David Bell - Never Come Back

“The Miller Center.”

“Right. I worked with a woman who had a nephew who used to go there,” Beth said.

“Did she know Mom?”

“No. I just went to that place, the Miller Center, and I asked around. I lied and said my son had Down syndrome, but he had died. And I said there was a woman I met there who had been very kind to me, and I wanted to thank her but I only knew her first name. ‘She has a son with Down syndrome,’ I said. ‘And her name is Leslie.’ The volunteer said it must be Leslie Hampton. I had it then. That’s how I found Mom.”

“Did you just show up at her door?”

“I didn’t know what to do. Finally I called. She thought it was a cruel joke at first, but then I told her things no one else could know. How old I was when I got my first period. The name of my stuffed bunny when I was little. That was all it took. We agreed to meet at her house one night. Ronnie wasn’t there, but as soon as she saw me, she knew it was me. And I knew it was her. It was like something was completed that night—something clicked inside me that hadn’t clicked in a long time.”

The nurse with the clipboard came out again and spoke to the other family in the waiting area, using a low voice. The family nodded happily, and I found myself relieved that they appeared to be receiving good news as well.

I turned back to Beth. “How did that mean you led Gordon to Mom? He obviously knew where she was before you did.”

“I think there was something else going on,” Beth said. “I think Gordon was blackmailing Mom with information about me. He knew where I was, and he knew where she was. And I think he told Mom that if she ever wanted to see me, she’d have to pay up.”

I thought of those bank withdrawals over the past year. All that money leaving Mom’s account.

“Did Mom say anything about it?” I asked.

“At some point she said it would be a relief to have Gordon off her back. She didn’t get specific, but she indicated she’d been helping him out. I didn’t know what she meant, but it sounded like money. I think Gordon was telling her that he’d let her know where I was as long as she kept giving him money. He strung her along as much as he could.”

“It’s hard to believe Mom would put up with that,” I said. “Getting strung along that way.”

“I agree,” Beth said. “Except—”

“She was desperate to see her child again.”

“Exactly. And when I found Mom on my own, Gordon lost his leverage over her.”

“So you think…”

Beth nodded. “I told Mom the whole story about why I went away. I think Gordon tried to get more money out of her, and she told him to get lost—that she knew everything, and not only would there be no money, but she might have even threatened to go to the police. It wouldn’t make sense for him to kill her if she was giving him money, would it? But once she knew me again and what he’d done to me, she took a stand. I think she said, ‘No more.’” Beth took a long pause. “I think that’s when he killed her.”

“You think he killed her because she wouldn’t give him money anymore?”

“She didn’t have to,” Beth said. “And what’s more, she also knew it was him who drove me away that night. He probably thought she’d turn him in to the police. Maybe he killed her just to shut her up.”

It all made sense to me. And there were other implications that went with it.

“If he might have killed Mom to shut her up, then—”

“Me,” Beth said. “I know everything too. My guess is that he was working up to it. Maybe he thought if I was in the will, he might be able to get some money out of me. Who knows what he was coming to the house for tonight? Your friend got in the way, or else who knows what would have happened. To both of us.” As she said that, something crossed her face. Some recognition that widened her eyes. “Jesus. Now you’re in it too. You know what I know.”

“I was in it already,” I said. “Hell, I was in it before I was even born.”

I stood up and paced around. While I did, a couple came hustling through the waiting room. The man was tall and thin, and except for the nice suit he was wearing he looked a great deal like Neal Nelson. The woman with him was wearing a fur coat, and even from across the room I could see multiple gold rings on her fingers as she patted her helmet of hair into place. They spoke to the volunteer on duty. I saw relief spread through their posture and across their faces. The volunteer made a phone call, and the clipboard-bearing nurse came out and led the couple back through a set of doors, presumably to a post-op recovery area. I took it to mean Neal was doing okay.

And we had done everything we could do at the hospital.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” I asked. “Or do you want to take a drive down to Dover?”

Beth didn’t hesitate. “It doesn’t look like my house is a very safe place to be, does it?”

“Probably not.”

“Then I’m game. What do you have in mind?”

“Would you still recognize Gordon’s handwriting?”

Beth and I didn’t talk much while we made the one-hour drive to Dover. We were both worn out, exhausted from the evening’s events as well as reliving the things that had happened to her over the previous thirty-seven years.

And we both knew something else—there was still more to come. Things weren’t over. Not even close.

During the ride, Beth leaned over and turned the radio on low. I didn’t recognize the program, but it was a guy giving people advice on all sorts of problems—some financial and some personal. He gave his number at every break, and at one point I said, “We should call him and tell him about us. His head might explode.”

Beth smiled a little, but she didn’t say anything. Her life had been brutal, and I hadn’t even heard the half of it. If I knew all the details, they might make my head spin. I wanted to ask her if she’d gotten help, therapy or something. And I wondered whether she felt she’d managed to beat her addictions once and for all. But I didn’t. I gave her space and time to think. I couldn’t take anything for granted, but it looked as if the two of us would be getting to know each other even more in the future.

I did ask one question. “Did Mom like to read when she was young?”

“All the time.”

“That never changed. She thought every problem could be solved with a book.”

Beth didn’t say anything else, but I understood why Mom wanted that book from Mrs. Porter. Beth had no doubt told Mom much of the same story—or some sanitized version of it—and I knew Mom would have taken it all to heart. I hated to think how much guilt she would have felt over the life her daughter led when she was sent away. At least she died knowing Beth was still alive.

When we got closer to Dover, Beth said, “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing. Do you want to see Ronnie?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “Although we can do that later if you want.”

“Visiting hours are probably over,” Beth said. “I kind of figured we weren’t seeing him.”

“Visiting hours,” I said, my voice mocking. “Do you think a little thing like posted visiting hours can stop us? After all we’ve been through? We’re Leslie’s daughters, right?”

Some cheer returned to Beth’s face and voice. “Right.”

Dover Community looked appropriately deserted. We parked close to the door and stepped out into the cool night. The sodium vapor lights overhead illuminated us, casting our faces and bodies in a half glow. I stopped before we went in.

“You’ve been here before, right?” I asked.

Beth nodded. “I came to visit Ronnie. Once. It didn’t go well.”