"No, it was never like that. I–I-I was ashamed of myself, of what I'd become and for…for having to give you up, and too afraid of John's reaction by then, that he might leave me. He could have a violent temper at times too."
"I want a picture of dear old Dad then."
Katherine found a wallet-sized photo of a dashing, young man with a roguish smile below a full mustache. He had dark skin and black eyes, and the eyes looked mischievous and bold. Lauralie put the picture into her purse.
"I want to know more about this woman with Child and Family Services, the one who helped you out so much when you needed it. The one who took me away from you."
"But why do you want to dwell on that awful time, Lauralie? We have the here and now to make up for all those years."
"I want to know all about her, Katherine, Mother, please." Lauralie kept her drinking.
"She was a young woman, younger than me, but very smart about the law and legal aid, all that. In fact, she was a young medical intern, I think."
"Medical intern? Studying to be a doctor?"
"A psychologist, I think."
"Her name, Mother. In case I want to look her up, you know, thank her for all she did for you when you were completely alone."
"It's been so many years, dear. She most likely doesn't even live in Houston anymore."
"Her name, Mother, her name!"
"Mary or Merl or something; I can't recall the last name. Anyway, she led me into court, and next thing I know, you were being put in an orphanage, and me…I–I- I got so down on myself after that, well, I–I-I thought you'd be better off once you were adopted, once they found a good home and a loving family for you."
"I understand all that. I know you put your trust in this woman."
"I put my trust in the court, Harris County, the system, all these people telling me what I should be doing next. It was their job to…to find you a good home, something I couldn't've given you in a hundred years, baby."
"But you never checked to find out whatever became of me, did you, Mom? If you did, you'd've known I was never adopted. I've spent my entire life in that prison you condemned me to, that convent school."
"I'm sorry…so, so sorry."
'Tell me more about the woman who took me away from you! I want to know everything, every word she said to you."
"She came to the house, picked me up in a nice car, brought me down to the county courthouse, and she spoke up for me. She made out like she would see to it I got off drugs, away from the booze, that I'd get me a job, you know, and get better, rehabbed, and that someday…someday I could get you back…someday, but that day just never came, honey."
"How old was I then, Katherine…Mommie? How old?"
"Six months."
"Six months into the year of my birth." Lauralie calculated the month in 1984 of her mother's court appearance, and since Katherine hadn't changed cities in all these years, Lauralie knew where the court records would be housed for her case.
After killing her biological mother that night and sleeping alongside her for the first time in her life, Lauralie, the following morning, went searching for this Mary or Merl who had taken her away from the life she should have enjoyed with Mother. The chief cause of all Lauralie's grief, her Lifelong agony, the woman who had lied to her mother. The woman who'd stolen Lauralie's childhood.
Going out the door, waving to Mother's corpse that morning, Lauralie had felt a great sense of accomplishment. She had amassed a lot of information in a short amount of time without setting off the powder keg of emotions that might easily have led to an explosion between her mother and herself, which would have accomplished nothing. This way, Lauralie had gleaned all she needed to know; she had garnered useful stuff, ranging from her father's having died of a brain tumor and her mother's bipolar disorder-explaining much of Lauralie to herself- to Mother's drug problem, and how a separation in Lauralie's sixth month of life had been pushed through the courts by a court-appointed welfare worker with connections to the convent and the Houston medical community. An intern working her way up the ladder whom Lauralie meant to find and destroy.
The people at the shelter where her mother had gone for help had called in assistance from the Child and Family Services, and they'd sent someone to assist Katherine and her newborn, a child Katherine had only called Baby, a child Katherine hadn't even given a name to six months after Lauralie's birth. The sisters at the convent orphanage held a contest to name Baby Blodgett, and the winner was Mother Orleans with Lauralie.
Katherine had not acted alone in her decision to give up Baby for adoption. Somebody with a name and a life of her own had strongly influenced and encouraged Katherine. Mother could not be held completely responsible for her misguided actions, so that someone else must also pay. Lauralie meant to lash out at society as well as the individual responsible for the theft of a child's life. It was the system as a whole at fault, to allow such things to go on unchecked. A system that dealt in infant children as if they were unfeeling plastic dolls with glass eyes and empty insides, as if she were a mannequin.
After killing Mother, she had walked down to the corner and boarded the Houston Metro for downtown and the Harris County courthouse, where she eventually uncovered and examined some extremely important eighteen-year-old documents, records that revealed the full name of that meddling Mary or Merl Someone her mother had confided in and trusted, a someone who'd promised Katherine-and by extension Lauralie-a reunion that never came, a someone now in need of a lesson about tampering with other people's lives-a Meredyth Sanger.
Lauralie startled awake, brushing at her hair, having felt something crawly scuttle across her brow and into her bangs. She leapt to her feet, pine needles clinging to her cotton print dress. She shivered at the tingling in her skin, realizing she'd slept for several hours, the sun now on the other side of the clearing. She'd been baked somewhat, but had been saved by the shade of the tree. She got her bearings by locating the house.
She knew Arthur was due back from his school duties soon. He'd complained of having missed too much class time, that he'd be missed, possibly called into the Dean's office and reprimanded. She had told him to go, that she could use some alone time.
He'd be hungry when he got back, she imagined. She walked back to the house, trying to decide on opening a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli for him or a can of tuna for sandwiches.
The greyhounds in the run barked at her as she neared the house. She threw rocks at them, shouting for them to shut up. Pushing through the door and entering the kitchen, she had to wiggle around the large freezer filling the room. "Just enough wiggle room," she said as she went about preparing a stack of tuna fish sandwiches for Arthur.
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the dirty window over the sink. "The little homemaker, yeah…that's me."
Lucas threw his leather Stetson boots atop his desk, and leaning far back in his chair, scanning the Sims file again, he wondered if he'd missed a crucial piece of information. His phone rang. It was the front desk, Sergeant Stan Kelton, telling him that a large parcel had just arrived via UPS, addressed to Stonecoat care of the department. "Looking suspicious, no return address," Stan said, "so I called for the X-ray machine and-"
"You didn't nab the delivery man?"
"The delivery came through UPS, all legit, Lucas. We had no cause to hold him. I've got people looking into where the parcel originated from, both at the UPS address and the return address. Best we can do."
"Jerk likely used cash with UPS. Credit card and we'd have 'im. So what's the return address?"
"Lucas, we've got the X ray on it now."