The Traveling Prayer by YentaPatrol Chapter Three

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Chapter 3

Barely a month had passed since Cari Plodgett had been hired to work at the police station: not long enough for her to feel like she belonged there and way too soon for her not to show up in an emergency. When Sharisse had called, just after four in the morning, to let Cari know that not only had Donald’s wife taken a turn for the worse, but that there’d been a fire and maybe a murder up on the Lake Road, she knew she’d better get herself dressed and down to the station.

Cari propped the phone between her ear and her shoulder, while she pulled her jeans up over her hips, and listened to Sharisse’s voice telling her, “Without Donald around, Zane sure is going to need a lot of extra help from you and that new uniformed officer. You know,” Sharisse’s voice was heavy with disapproval, “the one that Donald hired at the beginning of the summer, instead of hiring a real deputy to replace Ned Wilson like he should have done. What’s his name? Travis?”

“Travis Johnson,” Cari confirmed, grateful that the indignation in her voice was muffled as she pulled a clean t-shirt over her head. She didn’t like hearing Sharisse criticize Donald, but after a month she already knew that Sharisse was like that. Just because she came from Auburn and handled central dispatch, she thought she knew everything.

“This is supposed to be Travis’ day off,” Cari told her. “But I’ll call him this morning and let him know what’s happening.”

It was still dark out when Cari woke her son and told him it was time to get up.

“Is not, Momma,” he told her indignantly. “It’s too early for school.”

“I know Jimmy, but something’s come up and I’ve got to get down to the station.” She hesitated feeling a qualm of guilt before telling him, “Guess your going to Grandma’s this morning.”

Jimmy had been unusually compliant in his half-awake state and it hadn’t taken long to get him dressed and safely buckled into the back seat of her car. A day bag of his favorite snacks and toys sat on the seat next to him.

Cari drove slowly in the darkness watching carefully for deer. Her parents lived in a broken down trailer, about ten miles out past the lake. In the back seat, Jimmy clutched his worn out teddy bear and said in a fretful voice, “Mom, I don’t wanna go to Gramma’s house.”

Cari looked at her son’s reflection in the rear view mirror and tried to think of something reassuring to say to him. Jimmy’s eyes were hazel with bright green flecks and his face was handsome like his father’s had been. Cari figured that if good looks were the only thing that Matt had passed on to Jimmy, at least it was something he could use in life. Glancing at her own reflection, she saw a round face with plain broad features and mousy brown hair. Cari sighed, she didn’t have much to give Jimmy in the way of looks.

Jimmy looked back at his mother with a serious expression on his young face and said in a disapproving voice, “Last time you left me there, I never got to school cuz Grampa got drunk and drove off into the ditch.”

“I know honey, but Grandma promised me that that wouldn’t happen again,” Cari told him doing her best to sound reassuring.

Jimmy didn’t look convinced and he continued to watch her reflection in the mirror. Cari averted her eyes and comforted herself with her mother’s promise that her dad was still asleep. Her mother had even gone so far as to say that, if the phone hadn’t woke him up like it had woke her up, then her father probably wasn’t going to wake up for a good while yet. A new wave of guilt swept over Cari. Her mother had her hands full with her father’s drinking; she didn’t need to be taking care of a four year old as well.

The sun was just starting to come up when Cari parked her car in front of her parents’ trailer. In the early light she could see the junk that was strewn around the yard. “Maybe you and me can come help Grandma and Grandpa clean up a bit this weekend,” she said to Jimmy.

He nodded and chewed nervously on his teddy bears ear. Cari watched her mother slowly approach the car, holding her stained housecoat tightly around her massive body with one hand, and a cigarette in the other. She leaned toward Cari’s open window and said in a hoarse voice, “Hey there, Jimmy.”

Jimmy gave her a small smile. “Hi Gramma, I’m supposed to go to school today.”

Cari shot him an annoyed look and asked gently, “How you doin’, Ma?”

“I’m alright Cari, same as always. But the trucks not running real good and I don’t know when I’m going to get your father to drive Jimmy. So’s I can’t promise when he’s going to get to his preschool.” Her mother shrugged apologetically and pushed a long strand of graying hair out of her face.

Cari could feel her son’s eyes boring accusingly into the back of her head.

“See,” he told her.

Her mother sighed and added, “I don’t mind having him with me. I just don’t know how your dad’s going to be today. I never know if it’s going to be a good day or a bad day.”

“I know, Mom.”

Cari felt her heart sink as she met Jimmy’s eyes in the rear view mirror. She reached for her purse and fumbled for her wallet. “Here, do you need some gas money?” she asked pressing a twenty into her mother’s hands. “I’ll just take Jimmy with me down to the station for the morning, but maybe we’ll come by this weekend and help you with the yard work.”

Cari watched her mother awkwardly maneuver her massive frame up the front steps, before pulling back out onto the street.

“Okay, Bub, you can come with me,” she told her son, “But you’re going to have to be real good.”

Jimmy nodded solemnly back at her and Cari could see the relief clearly etched across his small face.

Travis was sleeping soundly next to his sometimes girlfriend, Bethany, when his cell phone rang. He woke up swearing at the noise, unaware that Bethany woke as well. He swung his long muscled legs over the side of the bed and moved toward the offending phone with the fluid grace of a natural athlete. Travis was tall, and thanks to a steady regime of working out in his basement apartment, heavily muscled.

He flipped open his phone to hear Cari Plodgett’s voice tell him sharply, “Travis, we need you to take over Donald’s patrol.” Her possessive we caused him to grimace. Travis hadn’t thought much of Cari Plodgett when they were in high school together and now that he had to work with her, he was beginning to outright dislike her.

“What’s up? Where’s Zane?” he asked, letting his voice drawl out in a lazy manner.

“Zane was up at the fire all night and now he’s asleep on the cot in the back room,” she told him impatiently. “And Donald’s wife just took another turn for the worse.”

“What fire?” Travis demanded. “Why wasn’t I called?”

Travis was fully awake now. Ignoring Bethany’s protest, he turned on the light and started to awkwardly dress himself.

“There was a fire up at Henri Walden’s place last night,” Cari told him, adding a little maliciously, “Maybe Zane didn’t need you there.”

Travis snapped his phone shut and scowled. Cari knew as well as he did that normal procedure would have had another officer on the scene. He shoved his shirt into his pants and gave Bethany a curt nod before heading out to his car.

Instead of driving directly to the station, Travis decided to swing by the gas station mini mart that sat out on Route 26. He knew that Heather would be behind the counter at this hour and he could get some coffee and one of her breakfast sandwiches before heading into the station.

Travis wouldn’t go so far as to admit to himself that his feelings were bruised, but he couldn’t get away from the uncomfortable thought that Zane and Donald just weren’t taking to him. Donald seemed a little more approachable than Zane, but his wife had taken sick shortly after Travis had been hired for the job.

The little mini-mart was busy as usual and Travis good-naturedly greeted the customers that he recognized and gave friendly nods to the people he didn’t. The thing was, people had always liked him. His teachers had liked him, and anybody that had counted in the high school had liked him.

“Well, hi there, Officer Travis,” Heather called out playfully when she saw him standing in the line.

She was a cute little brunette and the only thing that had kept Travis from asking her out were the two children she had at home. He had no desire to commit to just one woman and he had to be careful nowadays to avoid situations that might be looking for a husband or a daddy. Neither were roles that Travis was anxious to fill. He gave Heather what he thought was a sexy grin and puffed his chest out a little so that the badge on his uniform showed a little more clearly. “Morning Heather, I hope you don’t mind if I just leave a couple of dollars on the counter for you. I’m in kind of a hurry to get down to the station this morning.”

Heather shook her head, her fingers automatically moving to ring up the next customer’s order. “No sir, you just put your money down and get going.”

Travis grinned as he stepped around the line, plunking a couple dollars down and giving her a wink, before moving toward the door. His spirits were definitely lifting.

Travis loved Monaco Lake. The farthest he had been away was to the police academy in Augusta and he had no desire to leave again. He knew every building, street and home in the town and almost every path in the woods around it. And, if he didn’t know every person, there was a good chance that they at least knew of him or had seen his picture in the paper during his high school years.

Travis pulled into the station lot and parked next to Cari’s beat-up car, a disgruntled expression once again settling over his face. Why did the Sheriff have to go and hire an unattractive poor little nobody to work at the station? Travis had been willing to recommend any of a number of cute, fun girls that he knew for the job, but Donald had been patently uninterested in his input. And then who did he choose? The only thing memorable about Cari Plodgett was that she had gotten knocked up during their senior year and still insisted on going to their prom, even though she had to wear what practically amounted to a tent to cover up her huge belly. Then to add insult to injury, the Sheriff and Zane both seemed to prefer her company to Travis’. It was a mystery that Travis still hadn’t solved, but he figured that they would come around sooner or later.

Zane had been sound asleep on the cot in the back room when Cari and Jimmy had arrived at the station. And for most of the morning, Cari had been doing her best to manage the steady stream of phone calls that were coming in from reporters and nosy citizens. Then around eight o’clock, Donald’s mother had called saying that Martha was dying, but they didn’t know how much longer it would be. Almost as soon as she’d hung up the phone, the fire chief, the crime lab in Augusta, and the medical examiner had all called in rapid succession to let her know they were faxing their initial reports.

She had just finished making copies of the reports when Henri Walden’s daughter called the station. Even to Cari’s inexperienced ears, it was clear that Chelsea Eastman was bordering on hysterics when she demanded to know when her father’s body would be released and what Cari could tell her about the fire. It was almost nine o’clock when Cari finally got Chelsea Eastman off the phone. Looking at the pile of messages that she had accumulated, Cari decided it was time to wake Zane up.

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(continued)

The front office seemed quiet enough when Zane strolled in. He stopped to pour himself a cup of coffee and looked around the room. Cari was on the phone and waved distractedly at him. At one of the empty desks, a small blond boy was seated contentedly drawing a portrait of a large teddy bear. He looked up at Zane with a serious expression in his hazel eyes.

Detecting an underlying anxiety, Zane smiled reassuringly at him and asked, “Are you the new deputy?”

The boy thought this over and smiled shyly. “No sir, I’m Jimmy.”

He was a small boy and the massive metal desk made him appear even smaller. Zane was fond of little kids and this one seemed unusually well-behaved.

“You must be Cari’s boy,” he said walking over to examine the picture.

Jimmy nodded and looked up at Zane with a worried expression as he displayed his work.

“Nicely done,” Zane told him. “That’s going to be a fine picture.”

Jimmy’s expression relaxed slightly. “You think so? My Mom said that if I drew a really good one, maybe we could get sundaes at McDonalds when she gets done for the day.”

“I think that’s going to be worth a really good sundae,” Zane nodded.

Jimmy smiled shyly and bent back over his work.

Holding the phone between her shoulder and ear, Cari had been rifling through a pile of papers and was now waving them in Zane’s direction. Taking them from her, he rifled through them and pulled out the initial reports from the medical examiner and the fire chief. Zane saw that Ed had listed the source of the fire as arson and sighed. No surprise there. He flipped to the medical examiner’s report and skimmed down the page. The primary cause of death for Henri Walden was listed as asphyxia secondary to smoke inhalation with additional information pending the results of toxicological screens. The circumstances were listed as suspicious.

Cari had hung up the phone and was politely waiting for Zane to finish reading.

Looking up at her he asked, “Well, what do you got for me?”

Cari sighed sympathetically and started going through her list of messages. “Chelsea Eastman wants you to call her back, she’s pretty upset. I think she wants her father’s body released. Jacqueline Davenport also left several messages.” Cari grimaced and said delicately, “I think she’s upset that you didn’t notify her personally about Henri Walden’s death.”

Zane snorted. “As far as I know, they’ve never married and she’s not a legal next of kin.”

A few arguments about empathy and showing respect popped into Cari’s head, but she repressed them with a shrug. It wasn’t her business who he notified. She was here to take calls.

Zane watched, while her broad, honest features telegraphed every one of her thoughts and grinned to himself. Cari had an open, straightforward quality that he liked. She had been far from the most qualified candidate for the job or the most eager candidate, but she had been the candidate that Donald and Zane had liked the most.

“I guess you heard about Donald’s wife taking a turn for the worse last night.” Seeing Zane nod, Cari added, “He called in this morning, but nothing’s changed since then. Martha’s still holding on, but just barely.” Her voice shook for a second, then she steadied herself and continued in a more business like voice, “Central office called, or at least I called them,” she corrected, “and they called me back. If you want, they can request that an extra uniformed patrolman be sent over from Auburn.” Cari hesitated and added slightly defensively, “I didn’t tell them anything about Donald, just that there had been a fire and you’d have your hands full dealing with that over the next couple of days.”

Zane sighed and asked brusquely, “Travis?”

“He’s out on patrol already. Says to tell you he’ll work as much overtime as you need.” Cari rifled through a pile of papers on her desk and pulled out a fax for him saying, “I hope I didn’t do anything wrong, but I told Donald what I knew about last night and I asked him what I could do to help.” She paused looking worried.

Zane gave her a slightly amused look. “And?”

“Well, he said to call the phone company to get a record of incoming and outgoing calls from Mr. Walden’s house. So I had them fax that over. Was that right?”

“Thanks,” Zane blinked in surprise as she handed him the phone records. “That’s exactly what I needed done.”

As Zane glanced over the report, the quiet of the office seemed to weigh down on him. As much as he hated to admit it, there was no doubt that he was going to need some help. Cari was new to the job and Travis was fresh from the academy. Zane sighed. “I guess you better call central back and take them up on their offer of reinforcement.”

“Yes Sir,” Cari carefully made a note on a piece of paper that had the title “To Do List” written across the top in large block letters. Then looking up at Zane with an uncomfortable mixture of defiance and defensiveness she said, “I’m sorry about Jimmy, but it turns out that if I come in early I may not be able to get him to his preschool.”

Zane plastered a smile across his face hoping to hide his dismay. In the past, Donald had always been clear on his policy that a police station was no place for children. In his absence, Zane didn’t want to set any precedents that Donald wouldn’t appreciate. Jimmy was still hard at work on his drawing, but Zane had no doubt that he was listening to every word they spoke. Knowing that he’d have to deal with the situation sooner or later, he chose later, and said good naturedly, “I gather I should be thanking Jimmy for being so good that you could help me out today.”

That earned smiles from both Jimmy and Cari, and Zane decided to leave it at that. “I’m going to head out,” he told her. “But I’ll be swinging by my house first to shower and change.”

“Wait,” Cari interrupted looking a little alarmed. “What about calling Mrs. Eastman and Mrs. Davenport? I promised them that you’d call them back.”

“I’ll do one better than that,” Zane told her opening the door, “I’m going to see them in person.”
****

Jenny Ackerton was seated at the kitchen table slowly drinking her coffee. It was an old table with thick pine boards, sanded and polished by her grandfather. He had made it when they built the house as a gift for her grandmother. It blended in with the pine walls and floor and had stood in the same place, below the picture window, for so long that it had come to seem as integral a part of the house as the walls and the ceiling. The window looked out over Jenny’s vegetable garden and into the quiet of the lake beyond. The stillness of the scene was only broken by the birds that visited Jenny’s well-stocked bird feeders. Drinking her morning coffee while she looked out the window was a ritual that Jenny had long since learned to love. It was a ritual that her grandmother had started before her. Jenny could still picture her, seated on the same wood bench, looking at much the same scene and drinking coffee out of the same thick clay mugs.

Today Jenny was tired. Zane hadn’t come home from the fire last night, but she knew without calling that he was fine and she welcomed the solitude of the morning. Her sleep had been disturbed by waves of emotion and images of old patterns gone awry. Jenny sipped her coffee and waited for events to unfold.

Alone in her house, Annie sat on the edge of her bed and listened to the silence. Her pajamas were too hot for the morning temperature, but they felt safe and comforting. Brett had gone on to the diner an hour or so before, leaving her to rest. She knew that he was really concerned about her. Annie stared dully at the wall ahead of her and wondered why she always brought pain to the people around her. What freak of nature had manifested itself in her personality so that she couldn’t manage the simple things in life that so many others took for granted? She shook her head and closed her eyes, feeling uncomfortably distant from everything solid around her. Her house, Brett, her life, everything that was safe felt like a gray speck at the end of a faraway tunnel, something that she could see but couldn’t reach. She felt like a foul blotch that had mistakenly appeared in the cheerful neatness of their home.

Annie shook her head and into the silence of the house muttered, “I’m sorry.” But she didn’t know if she was apologizing to Brett, Henri, her mother, or herself. Pulling the rough blanket she had been lying under tightly around her shoulders, she walked toward the bathroom.

In the Ackerton’s house, Jenny frowned and rose from the table. A heavy feeling had settled over her and she moved without thinking. She deposited her mug in the kitchen sink filling it with warm water, stepped into her clogs and grabbed the car keys on the way out the side door. Her movements were quickening as her anxiety grew. An image of Henri Walden, as she had last seen him, moved through her mind: tall, gaunt and sad, imploring her to “take care of Annie.”

“Goddammit, Henri,” she swore softly, as she maneuvered her old blue sedan out of the driveway and sped down their road. “I don’t even know the girl. This shouldn’t be my fight.” But even as she argued, the urge to hurry was growing stronger.

Annie and Brett lived in a neat little modular home set on a few acres of land about a mile out of town. The unnerving sounds of Brett’s stray dogs howling their distress was the first thing to reach Jenny as she pulled into the driveway and turned off the ignition. From the noise, Jenny gathered they were penned somewhere outback.

The house itself was painted white with cheerful cherry red trim and a matching cherry red door. There was no sign of movement in the windows and the house felt empty. Walking quickly towards the front door, Jenny wondered if she was too late.

“Annie,” she yelled pounding on the door. “Annie, it’s Jenny Ackerton, I need to speak with you.” The howling of the dogs was all that answered her.

Jenny tried the doorknob and felt a wave of relief as the door opened inwards for her. “Annie,” she called again stepping inside.

The house was small and had a bright airy feeling to it, with pale blue walls and bright rugs over the wood floors. She moved quickly through the living room and stepped into the hallway heading toward the bedroom. Wild thoughts of how she could possibly explain her presence to Annie if she was wrong and how she would have to explain her presence to Zane if she was right flashed through her mind.

The bed was rumpled as if someone had recently napped on it the bright quilt cover bunched in large wrinkles. Steeling herself, Jenny pushed open the bathroom door. She felt her heart contract painfully before it started to pound so fast that she momentarily doubted her ability to move. Annie was lying naked in the tub covered in red water, her eyes were closed and her face deathly white. Alongside her body, her arms seemed to float, showing great long gashes that leaked more blood.

Looking wildly around the small room Jenny spied Annie’s pajamas, neatly folded and stacked on the toilet seat with a note resting on top. Her heart continued to pound as she forced herself to grab a towel and try to pull the girl’s naked body out of the water, but she was too weak and Annie’s limp body was too heavy. Fumbling, she found the lever and released the water from the tub. Then grabbing Annie’s arms, she wrapped them in the towels, trying to squeeze the gashes and stop the bleeding.

Help she needed help, she thought frantically and dived back into the bedroom searching for the phone. Dialing 911, Jenny realized that she didn’t know the address but the emergency operator knew where Brett and Annie lived. Later, Jenny realized that they must have been there years before when Annie was newly married and still unstable. Hanging up the phone she rushed back into the bathroom, cursing the events that had made Annie unstable again and set about the grim work of doing her best to staunch the bleeding.

The phone had been ringing steadily for several minutes before Lucille had been able to reach it. It was at the end of the morning rush, but there were more diners than usual. The heavy scent of grease, toast, and coffee hung in the air and the sounds of plates clattering and silverware scraping supplied background noise to the steady hum of voices. Brett was at the grill and Rachel the day waitress was running frantically between tables. Lucille grabbed the phone more out of irritation at its insistent noise than any desire to be of help to the caller. “Main Street,” she barked in a hoarse voice, while she surveyed the room and categorized who needed what in her head.

“This is Jenny Ackerton,” a voice told her. “I’d like to speak to Brett, please.”

Lucille rolled her eyes. Jenny Ackerton always seemed like such a nice woman, but she had to be kidding if she thought this was an okay time to be calling the diner. “Brett’s kind of busy right now,” Lucille told her, trying to keep her tone respectful.

She heard a soft cough on the other end as if Jenny was clearing her throat. “Is this Lucille?”

“Sure is,” Lucille answered, torn between curiosity and impatience.

“Good,” Jenny sounded relieved. “Lucille this is very important. Annie has hurt herself and I need to speak to Brett.”

Lucille froze and the restaurant, with all of its demands, seemed to recede into the background as a cold fear took hold of her. “Just a moment,” she told Jenny and carried the phone over to the grill. She handed the phone to her brother, saying in a low voice, “It’s Jenny Ackerton, she says Annie’s hurt.”

Brett turned to face her, his blue eyes staring, then reluctantly took the phone and listened. Feeling more helpless than she could remember, Lucille watched as the color drained out of Brett’s face.