Kathleen Hale - No One Else Can Have You

I make it through the first couple interviews, and there’s nothing really shocking. Staake’s still a jerk-for-brains, Dom’s a worrywart, yadda yadda. All I can think about, really, is the approved visitors list, and how Dom must have sat there racking his brain for names of my friends. The fact that he put down Davey even after we had all those fights sort of makes me want to cry.

Okay, here we go:

Ralph Johnston *Unsolicited interview. RJ called to speak to nurse one hour after departure of father. Testimony transcribed at time of call and accepted for patient’s file on grounds of RJ being family-approved visitor and longtime acquaintance. RJ says, “Yes, I decided to help the police after becoming aware of Kippy’s secret delusions. I tailed her in my car to Mrs. Klitch’s, the Frieds, and to the high school—and again to Mrs. Klitch’s, and I reported her whereabouts to the police. Why did I report her? Well, I was worried about her state of mind. Don’t get me wrong, Kippy’s the kind of girl you want to trust. Between her easy smile and Aryan features, she has an angelic quality—she looks very much like her mother. But there is something darker there. I have known her for her entire life, and while it’s easy for her father to forget all the trouble she’s caused, I have a bit more of an objective view. Even when her mother was alive, Kippy exhibited symptoms of hysteria and paranoia. I remember her mother often coming to me asking for parenting advice, because Kippy would have tantrums and break things. The death of her mother only worsened Kippy’s mental health. The death of my own parents, who were like grandparents to Kippy, issued another blow. This most recent tragedy could be viewed as the veritable ‘last straw.’ Kippy’s issues are so deeply seated that I foresee a lifetime of therapy and medication being necessary for her reintegration into society. Currently, she thinks she is the elderly TV personality Diane Sawyer. I only hope that her time at Cloudy Meadows helps her and her father to better understand and treat her illness.”

I drop the file on my crossed legs and lean against the desk, struggling for balance. First of all, when my mom was alive, Ralph was barely a teenager. There’s no way that she would have asked him for parenting advice. She was the type of person who told my teachers to take a leap when they said I needed to get more effectively “socialized.” And I never had tantrums. I was just hugging people all the time! Yeah, I eventually had to go to NVCG because of the Code Stranger thing, and because Dom didn’t know what else to do with me, but that was Dom’s problem—he’s even apologized for it since.

In the margins by Ralph’s interview is the note that Fergatron must have made during our meeting:

Patient’s personable yet nervous nature corroborates RJ’s phone comments that KB is “sweet” yet “scattered.” What lurks beneath KB’s surface?

I reread Ralph’s comments and feel my ears burn. What does he mean he started to help the police with finding me? I mean, he did say that he was worried about me, but why would he tell me to go ahead and follow my heart and investigate the loose ends if he was just going to get me in trouble? And why does he sound so poised? The Ralph I know is always apologizing out loud after every sentence. There’s something not right about it. I grab Ruth’s journal from the Ziploc and turn to the inside cover:

Potential suspect types

1. Racist-ish

2. Can justify what they’ve done

3. Homicidal lesbian ?

4. Doesn’t like interruptions.

Wants to be in charge .

5. Likes calling people names

6. Likable

I shove the journal back into the backpack. Ralph is racist . . . ish. All of his Thor dolls and Norse mythology—that’s Nazi stuff, isn’t it? I mean he did say “Aryan” on the phone with the nurse. And I didn’t think of it before—probably because he’s always taken care of me, and stuff, always been there—but Ralph also doesn’t like interruptions, and he does want to run everything. And while he’s not a homicidal lesbian, he did kind of have a thing for Ruth. I always hated her for thinking he was creepy. But now I remember how she was the only one he paused his video games for. Ruth even told me once that he was always staring at her, and that it made her uncomfortable. Only back then I figured she was just being full of herself.

And yes. He’s likable. It’s why this never occurred to me before. Because I love Ralph. Because he’s someone I’ve known a really long time, one of the only survivors in my life.

I go back to the records and turn the page. There’s more.

Ralph Johnston *Unsolicited interview, cont.: “I can’t even tell you how many nights Kippy sat here on my carpet, telling me that there was some kind of huge conspiracy at play. She admitted to me that she was carrying bear spray—and no matter how I tried to reason with her, she would not relinquish it to me. Honestly, I started to fear she might be a threat to herself or others. I don’t even recognize the person she’s become. I only hope you can cure her.”

Okay, what? Ralph was the one who gave me the bear spray—unless he was just giving it to me to set me up. How else would Sheriff Staake have gotten the tip about “some girl with white-blond hair” wandering around with Ursidae gas?

I reach into my backpack for my cell phone and turn it on, then smooth out the phone tree from Mildred. I’d call Miss Rosa, but even though I’m pretty sure she cares about me, she’s also superprofessional, and might just encourage me to take advantage of the therapy here, or something. I’ve just got to trust that the one other person I can think of meant what she said in that parking lot.

Mildred answers after the first ring. “Hello?” It sounds like I woke her up.

“Uh yes, hello? I know according to this doctor’s calendar it’s a school night, and you have to serve lunch tomorrow, but this is Kippy Bushman calling with an emergency.”

I can hear blankets rustling. “What is it?” she asks grumpily.

“I—”

“Is Davey in trouble?” she adds, sounding more alert.

“Kind of,” I answer. It’s true, I realize, in a way. Davey’s parents are still out of town, and he’s there in his house all alone. Dom could have told Ralph that Davey’s been helping me, and Ralph could easily find him. Then again, Davey’s a trained killer. “Mostly I need a ride,” I say. “I’m at Cloudy Meadows.”

“Regular ride or getaway car?” Mildred asks. Her voice sounds cheerful now. “I fucking hate that place.”

I didn’t think about the fact that Mildred could get in a lot of trouble for this, maybe even get sent back here. So I decide to be honest about what my intentions are, just in case she wants to bail. “I need to get dropped off at a house that isn’t mine, where I plan to break in and look for evidence connected to Ruth Fried’s murder.”

For a second I think she’s hung up.

“That dead girl was Davey’s sister,” she says, sounding accusatory. I guess she’s figured out some stuff about us since the last meeting. “He’s probably really sad about it, I bet, huh? Like, I bet he loved her. I could see him being really nice to a sister he had. He’s just that kind of guy, which is sexy, in my opinion.”

“Yes . . .”

“I’ll be at the back gates at midnight. Next to the cow pasture. That gives you two and some hours to find a way outta that ward.”

I think of the series of big glass doors they buzzed me through when Dom and I arrived. There were codes and keys involved. “Any tips?”

“Honey, I always just wake up on the outside. Who knows what shit I pull.” She laughs to herself.