Cemetery Girl

“What are you saying?”

“Is she my daughter after four years?”

“Yes. Some animal came along and took your daughter, and he did do those awful things to her. Unspeakable things. But you can’t just let that go. You’ve got to fight for this. You’re in a fight, Tom.”

“Unspeakable things?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the key right there, isn’t it? Caitlin refuses to speak of them. Not to me or Abby or the police. But we all know what we mean when we say unspeakable. Right? Just because it’s unspeakable doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it. It doesn’t mean I don’t visualize it. Every night I see it.” My words came in a rush, so I paused to collect myself. “I see them in a bed. Or on the floor. I see that pig grunting and breathing over her. Mounting her. Kissing her. Everything. And worst of all, she’s doing it back and enjoying it.”

I couldn’t look at him. My rear molars ground against other.

“Do you think the truth is going to be worse than what you’ve imagined?” he asked.

“It can’t be.”

He put the phone away and crossed his arms. He looked like he understood.

He reached into his pants pocket again and brought out the slip of paper. “My car’s over by your house,” he said. “We can leave right now.”

I started to leave, then noticed Buster wasn’t by my side. I looked back into the darkness and saw his shape leaning over Caitlin’s headstone. He started grunting and huffing. I went back.

“Help me,” he said. “I’m tired of this fucking abortion standing here.”

He started pushing against the stone again, trying with all his might to tip it over. I moved in beside him. It was tough, resistant, but after a few minutes it rocked loose and fell into the soft grass with a heavy thud.

Buster straightened, wiped his hands on his pant legs.

“Now I’m ready to go,” he said.

Chapter Forty-five

Colter’s mother lived on the north side of town. I drove by the neighborhood on my way to the interstate, and from the highway I remembered seeing a few factories, some strip malls, and lots and lots of trailers and small homes, the kinds with debris scattered in their yards and blank-eyed occupants sitting on the stoops smoking and drinking soft drinks from plastic bottles.

“Looks like this is a pretty shitty neighborhood,” Buster said.

“That’s fitting.”

“I guess not too many professors live on this side of town.”

“I wouldn’t think so.”

Buster drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “You know, you called me Paul back there in the cemetery.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did. You looked me right in the eye back there, when you were holding me by the collar, and you called me Paul. Clear as day.”

We took an exit ramp and came to a stoplight. I opened the glove compartment and took out a map. While we sat at the light, I located the correct street among the red and blue lines and told Buster which way to go. He made the first couple of turns, then started talking again.

“You’ve led a pretty good life,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I pointed to the windshield. “I’m driving in the middle of the night to confront the man who kidnapped and raped my daughter. I’m a lucky man.”

“Your life has turned out better than a lot of people’s. You’ve got a good job, some money. Okay, your personal life is in the dumper now. Your marriage is on the rocks.”

“My daughter. .”

“Your daughter’s back,” he said. “Don’t forget that.”

He made the last turn. We were in a subdivision called Skyline Acres. Every street was named after a heavenly body-Venus, Saturn, Aurora. Colter’s mother lived on Neptune Way. I watched the house numbers and pointed. “There it is. Stop here.”

Buster braked, and we stopped three doors down from the Colter residence.

“Well?” he said.

“You’re telling me to appreciate all I have?” I asked.

“I guess so.”

“Tell me, did you feel like you belonged in our family? Did you believe there was a place for you?”

“I never thought about it,” he said.

“That’s right. You didn’t have to. There were the three of you, and then there was me. But that changed. That changed when Caitlin was born. I had someone like that. For me. I had a family. It was an even greater bond than anything I’d ever felt with Abby.” I fumbled around until I found the door lock.

“What are you doing?” Buster asked.

“I’m going to go look. Wait here.” I worked the door open. My shoes against the sidewalk sounded ridiculously loud in the quiet night. I’d taken two steps when I heard Buster’s door open behind me. I waved him back, but he kept coming. “Wait in the car,” I said.

He shook his head and kept coming. When he came abreast of me, I put my hand on his arm.

“Why won’t you wait?” I asked.

“I can’t let you go alone,” he said. “You don’t know what to do in a situation like this.”

“And you do?”

“More than you.”

We stood at the edge of the glow of a streetlight. Our heads were in the shadows.

“Back there at the cemetery, with the girl, were you telling me the truth?” I asked. “Did you just find her by chance?”

“What else could it have been?”

“Fuck if I know. I just don’t know.”