Angel Fire - Lisa Unger [84]
“Mrs. Savroy—” began Lydia.
“Ms.,” she interrupted.
“Ms. Savroy, we don’t want to bother your son. We just want to ask him a few questions.”
“Why?”
“In connection with the murders of Maria Lopez and Christine and Harold Wallace, and the disappearance of Shawna Fox, all members of the Church of the Holy Name,” said Jeffrey. “We are asking the parishioners and volunteers of the church questions to determine if they have seen or heard anything unusual.”
“If you think my son had anything to do with that, you’re nuts,” said Greta, flushed and nearly shaking with anger. “He has the mental capacity of a twelve-year-old.”
Lydia found her reaction defensive and incongruous with the situation, watching as the woman furiously wrung the dishtowel she held in her hand.
“No, ma’am,” said Jeffrey, his tone at once soothing and authoritative, “we just want to know if he’s seen anything. You can cooperate with us, or we can have the police come and take him in for questioning.”
She considered Jeffrey for a minute, eyes narrowed, hands wringing.
“If you upset him, there’s going to be hell to pay,” she said as she stepped aside, then led them down the hall to a cozy den. Benny sat on the floor, still wearing the beige coveralls Jeffrey had seen him in earlier. He was at least six feet tall and must have weighed in at well over 250 pounds. His sandy-blond hair was neatly combed in a side part and framed his round face, which was the same color and consistency as Play-Doh. His hands looked like bear claws. He was sitting on the floor and watching an episode of Batman Beyond on a large-screen television, drinking a glass of milk.
“Benny,” Greta said in the sweet tone Lydia had expected to begin with, “some people are here to see you. They want to ask you some questions.”
He turned around and looked at them.
“Benny, turn off the television,” his mother directed. He did so and then stood to face them. As he pulled himself up to his full height, Lydia and Jeffrey involuntarily took a step back.
“I saw you at the church,” he said.
“Yes, you did. Why did you leave in such a hurry, Benny?” asked Jeffrey.
“You talked about bad things. I got scared.”
“Why were you scared, Benny?”
He paused, rocking and looking at his mother. She nodded.
“I don’t know,” he said softly, sitting on the couch and wrapping his arms around himself.
“Do you take care of your mom’s garden out front?” Lydia asked him, sitting down on the couch beside him so that she was more at eye level with him.
He nodded.
“And the garden at the church, too.”
He nodded again. “I like flowers. They never do bad things. They’re just quiet.”
“I know what you mean. People do bad things but flowers don’t. Right?”
He nodded with enthusiasm, his eyes brightening, happy to be understood. “You just put the seeds in the ground and then make sure they get water and sun. And then a flower comes. Not too soon, but it does come. It’s God that makes the flowers grow.”
“Do you know Father Luis and Juno?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like them?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know anyone else at the church?”
“Not really.”
“Are you sure?”
Benny gazed at his mother and began to rock again. Then he looked to the floor and Lydia followed his eyes. Benny was wearing a pair of Timberland Toledo boots. Lydia took her cell phone from the inside pocket of her jacket and handed it to Jeffrey, who took it and walked outside.
“I want you to think carefully, Benny. You are not in any trouble and you haven’t done anything wrong. Has anybody taken you for a ride in a green minivan? Did someone take you to the park the other day?”
“Benny, what’s wrong?” Greta asked, as she saw his eyes grow red and well up with tears.
Benny released a low moan and shuddered. Greta pushed Lydia aside to get near her son and put her big arms around him. “It’s all right, honey. Try to relax,” she crooned.
“Ms. Savroy, where was your son on the