the body
—as that of her son, Dylan Ingram, she was ordering the coroner to uncover him rather than pull the sheet back up over his head. She wanted to see. She wanted to know what had happened to her boy.
His chest had been clawed open on the right side, and chunks of his arms and legs had been eaten away. There were fingers and toes missing, bite marks all over his flesh, and though his belly button was gone, the little birthmark above it was still visible.
It was the birthmark that sent her over the edge. She remembered looking at it as she diapered him, as she kissed his little baby tummy, as she rubbed him with lotion. She understood, in a way she hadn’t until that moment, all that she had lost, all that would never be, and she broke down, throwing herself on top of him.
She remembered someone pulling her off, remembered someone taking her away, remembered voices yelling, voices soothing, but that was all she remembered because afterward there was only darkness.
NINETEEN
Lita wrote out a receipt for the six jars of honey she’d delivered, then handed it to Ben, thanking him for the sale, and walked past the other customers and out the door of the grocery store without looking back.
She didn’t relax until she was in the truck and driving past the gas station, onto the street. This was not the first time she’d gone to town and found everyone acting weird. It was nothing specific, nothing she could put her finger on, but she knew her neighbors, knew when they were behaving differently, and lately they’d been…well, behaving differently. Just like Ben. He and the other customers in his store this morning had exchanged meaningful glances when she’d said certain things, things that, as far as she could tell, had no relation to her or each other. They thought she hadn’t noticed, but she had, and it made her feel more than a little uncomfortable. It was as though they all had some secret they were keeping from her, knowledge that they shared but were actively trying to keep from her.
Her friends had been acting that way, too. She could understand Darla being distraught after all that had happened, but she had been acting strange before her son had disappeared. JoAnn and Lurlene, as well.
Lita drove past the Ingrams’ house, saw Tom’s pickup in the carport. Darla had left town to stay with her mother in Oro Valley, but Tom had stayed, ostensibly to work, and she felt a deep profound sadness for her friend. Dylan had been a great kid, and Darla was a wonderful mother, completely devoted to him. How was she going to cope with his loss? How was she ever going to adjust to a life without him?
Lita couldn’t imagine.
But she didn’t like the fact that Tom was still here. He should be with his wife. Darla needed all the support she could get. A tragedy like this could take a huge toll on a marriage, and the thought that her friend might lose her husband as well as her son made Lita feel even more depressed than she already was.
Her mind wandered again to the increasingly odd behavior of…well, almost everyone she knew. Something was going on, and Lita had no idea what it was. She wondered why she was being kept out of the loop. Did it involve her? The more she thought about it, the more bothered she became. She thought of just coming out and asking JoAnn and Lurlene what was going on but was pretty sure she wouldn’t get a straight answer.
Not only curious now but genuinely annoyed, she decided to put pressure on the weakest link, and instead of heading home, Lita turned back around and drove to the laundromat, parking on the street in front instead of in the lot behind the building. There were loads in two of the big washers, but no one waiting for them to finish, their owners apparently having gone elsewhere rather than sit in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs arranged against the opposite wall. Lurlene was the only one in the laundromat, seated in the back at her desk, reading a romance novel.
“Hey, stranger,” Lurlene said. “Your washer go out?”
“No—”
“Dryer?”
“No, I was at the market and thought I’d just stop by and say hi.”
The two of them shot the breeze for a few moments, but to Lita, the conversation seemed slightly strained. It was probably due to her more than Lurlene, but there were questions she needed answered, and she brought the talk around to her market visit again, and explained how Ben and his customers had all seemed wary around her, as though afraid of giving away some secret they had sworn not to reveal.
“Huh,” Lurlene said. “That’s weird.”
“I get the same feeling when I talk to you now, too. You and Darla and JoAnn.”
“Well, Darla—”
“I know,” Lita said. “But this started before that.” She faced her friend head-on. “What’s going on around here?”