Ruddy Richardson - The Innocence

“Guess what mom.” Brian said with an air of victory in his prompt.

Rita swallowed down the morning’s grisly contemplations and focused the rearview mirror on her sons freckled splashed face, currently sporting a broad smile that reminded her all too much of her ex-husband.

“Mr. Morrin says I can do my colonialism report on Australia! Isn’t that so cool?” Brian’s fascination with Australia had not lessened over the years, as Rita had hoped, but rather had grown to a fanatical obsession. Brian was sure the day would come when his father would come home to find his son all grown and an expert on the country he had called home. Rita had never found the heart over the last two years to tell Brian the truth about her father or Australia. She figured the day would come on its own. Two years later it had still not arrived.

Jack Morrin waved goodbye to Brian as the old blue dodge slowly worked its way back out of the parking lot. One of his favorite pupils, the boy showed a strong affinity for world history and mathematics and enjoyed staying after classes to talk and share with the teacher his thoughts and ideas from the school day’s lessons. Matthew had to admit he had grown fond of the boy but couldn’t find the strength to ask out his mother after she had rejected so many of Kelly’s attempts to set them up on a blind date. Not that she wasn’t attractive or approachable but rather, that he had spent so many years keeping people at bay he wasn’t sure how to break the habit. He watched the rust spotted tailgate disappear before he turned back to his classroom. He still had a lot of work to do and the night, for him, was only just beginning.

Jack wasn’t the only person watching as Broman’s left the school grounds. From across the parking lot another set of eyes watched as Rita loaded Brian and Judy’s work into the back of the car. They watched as her son told her his good news and as she attempted one more time to keep the truth from escaping her lips. They watched as Judy pulled out her cell phone yet again to respond to a text message. Probably from a new boyfriend, they thought. Girls her age were always talking with their new boyfriends. Both of the children were so pure, so innocent. They deserved to be saved. But the older one would be a bit of challenge. The older they got, the harder it was to make them understand why it had to be done. So many years ago they had learned that. Dear old Bobby, so uncooperative, had to be strung up in the fishing line before he learned his lesson: the body must die so that the innocence can be saved. Maybe it would be Brian’s turn this year; his turn to be rescued before he learned the truth about his neglectful father who had been the reason for Rita to return to her roots. This quiet town, this sleepy little town was the perfect place with a constant supply of those waiting to be saved.

They watched until the car was out of site then turned back to their reading. They still had a lot of work to do and the year, for them, was only just beginning.

“You’re not listening. Look. Please just look at these clippings. Please!” Panic, mixed with desperation, dripped from Kelly’s voice as she thrust the copies of the discovered articles under the stern countenance of Police Chief Merrels. The chief stared back at her from behind his small rectangular reading glasses as though she had just delivered a dead possum found on the road.

“Little lady. You have got to be kidding me with this Nancy Drew bullshit.” He dipped his head down to his chest as he raised one gnarled hand to scratch at his newly acquired bald spot. He had only recently noticed the hair disappearing in a neat patch at the crown of his head and could have sworn, since then, that it had become a target for every insect in the county. Merrels was known to swear, curse, spit and smoke but was one of the best police chiefs that Oyster Ridge had known in its history. That was the reason he had been at his post for the last 20 years.

“Of course I remember the story of Bobby Warren. Hell, I was just figuring out how to be Chief back then but that became quite the sensationalist piece. Sort of a stone in my new career. They had reporters from every county in the state out here taking pictures of our scenery and local townsfolk. Nothin’ ever came of nothin’ though. We figured it wasn’t the dad on account of him being seen drinking till the early morning the night that his son went missin’. Damn shame for those folks. Damn shame.” And with that, the chief settled back into his oversized faux leather chair to once again fix his gaze on the two women disrupting his office.

Kelly let loose a frustrated growl and grabbed her long brown hair in a dramatic display as she paced the small office. Rita could see they were loosing the war but couldn’t ignore the feeling that what Kelly was saying was completely correct. Something about these two instances begged for connection, for attention to be paid. Suddenly it occurred to her.

“Wait a minute.” She whirled her chair around and grabbed her friends shoulder so hard it made Kelly wince.

“Kelly you’re Catholic. What day is November 2 ^ nd?”

“Um, how the heck should I know? I haven’t practiced in years.” She let out a bitter nervous laugh.

“Come on, just think about it?”

“All Saints Day I think.”

“Right and what is the point of All Saints Day? Isn’t that the day that celebrates the faithful?”

Kelly stopped pacing the office and stared at her friend in disbelief. “No, well yes sort of. All Saints Day is when we begin a period of purification and enlightenment. There are three celebrations known as the ‘scrutinies’ when we purge ourselves and open the heart for the purer faith.”

As she finished, she turned to see Chief Merrels staring at her with a look of disdainful interest. “What are you? The church choir?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Kelly blushed, her pale skin turning red to the roots of her hair. “No, I mean, I went to church with Mom before she died but that was it. Don’t you remember how fanatic she was about all the celebrations?”

Indeed, everyone in Oyster Bay remember Margaret Reiss, the overzealous widow who had convinced the entire town to ban the selling of sweets and liquors for the Lent season ten years back. She had died in a car accident involving a seasonal tourist who was inexperienced to the winding roads entering Oyster Ridge. In her will she had stipulated a funeral with the strictest adherence to a traditional catholic mass lasting 4 hours. The townspeople had struggled through it without so much as a whimper, but still made miserly jokes behind Kelly’s back. Shortly after her mother’s death Kelly had moved back, dropping out of university to become the town’s librarian and running joke. Kelly handled it with resigned grace, fully acknowledging to all who cared to make a comment that her mother had gone to truly biblical extents towards the end of her life.

Chief Merrels glanced slowly from Rita to Kelly and back. As he stared his eyebrows seemed to furrow deeper and deeper towards his eyes. He let out a grunt of a resignation and pulled the ancient book towards him. “Alright, tell me what you think is going on.”

Rita took a deep breath. Since the entire idea had been Kelly’s she had taken the back seat. But now, seeing the state of tension her friend was in she decided to take over with the explanation. She quickly but thoroughly summarized what they had found in the press records and tied in the most recent killings to finish with “…and we think they are all connected. The first appeared as accidents but maybe whoever is responsible for this is getting bored with it. Or maybe they are getting bolder. You know they’ve potentially gotten away with it for the last 18 years. Maybe they need something new.”