on the tile of the kitchen, blood pouring from the open cavity in his head.
She shut her eyes and took a few deep breaths, willing her heart to calm down. An unexpected thought occurred to her, and her eyes flew open staring at him. What if he was still alive? Tip toeing around his torso, she bent gingerly feeling his neck for a pulse. She breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't find one. She stepped back, bracing herself against the kitchen sink as she thought about the next step in her plans.
~*~*~
She waited until after dark, for two reasons. The first, more of them would be out, the second, she stood less of a chance being seen than if she did it during the day. She waited two hours after the sun went down, spending the time sorting, counting and stacking the money. One hundred thousand, just like the note had said. She hadn't been sure it was possible for her father to have raised that amount in such a short time, but he had. When she felt it was dark enough, she grabbed her purse and walked out to the car. Starting the engine, she backed the small run down car out of the driveway and headed for downtown.
After forty-five minutes of cruising up and down, she finally spotted the right one. Right height and weight. Right color hair too, but she supposed that wouldn't really matter much in the end. Pulling up to the curb near the girl she picked, she waved at her, beckoning. Sauntering over, the girl bent at the waist, sticking her head in through the open window.
"Sorry, lady. I don't go that way." The girl turned and started to walk away until she called out.
"No. You've got the wrong idea." Hearing this, the girl returned, again sticking her head through the open passenger side window. "It's for my boyfriend." She started to explain. The girl started to show interest. "I want to know if he'll cheat on me. I thought maybe you could. . . I don't know . . .like, come on to him, maybe . ." She let her sentence trail off as she watched the skeptical look return to the girls face. "I thought maybe, since . . well, since we look a little alike, I thought you would be perfect for the test. I've . . ." she dug into her purse, pulling out a wad of crumpled bills she'd shoved in there for just this purpose. "I have some money. . ." she held it out to the girl.
The girl looked at the money, smiling, and opened the door. She said; "Oh, all right, what the hell." And climbed inside the car.
Three days later
The coroner pulled the sheet a little further up, covering the body's face and exposed patches of scalp and skull as the detective and parents walked in.
"As I said, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, we don't know for sure this is Leslie, there aren't any finger prints left." The detective spoke softly, almost whispered, a voice he reserved only for his wife, and for the dead. "We did find this." He held out his hand to the coroner. Turning toward the silver tray that held all the instruments, the coroner picked up a long gold chain with a small, round, shiny object hanging from it, and handed it to the detective. The parents st closer; inspecting the delicate thing in the large hands of the man who told them he'd found their daughter. Mrs. Barnes began to wail, sinking to her knees. Mr. Barnes watched his wife for a moment, in shock.
"Yes." He nodded slowly. "That was her necklace. That ring. . ." He reached for the small ring that hung from the chain, pushing it with his finger. "I bought this ring for her when she was just a baby." His eyes were on the ring, but his focus was somewhere else, somewhere in the past. "My wife. My wife, she said a diamond ring was too extravagant for an infant." He took a deep breath, his chest puffing up with the memory of pride. "But, nothing was to good for my daughter. . . .my daughter . . . ." He too, began to sob, reaching down, he pulled his wife to her feet, and they held on, supporting each other.
The detective returned after he'd guided the Barnes' into the hall and arranged a ride home for them. "I hate that part." He said to the coroner as he approached the table.
"Yeah. Me too." The coroner replied, bent over the torso of the body. After the parents had left the room, he had paused a moment, saying a little prayer for them, and then pulled the sheet back down, exposing the burnt corpse that had once been a baby girl with a diamond ring. He straightened, looking the detective in the eye. "She was kidnapped?"
"Yeah. Two weeks ago. Disappeared on her way home from school. They received the ransom note, along with a Polaroid of her, tied up and gagged. They paid the ransom three days ago. Hadn't heard anything until I knocked on their door."
"They didn't call in when they got the ransom note?"
"No." The detective shook his head sadly. "The note said she'd die if they did, and they believed it." He looked down at the corpse on the table in front of him. "What a waste."
The coroner watched him silently for a moment, then asked: "That the guy?" and jerked his thumb toward another table.
"Yeah. Has to be." The detective looked across the room to the other burnt body. "The car was found in a ditch. Near as we can tell, he lost control, ran off the road, cracked his head open on the steering wheel. She . ." he looked back at the girl's corpse. "She must have hit her head too. Isn't that what that is?" He asked, pointing to what looked like a fracture in the skull. The coroner nodded. "Well," the detective continued with the story, "the gas tank exploded, and that's all she wrote. Case closed." With one final glance down at the girl, he shook his head again, and left the room.
Her foot pumped up and down, the only indication of her impatience. She sat in the armchair, her legs crossed at the knee, her right foot hanging in mid air. Up and down, up and down. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart. Sitting on the sidelines was not something she did well, but this time she had no choice. She stared at the television, not watching, not listening, and every few minutes would glance at the clock, dismayed at the sight of so few moments having clicked by since her last glance. She dragged her eyes back toward the television, forcing herself to pay attention. Watching as a game show contestant dressed as an ear of corn, choose door number two and won a goat, the groans of the studio audience were drowned out by crunch of driveway gravel under the weight of tires. Running to the window that looked out on the front yard, she pulled back the curtain, peeking outside. Letting out a short shriek of joy, she hopped in place, clapping her hands, and ran to the door, flinging it open, throwing herself into the arms of her boyfriend. He had to drop the satchel he was carrying to catch her, and steady them both before they fell off the porch. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him in to her, his hands found their usual place on her back. "Did you get it? How'd it go?" The questions flew out of her mouth in rapid succession. In answer, he walked her backwards, back into the trailer, and shut the door behind him. He moved his hands from her back so they rested on her hips, and he gently pushed her to arms length away from him, staring at her, suddenly serious. Her smile faded and her face fell. He grinned at her expression and quickly bent down grabbing the satchel and bringing it up, above his head. Unlatching the clasp, he turned the satchel upside down, allowing hundreds of bills to fly through the air. She screeched with delight, grabbing at a few bills as they floated past her face. She danced, turning and jumping across the carpet of money, clutching the bills she had grabbed to her chest. He watched her celebration from the doorway, smiling at her happiness. She stopped turning, giggling as she watched the last few bills land on the floor at his feet. Her eyes swept over the litter of money, widening in surprise of how much of the floor it covered. One. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars. She said it in her head, in capital letter, then grinned up at him. "It worked!" She exclaimed, throwing herself back across the room and back into his arms. "It worked, it worked:" she continued to repeat those same words over and over again, as he kissed her neck, her collarbone. Her exclamation had reduced itself to a mummer as he laid her down, and made love to her on top of the money scattered on the floor.
Later, he was still stretched out, lying naked on the money. She buttoned her jeans and slipped back into her shirt. "Com'on, we've got to get going." She said as she stood and zipped her jeans.
"Wher'we going?" He asked, and rolled lazily onto his stomach.
"Away. We have to go away now." She tucked in her shirt and slipped her feet into sandals. She kneeled by his head, gathering the money. "Come on," she commanded, slapping his bare back with her hands.
"Ouch." He playfully complained, reaching for her.
"NO. Get up and get dressed. We have to go now."
"Jeeze. Ok." He stood and grabbed his own pair of jeans and headed to the bathroom. He didn't close the door, and she cringed as she heard him. She quickly gathered the rest of the money, stuffing it back into the satchel and leaving it by the front door. She looked behind her, toward the bathroom, cringing again at his sounds. She knew she was ready. She'd been preparing for this part for as long as she'd been planning the rest. Grabbing the bat, she stood to one side of the alcove that led to the bathroom. Holding the bat up and off her shoulder, she knew she'd only get one shot, so she had to make it count. This was her World Series. She heard the flush and then the rustle of denim as he pulled his jeans on. "Honeybaby" he called from the hallway, she heard his steps, bracing herself, taking one last deep breath. He appeared, suddenly, from the alcove, she swung with all the strength she could muster, making contact with his forehead. Startled, he stared at her in amazement and confusion then fell straight back, landing on the tile of the kitchen, blood pouring from the open cavity in his head.
She shut her eyes and took a few deep breaths, willing her heart to calm down. An unexpected thought occurred to her, and her eyes flew open staring at him. What if he was still alive? Tip toeing around his torso, she bent gingerly feeling his neck for a pulse. She breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't find one. She stepped back, bracing herself against the kitchen sink as she thought about the next step in her plans.
~*~*~
She waited until after dark, for two reasons. The first, more of them would be out, the second, she stood less of a chance being seen than if she did it during the day. She waited two hours after the sun went down, spending the time sorting, counting and stacking the money. One hundred thousand, just like the note had said. She hadn't been sure it was possible for her father to have raised that amount in such a short time, but he had. When she felt it was dark enough, she grabbed her purse and walked out to the car. Starting the engine, she backed the small run down car out of the driveway and headed for downtown.
After forty-five minutes of cruising up and down, she finally spotted the right one. Right height and weight. Right color hair too, but she supposed that wouldn't really matter much in the end. Pulling up to the curb near the girl she picked, she waved at her, beckoning. Sauntering over, the girl bent at the waist, sticking her head in through the open window.
"Sorry, lady. I don't go that way." The girl turned and started to walk away until she called out.
"No. You've got the wrong idea." Hearing this, the girl returned, again sticking her head through the open passenger side window. "It's for my boyfriend." She started to explain. The girl started to show interest. "I want to know if he'll cheat on me. I thought maybe you could. . . I don't know . . .like, come on to him, maybe . ." She let her sentence trail off as she watched the skeptical look return to the girls face. "I thought maybe, since . . well, since we look a little alike, I thought you would be perfect for the test. I've . . ." she dug into her purse, pulling out a wad of crumpled bills she'd shoved in there for just this purpose. "I have some money. . ." she held it out to the girl.
The girl looked at the money, smiling, and opened the door. She said; "Oh, all right, what the hell." And climbed inside the car.
Three days later
The coroner pulled the sheet a little further up, covering the body's face and exposed patches of scalp and skull as the detective and parents walked in.
"As I said, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, we don't know for sure this is Leslie, there aren't any finger prints left." The detective spoke softly, almost whispered, a voice he reserved only for his wife, and for the dead. "We did find this." He held out his hand to the coroner. Turning toward the silver tray that held all the instruments, the coroner picked up a long gold chain with a small, round, shiny object hanging from it, and handed it to the detective. The parents st closer; inspecting the delicate thing in the large hands of the man who told them he'd found their daughter. Mrs. Barnes began to wail, sinking to her knees. Mr. Barnes watched his wife for a moment, in shock.
"Yes." He nodded slowly. "That was her necklace. That ring. . ." He reached for the small ring that hung from the chain, pushing it with his finger. "I bought this ring for her when she was just a baby." His eyes were on the ring, but his focus was somewhere else, somewhere in the past. "My wife. My wife, she said a diamond ring was too extravagant for an infant." He took a deep breath, his chest puffing up with the memory of pride. "But, nothing was to good for my daughter. . . .my daughter . . . ." He too, began to sob, reaching down, he pulled his wife to her feet, and they held on, supporting each other.
The detective returned after he'd guided the Barnes' into the hall and arranged a ride home for them. "I hate that part." He said to the coroner as he approached the table.
"Yeah. Me too." The coroner replied, bent over the torso of the body. After the parents had left the room, he had paused a moment, saying a little prayer for them, and then pulled the sheet back down, exposing the burnt corpse that had once been a baby girl with a diamond ring. He straightened, looking the detective in the eye. "She was kidnapped?"
"Yeah. Two weeks ago. Disappeared on her way home from school. They received the ransom note, along with a Polaroid of her, tied up and gagged. They paid the ransom three days ago. Hadn't heard anything until I knocked on their door."
"They didn't call in when they got the ransom note?"
"No." The detective shook his head sadly. "The note said she'd die if they did, and they believed it." He looked down at the corpse on the table in front of him. "What a waste."
The coroner watched him silently for a moment, then asked: "That the guy?" and jerked his thumb toward another table.
"Yeah. Has to be." The detective looked across the room to the other burnt body. "The car was found in a ditch. Near as we can tell, he lost control, ran off the road, cracked his head open on the steering wheel. She . ." he looked back at the girl's corpse. "She must have hit her head too. Isn't that what that is?" He asked, pointing to what looked like a fracture in the skull. The coroner nodded. "Well," the detective continued with the story, "the gas tank exploded, and that's all she wrote. Case closed." With one final glance down at the girl, he shook his head again, and left the room.