Island of Lost Girls - Jennifer McMahon [79]
Rhonda heard Peter breathing into the phone.
Where? she asked. Where did they find it?
Rhonda hated herself the minute she said the words, turning Ernie from aher into anit .
In our woods, Ronnie. Under the old stage.
There was a long pause. Rhonda drew in a breath. She heard a strange crackle on the phone line. She felt a pain in her head and reached up instinctively and ran her finger over the scar. Rhonda had this crazy idea then. She thought maybe theyd just dug up that old bogeyman. Hed decomposed to the point where they looked at him and thought hed once been a person. Maybe that was the body theyd foundtheir childhood fears given form, weighted down by stones, as if such a weight could hold them down forever.
That cant be, Rhonda found herself saying, more of a gasp than a sentence.
I want you to get in your car right now and come straight over here, Ronnie. Get here as soon as you can. We have to talk before you see anyone else, especially the police, okay?
The police?
Yeah, theyre going to want to talk to you.
But I dont understand, Rhonda said, her voice sounding squeaky and strange; it was her eleven-year-old voice.
I know you dont. Thats why you need to come see me. Promise me youre on your way.
I promise, she said, the words tumbling easily out of Rhondas tight, dry mouth.
RHONDA HUNG UPwith Peter and met Crowley coming up the steps to her apartment as soon as she opened the front door.
Has something happened to Warren? she asked. The last time shed seen Crowley was at Warrens bedside a week ago.
Warren? No. Hes fine. Hes out of the hospital and a guest of the department of corrections. Pat too. They kept her in the hospital awhile because she hasnt said a word since you hit her. The docs say theres nothing wrong physicallyjust wont talk.
Rhonda nodded.Elective mutism , she thought. Jingled the keys in her hands.
Got a minute, Miss Farr? he asked.
I was just on my way out.
This wont take long. Can we go inside?
She offered him a cup of coffee from the pot shed just turned off and they sat together at her table, stirring milk and sugar into lukewarm coffee.
Tell me about the summer of 1993. The August Daniel Shale disappeared. You did a play thenPeter Pan, right?
Rhonda was taken aback by the question.
Uh, right. I was Wendy.
Crowley sat across from Rhonda, taking notes as they spoke, referring to his black book as he questioned her. But the questions he asked made no sense.
Im not sure what this has to do with
Just answer the questions, Miss Farr, Crowley cut her off.
Now, if you would please, take me back to that summer. Tell me about the play. About the last time you saw Daniel Shale.
Daniel? Um, the last time I remember seeing him was the evening of the play.
Right, he said, thumbing through his book, the play ended, to the best of everyones recollection, around seven thirty, then you had a cookout. Now can you remember anything unusual about that evening? About him?
Rhonda strained to remember. She thought of the photographs in Clems album, which showed all of them after the play. Lizzy up on Daniels shoulders. Daniel sword fighting with Peter.
He was clean shaven. Hed always had this thick walrus kind of mustache but sometime that summer he shaved. There are pictures in my fathers album of him that night.
Ive seen the photographs. Your parents said you have a video of the play?
Yeah, I borrowed it a couple weeks ago.
Would you mind if I took it for a few days? he asked.
Not at all, Rhonda said. She got up and walked into the living room, where she found it on the shelf below the televisionwhere she left it the morning she and Warren watched it together, cuddling on the couch. She shrugged the memory off, grabbed the tape, and headed back to Crowley. When she returned to the kitchen, Crowley was up, snooping through papers on the counterold grocery