Island of Lost Girls - Jennifer McMahon [29]
Ronnie? Its Tock. Listen, Suzy just told me she was talking to you about Ernie this afternoon.
Yeah, a little. Rhonda began to pace back and forth across the hall, studying the dissection drawings.
She said you asked about Ernie and the rabbit. There was an edge to Tocks voice that made Rhonda cringe.
I just wondered if shed ever seen the rabbit, Rhonda explained. She looked at her own rabbit drawing, the layers of fur, skin, and tissue peeled back to reveal the bright, jewel-like organs inside.
Tock blew out a breath, hissing into the phone like some far-off snake. She had one of her worst seizures ever last night. Did Peter tell you that? God, I cant believe he brought her into Pats in the first place, all that Ernie stuff around its too much. Shes alittle girl , Rhonda. A very upset little girl with a serious medical condition that isnt being controlled very well at the moment. Tocks voice was strained. She sounded like she was on the verge of either crying or screaming.
Im sorry, Tock. God, I would never do anything to hurt or upset Suzy. I was just making conversation. Im so sorry. Ill be more careful in the future. Rhonda stood with her back against the wall and let herself sink down, back sliding, until she was sitting on the floor.
Thank you. Thats all Im asking.
Of course, Rhonda said. Thanks for calling, Tock. Thanks for telling me. She started to stand.
Wait, theres something else. Did you stop by my mothers trailer yesterday?
Rhonda took in a breath, let herself fall back to the ground. Shit. Yeah. I just wanted to see how she was.
And you brought some guy some movie director or something?
I brought a friend. My friend Warren. Hes not really
My familys been through a lot these last couple of days. I dont know what it is you hoped to find by interrogating a sick woman and a little girl, but youre not the cop, Rhonda. Its not your job to go digging around in other peoples lives. Youre just awitness . A witness who did nothing, which, lets face it, is pretty fucking suspicious, isnt it?
Before Rhonda could respond, Tock slammed the phone down, sending a smashing shriek across the lines, echoing inside Rhondas already rattled skull.
MAY 31, 1993
TWO WEEKS BEFOREhis birthday, Clem began sleeping in his study. There was a love seat there, and hed lie down with his long legs draped over one armrest, his head forced up at an unnatural angle by the other. When he woke up in the morning, hed emerge from his new lair in the rough shape of a question mark, hobble his way to the kitchen, and make coffee. By the time he was into his second cup, hed straightened up again.
Why are you sleeping in the study? Rhonda asked after it became clear that this was to be an ongoing arrangement.
My snoring was keeping your mother awake, he said.
You snore, Daddy?
He shrugged, turned the coffee mug in his hands.
Rhonda would watch him get ready for work (Clem was the boss at the sawmill those daysDave Lancaster had retired) after one of his nights on the love seat, wondering what was really going on. She heard bits and pieces of arguments through the walls. Hushed conversations. She never picked up enough to know what the fighting was aboutonly that her mother seemed very angry with her father. And Rhonda knew enough to realize it sure didnt have anything to do with her father snoring.
She made up her mind to do something extra special for his birthday. Shed make him a drawing. A really nice one. Shed take her time and do a sketch of something hed really love. But what? She made a mental list of the things her father loved: black coffee, unfiltered Camel cigarettes, German beer, and the Civil War. The war seemed like the best candidate for a good picture.
Her father spent nearly all his free time reading about it, studying battle plans and maps. One weekend a month, he got together with a group of other Civil War enthusiasts and planned reenactments.