Everything She Feared, page 8
“You were a perfect daughter,” Lynora said. “I was blessed to be your mom.”
Then Jon, now fourteen, moved to the microphone.
“She was so good at being a big sister that the angels asked God if they could have her to be their sister.”
The program neared the end when Anna’s friend, Will Naya, from her music class, played the piano and sang another of Anna’s favorite songs, “Someone Saved My Life Tonight.”
As he played, Sara brushed her tears and turned to Katie, putting her arm around her, giving her a sad smile, then shutting her eyes and praying.
Sara prayed with all her heart.
I cannot think what I’m thinking because it isn’t true. I have to stay strong, like Mom said.
Sara clasped Katie’s hand.
Because Katie’s a good girl.
* * *
People congregated in the building’s expansive entrance hall.
At times Sara sensed a few mourners were looking at her and Katie, but she could never catch them staring. It’s like they know. Or maybe Sara was only imagining it, with her nerves in overdrive.
Navigating through the gathering, Sara and Katie passed near a group of teenage girls, their whispers spilling over their circle.
“I can’t believe Tanner came!”
“After breaking her heart? No way!”
“Maybe he still loves her?”
Funeral home staff gently guided everyone into a long line that flowed to Anna’s family, close to the reception room where a buffet had been prepared. Sara and Katie soon found themselves in the line, sandwiched ahead of some teenage girls and behind two tall teenage boys in suits.
“Hi, Tanner,” one of the girls whispered.
One of the boys, his tie a little crooked, turned and saw the girl. “Hi, Aubrey,” he said. Turning back, Tanner glanced at Sara, then Katie, nodded politely, then did a double take, registering what Katie was wearing.
The necklace Tanner had given Anna.
He turned to face forward again, but unease rattled up Sara’s spine.
I shouldn’t have let her wear it here.
But Katie had insisted. As they dressed, she’d said: “Anna gave it to me, Mom. It’s so pretty. Please, please let me wear it, to show how I miss her so much, to help my heart.”
Sara had surrendered, but now, seeing Tanner’s reaction underscored her discomfort as they advanced in the line. Drawing closer to the family, they could hear people offering condolences. Then Tanner stood before Anna’s mother and father.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice tapering, “for everything.”
Lynora looked at him.
Seconds passed before she accepted his words with a slight nod.
Chuck shook Tanner’s hand. “Thank you.”
Then Tanner nodded and moved on.
Upon seeing Sara and Katie, Lynora embraced them. “Thank you for being here today,” she said.
“It was a beautiful service,” Sara said.
“You look so nice, sweetheart,” Lynora said to Katie.
Light glinted off the gold heart of Katie’s necklace.
Lynora stared at it.
“That’s a pretty heart,” Lynora said. “Anna had one like it.”
“This was Anna’s.” Katie held out the tiny heart. “She gave it to me.”
A question was rising on Lynora’s face.
“When did she give it to you?”
“On the bus at the park. Anna said she didn’t want it anymore and that I could have it.”
In the seconds that passed with Lynora looking at the necklace, Sara’s nerves tingled. Then the corners of Lynora’s mouth lifted into a weak smile.
“That sounds like Anna. Cherish it. I know she loved you, Katie.”
“I loved her, too.”
“That’s why—” Lynora reached for Katie’s hand “—it comforts us to know that you were the last—that you were with her when—that you were there, Katie.”
Lynora gasped into her husband’s chest; he held her as Jon rubbed his mom’s shoulders.
“Thank you,” Lynora exhaled.
Sara touched them. Then, with her arm around Katie, they began making their way out.
Moving toward their SUV, Sara spotted the news cameras and TV trucks across the street and walked a little faster.
16
Online
The strains of the opening score for a 1940s noir movie play over a montage of desolate big-city streets at night.
Then the title Tell-Tale Hearts with Sonya and Shane blossoms on screens around the world.
It dissolves to an image of a woman with oversize red-framed glasses and a bearded man in a ball cap. Both are wearing headphones and are sitting at a table, poised for a broadcast.
Their room of book-filled shelves, framed photos, plants and posters of the covers for In Cold Blood and Crime and Punishment make for a warm, homey backdrop as they smile, wave and begin.
“A big hello to everyone. I’m Sonya and this is my brother, Shane.”
Shane taps the brim of his hat in salute.
“And we are live,” Sonya says. “Welcome to our ninety-ninth—can you believe it, bro?—our ninety-ninth episode of Tell-Tale Hearts.”
“It’s wild. And look at everyone joining us today, from Birmingham, England; Miami; Ottawa, Canada; Denver; Santiago, Chile; and Perth, Australia. Boy, some of you are up at all hours, talk about the real dark night of the soul, I love it.”
“So,” Sonya says, “a little background for those of you joining us for the first time. Shane and I are amateur sleuths who became obsessed true-crime aficionados. We started out reading classics like In Cold Blood and Helter Skelter and The Onion Field, then studying cases like the Boston Strangler, Ted Bundy, the Yorkshire Ripper and tons of others.”
Photos from those cases flash on the screen.
“Since then, we couldn’t get enough and started this channel to discuss cases new and cold with like-minded folk.”
“Right,” Shane says. “And a warning—we are unfiltered, our shows get very dark, very gross and very disturbing, because whenever and wherever possible we will show and discuss everything about a case. And we mean everything. If you are hardcore, we recommend a legendary primer, Practical Homicide Investigation by Vernon Geberth.”
“This week we’re joined by a special guest to discuss our featured case,” Sonya says. “But before we start, we have some news. Thanks to you, we’ve surpassed five million views a month!”
“That is freaking amazing. We really want to thank you, our followers.”
They cut to a blip of stock footage of mass crowds, oceans of people cheering and applauding.
“Today we’re going to look back several decades to the case of one of the world’s most prolific serial killers,” Sonya says. “A soulless monster, active for over a decade before he was captured.”
A photo of a bald man with a wide-eyed maniacal grin appears.
“This man,” Shane says, “is Andrei Chikatilo of Russia.”
“This case gave me chills.”
“After he was arrested for killing, mutilating and, in some cases, eating parts of fifty-two boys, girls and young women, in the time between 1978 and 1990,” Shane says, “Chikatilo called himself a freak of nature.”
Photos of the young faces of victims appear.
“Chikatilo used to carry a frying pan and other cooking implements with him in his bag when he hunted his victims,” Shane says. “Russian investigators noted that in one case the victim was so horribly destroyed, they initially ruled out homicide because they were convinced the victim had fallen into a harvesting combine.”
Graphic crime scene photos appear.
When the photos vanish, the screen is split with the hosts on one side, a white-haired man with glasses and a headset, sitting at his office desk, on the other.
“Today we are honored to have with us Professor Anton Belyayev,” Sonya says. “I hope I pronounced it correctly, Professor.”
“You did.”
“Thank you and welcome. You’re joining us from Los Angeles where you’re a visiting professor of history at UCLA.”
“I am, and thank you for inviting me to your program.”
“Professor,” Shane says, “you have a personal connection to this case.”
“I do. My uncle was one of the detectives who had a part in the investigation that resulted in Chikatilo’s arrest.”
A photo of Belyayev’s uncle appears.
“Let’s begin at the beginning,” Sonya says, “starting with Chikatilo’s life, then take us through the case history.”
For the next hour Belyayev gives an account of how Chikatilo came to be, his career as a teacher, then clerk, along with his evolution into a serial killer of more than fifty known victims. The professor discusses how Chikatilo thrived as a murderer under the old Soviet system for more than a decade. Finally a five-year investigation led to his capture, trial and death sentence. He was executed with a bullet to the back of his head at a military prison in western Russia in 1994 and buried in an unmarked grave.
The professor discusses the case with Shane and Sonya while taking questions texted to the show from its worldwide audience. The episode winds down with the hosts thanking Belyayev, who logs off.
“That was fantastic,” Sonya says.
“Incredible case. We were so fortunate to have Professor Belyayev as our guest. He was excellent.”
“Now, a few notes about future episodes before we sign off,” Sonya says. “In one of our upcoming segments, we’ll take a deep dive into the case of Herman and Magda Vryker. They were a husband-and-wife team responsible for several murders in 1994 and 1995 across Montana, Idaho and Washington.”
“In this case, the bodies of their victims were never found,” Shane says. “I’ll let Sonya give you some details.”
“In prison, Magda changed her story about knowing the locations of the victims. She served her time and, after her release with no further conditions, remained silent before disappearing off the grid. Our guest will be Beatrice Clearfield with the social media group The Hunters—Finding Magda. In the time since Magda’s release the group has dedicated itself to seeking justice by tracking her and posting information on where she may be and what she’s doing. This horrible case has left the anguished families desperate to find the remains of their loved ones while fearing Magda gamed the system and is now smarter and out there possibly killing again under a new identity.”
“You won’t want to miss it,” Shane says.
“Finally, friends, if there are cases you want us to consider for the show, or there’s information you think needs to be shared, you know how to reach us. That’s our show for this week.”
The same opening music plays against the empty city streets at night as the screen fades to black.
17
Seattle, Washington
Bacon sputtered in the pan the morning after Anna’s funeral.
Sara hadn’t slept well.
Her thoughts continued pinballing from Anna’s death, to Katie, to the necklace, and the worry knotted her stomach.
None of it’s real. None of it’s true.
Standing at the stove in her robe, she took a breath, tried to relax and sort things out. Katie hadn’t come down for breakfast yet. Turning to the fridge for eggs, Sara spotted the note on her calendar for the mission.
Helping at the mission.
The mission.
Seeking refuge from the fears tormenting her, Sara reached for her tablet. She played an older video of Katie, with her, at the mission.
Katie was smiling at the mission’s guests. “Welcome,” she said while assisting families. She carried trays of food for smaller children to their family’s table. “Would you like me to get you anything else?” Katie asked them, then brought them napkins, utensils and drinks. The children liked Katie and she was totally dedicated to being there.
Seeing Katie embody her family’s spirit of giving warmed Sara, especially the moment when Katie went to a little girl who was sitting with her dad. The girl appeared sad and wasn’t eating.
“What’s wrong?” Katie asked her.
The little girl whispered in Katie’s ear. Katie patted her hand and went to Mr. Yang, the mission’s manager. He went into the storage room filled with donated items and came back with a doll. He gave it to Katie, who gave it to the little girl.
“She’s your dolly now,” Katie told the little girl, comforting her. “She loves you.”
Katie and the girl smiled at the camera.
The video ended, leaving Sara to think, Was this really Katie? Her smile in the video now seemed a little too sweet.
A chair scraped on the floor behind Sara.
Katie had come down to the kitchen in her pajamas and was seated at the table. Sara stroked Katie’s hair.
“How’re you doing, honey?”
Katie shrugged.
Sara kissed the top of her head, noticing that Katie was wearing Anna’s necklace as she served up their breakfast. Neither of them had much of an appetite. They ate a few forks of scrambled eggs, a few bites of toast and nibbled at bacon. Katie spent most of the time staring at the small gold heart of the necklace.
“It was so awful on the cliff, Mom. So awful.”
“I know, honey.”
“I miss Anna and it hurts so much.”
“I know.” Sara lowered herself next to her chair, took Katie in her arms and held her. “I know.”
Minutes passed, then Katie went upstairs to get dressed. After cleaning up, Sara went upstairs to get ready, too.
Opening her closet, she glimpsed the flannel of one of Nathaniel’s beloved L.L.Bean shirts. Taking a moment, she studied it, took it from the hanger and pressed her face into its softness, breathing in its scent. On those agonizing nights when she’d first lost him, Sara had sprinkled his cologne on his side of the bed.
Tricking myself into thinking he was still here.
More memories pulled her back until suddenly, standing at her closet, she heard Nathaniel.
“Come on, Sara, we have to.” They were driving through the city, a car had pulled over, the hood raised. Nathaniel stopped to help. It didn’t matter, day or night, rain or shine, the interstate, the city, if someone needed help, Nathaniel, the Good Samaritan, would render aid. “You got to show a little kindness.” That’s how he was raised and that’s how he lived.
Sara needed to believe, as her mother did, that Nathaniel’s virtues were woven into Katie’s DNA.
After she showered and dressed, she paused for a moment outside of Katie’s bedroom door.
Katie was sitting at her desk, bent over her spiral-bound sketchbook. She was drawing carefully, pencil in hand, the chain of the necklace folding on the paper, lost in her work.
Let her be, Sara thought.
As she headed downstairs, she thought she heard Katie humming.
18
Seattle, Washington
Lynora and Chuck Shaw were on their knees, working in the garden of their front yard.
It had been several days since their daughter’s funeral and Pierce’s heart broke again for them.
Benton slowed the unmarked SUV at the Shaws’ house. The garage door was up and Pierce recognized Anna’s bike inside, having seen it in her social media posts. She imagined Anna growing up here, dreaming all of her dreams in the short time she lived in this world.
Pierce shut her eyes briefly, her thoughts pulling her back several days, before the funeral, back to Anna Shaw’s body on the cold polished steel table; Mia Ryu, the medical examiner, working to the sound of her tools; the formaldehyde smell dominating the room. “It appears death was caused by blunt force trauma to the head and massive internal injuries,” Ryu said later in her office, giving Pierce and Benton her preliminary assessment. “Consistent with a fall from the height indicated to rocks below.” Ryu then discussed other aspects of her findings. Pierce noted it all before the detectives returned to headquarters, where Detective Sergeant Art Acker nodded as he listened to Pierce’s update.
“Looking at what the ME says, where are we?” Acker asked.
“I think we’re done,” Benton said. “No foul play, an accidental fall.”
“No,” Pierce said. “Ryu didn’t rule out other possibilities. We still have loose ends, locating everyone who was at the park at the time of her death. We haven’t recovered her phone and we haven’t fully processed the parking lot security video. There’s a glitch with the park’s system.”
“Alright, keep working and keep me posted,” Acker said.
Then, earlier today, he’d notified Pierce and Benton that forensics had finished processing Anna Shaw’s backpack and its contents.
“We have all we need, should it be deemed evidence later,” Acker said. “We don’t need to hold it.”
So now here they were driving up to the Shaws’ North Seattle home to return Anna’s property and ask her parents a few more questions.
Benton eased the Ford to a stop and they got out. The Shaws watched, their focus going to Pierce, who was carrying the large brown paper bag into which forensics had placed Anna’s backpack.
Chuck stood to greet them while Lynora remained on her knees, holding a gardening trowel.
“Your garden’s beautiful,” Pierce said.
“Some friends sent live plants for the funeral,” Lynora said.
“What do you have there?” Chuck asked.
“We’re returning Anna’s property. May we talk?”
They went inside to the living room. Jon had gone to a movie with friends, Chuck told them. The house was empty. Sitting in the quiet with the Shaws, Pierce felt their pain in the grief creasing their faces, the helplessness in their eyes, drained of joy by the toll of their agony. The silence was broken with the rustling of the paper bag as Pierce gave Anna’s backpack to her mother.
