Everything She Feared, page 5
“Are you Sara Harmon, Katie Harmon’s mother?” the woman said.
“Yes, I’m here for Katie. She’s on this trip with her sitter, Anna Shaw.”
The man and woman traded a serious look.
Sara felt her scalp tingle.
“I’m Detective Kim Pierce, this is Detective Larry Grotowski.”
“Is it Katie? What’s happened?” Sara asked.
“I’m very sorry,” Pierce said. “It appears Anna Shaw fell to her death and your daughter was with her at the time.”
Sara covered her mouth with her hands. Eyes filling with horror, she thumped back against a Washington State Patrol SUV. She was frozen for a moment before hugging herself, fighting tears, struggling to cling to a measure of composure as Pierce rubbed her arm.
Then, her voice barely above a whisper, Sara asked: “Did Katie see it happen?”
“We believe so,” Pierce said. “We’ve spoken with her.”
“How is she?”
“Pretty shaken—paramedics have looked at her and say she’s holding up, given the situation.”
“What about Lynora and Chuck, Anna’s mom and dad?”
“They’re here and they know.”
Sara shook her head. “Oh, my God, this is so—so horrible!”
“Will you be okay?” Pierce asked.
Sara got tissues from her bag.
“I don’t know, I just—oh, God—I just want to get Katie home.”
“Is there someone we can call for you?”
“No, I’ll be okay once I get Katie.”
Pierce continued staring at her, assessing her until Sara’s attention shifted to the trailhead, the tape and Katie under the arm of a female deputy. Katie looked so small in the large hoodie, her face nearly concealed.
Spotting her mother, Katie broke away from the deputy.
Sara lowered herself and Katie flew into her arms. Holding her tight, Sara felt Katie’s convulsed sobs, muffled against her, for several moments before her crying subsided. Sobbing herself, Sara wiped her daughter’s tears and let Katie catch her breath.
“Everyone’s saying Anna’s dead,” Katie said.
“I know, sweetheart. It’s so awful, so terrible. Are you alright?”
Sara stroked Katie’s hair as the detectives watched and listened.
“I saw Anna fall. She was taking a selfie, and I told her to be careful. Then she fell.” Katie gasped. “She fell but she was hanging on to a branch, just hanging on. I ran for help. I ran as fast as I could and got Jackson and Adam and Connie. But when we got back, Anna was at the bottom and oh—oh, no—she looked broken!”
A TV reporter and camera operator had quietly inched closer to record Katie and Sara. Grotowski noticed them first. “Back off!” he said.
“We’re not intruding,” said the reporter, the same woman who’d tried to interview Sara before.
“Back off,” Grotowski repeated.
Deciding not to push the issue, the reporter and camera operator retreated and turned to hunt for people to interview in the parking lot.
“Thank you,” Sara said to Grotowski.
Pierce took a business card from her badge wallet, jotting numbers and information on it. She then touched Sara’s arm.
“I know this is a painful time but we’ll need to talk to Katie again sometime later,” Pierce said. “We’re hanging on to her backpack and phone for now. I didn’t see any medications, but if there’s something in there she needs, let me know.”
Sara nodded.
“Can we go home, Mom?” Katie said.
Sara stroked her hair.
“Yes. Our car’s this way.”
“You’re sure you’re okay to drive back to Seattle?” Pierce asked.
“I think so.” Sara touched her tissue to her eyes. “Yes, I think so.”
“One more thing,” Pierce said. “While you’re free to do what you like, we’d suggest you not talk to media or post things about this while we’re investigating.”
Arms around each other, Sara and Katie walked across the parking lot. Driven by the need to see Anna’s parents, Sara searched for Lynora’s Malibu, or Chuck’s truck. Cars were coming and going in the lot. The yellow school bus that had delivered the group to the park that morning had just returned for those who needed a ride back.
Unable to find the Shaws’ vehicles, Sara and Katie continued to their car. They were steps away when a horn sounded behind them.
“Sara!”
They turned to the SUV that had stopped next to them. Chuck and Lynora got out of the back and they all embraced in a long tearful hug.
“Oh, God!” Sara said. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”
Chuck no longer resembled himself, his face a mask of pain. Lynora’s face was crumpled, her eyes swollen, drowning in agony. Suddenly Lynora seized Katie’s hand in desperate anguish.
“You were with Anna! You were the last to see her!” Lynora’s voice rasped.
Katie’s eyes widened, tinged with fear at the depth of Lynora’s grief.
“What happened, Katie? Tell me what happened?”
Pulling Katie tighter to her, Sara said, “Honey, you don’t have to talk about it now if—”
“It’s okay. I want to,” Katie said, swallowing hard. Her voice breaking over her words, she relayed what had happened on the cliff, how Anna wanted to take a selfie.
“She started walking backward and I said be careful, Anna, then she just fell and screamed.”
Still clasping Katie’s hand hard, Lynora’s body trembled.
“What...” she began. “Katie, please, what was the last thing Anna said?”
Katie bit her bottom lip.
“It’s so beautiful here.”
A few seconds passed before Lynora groaned and threw her arms around Katie, the last person who’d been with Anna, in the last moment of her life. Lynora welded herself to Katie with such force, releasing a wild animal wail that rose over the parking lot.
Fused to Katie, Lynora wouldn’t let go. It was as if she felt by some metaphysical force she could reach through Katie to hold Anna. Gently, Chuck, aided by his sister-in-law, pried Lynora from Katie and got her back into their car, then they drove away, bound for the morgue in Seattle.
Standing alone with Katie on the roadside, Sara noticed people nearby, staring at them. News cameras and phones had captured the scene. Moving quickly, Sara got Katie into their car and drove out of the park.
Before they reached the interstate, she pulled over to the shoulder of the on-ramp, stopped and undid her seat belt, then Katie’s. She took Katie into her arms and they cried together. Several minutes passed before Sara released Katie, got tissues for both of them and refastened their belts.
As Sara resumed driving down the ramp and onto the highway, she reached out, taking Katie’s hand. But Katie only watched the forests rolling by. The drone of the highway was soothing. When Sara gave her hand a tender squeeze and glanced at her, she could feel that Katie was still trembling while staring into the trees.
“It’s okay if you want to talk to me about it, sweetie.”
Katie swallowed, then shifted in her seat, slipping one hand into her front pocket. While driving, Sara saw a metallic flash in Katie’s hand, then the fine chain of a gold necklace.
Katie caressed its tiny gold heart with her thumb.
That’s not Katie’s necklace.
Eyes shifting from the road back to Katie, Sara tried to recall where she’d seen that necklace before.
“That’s so pretty, honey,” Sara said. “Where did you get it?”
“Anna gave it to me.”
“Anna?”
“Yes.”
“You never showed it to me. When did Anna give it to you?”
“Before she fell.”
10
Seattle, Washington
For much of the drive Katie held the necklace, often touching the tiny gold heart to her cheek.
As Sara watched, anguish and anxiety pounded at her in waves, stirring old fears. With every mile, she forced herself to focus on getting them home.
But her troubling thoughts raged.
Anna’s death was horrific.
That Katie had been the last to see Anna and now had her necklace only deepened it. Watching the traffic and the suburbs flowing by, Sara wanted to ask Katie more about the necklace, but she held back.
Don’t start anything now. You’re not thinking clearly.
During their drive Sara’s phone pinged with messages and vibrated with calls, but she didn’t respond. I’ll deal with them later. Closer to the city, Katie turned to Sara.
“How long will they keep my phone?”
“I don’t know.”
“I need my phone, Mom.”
Even though Katie was only a kid, Sara had wanted her to have a phone. She got her one for her ninth birthday and had put all the parental controls on it. Being a single, widowed mom, Sara never wanted to be out of touch with her daughter, and knowing she had a phone gave Sara peace of mind.
“Mom, why do they need my phone? It’s my private phone and I want it back.”
“Maybe we can get you a temporary one later, but we won’t worry about that now.”
It wasn’t long before they’d reached their North Seattle neighborhood tucked between Lake City Way and the interstate. A community of hardworking families and well-kept homes shaded by tall trees, it felt like a small town.
Sara had grown up here.
She found a measure of relief when they came to their two-story seashell-gray house. It had belonged to her parents, just like the SUV. Sara got them both after her dad died and after her mom went to a seniors’ home. Her parents’ life insurance and savings went to support her mom’s care, with just enough left so that, with Sara’s job, she and Katie could survive. But lately the cost of her mom’s care was rising to the point where they would soon be unable to afford it.
I can’t think about that now.
She parked the Trailblazer in the driveway.
They entered the house in silence. Sara grappled with a numbing sense of unreality, striving to find order in something mundane.
“Have you eaten anything?” Sara asked.
Katie shook her head.
“How about a banana smoothie?” Sara said.
Katie shrugged.
Sara started making it, preferring the activity to the raw quiet and her jumbled thoughts and emotions. She made enough for both of them, then checked her phone.
News of the tragedy had moved with viral speed. Friends offered concern, condolences and support.
I just saw the tragic news about Katie’s group, Val Rossi, her friend and neighbor, had texted. Let me know what I can do, dear.
Sara took a second, then texted back: I will. Thank you, Val.
Another message was from a paramedic, relayed by Detective Pierce. It reiterated that Katie was experiencing mild shock, advising Sara to keep her calm and rested. Then she got an email from the Sunny Days Youth Center.
Dear Parents and Guardians:
It is with deep sadness that we inform you about a recent loss to our Sunny Days community during a day trip to Sparrow Song Park. The death of one of our volunteers will raise many emotions, concerns and questions for everyone.
We’re arranging for a Crisis Intervention Team made up of professionals specially trained to help at difficult times such as this. The team of counselors will be available at no cost for any child, parent, relative, friend, staff member or volunteer who may want help or any type of assistance surrounding this loss.
We’ve enclosed details of the times and dates the team will be available.
We are profoundly saddened by the loss and are making every effort to help everyone involved.
Sincerely,
Violet Juarez
Director
Sara’s phone rang. It was Mel from the diner, so she answered.
“Hey, Sara, we’ve been trying to reach you. It’s online and all over the news that a girl was killed at Katie’s camp.”
Sara stifled a sob and left the kitchen to talk.
“Are you alright, kid?” He’d called her kid since the day he hired her.
“Not really. Katie was there. She saw the girl fall.”
“What? Damn! Oh, geez!”
A second passed and Sara turned to ensure Katie couldn’t hear.
“Do you need help? What can we do?” Mel said.
“No,” Sara said, fighting for control of her emotions. “No, thank you. I think I’m going to need a couple days, you know?”
“Absolutely, take whatever you need. We’ll cover your shifts.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, just let me know if you need us, or anything.”
“I will. Thank you, Mel.”
Collecting herself, Sara returned to the kitchen and Katie, who was swirling her reusable straw and looking into her smoothie.
“That was my work, honey.”
Katie didn’t say anything.
Sara’s phone vibrated with two new messages, both from reporters. One from TV, Channel 7 News; the other from the Seattle Times. They were requesting interviews.
Sara left them unanswered.
How did they get my number?
Katie suddenly got up and hugged Sara so hard she nearly lost her balance. She hugged her back, unable to dismiss thinking that at times Katie had seemed somewhat distant. Perhaps it was all stemming from the shock, she thought, before Katie raised her head and looked at her.
“My tablet’s in my backpack. Mom, can I use yours to talk to my friends?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, honey. Everything’s a little chaotic right now. We need to keep things calm.”
Sara could feel Katie trembling against her.
“Are you cold, sweetie?”
“A little.”
Stroking Katie’s hair, Sara considered the paramedic’s advice to keep her rested. Sara needed to fill the silence with something for Katie. “Let’s go upstairs to my room and watch your favorite movie.”
They got onto Sara’s bed, propped up pillows and got under the big quilt Sara had bought last fall at a fundraiser, and she started The Wizard of Oz on her tablet. Seeing Dorothy’s house spinning in the tornado, Sara tried to make sense of Anna’s death.
She’d been in our home so many times to watch over Katie. She was like a big sister to her.
The tornado kept churning and the house kept spinning, like Sara’s thoughts. She held on to Katie but nothing was real anymore.
Please let it all be a dream.
While they watched the movie, the doorbell rang. Looking from her bedroom window, Sara saw a news truck out front but didn’t go down to the door.
“Who is it, Mom?”
“Reporters. We’re not going to talk to them.” Sara stepped back from the window. “After they leave, I’ll fix us something to eat.”
Later she made grilled cheese and tomato soup. Good comfort food, as Mel always said. But they had little appetite. Afterward, the hours seemed to evaporate in a sorrow-filled fog with the evening coming fast.
Sara persuaded Katie to take a hot bath. She knelt next to her at the tub, washing her back, soothing her. Katie sat as if she were in a trance.
“Mom,” Katie said, her voice low and despairing. “What’s wrong with me?”
Her question caught Sara off guard before she recovered.
“What do you mean?”
“I feel like I’m a bad person.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Anna died.”
“Oh, honey, no. What you’re feeling is normal. Honey, it’s like the paramedics said, you’re shaken. You saw a horrible thing, an awful thing that was beyond your control.”
Katie didn’t answer. With the gentle trickling of the water, Sara decided now was her chance to press a little.
“Maybe we could talk a bit,” Sara said.
Katie didn’t respond.
“What happened has taken a toll on your nerves.” Sara swallowed. “You saw Anna step backward off—” she cleared her throat “—off the cliff. She just backed up, right?”
Katie nodded, as if in a hypnotic state, watching the tragedy replay on the tiled wall in front of her.
“She was taking a selfie?” Sara said.
Katie nodded.
“That’s what really—I mean, that’s all that happened?” Sara asked.
Suddenly, the water splashed as Katie thrust her hands to her face.
“Help me, Mom! Make it all go away!”
Sara hugged her, shushing her.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Katie froze, then asked: “Do you think it hurt when Anna fell?”
Tears filled Sara’s eyes. Katie was struggling to comprehend what was incomprehensible.
“No,” Sara said. “I think it was fast, that she didn’t suffer and went straight to Heaven.”
“Really?”
“Yes, sweetie, I really believe it.”
Katie stared at the tiles.
Sara continued, gently pressing, “It was so nice that she gave you her pretty necklace.”
“I love it so much,” Katie said.
“You said she gave it to you before she fell. When was that exactly?”
A long silence passed, punctuated by the drip from the faucet.
“It was on the bus.”
“On the bus?”
“Well, first she showed it to me on the sleepover last night. She said she just broke up with Tanner and he wouldn’t let her give it back, but she was so mad at him she didn’t want it. Then on the bus this morning she showed it to me again. She was saying she would throw it off a cliff or something but I said no, don’t, and that’s when she decided to give it to me.”
