xxx

chapter eleven

xxx

building a map in order to find
what's not lost but left behind
my instinct got bruised
but still i see
i was a victim, i'll be no casualty
-Beth Orton, "Tangent"

xxx

"Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?"

Sam took a few steps into the living room at the Dees' apartment, Martin's hand brushing against her back as he slid in behind her. Maryann Dees loomed before them, stoic and composed but dressed all in black. Her eyes were red and wet and her nose was runny, every evidence that she spent the better portion of that morning crying.

"We're both fine," Sam shook her head, offering Maryann a small sympathetic smile. "We're sorry we have to do this, but we need to ask you a few questions about your husband and your daughter."

"Of course, I understand." Maryann nodded gently, her voice soft and distant as though she were a thousand miles away.

Sam sat down on the sofa and felt cushions dip as Martin sat next to her. She leaned forward and heard Martin say, "Can you tell us what happened the night before last?"

Maryann seemed to compose herself as she sat on the chair opposite from them and said, "It was just any other night. Katelyn was eating a snack and I had just given Rachel a bath, but Rachel was holding her arm like it was hurting her and we were out of Children's Motrin. I left Richard at home with the two of them to run out to the store for some. I got caught up at the store, but I wasn't gone for more than an hour..." Maryann paused, sniffling and shaking her head. "When I got home, Richard was getting ready for bed. He said he'd put the girls down for me and that Rachel was feeling better. I wanted to go make sure she wasn't hurting, but I didn't want to wake her up. She's been such a restless sleeper."

Of course she does, Sam thought, and she tilted her head to the side to meet Martin's eyes.

Martin shifted uneasily beside her. "Mrs. Dees, do you know why we're here?"

Maryann folded her hands across her lap, her thumb twitching slightly. Her face was hard and emotionless; she was clearly hardened and numb. "You said you wanted to ask me some questions about Richard and Rachel."

"We're so sorry about your loss," Sam said, trying to elicit an emotional response. When Maryann didn't bite, Sam continued. "Can you tell us what happened the morning that you found Rachel?"

"I woke up early. It must have been before 6:00 because Richard was still asleep..." Maryann's voice trailed off and she took a deep breath, showing emotion for the first time since she greeted them at the door. "I took a shower and started to get ready before I even thought to check on the girls. I checked on Katelyn, and she was fine... and then, then I went to check on Rachel. She was pale and blue, and she was barely breathing..." She looked down at her lap, staring intently at her hands. "I should have checked on her sooner. I... I should have known something was wrong when she slept through the night."

"It's not your fault," Martin spoke gently, shifting his weight where he sat. "What did the doctors tell you about Rachel's injuries?"

Sam knew what he was doing. By asking Maryann what the doctors told her, they would be able to gauge how much she herself was willing to accept and believe.

"They told me... they said that she was bleeding in her brain." Maryann looked off to one side, a clear sign that she was not being entirely forthright -- with them, and with herself.

While there was no autopsy report yet since Rachel had only died early that morning, Sam looked over the doctors' reports sent from the hospital that morning: the records were fairly gruesome. It seemed that Katelyn was immensely lucky she had not been the subject of Richard's physical rage.

"Mrs. Dees," Sam started. "Maryann--" she decided to use Maryann's first name to try to separate her from 'belonging to' her husband. "Can you tell us what happened the night before, when you got home from the store?"

Maryann glanced at the wall before looking up at her. "I don't understand the connection."

"Maryann," Martin leaned forward, folding his hands and squaring his shoulders. Sam was immensely grateful that Martin was there with her; he always had a knack for tact and diplomacy. She always suspected it was because his parents raised him for politics. "Did the hospital or the social workers talk to you about the possibility that Rachel's injuries were the result of physical abuse?"

"That's ridiculous!" Maryann snapped, visibly tensing. She recoiled and frowned. "How could you say that?"

"Your daughter's injuries were severe," Sam said, pulling out her notebook and glancing over a few notes she took down from the hospital records. "She was brought to the emergency room with a fractured skull and a subarachnoid hemorrhage, and her x-rays revealed several old spiral fractures." She paused and narrowed her eyes, ensuring that she had Maryann's full attention. Maryann was looking down at her hands, but Sam was satisfied that she was listening. "Before you protest and tell us that Rachel was unsteady and prone to falling, I talked to one of the doctors. Children have spiral fractures when their arms or legs are forcefully twisted."

Maryann flinched but remained silent, and Sam sensed that Martin still didn't get where she was going with this line of questioning. To be honest, she wasn't entirely sure herself; she just had a feeling that Melanie's trail vanishing led back to Katelyn, which could have put Melanie at the Dees' residence the evening before Rachel was rushed to the hospital. It was too much of a coincidence to dismiss.

"What I don't understand," Sam surmised aloud, "Is why you are so insistent on protecting your husband." She motioned to the angry bruises on her face and the suture line just above her upper lip. "Your husband did this to me while we were questioning him, and we've spoken with a woman who filed charges against your husband thirteen years ago for domestic abuse." Sam narrowed her eyes and raised her voice, "We have enough circumstantial evidence to get him convicted for your daughter's murder. Don't you get it?"

Maryann's eyes teared up and she cried softly. Sam took this as a sign that she was starting to get through and continued, "I understand how it happened. When you were little, your dad used to go out and get drunk. He'd come home and your parents would fight and the next morning, your mom would give you an excuse: she fell down the stairs or she tripped into her dresser, but you knew the truth. You swore your life was going to be different, so when Richard started hitting you, you never said anything."

Martin shifted forward and rose from the sofa, excusing himself to the bathroom. Sam silently caught his eye and thanked him as he left the room; this allowed her to talk to Maryann from a woman to woman perspective while simultaneously enabling him to sneak around and take a cursory look at the rest of the apartment unnoticed.

Sam stood from the sofa as well and squared her shoulders, walking to the love seat catty-corner from where Maryann sat. She could be more up close and personal this way, and she wanted to strike while she had the chance. Maryann had to know something; otherwise, they were quickly going to be out of leads, out of time, and out of luck.

"I know that you're scared, and I know that you've been through a lot, but Katelyn's sister is missing and we have every reason to believe that she was headed here because she knew about your husband. Please, if you know anything, we need to find her."

Maryann's expression softened and her stiff posture relented. "I only met Melanie once, when we took Katelyn to meet her at the Central Park Zoo."

Sam clasped her hands together and willed her legs to remain still. "Did anything happen that day that you can remember?"

Maryann closed her eyes, thinking for a moment before shaking her head 'no'.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked again. "There's nothing you can think of, nothing out of the ordinary?"

"I can't think of anything," Maryann replied slowly. "When Valerie called me and said that she and Angela wanted to set up a meeting, they wanted it to be as low key as possible, so Richard walked around the Zoo with Rachel while I stayed with Melanie, Katelyn, Angela and Valerie."

Maryann fingered her small gold pendant absent-mindedly, drawing Sam's attention to it, and said, "I wish I could help you, but I don't think she's been anywhere near here."

"Maryann," Sam said firmly, her determination replacing disappointment, "you don't have to be the victim anymore. No man is worth sacrificing yourself, and that's before you take into account the fact that he was abusing you and your daughter and your foster daughter whom, I might add, you willingly brought into this mess. No man is worth it."

Maryann did not respond, and Sam sighed and retreated with her into a pregnant silence that was only interrupted by the sound of running water from the bathroom. Martin re-emerged in the doorway and asked, "Is there any way I can take you up on a glass of water?"

"Of course," Maryann agreed, stepping to her feet and disappearing into the kitchen.

Sam moved back to the sofa and Martin sat down beside her. She leaned in to him and said in a hushed voice so that Maryann would not overhear, "Did you get anything?"

"Not much, just this..." he whispered back, pulling a small card out of his breast pocket and handing it to her.

It was a religious card, depicting a woman holding a rose. The woman had a small wound pictured on her forehead and there were a few bees present in the background. Sam flipped the card over and read the inscription: St. Rita of Cascia, 1381-1457, and on the next line read: Avalon Center.

"What is it?" She asked finally.

"I knew I recognized her medal when I first saw it but I couldn't place it, and then I found this hidden in her desk drawer upstairs," he explained, wringing his hands together. "St. Rita of Cascia is the patron saint of lost causes... and battered women, and Avalon is a battered women's shelter in Hamilton Heights."

"Okay, so what does that mean?"

Martin leaned back against the sofa cushions, but before he got a chance to answer, the soft buzz of his cell phone broke his train of thought. "Fitzgerald," he replied, sliding his phone open and speaking into the receiver. "I was just going to call to see if you could check on something..." He paused briefly, listening to the person on the other end of the line, whom Sam could only assume was another member of the team. "Yeah, a safe shelter for battered women in Washington Heights, and no, Sam and I are with Maryann Dees right now." Martin stopped to listen again, and his expression fell. "No, no. That's fine," he replied, his tone somber and pensive. "Okay, I'll check in again after we ask a few more questions here."

Saying goodbye and closing his phone, Martin turned back to her and said, "That was Elena. They found Melanie early this morning behind a dumpster three blocks from here. She's still alive, but just barely. The garbage collectors found her a few hours ago, but she was registered as Jane Doe when they brought her to the hospital and it took them a little while to make the connection. She's hypothermic, but they expect her to recover."

Sam closed her eyes and inhaled deeply in relief, but after allowing herself those few seconds of respite, the wheels in her head begin to turn once again. Opening her eyes, she asked, "They found her just a few blocks from here?"

Martin opened his mouth to answer, but instead he looked up and said, "Thank you so much," to Maryann, who had returned with two glasses of water in hand.

Her behavior still puzzled Sam, but if she had seen anything in her years of working Missing Persons, it was that everyone dealt with grief in his or her own way -- especially people who had been through as much as Maryann had.

"It's not a problem," Maryann said, handing one to him before turning and offering the other to Sam. "I know you didn't ask for anything to drink, but I thought you might like something."

Sam took the glass and nodded, "Thank you."

Maryann sat back down and made direct eye contact with Sam for the first time since they had arrived at the door, saying, "I know you must think I'm weak, but it's not easy to let someone go when you love them, no matter how bad they are for you." She blinked as she fingered her necklace once again. "So in the end, I guess, I'm no more guilty of anything but repeating the sins of my mother."

Sam laughed softly in her own self-deprecation, raising an eyebrow and arguing, "The problem with that is when you continue to love the wrong person, you're not the only one who ends up getting hurt."

xxx