“Why didn’t they just follow Merrie’s tracks back to it?” Constance asked.
He stifled a thoughtful snort. “Edgar didn’t tell you? There weren’t any.” He took a swig from his drink and contemplated the tumbler for a moment before continuing. “Well, anyway, I arrived to a crime scene crawling with Missouri Highway Patrol and Feds, as well as just about everyone from our department. Sheriff Morton was waiting for me when I got there, and the first thing he asked was if I was absolutely positive the little girl I’d picked up was Merrie. I told him yes, and he just asked me the same question again. I was starting to think the old man had lost it because he had seen her before we left for the hospital… He knew damn well it was her…but…then he took me inside.
“Well… You know what it looked like in that basement. You saw it this morning yourself. Not exactly how you want to introduce a green cop in a small town to a murder investigation, that’s for sure, but I held my coffee down, which was more than I can say for some of the State guys.”
Skip paused, falling silent once again. He continued to stare through her as he had been at the outset. His face masked with grief, he was obviously playing it all out in his mind in vivid color, just as he probably had for an untold number of times throughout the years. Constance couldn’t help but feel compassion for him.
“But there was more than just the brutality of Colson’s death,” she prompted.
“Yeah… There was…” he mused quietly. “Colson wasn’t…” he began, then stopped and tossed his head back, breathing deeply. He closed his eyes, and a fugitive tear rolled from the corner to trace across his cheek. After a trio of labored breaths, he rolled his head back down and spoke again. “Sorry… I live this… Especially this time of year… I can’t get away from it…but… I haven’t actually talked about it with anyone in a long time.”
“I understand,” Constance told him.
“Well…” he huffed, obviously forcing himself to continue. “I’m sure Edgar already told you. Colson’s body wasn’t the only one they found. Merrie’s was there in the basement too.”
“So Merrie Callahan was deceased,” she stated more than asked.
“Yeah. According to the autopsy she succumbed to her injuries and to exposure. They found her body behind the furnace, which was inoperable at that time, of course, since the house was abandoned. It looked like she was probably trying to hide from that bastard. After everything he’d done to her, he had kept her locked in that basement with no heat and just what was left of her school uniform. We found her coat upstairs. She didn’t have a chance.”
“But you had already found her standing in the middle of the street several blocks away,” Constance said. “And John Colson had been killed and dismembered. Were they certain it was her body?”
“No doubt about it,” he replied. “They made Tom and Elizabeth identify the body.”
“Who did?”
“Your people,” he spat. “The Feds.”
“Dear God…” she mumbled.
“Yeah, well you know my thoughts on that… Either way, they also pulled some fingerprints from Merrie’s things at home and they matched. They even checked dental records just to be sure.”
“What about the girl you found?”
“That’s just it; they matched her too.” He swallowed hard and shook his head. “If that wasn’t enough to make everyone question their sanity, there was also the fact that the autopsy estimated Merrie’s death at as much as a day prior to my finding her. But Colson…well, what was left of him anyway…he was still warm when they arrived on the scene.”
“What happened after that?” she pressed.
“Good question,” he replied. “The Feds took over at that point. They marched in with court orders, and we were pretty much cut out of the loop. So was the MHP. Everyone was interviewed and told that we were mistaken about what had transpired. Merrie’s remains mysteriously disappeared, as did Colson’s. And as I’m sure you noticed, our files were redacted…sanitized, really. The autopsy reports disappeared. The case reports definitely aren’t the ones we filed originally. I know that for a fact because I wrote one of them myself.”
Constance would have discounted the claim out of hand had it not been for the gaping holes in the case file she had been given by the SAC at the outset. That fact in itself made his story that much more believable, even if it did sound like a plot from a blockbuster conspiracy thriller.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She really couldn’t imagine what else to say.
“Yeah, me too…” Skip grunted. “Wasn’t long after that I left Hulis. Kathy and I got married, then headed for KC to follow my dream of being a big city cop.”
“I have a confession,” Constance said. “I ran a background check on you, so I already know about your career and the predators you took down.”
He nodded. “Would’ve been disappointed in you if you hadn’t. I figured you for a good cop, even if you are a Fed.”
She took a sip of her drink instead of replying. She wasn’t offended by the latter comment. She was actually used to taking grief from other branches of law enforcement. Ben even referred to bureau agents as the Feebs. He always said it was short for Feeble Bumbling Incompetents. Then he would be quick to add, “Present company excluded, of course.”
She waited a moment, then spoke up to bring the story full-circle. “And then you came back to Hulis…”
“Yeah, and that’s when I found out the rest of it.”
Constance perked an eyebrow as the verbal bomb landed squarely between them. She was under the impression that she knew where the story went from there, surreal and unbelievable as it was. She canted her head, looking at Carmichael with fiery curiosity clear in her eyes.
“The rest of it?” she asked.
“Yeah… Shortly after it all happened, Tom and Elizabeth sort of dropped out of life. Folks didn’t see them much around town. Tom went to work, came home, and that was about it except when they needed groceries and the like. Then you’d see one or the other out for a bit, but only as long as necessary. Even stopped going to the church over in Mais and started home schooling Rebecca. Other than that they kept completely to themselves.
“It wasn’t that folks didn’t try, mind you. People would call, and even drop by, but they usually wouldn’t answer the phone or the door. When they did, they’d just send whoever it was away as fast as they could.
“Whenever someone would run into one of them around town they would ask about Merrie, of course.” He shrugged. “They would just say she was doing fine and then excuse themselves. It was peculiar, but everyone pretty much chalked it up to them just losing trust in the world. Not all that hard to imagine, after…well…you know.”
“Anyway, didn’t hear much detail about their lives until they had that scare when they thought Merrie was going to die.” He paused, then let out a harrumph. “I guess that sounds kinda odd after everything I’ve just told you.”
“I remember mentioning that,” Constance offered.
“Yeah…well… The truth came out after they were killed in that car crash.”
“What do you mean truth?”
“Seems Elizabeth had been keeping journals. Almost daily as a matter of fact.”
“About what?”
“Merrie,” he explained. “Or Rebecca. Depends on the day.”
“I still don’t follow.”
Carmichael blew out a loud sigh through his nose, then absently brushed his mustache. After a weighty pause he continued. “Right around the time Merrie’s remains mysteriously disappeared, so did the little girl I picked up from the middle of the street.”
Constance stared back at him. Finally she said, “Are you saying what I think you are?”
He nodded. “Some days Rebecca was Rebecca. Other days, she was Merrie. The wounds would even show up on her body. Then later, of course, they were scars. But like stigmata, they were there.