“Rodney?” Molly whispered.
He shook his head. Tears welled in Molly’s eyes, fearing the worst. Rodney moved his hands under hers, her hands rested on the thick base of his thumbs. Molly closed her eyes and was met with an insistent force, one that she could not escape, a force that was more powerful than anything she had ever experienced. The taste of candy apple filled her mouth, saliva pooled below her tongue and seeped around her teeth. Images came at her at an alarming rate, almost too fast to recognize: the image of a young girl passing through a familiar wooden opening. Pitch dark tunnels, and a deep, hollow hole—a lantern illuminated a tall woman with dark hair and a small girl. A rush of ease and acceptance passed through Molly, which she knew came from Tracey—a contentedness, which scared Molly even more than if she’d been terrified. Molly’s breath caught and somehow she realized that the moaning she was hearing was now coming from her own throat.
Rodney pulled his hands away, and Molly opened her eyes, instantly finding his and holding his stare. The Knowing passed between them like a secret. Rodney turned Molly’s hands over, placing the necklace and candy wrapper in her palms. He withdrew his hands and nodded. Molly stood on shaky legs, clinging to Pastor Lett as if she were about to slip underwater. “I know where she is,” she whispered.
Twenty Six
The afternoon seemed to Tracey to go on forever, and she was anxious to get out of their small room and play. She was proud to have remembered the words to their prayer this morning. Seeing the joy in Mummy’s face, feeling her happy embrace at her success had given Tracey confidence. She watched Mummy write in her journal, mumbling under her breath. “Mummy, can we go outside?” Tracey asked. Mummy turned to her, a faraway look in her eyes, opened her mouth to speak, then turned silently back to her journal. “Mummy?” Tracey asked again.
Mummy’s pencil stopped moving. She kept her eyes trained on the full page. “They didn’t want me,” Mummy said quietly, then scribbled furiously in the journal.
Tracey bit her lower lip, confused. “What Mummy?”
Mummy did not answer. Tracey knew better than to push. She sat quietly on the mattress watching Mummy, and wondering why Mummy was acting so weird. She stretched out on the mattress, her head resting on her forearms.
Mummy stood up and paced. Tracey rolled over and watched her. As if she’d just realized Tracey was in the room, Mummy abruptly stopped pacing and glared at her. Tracey sat up and pulled her knees into her chest, new fear forming. Mummy shook her head. “That won’t do,” she said. Tracey panicked, “I’m sorry!” she said breathlessly. A funny smile crept across Mummy’s face. “Yes, let’s play.”
“I haven’t told anyone where he is. Not even our parents knew.” Pastor Lett’s eyes remained on the road before her. “They believed he was dead and buried.” There was a coldness to her voice, the shock of where they were headed still fresh.
Molly didn’t know what to do other than comfort her. “You’ve held onto this burden for so long.”
“It’s no burden,” she said. “Rodney is not a burden.”
“No, not Rodney, I’m talking about the secret. I mean, you must feel the weight of it, like a tether holding you down. You must have wanted to cut it free hundreds of times.”
She nodded.
“Your parents—why?” she asked.
“Because if anyone came looking for Rodney, as you did,” she looked up at her accusingly, “they would have found him if I didn’t have him buried—and he might have met the same fate once again.”
Molly asked her how she had been able to fake the burial, and her explanation seemed convenient.
“I told the coroner that I wanted to bring his body in and be with it until it was in the coffin and sealed for his final interment. I was long-time friends with the embalmer. He owed me one. I knew I could trust him.” She ran her hand over her face again, as if wiping away the thought of it. “That night we took him to his house, and together we nursed him back to health. He pretended to do the embalming, and we packed the casket with sand bags—a lot of sand bags, Rodney’s a big guy. My parents, they didn’t want to care for Rodney, not when he started having visions. It was too much for them. In the years he was with me here, they never even visited him, so I didn’t figure it was any worse for them if they thought he had passed on.”
“Jesus,” Molly said, instinctively covering her mouth with her hand, and whispering from behind her fingers, “sorry!”
“It’s okay,” she said.
Molly watched her reach into her pocket for her sunflower seeds and slip a few into her mouth. Her jaw quickly went to work on the tiny shells.
“Do you see him often?” Molly asked.
She nodded. “I see him often. You see, that’s the wonderful thing about being a pastor. No one holds your schedule. There is no time clock. I have freedom to simply tell my secretary that I’ll be gone a few hours, and she doesn’t question me, ever.” She sighed, a long, relieved, sigh.
Silent minutes passed like hours.
Molly’s nerves were on fire. Pastor Lett parked the car and Molly asked, carefully, “Does he remember…the beating?”
Pastor Lett shook her head. “He remembers living with me here, in Boyds, and he seems haunted by the little girl who was in a dark place with her mommy. Sometimes it gets really bad, and he goes into his own little world, rocking and saying things over and over, like he used to, but,” she smiled, “he’s alive, Molly, and for me, that’s been all that matters.” She stared at the road before them. “But the drawings,” she paused, then looked at Molly, “and the state he’s in today…”
As they pulled into the parking lot, Molly turned to Pastor Lett, “We have to make a decision. Do we go on our own or call the police?” Molly spoke before Pastor Lett could voice her concern. “I won’t mention Rodney. This can be all me—my vision, as far as they know.”
Pastor Lett’s body visibly relaxed. She pulled Molly’s cell phone from her bag and handed it to her. The light of the afternoon had gone, replaced with a cool, gray evening. Molly dialed Sergeant Moeler’s number, his voice instantly calmed her. “Mike,” she said, relieved.
“Molly,” he said flatly.
Molly paused at the tone of his voice, “I need to talk to you and Sal. I know where she is.” She listened to Mike sigh on the other end of the phone. “Mike?” she said tentatively.
“Molly, we’re not—”
“Mike! This is important. I know where to find Tracey!” she said emphatically, annoyed at his hesitation. Something was very wrong.
“Molly, we aren’t going to follow your leads right now,” he said in a professional, cold tone. “Officer Brown felt that today was a big waste of station time and money.”
Molly’s jaw dropped. “But—”
“Molly,” Mike said dismissively, then spoke in a kinder tone, “Sal and I appreciate all that you’re doing. We even think it’s possible that you might have these…visions…or whatever they are, but we can’t waste resources on hunches.” She was pissed, “Hunches? That’s what you think these are? I can’t even believe this! I know where she is! Please! “I’m sorry, Molly.” Pastor Lett gave her a sympathetic look as she cursed at the dead phone line.
“Sorry,” Molly said as she dialed Cole’s number. She told him what had transpired. “Cole, can you come with me? Please? I need you.” Nerves made her chest ache.
“Tunnels, Molly? You really want to go traipsing through some freaking tunnels in the dark? No way. Now you’re going too far. This is a job for the police, not you.” Cole’s voice sounded firm, angry.
“I told you, they won’t come!” she said defensively.
“Doesn’t that tell you something, Molly?”