Part 31 (2/2)
The home Paula Whitt Simmons lived in with her second husband was much like the one owned by Detective McKay, a San Fernando Valley tract house, this one in a subdivision of small, boxy stucco houses in Sherman Oaks. Paula, now sixty-five years old, had been twenty-nine when her nine-year-old daughter, Carrie Ann, disappeared.
”It was a terrible time,” she said as they sat at the kitchen table drinking lukewarm cups of coffee. ”It seemed like it would never end, and instead of getting better it got worse.” Paula Simmons had short gray hair and the wrinkled face of a much older woman. As she lit up her third cigarette in the short time since their arrival, Elizabeth understood why.
”How did it get worse?” Zach asked.
”My first husband left me eighteen months after Carrie Ann disappeared.”
”I'm sorry.” Elizabeth thought how hard it must have been to lose both a daughter and a husband.
”The divorce wasn't his fault. I couldn't seem to pull myself together. George wanted a wife and all I could be was a grieving mother.”
”Divorce is fairly common when the loss of a child occurs in a family,” Elizabeth told her.
”I read that later, in one of those self-help books. Didn't do much good by then. Lucky for me, eight years after Carrie Ann disappeared, I met Marty. He helped me get on with my life.”
”Some people aren't that lucky,” Elizabeth said.
Paula nodded and took a long draw on her half-smoked cigarette. Some of the ashes fell onto the table and Elizabeth realized the woman's hand was shaking.
”If this is too hard”
”It's all right. It happened a long time ago. I've had two girls with Marty. Raising them helped me come to terms with what happened to Carrie Ann.”
”And what do you think that was?” Zach asked gently.
”I think my little girl is dead. I think some monster took her away from me and killed her.”
Elizabeth ignored the tightening in her chest and the s.h.i.+ver that slipped down her spine. ”Can you tell us a little about her?”
For the next half hour, Paula Simmons talked about the child she had lost. She told them how pretty she was, how people said she looked just like an angel. How smart she was, that she was in the gifted children's program at school.
”She loved children,” Paula said. ”Especially babies. She wanted a little sister or brother so badly.”
Elizabeth looked at Zach, whose jaw tightened though his gaze remained fixed on the woman's face.
”What did she call you?” Zach asked. ”Did she say Mother or Mommy?”
”She called me 'Mama.' I guess because I always called my own mother that.” Paula's eyes filled with tears. ”I'm sorry. This just brings all of it back.”
Elizabeth had heard enough. She had begun to feel as if she knew the little blue-eyed girl who had been so beloved by her mother, and it made her ache inside to think what might have happened to her.
With a glance at Zach, she shoved back her chair and rose to her feet, and Zach did the same. ”We're sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Simmons. But we really appreciate your help in this.”
Paula made a jerky nod of her head. ”On the phone, Mr. Murphy said that you wanted to talk to me about Carrie Ann. I figure you were with the police or something. But you aren't, are you?”
”No, we aren't,” Zach said. ”We're just trying to solve a mystery. It may have nothing to do with your daughter. But I promise you, if it does, we'll be sure to let you know.”
”You don't think she might still be alive, do you?”
Elizabeth's chest squeezed hard. ”We have no way of knowing for sure, but we don't think so.”
”I don't think so, either,” Paula said. ”If she was, I think I'd feel it right here.” She pressed a fist over her heart.
Elizabeth could feel the woman's pain, even after all these years. ”I think maybe you would, too,” she said softly, a thick ache swelling in her throat. She and Zach said goodbye, thanking the woman again for taking the time to talk to them.
They left the house and Zach aimed the car toward San Pico. He had decided to drive his Jeep today and as the vehicle rolled along the freeway, Elizabeth thought of Paula Whitt and turned her face to the window, unable to hold back tears, hoping Zach wouldn't see that she was crying. She didn't realize he had pulled off the freeway into the parking lot of a supermarket until her car door opened and Zach hauled her out of the car and straight into his arms.
”It's all right,” he said. ”Just let it go.”
Locking her arms around his neck, she started crying in earnest, great heaving sobs that shook her whole body. Zach just held on to her. He didn't speak, didn't try to make her stop, just held her and let her cry. She wished she could stay in his arms forever.
”Better?” he asked as her tears began to ease.
Elizabeth nodded but didn't let him go.
”In time this will all be over and your life can return to normal.”
She dragged in a shaky breath, eased a little away but remained in the circle of his arms. ”I'm not sure that's possible anymore. Everything I thought was real has changed.”
He held her a moment more, then let her go. Elizabeth climbed back inside the car and they rode in silence for a while, Zach's gaze focused on the road. They were driving through the mountains, the hills dry and brown, the valley still some distance away.
”That little girl I saw in the house ” Elizabeth said, ”it's Carrie Ann, Zach. I know it. Those monsters murdered her and now her spirit is trapped in the house. She's been trying to protect Maria, trying to save the baby. We have to find out where she is, Zach. We have to set her free.” Her eyes welled again and she glanced away.
”We'll find her,” Zach said gruffly.
”We need to dig ” She swallowed. ”We need to dig under the house. The Martinezes buried Holly Ives in the bas.e.m.e.nt. If they murdered Carrie Ann, there's a chance they disposed of her body the same way. Since the new house is built where the old one stood before ”
”I know. It's the logical a.s.sumption.” He released a tired breath. ”If Carrie Ann was murdered, that might explain why her spirit's still there, even if her body isn't. There are acres of open fields around the house. They could have buried her anywhere.”
She swallowed. ”I suppose that's true, but I still think we should look under the house.”
”So do I.”
She turned in her seat. ”Maybe after Carson hears what we've found out, he'll let us search.”
”I doubt it. Not without a warrant.”
”Can we get one?”
”I'm not real popular in San Pico, and even if I were, I doubt any judge is going to sign a warrant based on the appearance of a ghost.”
”Then we're stuck with having to go to Carson.”
”I guess.”
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