Quinn - Iris Johansen [21]
“Then by all means read them by yourself. I’m just a guy, and I have trouble coping with tears. I’ll come back in the morning, and we’ll talk.”
“That would be good.” She glanced at the files. “There seem to be quite a few. I didn’t realize that there were that many cases.” She frowned. “I thought I read … six? And that included the little boy they found in the grave by the freeway.”
“That was all the ATLPD and the media had on their list. But they were all local and within the last five years. They checked nearby cities and came up with nothing. But I found cases in more distant cities in Georgia and Tennessee that I thought were worth looking at. And I dug down another ten years. I ran across a story about the body of a child found in a swamp near the Florida border twelve years ago.”
“Fifteen years. You think he’s been killing that long?”
“Or longer. It might not be the same man, but it could be. Serial killers like what they do. They tend to make it a life’s vocation.” He took the coffee she handed him. “You’ll find enough there to keep you busy tonight. There are eight or nine that I thought close enough to run a comparison.”
“And only two bodies found?” She shivered. “Those poor parents. In agony all these years, not knowing…”
“After a certain amount of time passes, just the lack of knowledge is a sort of proof that the child is never coming home. That must be a kind of comfort.”
“The hell it is. There’s nothing worse than a child who’s lost or thrown away like some piece of garbage. A child has value, she should be cared for and brought in from every storm.” Her voice shook with passion. “Dead or alive, I’d have to bring my child home.”
“Then maybe we can help some of those parents in the reports.” He poured her a cup of coffee. “But you need to calm down and get a breath of air before you start. Walk me to the porch.”
She took the cup and followed him out onto the porch. “I get too … upset. I didn’t used to be like this. You’re being very patient with me.” She leaned against the porch rail and lifted her gaze to the night sky. “Everything reminds me of her. We’d sit here on the steps and look up at the stars and I’d tell her stories about all the constellations and we’d try to identify the Big Dipper and Orion and…” She took a sip of coffee. “Sorry. I’ll shut up.”
“Not for me. She’s part of you. And memories can save, not destroy, if you accept them.”
“Can they? I only know I wouldn’t give up a single memory of her no matter how much it hurt.” She added, “My mother doesn’t feel that way. She loves Bonnie, but she’s trying to block the thought of her. I guess everyone handles grief differently.”
“I haven’t seen your mother the last two times I’ve been here. Is she still staying in her room?”
Eve shook her head. “She’s been going to church. She was never religious, but a local pastor came to visit and invited her to come to services. I think the congregation has taken her on as a project. They keep her busy. That’s fine, Sandra needs people. It may keep her off the drugs. She quit when Bonnie was born, but this is a dangerous time for her.”
“What about you? She’s the only family you have. She should stay with you and give—”
“Stop being so protective.” She smiled and finished her coffee. “The last thing I need is Sandra hovering over me. We’re both surviving in the best way we can. She has her congregation, and I have Joe Quinn.” She took Joe’s empty cup and turned toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Joe. It’s time I got to work.”
“Good night. Lock your door.”
“Why? I’m not worried about being in any kind of danger.”
“I know. But I’m worried for you. It’s a violent world. Lock your door.”
“Whatever.”
He watched her as she entered the house and waited until he heard the click of the lock.
No, she wasn’t worried. She couldn’t care less about her own physical safety. It had no meaning for her in comparison to her loss of her child. He realized that he was the one who was going to have to care for her.
Another duty for him to assume in the emotional storm that had come to him.