Wild Thing

Chapter 11: Old Friends

After a few minutes of holding Mrs. Burton while she wept, I gave in and decided to tell her about my memories from that night. Hopefully it would provide her with a sense of closure.

"Mrs. Burton?"

I carefully grab her by the shoulders and help her sit up so we are face to face.

"Mrs. Burton, I'll tell you everything I remember from that night but please, don't be upset with me."

She looks away from me, reaches into her purse and removes several Kleenexes to blow her nose with. 

"Please, call me Cynthia. Why would I be upset with you Lily? You were only a child. If anything, I feel terrible you had to go through that. That you had to witness my poor baby's death."

She starts to cry again and I wonder if I should tell her everything or only bits and pieces. I don't want to hurt her any further.

I opt out for the latter.

"I had been outside playing with my stuffed bear when I heard people yelling and a woman crying. I remember laying down on the cool dirt underneath the brush so that when they walked past, I wouldn't be seen. It was a group of about 6 people, including Frank, and they kept pushing Pamela to the ground and laughing at her. She tried to get away, Cynthia, she really did. But one of the guys threw a rock at her and it hit her in the back of the head. After that, they picked her up by her arms and legs and dragged her over to bare spot in the field. I remember one of them saying, "Will this be good enough, Frank? Will I be in?" It didn't make any sense at the time what he was talking about."

Cynthia is staring at me in utter disbelief. Her chalky appearance and shrunken demeanor give me pause and make me fear for her health. "Are you sure you want to hear the rest?"

"Yes, please. Please tell me all of it. I have to know. Did she suffer?"

A part of me wants to cut off our conversation where I left it but I know this women needs closure. Nothing I can say will help her but maybe I can help her to better understand.

"Well-I, I don't think so. The guy who um....was talking to Frank pulled out a knife and uh...well he uh......he cut her throat. It was over very quickly. After that, they left. I had tried to get to her before they hurt her but I kept getting tangled in the brush and tree branches. I'm sorry. By the time I reached your daughter, she was already gone. Her pain, it...um...it didn't last long."

Cynthia's skin turns an unusual whitish pallor as I trail off from the last sentence. I feel as if I have ripped her heart out all over again and forced her to relive her misery. Her pain is oozing from every pore and crevice and while she may not show it, despair leaks unbidden and without borders. I can sense her pain and smell her tears despite a single drop not being shed. Lord, please comfort this woman in a way that only you can. Father, mend her heart and dry her tears. Please Father.

"Thank you for being so honest with me, Lily. I just don't understand how they didn't find her out there. What do you think happened? Do you know where they might have taken her body?"

"I think they covered it up. I remember while I was struggling to get through the brush, the man who killed your daughter said they would come back and clean up later after they celebrated. I guess they got to her before the police did. I'm honestly not sure. I wish I had more answers to give you."

"I understand Lily, thank you so much. If I could, I just have one last question to ask you."

"Sure, anything."

"Did you recognize anyone in the court room today. Anyone on Frank's side that you think might've been in the field with Pamela that night?"

This was a hard question to answer. There were many faces I recognized in the horde of Frank's followers present in the courtroom. There were a few that struck a chord of recognition but there's no way I could be 100% certain about their involvement in Pamela's death. It was so long ago and it was very dark that night.