Forcing my shoulders to move in a negligent shrug, I shared a hard-earned truth. “Monsters come in all shapes and sizes.”
“True.” She stared into the cabin where Kayden and Tag still sat at the table,
probably in an attempt to give us some semblance of privacy. “Carl spoke to Payton. Seems he remembers the incident quite clearly. It took Carl awhile to get
him to share his version.”
I grimaced. “It didn’t match up with the official record.”
Her attention didn’t stray from the cabin’s interior. “No, it didn’t.” She didn’t
wait for a response. “According to him, he accompanied a caseworker out to the
home of a hysterical young woman claiming the child they were considering adopting was a demon. He and the caseworker arrived at the house to find a six-year-old girl, sitting on the front porch, clutching a paper bag. The scared-looking woman locked behind the screen door held a crucifix.”
Etched into my brain with painful clarity, I didn’t need Delacourt’s recital of
events to remember that day. When the caseworker’s nondescript sedan had
pulled into the driveway, closely followed by a black and white patrol car, all I
had felt was relief. A short-lived relief, it turned out, because as I headed down
the porch steps, Mr. Peltier pulled in behind them. I remember the choking fear
and panic that cemented my feet to the porch steps. The flimsy shield of the paper bag with all my things clutched to my chest. My mind screaming at me to
run, but my small body refusing to obey.
Through the sucking morass of memory, Delacourt’s rough voice continued,
“It seems the woman had called her husband, who rushed home to be with her. A
great deal of confusion and yelling ensued, so Payton took the child to his car.
He told Carl when he opened the door, the little girl had whispered something.
Since he couldn’t hear her, he crouched down and asked her to repeat what she
said. She looked at him with spookiest eyes he’d ever seen, and said—”
“He got mad and hit Sara.” I repeated those long-ago words. “When she
didn’t get up, he buried her in the garden.” I finished in a low tone.
The world went quiet. For a moment, I was six and terror’s cruel hands were wrapped around my chest. But six was a damn long time ago, no matter how close it felt. I cleared my throat and shared the rest of the story. “A few years before, Peltier had kidnapped a local girl, Sara Colton, when his wife was out of
town. He lost his temper when she struggled, and he killed her before hiding her
in the garden. The case was all over the news.”
Delacourt turned to me, the shadows failing to hide her sharp gaze. “Payton
worked that case. There was no connection between Peltier and the Coltons, no
link. Without your help, Peltier would have gotten away with it.”
Old, familiar bitterness broke through. “Audrey Peltier probably wishes he
had.”
Her mouth opened, but after a moment, it closed. We both knew there was no
response for that little gem.
I rubbed my face and when I dropped my hands, I said, “The only way the
authorities could make the whole situation understandable was to claim I had seen something, or that Peltier had attacked me and let something slip.” My smile was all teeth. “Because everyone knows there’s no other explanation.”
“Carl believed Payton.” Delacourt paused. “Carl believed in you.”
Her statement hung in the air. The hastily erected walls holding my grief back crumbled under the unwavering conviction in her voice. Ignorant of the verbal sucker punch she had just delivered, Delacourt shook her head at my silence and stepped back into the cabin, leaving me alone.
I turned my back to the lighted interior and faced the darkness.
Overwhelming waves of heartache and guilt rose, swallowing everything in their
path. I clenched my teeth, trapping harsh sobs in my chest. Gut wrenching pain
