Package Deal(55)
Marcus rose and followed her over to the window. “When did you tell Cecelia to do that, to yell and run?”
“When she was five, her preschool had a good-touch, bad-touch discussion. I told her if anyone ever tried to touch her or grab her in a way she didn’t like, she was to yell as loud as she could and run away, as fast as her legs would carry her. We even had little practice sessions, pretend play. The lesson also talked about fighting off an attacker—scratching and kicking and biting and stomping on toes, that sort of thing. Do you think Carlton tried to do something to her?”
“I think the cops will want to know what Cecelia said.”
“Marcus, I will not have the police upsetting her. You saw how she was with you. She knows you and likes you. If strangers talk to her…” Her eyes filled.
He nodded. “I know.” He fumbled in his jacket pocket for some paper. He wrote down what Cecelia said, dated and timed it, and asked Amanda to sign it as a witness. “I’m taking this to the cops. Maybe if they talk to you, it’ll be enough. I’ll come back later.”
Marcus left the hospital and called his brother.He briefly filled him in on what had happened to Cecelia.
“I have a bad feeling about this guy, Mike. Amanda’s office-mate.”
“What kind of bad feeling?”
“My gut tells me he’s somehow involved, but I don’t know how. He was so nervous when I talked to him he could barely hold his coffee cup.”
“Go with your gut, bro. It’ll never fail you.”
“I’m thinking possible sexual assault or abuse—I just got done talking with Cecelia. She didn’t say that—not exactly, but she did say enough that I think that’s what we’re dealing with.”
“How old did you say she is?”
“Nine, going on ten.”
“Must be a sick bastard. What’s the guy’s name?”
Marcus told him. “He’s getting his degree from Wisconsin, if that’s any help, so he probably lived in or near Madison before he moved here.”
“I met a detective from there. Let me make a phone call. I’ll call you back if I find out anything. What’re you doing?”
“I’m working the neighbors. When I think I’ve exhausted everything, I’ll go talk to the cops and see if I’ve learned more about what happened than they did. I left my name at the station, but they haven’t called me back.”
“I’ll call you if I learn anything.”
“Whatever you can find—even if it’s nothing—let me know, Mike.”
After Cecelia came home from the hospital, Amanda and her teacher arranged an every-other-day schedule to bring in assignments and to take back her homework so that she wouldn’t miss more school. When working on her homework, Cecelia seemed almost normal, except that she slept every afternoon. The doctor assured Amanda this was an important part of the physical healing of her bruised body.
A week after she was no longer sleeping most of the afternoon, Amanda asked Cecelia if she wanted her soccer team to visit.
The little girl’s eyes lit up, enthusiastic about visitors for the first time since leaving the hospital. Amanda called the soccer coach to arrange a visit the next afternoon.
“Cece! Sam and your other soccer buddies are here,” she called up the stairs. “Do you want them to come see you?”
“Yes! Send them up! I want to hear all about the game.”
Amanda brought a plate of cookies upstairs and passed them around, heedless of the crumbs that quickly littered the floor.
Sam was the first to decorate Cecelia’s arm and leg casts with names and hearts in different colors.
“Look at my casts, Mom! They’re not white anymore!”
Amanda took comfort in the giggles and conversation that ensued. When the girls left, after promising to visit again over the weekend, Cecelia slept soundly and Amanda slowly began to relax.
Her mood changed, however, when the police arrived two days later.
“Let me take you up to her. She can’t come downstairs yet,” she explained.
Two officers, a man and a woman, followed her into Cecelia’s room.
“Cece. These officers would like to talk to you about the accident.”
Cecelia’s face slid from happy expectation to fear when she eyed the tall man and the much shorter woman as they stood near her bed. She reached her right hand for Amanda, who perched on her bed next to her.
“My name is Emily. We’d like to ask you some questions, Cecelia,” the female detective said.
When Cecelia’s grip tightened, and she started to shake her head, Amanda said, “It’s okay, Cece. You’re not in trouble. They just want to ask you some questions. Let’s just see what the nice police officer wants to know. I’ll stay right here with you. Isn’t that right, Officer—uh?”