Sharon shrugged. “We’re just keeping an eye out since that girl was attacked. Do any girls your age wait out here with you?”
“No.”
“Any in the neighborhood?”
“At other stops.”
“How’s Ricky doing?”
“He’s all right. Back on his meds.”
“Good. Is he at home?”
“I left him on the couch.”
She nodded. “I’ll go see him. Have a good day at school.”
She walked off, her bulk swaying, radio at her waist crackling.
Sharon had witnessed a few of Rick’s melt-downs in the past, taking him into custody once when he pointed a gun at Delia, Bobby locking himself in the bathroom to call Sharon. Rick spent a few days at the hospital, his medication given with injections. Once, he punched Bobby in the mouth, knocking out a tooth. In those days, going to school for Bobby was an escape, no matter how much teasing he had to put with, and the bullying was nothing compared to living with his brother.
Bobby was still watching Sharon when the bus arrived. He could not shake the feeling that Sharon was not just checking up, but wanted to ask Rick about something. His ex-girlfriend, Ashley, had filed a restraining order, but Rick was staying away from her. Ashley had relatives who were Blue Diamonds, and Rick always had his friends in the club.
Bobby got on the bus, but his fellow passengers hardly noticed him, they were too busy talking about Jess, who was returning to school today.
*****
Jess could have spent more time at home, but Ann-Marie saw no point in letting her hide. Jess needed a push sometimes, but she made sure to take an extra Vicodin from her mother’s medicine cabinet before leaving for school, storing a few more in her pocket.
Gramma Joan dropped her off at school, leaving Jess to walk across the yard alone, everyone predictably watching as she walked up the stairs. She kept her eyes down, head and most of her face covered with a hood. The calming effect of the painkiller was kicking in, and she even smiled by the time her friends, including Piper, approached her in the hallway, surrounding like a protective cloud until she went to her first class, Algebra I.
Sonya and Bobby were already seated, and the room went silent when Jess entered. She immediately found her seat, her head down.
Mr. Yates was the last to enter before the final bell. He glanced at Jess for a moment, then grabbed an erasable marker from the board.
“Everyone open your books to Chapter One, page eight...”
*****
Piper ate her lunch with Jess and the other girls while Sonya and Bobby sat at a nearby table.
Bobby had given Sonya his FriendsRing friends list, along with Piper’s and Jess’s. Sonya looked over the sheets of paper while eating her sandwich. “This could take awhile...”
“Couldn’t the guy who e-mailed her be anyone who found out about the attack?” Bobby asked.
“He mentioned her ring. No one knew it was taken from her finger during the attack. Even Jess didn’t remember at first.”
“Why would he take her ring?”
“Because he wants to feel connected to her long after the attack.”
“That’s sick.”
Sonya nodded, taking a sip of milk. “That’s why I think he’s not going to stop until he gets caught.”
“Why are you so interested in this? I mean, why not just leave it to the cops?”
Bobby bit into an apple and Sonya took that moment to think about her answer. “People shouldn’t be allowed to keep secrets that hurt other people. My step-dad taught me that every unsolved crime is like a puzzle, and the pieces can be found in the little details, like Jess’s ring. Or the cuts on her face. I wouldn’t be surprised if the detective took photos of the cuts to try to figure out what brand of knife he used.”
“That sounds like CSI.”
“But tracking down the knife used would be like trying to find who sent Jess that e-mail. A needle in a haystack.”
“My aunt is a cop,” Bobby said. “She came around this morning, asking if any girls wait for the bus at my stop.”
Bobby went on to explain about Sharon wanting to speak to Rick. “He once threatened to burn Ashley’s face with acid. He says he’s been leaving her alone since the restraining order was filed, but I’m not sure I believe him...”
“You think he’s a suspect?” Sonya asked.
“Or maybe one of his friends. He hangs out with some guys in the Blue Diamonds.”
“Does Rick have a record?”
“Since he was fifteen. He was arrested for molesting our cousin, who was five. He was diagnosed as bi-polar around that time and Mom had to practically shove the medication down his throat. I’m five years younger, so I’ve just put up with it. When he’s living on his own, it’s easier.”
“Does he work?”
“Sometimes. He had a job at the mall over the summer.”
“Bobby?”
He turned, Piper behind him. “I know I said I’d go to the library with you, but Jess wants me to hang out with her after school.”
“That’s fine,” Bobby said. “I’ve got shopping and laundry to do. I won’t be surprised if I’m making dinner, too.”
“Does your mom work long hours?” Sonya asked as Piper turned to the other table.
He nodded. “She works at Forge Plastics. On the machines.”
“My Aunt Sue works there. She’s the third shift supervisor.”
“I’m hoping to get a job there this summer. Maybe Mom will stop treating me like a wife.”
“Do they hire kids?”
“Sometimes for part-time jobs if they’re sixteen or older. Metal Concepts does the same thing.”
The early bell rang, Jess leaving her table with Piper and her other friends. Sonya thought the girls were kind for helping Jess, but Sonya knew that if Jess had less popular friends, she would be getting through the day alone.
A group of older boys walked past, wearing their East Marine High School blue and white jackets. They glanced at Sonya and Bobby, their gaze staying on Bobby and his bow-tie. One of them giggled, an incredulous look on his pock-marked face, as if he had never seen anyone like Bobby before.
Sonya stared the boy down. He did not miss her hard gaze, and one of the other boys pushed him away. This boy had very short hair and dark eyes, his features soft. When he stepped away, Sonya noticed a pretty, dark-haired girl standing by one of the vending machines, stuffing a bottle of soda into her backpack.
Sonya recognized the girl as her cousin Kaitlyn, Sue’s granddaughter.
*****
Sonya was passed by the Four Js on their bikes after she exited the bus.
“Mom wants you to come to the house,” Jack said.
Sonya followed the boys to the red, one-story, home that could barely contain Barb, Kyle, and the quadruplets.
Barb was in the kitchen when Sonya entered. Barb had the same thick, curly brown hair as Kyle, a thin figure encased in tight jeans and a sleeveless black T-shirt. She was in her early forties, but her face was weathered from smoking and stress. However, her gaze was kind, the type of woman who had known abuse and mistreatment, but tried to stay good. Her husband Wayne had died years ago, but Sonya was not sure how.
“Thanks for stopping by,” Barb said. She pulled her hair away from her face, and Sonya wondered how such a small woman could carry four babies at once. “I was wondering if you could babysit Friday night.”
“I can. No problem.”
“Great. The club-house is doing a charity benefit for Donut. He’s got leukemia.”
“The club-house?” Sonya asked.
“The Blue Diamond club-house in Marine Heights. I knew Donut and his old lady Carrie before I married Wayne.”
“You ever meet a guy named Rick Chambers at the club-house?”
Barb shrugged. “Sounds familiar, but I’m not sure. Is he a Diamond?”
“No, but his friends a
re. He’s the brother of a friend of mine at school.”
“I hang out with the older crowd. The younger ones don’t always have a jacket or all their patches yet.”
“Are they...outlaws?”
Barb shook her head. “Not anymore. Not since the FBI cracked down, thinking they were all drug dealers and dirtbags. Well, most of them were...”
“What time would you like me to come over Friday?” Sonya asked.
“How about seven? I should be back by eleven-thirty.”
“Ma! Where’s my jeans?”
Sonya stiffened when she heard Kyle’s voice.
“In the dryer.” Barb turned to Sonya. “He works all night, doesn’t get out of bed until two-thirty.”
Kyle walked into the kitchen, shirtless, zipping up the Levis he found in the dryer. When he looked up, he saw Sonya. “Oh, sorry.”
Sonya blushed as he walked past her to the refrigerator.
“Sonya is babysitting Friday,” Barb said. “Do you need a ride to work tonight?”
“No. Trey’s giving me a ride.”
“Did you finish fixing your Camaro?” Sonya asked.
Kyle took a carton of orange juice to the counter. “I can’t afford the nine hundred dollar brake job yet. No sense in driving a car if I can’t stop it.”
“Save up some money from those double shifts,” Barb said.
“That’s the plan, Mom.”
He poured juice into a glass, Sonya not missing the bitter look on his face. She had the feeling he would rather be doing anything else than working at Metal Concepts.
Barb sighed. “You don’t know how lucky you are, and neither does Trey. Half of Marine is unemployed. Aron hasn’t worked in almost a year.”
“He went to Work Staffing,” Sonya said.
“Work Staffing found me my job,” Kyle said. “But I don’t think your dad would want to work in a factory.”
“Poor Bill,” Barb said. “I’m so glad you and Aron are there to look after him, Sonya. He was so nice to Wayne and I after Lily died. He knew what it was like to lose a child.”
*****
Sonya realized the house was empty when she entered. She would have used her key to open the side door, but the knob turned easily.
Helga did not greet her as she came through the mud-room to the kitchen.
Sonya found a Post-It note on the counter:
“We took Helga to the vet. Be back later.”
Sonya dropped her backpack on the table. When she turned around, she noticed the sliding glass door was partially open, a breeze coming through the dining area.
She stepped into the living room. The TV was off, some of Helga’s toys scattered around the carpet, including a PetsMart Bobo that Helga had separated from its stuffing long ago.
The door to Bill’s room was open. Sonya took a few more steps, but stopped.
She could feel her heart skip a beat.
Why? she thought. No one could break in if Dad and Uncle Bill only left a little while ago...
She entered the room, Bill’s furnishings modest; a twin bed, the post against the wall, Helga’s dog bed on the other side. His dresser was in a corner, a full-length mirror in another. A mounted fish, a rainbow trout Bill caught years ago, was hanging on the wall over the bed. A nightstand featured a lamp and a large puzzle book.
The closet light was on. Sonya came closer, the door already cracked open.
She pushed the door in and looked around. Bill was still holding on to some of his old hunting and fishing equipment, including expensive rifles, hunting suits, his bow and arrows, fishing rods and nets. He had taken these things out of the attic when Sonya moved in. The other mounted fish and the impressive eight-point buck, the head and rack preserved and mounted on a plaque, were laying against Bill’s clothes. Zipped-up bags in a camouflage design contained his knives and binoculars.
Bill quit hunting last year, after becoming lost in the woods for hours. He was in a new area, and had become confused, later found by a young hunter. Bill made the decision not to hunt again, putting away most of the mounted fish and the deer head.
Bill was only going to get worse, but Sonya wanted to convince herself that Bill would not completely forget her, or forget the truth.
Why couldn’t Mom just tell me? she thought. I only backed off because I felt guilty, and if I had been wrong, I would have felt like a fool.
She could confront Aron, but he would try to convince her that she was wrong, and would refuse to go along, not wanting to upset Bill, who was allowing Aron and Sonya to live in his house, although Aron had not yet taken complete control of Bill’s finances or decisions. However, this would change over the years, and Aron was barely hanging on to his retirement fund, collecting unemployment checks. He only had so much time to start over, and Bill’s house was paid off.
Sonya did not consider her father greedy, but he had to think of the future. If Aron were to show signs of Alzheimer’s in another ten years, Sonya would have to help him.
The idea of looking after Aron with Alzheimer’s made her stomach hurt. She closed her eyes and shook her head before flipping the wall switch, the closet going dark.
*****
Sonya had completed her homework at school and was on the Blue and White, the printed friends lists in front of her. She found herself taking notes, looking for a detail, a clue, that would give her a piece to the puzzle:
SkolClik-Blue and White
FriendsRing
Creepy e-mail to Jess
Jess’s e-mail address and ring
Rick-suspect?
The cuts and the knife
Rick Chambers can’t be the only suspect, she thought. The police would be considering men of all ages.
Sonya scrolled down the Blue and White, skimming through another entry about Rex Gerber and his pregnant girlfriend, along with another student being punished for cheating. Sonya wondered how SkolClik got his information, who his sources were.
She thought of Cal, of all the sources he had collected over the years, from the police departments and the courthouse, not to mention the housing projects in Marine, along with numerous criminal hangouts.
The Blue Diamond club-house.
Sonya added the Blue Diamonds to her list, although she was not sure why. Rick had some Diamond friends, but so did most people in Marine.
She checked her mail, and found a message from e-Bay. A copy of the Watchtower vinyl .45, “When She’s Not Here,” was available at auction for twenty dollars.
“Looks like someone needs gas money,” Sonya said.
She had Googled the word “Watchtower” after she moved to Bill’s house, and found a Role Playing Game and a security company of the same name. She also found a German music site, but Sonya did not know the language. However, she was able to use the site’s search engine, and another screen appeared featuring a black and white photo of four young men with long hair. Sonya recognized her father, to the left of the lead singer. He sported pork chop sideburns, a striped T-shirt and jeans, his arms folded across his broad chest.
Aron was almost forty when Sonya was born, and she never stopped being surprised when she came across the occasional photo of her father as a young man.
Bill had shown her Watchtower’s only full-length album, recorded entirely in German, the cover white, with a red tower resembling the rook in a chess game. Bill had kept it with his old record collection. Sonya sat on the couch and flipped open the inside cover, fascinated with the early 1970s photos of Aron, Sven, Peter, and Andre. Aron, long auburn hair flowing, wore a button-down fur vest over a white shirt with puffy sleeves. Sven wore a peaked black hat and tight fitting denim, as did Peter and Andre. Most of the photos were taken near the sea, the guys sitting on large boulders at the surf.
“Aron has some old articles, too,” Bill said. “They went on a tour of Germany, opened for Grand Funk Railroad.”
“Grand what?” Sonya asked.
Bill laughed as Sonya studied the whole cover and the album inside, the songs listed in German. Frustrated, she returned it to Bill’s old Elvis Presley and Johnny Cash albums. Bill owned a turntable, but Sonya was too shy to play the album.
I wouldn’t understand the songs, anyway, she thought.
Chapter Six
Bobby dropped a cap-full of Tide into the washer before leaving the laundry room.
He returned to the apartment, the bathroom towels in a large basket, clothes in another. Delia washed her own, but Rick’s remained in a pile by the couch. Bobby pulled at the jeans on top, a pair of white briefs entwined in the denim legs. When he separated these, something shiny fell out of a pocket.
Bobby picked up the charm bracelet, which featured a red heart, a ladybug, and a gold star, off the carpet. He placed it on the coffee table.
He took the towels down the hall and filled the washer. When he returned, he opened his lap-top, going to the Blue and White.
He read the newest entry:
“Whatever Happened To Adam?
Thirteen years ago, a teenaged psycho named Adam Moore murdered his mother and nine year old sister. Adam, a student at North Marine High School, had dropped out months before. When he confessed, he told police he was arguing with his mom in the kitchen. Later, he sneaked up behind her and cut her throat, doing the same to his sister when she came home from school. He placed both bodies on the floor and slashed their faces. Then he called his dad, who turned Adam over to the police. Why am I bringing this up? Well, Adam was seventeen, so he was tried as a juvenile. I don’t know where he is now, maybe he was sent to prison after he turned eighteen. His dad no longer lives in Marine. A parallel between Adam and Jess Holden’s attacker? Leave a message, tell me what you think...”
Bobby clicked on the replies. He skimmed throught the first two(“Adam was a sick little bastard. At school, they used to call him Frankenstein,” and,”Who could do that to their mom and sister?”)but his finger froze on the mouse when he came to the third, from a member named ghost94:
“I wish I had the guts to slash a bitch’s face. Especially if she’s pretty, she won’t be so smug with scars on her face.”
This bit of nastiness caused a reaction that lit up the blog, responses coming fast and thick; some enraged(“...what happened to Jessica is no different than getting raped...), sympathetic towards Jess(“...my ex threatened to cut up my face...), in agreement with ghost94(“...there are some people who would only be nicer if they lost their looks...”).