Cemetery Girl

“We’re going to make a deal,” I said, leaning forward again. “Are you interested in that? If you want to know what he said, you have to agree to the terms of the deal.”

“How can I agree to this if I don’t know what you’re offering?”

It wasn’t easy, but I pushed myself off the mattress, acting as though I intended to walk out of the room.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, I agree. Jesus. Just tell me what’s going on.”

I backtracked and sat down on the mattress again. Caitlin watched me eagerly, expectantly. I almost couldn’t bring myself to say it. I almost walked away for real. But I couldn’t. I needed to finish.

“He wants to see you again,” I said.

It took me a moment to read and understand her reaction. She blinked her eyes a few times, and at first it looked to me like she was crying. Then the corners of her mouth turned up, the emotion spreading across her face-and no doubt through her body.

Joy.

Joy at the prospect of reuniting with the man she claimed to love. It was the most emotion, the most happiness she’d displayed since her return.

Caitlin raised her hand to her chest and fingered the topaz necklace just below her throat. She looked like Abby-her narrow hand, her long fingers, the way only her left cheek dimpled as her smile grew. “Will you take me there, Dad?” she asked.

Dad.

I didn’t know when she’d last called me that.

“I might take you there,” I said.

“Okay,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

“One condition,” I said. “First you have to tell me everything that happened during those four years you were gone. You have to tell me how he took you and where you went. You have to tell me what he did to you there. And you have to tell me why you stayed and why you want to go back so much. If you tell me all of that, I’ll think about taking you there.”

“Think about?”

“Think about,” I said.

“Does Mom agree with this?” she asked.

“No way. And if you tell her or mention it to her, the whole deal’s off. Not only will the deal be off, but you’ll be locked up like this place is Alcatraz.”

She thought this over for a long moment. “But if I tell her what you’re offering, she’ll be mad at you, right? I mean, she’ll throw you out.”

“Certainly. And then you’ll never get to see your boyfriend.”

“When do we go?” Caitlin asked.

“As soon as you spill it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t trust you. I know you don’t want me to be with him. If I tell you, you’ll never take me there.”

“You don’t have a choice. Give it up.” When she didn’t say anything, I opted for putting more heat on her. “The longer we wait, the less chance you’ll see him. You heard what Detective Ryan said, didn’t you?”

“Some.”

“They found a witness, some mouth-breather from a trailer park who says she saw you in Colter’s house. Did you ever make the acquaintance of some guy named Loren Brooks? You know him?”

She nodded. “He came by sometimes.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“What is that bitch in the trailer saying about me?” Her face was blank, but her voice sounded capable of cutting glass.

“Enough to put Colter back in jail. They’re drawing up the papers today. He’s going back to jail-and soon. And given your reaction to this news, I suspect they have enough to keep him there.”

“Then what does it matter?” she asked. “There’s no deal you can make. They’re going to take him away.”

With great effort, I choked out the last words I needed to say. “He’s leaving town. And he wants you to go with him.”

Chapter Forty-nine

Caitlin continued to stare at me, her lips parted. The room, the house was silent. Outside a diesel engine rumbled. A school bus moved up the street, stopping and starting, collecting neighborhood kids for school. The simple routines of everyday life. Caitlin would have been driving herself to school that year. We would have bought her a cheap car, added her to the insurance.

Instead. .

“Are you saying. .?”

“You want to go with him, right?” I asked.

She nodded slowly. She brought her hands together again and started picking at them.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes. I didn’t think you’d let me go.”

“You want to go. And a father is supposed to make his daughter happy, right?”

She kept picking at her fingers.

I started to get up, but Caitlin spoke.

“Parents aren’t supposed to let their children go, are they?” she asked. “Not ever?”

I settled back down on the mattress. She wasn’t looking at me but continued to study her hands. Still, I could tell she was listening. “I’ve known since the day you were born I’d have to let you go someday. You were going to grow up and have a life. Get married maybe. Move away. Any parent who isn’t aware of that is setting themselves up for emotional hardship.”

I waited. Finally she said, “But it happens too soon sometimes, right?”

“It does. Like me and you. Are you reconsidering?”

“No.” She looked up. “Not at all.” She shrugged. “What about Mom?”

“She’s a big girl.”

“Will the two of you stay married?”

“No. But we aren’t going to stay married whether you’re here or not.” I felt relieved having said it out loud. “Does that bother you?”