The Weight Of Silence Part 13

MARTIN.

I turn when I hear the rustle in the trees. I see Petra's little friend, Calli, running down the path. It is what is in her hand that I am drawn to. From so far away it glints as it swings from her hand. It has never been off Petra's neck, and my stomach seizes and the strength rushes from my limbs and I stumble to my knees. I look to her face, and on it I see fierce determination, not fear, not terror. A smile almost plays on her grimy face. A moment of hope. I look behind Calli and do not see Petra following. She's cleared the brush now and I stand up, my hand already outstretched to take back my child's necklace. The girl stops in front of her mother and the deputy sheriff, her breath coming out in ragged puffs. This mute little creature who never speaks, and I feel desperation roiling up in me. I need to find my Petra, now. I am running to where the girl stands, ready to shake her bony shoulders. "Tell me! Tell me!" I will scream, my nose touching hers.

I stop a few steps from her. She is tugging on the sleeve of the deputy sheriff. He bends down, his ear level with her mouth. One word crashes into me, and I weep.

ANTONIA.

In the woods, through the bee trees whose heavy, sweet smell will forever remind me of this day, I see flashes of your pink summer nightgown that you wore to bed last night. My chest loosens and I am shaky with relief. I scarcely notice your scratched legs, muddy knees, or the chain in your hand. I reach out to gather you in my arms, to hold you so tight, to lay my cheek on your sweaty head. I will never wish for you to speak, never silently beg you to talk. You are here. But you step past me, not seeing me, you stop at Louis's side, and I think, You don't even see me, it's Louis's deputy sheriff's uniform, good girl, that's the smart thing to do You don't even see me, it's Louis's deputy sheriff's uniform, good girl, that's the smart thing to do. Louis lowers himself toward you, and I am fastened to the look on your face. I see your lips begin to arrange themselves and I know, I know. I see the word form, the syllables hardening and sliding from your mouth, with no effort. Your voice, not unsure or hoa.r.s.e from lack of use, but clear and bold. One word, the first in over three years. In an instant I have you in my arms and I am crying, tears dropping many emotions, mostly thankfulness and relief, but tears of sorrow mixed in. I see Petra's father crumble. Your chosen word doesn't make sense to me. But it doesn't matter, I don't care. You have finally spoken.

CALLI.

Calli ran on legs that she could no longer feel, just a heaviness below her waist, but the need to move forward kept her going. For Ben. For Ben who always came through for her, who took beatings and cruel words that in all rights belonged to her. Calli gripped more tightly to the items in her hands, Petra's necklace and her underwear. Why Petra wasn't wearing them, Calli did not understand, but she knew that they were important in all of this. Petra, hurt so badly, he had said she might die. Oh, G.o.d, would that be her fault, too? Out of the corner of her eye she saw a straw-colored lump among a patch of brown-tipped ferns. Calli stopped abruptly. The dog. The dog she had seen earlier, wandering playfully through the woods. Dead. Lying there in a heap, its long, pink tongue poking from between its pointed teeth. Its eyes open wide and unseeing. The dog's collar had been removed. Calli had the unnerving feeling that something was watching her and she turned away from the dog and continued her trek down the bluff. Faster, faster, not even watching the ground in front of her for rocks or roots that could cause her to stumble. Ben said to go down, go down to find help, and she would. That man. That scary man, up there, too. His dog. Yes, that was his dog. Daddy, she thought, Daddy, he was so angry with her and he would take it out on Ben, she knew, and Petra, maybe. Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man... Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man...The words spiraled through her mind. Then she could see it, the end of the trail, where the trees abruptly stopped. Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man. She ran out into the clearing, saw an unexpected sight, her mother, oh, her mother, and Deputy Louis and Petra's daddy! She could stop running now. She did what Ben had told her to do, get help. Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy. Who to go to? Deputy Louis, yes, he would get help right away, get that man, get Daddy. She was at the deputy's side, her mother's arms stretched out toward her...Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man...

"Ben!" The name erupted from her, it didn't feel like it came from her mouth exactly, but somewhere deeper, from just below her breastbone. She didn't recognize her own voice, it sounded so strong, so clear and she wanted to say more...Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy...But then her mother's arms were around her, rocking her. She was so tired, so thirsty, they were all moving now, and she went silent once again.

MARTIN.

Calli is still holding Petra's necklace, surrounded by her mother and Deputy Louis. Through my tears I go toward her to get it back. Ben? Ben did this? I could not believe it, though, yes, it crossed my mind when Fielda had broached the subject hours ago in anger. Ben? I try to pry the charm from Calli's fingers, but Louis steps between us.

"Martin, give her s.p.a.ce," he orders.

"Where is she?" I croak. Calli has her face buried in her mother's stomach; my hands are shaking in desperation.

"Martin," Louis says gently, "we'll find her. I'm calling for backup right now."

I can see Louis fumbling and retrieve something from Calli's hand, not the one holding the necklace. I crane to see what it is, but cannot. He crumples the item into his fist, so I cannot tell what he is holding, and then he lopes off to his car to call for help.

"Calli, tell me, is Petra all right?" I ask as soothingly as I can. "Did you just come from her? Please tell me. Is Ben up there with her? Did Ben hurt you?"

Antonia gives me a searing stare and s.h.i.+elds Calli from me. As if I am the dangerous one here. "Listen, I don't know what you're thinking, but Ben had nothing to do with..." Louis hurries back to us, interrupting Antonia's angry reproach.

"I've called for more officers to help us go up after Petra and Ben." He pauses and looks Calli up and down. "And for an ambulance. The medics will check Calli over and will be available if Petra and Ben need a.s.sistance," Louis tells us. He bends down to face Calli. "Calli," he says soothingly, "is Petra okay?" He waits for a response from her. Slowly, she shakes her head no and I moan and head toward the trail.

"Martin, wait! We need more information before we go up there! There are three trails-we need to know which one to take!" I stop and return to them, agitated.

"Ask her, then, ask her where they are! She can talk, she said, 'Ben!' Ask her!" I shout, spittle flies from my lips and both Calli and Antonia cringe at my outburst.

"Martin, go stand by the road," Louis orders. "Stand there and flag down the ambulance so it knows that we are here. I'll talk to Calli. She'll let us know exactly where to go." His voice softens as he adds, "It will save us time this way. I promise. Now go, wait for the ambulance and the other officers."

I do as he says, however petulantly, and he returns to where Calli and Antonia stand, holding on to each other. The injustice of it stings me. I should be hugging Petra, rea.s.suring her, not still wondering where she is, alive or dead. I tromp over to the road, where gravel meets the pavement and wait, scanning the distance, searching for the ambulance. Not yet. I lean against the police car, its metal still exuding the day's monstrous heat, and I leap away.

Antonia calls back to me, hesitation in her voice. I must have frightened her. "Martin, can you grab a water bottle for Calli? They're in the backseat."

I hear Louis yell, "No, wait!" and he comes running toward me.

I open the back door, behind the pa.s.senger's seat and pull out three water bottles, two for Calli and one that I will bring up with me when we go to find Petra. I, frankly, do not care about Ben at this point. Had he done this? As I begin to pull myself out the car I see them. Stained in dirt, but I recognize them, I had folded them myself just yesterday when I pulled them from the dryer. White with little yellow flowers. I s.n.a.t.c.h the plastic bag that held them and inspect them closely, by now Louis is at my side.

"Martin," he says helplessly. I shove the package into his chest, not able to look at it anymore.

"I am going after my daughter," I tell him simply, calmly, despite the terror clutching at my chest. And I run, all fifty-some years of me, up that trail, with Deputy Louis calling after me.

"Martin, wait! Wait! We need to wait for backup."

I ignore his pleas and run.

DEPUTY SHERIFF LOUIS.

"d.a.m.n," I mutter to myself as Martin dashes past me and heads up the trail. G.o.d knows what he will find up there. "Toni," I bark. "Wait here for the other officers and the ambulance. I'm going with Martin." I scan her worried face. "It will be okay. I'll go up there and bring Ben down, safe and sound. Don't worry. We'll take Hobo Hollow. Tell them the trail on the left, where it forks."

She nods and squeezes my hand.

"Thank you, Louis." Her voice trembles. I squeeze back and follow Martin into the woods.

It doesn't take me long to catch up with him. He is stopped near the edge of a trail and is examining something lying off to the side. He is breathing heavily and does not turn as I step close to him at his elbow.

"It's dead," he says matter-of-factly.

I reach down to touch the dog's flank. "He's still warm," I observe. "He hasn't been here long."

"What do you think happened to it?" Martin asks fearfully.

"I don't know." I keep my voice level and calm. "Martin, you need to go back down now. You're going to get both of us in a lot of trouble if you go up there."

"I'm going up," Martin says firmly.

I sigh in resignation. "Let's take it somewhat slower, though, all right? It will do Petra no good if one of us gets hurt before we reach her. Okay?"

"Yes, fine," he says, gazing down at the dead dog. "We need to hurry, though, please. Let's hurry."

We continue upward. Dusk is only an hour or so away, but close enough for me to begin to worry that we won't get Petra, Ben and whoever else was at the top of the bluff down. A rescue mission down the bluff would be difficult enough during daylight, but in the dark of night, it would be complex. I requested that several all-terrain vehicles be brought to the trail to expedite matters. I had also told the dispatcher to have a helicopter from Iowa City on standby in case of serious injuries.

"Petra isn't dead, Martin."

He looks at me. "Did Calli tell you that?"

"Not in words, but I questioned her. She indicated that Petra was at the top of Hobo Hollow and she was hurt, but she couldn't say how badly."

"Did she tell you who did this?" Martin says through gritted teeth, wheezing with the exertion of the climb.

"No, I didn't get that from her. That was when you found...Do you need to sit and rest for a moment, Martin?"

"No, I'm fine." We continue forward in silence.

"I could kill whoever did this, Louis. I really and truly could."

"That wouldn't solve anything, Martin. It would make things worse, so much worse."

"You have a child, a son." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. His name is Tanner, he's four."

"And you would do anything for him?" Martin asks, concentrating on the ground in front of him.

"Yes, I think I would."

"Then you could kill someone who hurt your child, in that way," he says resolutely.

I take a sidelong glance at Martin. His face is waxy. A sweaty sheen covers his forehead and he mops at it with a handkerchief that he pulls from his pocket. "I would probably feel like killing someone who would hurt Tanner, but I don't actually think I would. Especially if the police were already there to help."

"She said, 'Ben,' and she was holding Petra's necklace and her underpants in her hands. What do you suppose is going through my mind?" He stops for a fraction of a second, shakes his head and then hurries onward. "We need to get to the top, and then we will go from there."

I take a moment to use my walkie-talkie to convey where I am and to get an update on what was happening at the base of the trail. The ambulances have just arrived. One to transport Calli and Toni to the hospital, another standing by, waiting for further direction. Two officers on four-wheelers and several on foot and horseback would be joining us shortly. I remind everyone that we had no suspect and no description of a suspect. Just that everyone needed to be on the lookout for Petra and Ben. Most of the officers knew them by sight, but pictures were circulating.

We are nearing the fork in the trail and I use my arm to specify the direction we would take. "Whatever we find up there, Martin, you must let me step forward first. Your first thought will be to go to Petra, but don't." I step in front of him in order to make him stop. "Do you understand me, Martin? You can't just barrel up there. Someone dangerous may be at the top. h.e.l.l, someone dangerous could be watching us right now. You need to let me determine what we do next. We shouldn't even be up here right now without other officers."

"You couldn't have stopped me," Martin says.

"No, that's why I'm up here with you. I don't want you getting hurt, or you hurting someone else, for that matter. When we get up there, you wait. You wait until I tell you what to do next. You stay behind me at all times. Got it?"

Martin purses his lips and looks prepared to argue, but he doesn't. "I understand," he says and keeps walking. I am surprised by his stamina. He is still going strong, and even my legs are beginning to ache with the effort of trekking up the bluff. I am sure that adrenaline has a lot to do with Martin's endurance. He will be a very sore man tomorrow morning.

CALLI.

Her mother had taken one look at her torn and bleeding feet and picked her up, holding her as she would a toddler, chest to chest, Calli's chin resting on her shoulder. Petra's father had scared her. The look on his face, the terrible sound in his voice. Much different from her father's, but even more insistent. They had left so quickly, but that was good, they were going up to get Ben and Petra, get help, which was what Ben had told her to do. And she had done that, gotten help. Everything would be okay now. She was so tired now, so sleepy. The water had tasted good; she drank and drank from the water bottle her mother pressed to her lips. But now she felt sick to her stomach, the water was gurgling around in her empty middle.

She was vaguely aware that she had spoken. One word. Ben. Ben. She had said her brother's name and she was so surprised that nothing bad had happened when she spoke the word. Her mother was still there holding tightly to her, she hadn't been ripped from her, nothing bad had happened. Calli thought that she might like to say more, but she was so very tired. The feeling had returned to her damaged feet and they burned. All she really wanted to do was sleep, sleep with her hands linked around her mother, her head tucked into the soft groove that was her mother's neck. In the distance she could hear the wail of an ambulance coming closer. She had said her brother's name and she was so surprised that nothing bad had happened when she spoke the word. Her mother was still there holding tightly to her, she hadn't been ripped from her, nothing bad had happened. Calli thought that she might like to say more, but she was so very tired. The feeling had returned to her damaged feet and they burned. All she really wanted to do was sleep, sleep with her hands linked around her mother, her head tucked into the soft groove that was her mother's neck. In the distance she could hear the wail of an ambulance coming closer.

In a quiet, half-asleep nook of her mind, the thought that she perhaps should have said more to Deputy Louis flitted at her like a dragonfly. What had she said? Ben. Ben. But there was so much more she should have said. But there was so much more she should have said. Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man. Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man. Petra's daddy had looked so frightened, but she had only said Petra's daddy had looked so frightened, but she had only said Ben, Ben, that wasn't scary. Then Petra's daddy had run and then Deputy Louis ran after him. To help. that wasn't scary. Then Petra's daddy had run and then Deputy Louis ran after him. To help. Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man. Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man. Calli soundlessly mouthed the words Calli soundlessly mouthed the words Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man, Ben, Daddy, Petra, that man...She was too weary and her mouth stilled.

The siren from the ambulance came to an abrupt stop and Calli could feel her mother laying her down. She struggled to stay in her mother's arms, plucked at her s.h.i.+rt, trying to take hold, but her fingers felt weak and boneless and she was only able to feel the fabric slide through her grasp like water.

Her mother's face drifted above her and she heard her say, "It's okay now, Calli, I'm staying with you. I won't leave. Sleep now. Just sleep."

She felt her mother's own fingers rest lightly on the side of her cheek and her mother kissed her, her lips warm and dry, like paper. And Calli drew in the scent that was her mother and let sleep take her.

BEN.

I hear something in the woods cras.h.i.+ng toward me. Oh, G.o.d, I think, Dad is coming back. Oh, G.o.d, he will kill me this time. I jump to my feet and ready myself for him. I tilt my head to hear better, I can barely see and I run my hands over my face, it feels puffy and sore. I reach for a nearby branch. It isn't very thick or st.u.r.dy, but it has sharp points. I may be able to hold him back with it. Aim for the eyes, I tell myself.

The noise from the forest comes closer and it sounds too big to be Dad, it sounds like it is running on more than two feet and my next thought is coyote. And that freaks me out more than my father for some reason. Maybe because, with Dad, I know his ways, the way he moves, how he fights. A coyote would be a whole different story and I look around for a bigger stick. Then the noise is here, right here, and my next thought is of Petra. A coyote might go right for her, she is so little and helpless. She looks hurt bad. A big old coyote could just drag her off, eat her up in three big bites. I hurry over to her and spread my arms out wide, holding the stick ready for battle, waiting.

I'm not sure what is more surprising, me not seeing a coyote or my dad smas.h.i.+ng out of the woods or seeing Petra's dad and the deputy sheriff. I keep my eye on Mr. Gregory, because he looks so dang mad. I see him see Petra lying there and then he sees me holding this big old stick and I know right away what is going through his mind. Before I can even say anything he is flying at me. This old, real proper man flying at me. I see his feet actually leave the ground and I think, Well, c.r.a.p, he thinks I did this to Petra. Well, c.r.a.p, he thinks I did this to Petra. For the second time that day I get the wind knocked outta me, and let me tell you, it hurts a heck of a lot more the second time round when you can see what's coming. For the second time that day I get the wind knocked outta me, and let me tell you, it hurts a heck of a lot more the second time round when you can see what's coming.

Then Mr. Gregory is on top of me, screaming something I can't understand, and the whole time I'm not breathing so I can't tell him what really happened, that they should be out there looking for my dad. But the only thing that comes outta me is a big "oomph!" Suddenly the deputy is there and he yanks Mr. Gregory offa me.

"Martin!" Deputy Louis screams. But Mr. Gregory is still trying to pound on me, saying something about pervert and how he is going to kill me. "Martin!" he screams again. "Martin, look at him!" And finally, Mr. Gregory drops his fists and looks at me, really looks at me and then at Petra.

Mr. Gregory looks down to where Petra is lying and he bends down. I can see him check to see if she is breathing. Mr. Gregory starts crying then. And I think I never saw a man cry before, really cry. I stand up and try to see what he is seeing. And my second thought is, she's died. I let her die. I was supposed to take care of her until help came and she died. So then I start crying.

"Thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d," I think I hear Mr. Gregory whispering over and over and I try to stop my blubbering to listen more closely to him. "Thank you, G.o.d," Mr. Gregory says even louder.

"Is she okay?" I ask him, trying not to sound like a little kid, but my voice sounds all squeaky, so that it's pretty clear that's all I am.

"Ben, what happened?" Deputy Louis asks me. "Are you all right? Who did this to you?" And I know just then that at least the deputy doesn't think I hurt anybody.

"My dad," I whimper, giving in to the mess of it all. "My dad did it," I cry. And in an instant, Deputy Louis has his arms around my shoulder, telling me that it's gonna be okay. But how could it be?

"Petra needs a doctor, right now," Martin says. "We need to get help up here right now."

Deputy Louis gets on his walkie-talkie and says a few numbers that I take to be secret police codes and then I thump right back down on my b.u.t.t, because all the fight has gone outta me and I can't do one more thing. My legs feel like rubber, my face hurts and I figure Mr. Gregory broke something in me when he tackled me.

"A helicopter is coming in from Iowa City, but we need to get Petra to the nearest clearing, which is at the bottom where we came up from, Martin," Deputy Louis tells him.

"I don't think we should move her," Martin says worriedly. "How are we going to get her down the bluff?"

"An EMT crew is coming up with the officers. They can check her out and recommend how this should be done." Deputy Louis looks at his watch. "It will be dark any time now. We need to move fast."

I look up to the sky and can see the pink and orange colors that come out right before the sun sets.

"I think she needs medical care as quickly as possible. Please," Mr. Gregory implores, "we need to get her help now." Mr. Gregory is not looking at me. I'm not sure if he feels bad about knocking me down or if he still isn't sure what part I had in all this.

Now we can hear the low rumble of engines. The four-wheelers are almost to us. They come one by one to the top of the bluff. Two people, a man and a woman who I think must be the paramedics, hop off and rush over to Petra and immediately check her over. I scoot over to the far side of where the action is, trying to stay out of the way. Deputy Louis is busy talking to a group of police officers and to Ranger Phelps, who has come up on horseback. I sit back and just watch for a while and try to keep my eyes open, but keep dozing off.

I open my eyes and I can hear the chop, chop chop, chop of a helicopter coming closer. It is night now. I can see stars, sharp little pinp.r.i.c.ks of light above me, and I feel cold even though everyone else looks like they are sweating. Everyone is fussing around Petra, and everyone seems to have forgotten about me. I'm not the one hurt real bad, but I feel lonely sitting in my own little corner of the woods, with everyone hustling to make sure Petra is okay. I wonder about Calli. She musta got down the bluff and got help. I wonder where she is now and I look around for someone who doesn't look too busy for me to ask. But they are all running around, so I just wait and watch. Watching Petra being strapped to that stretcher and dangling from the helicopter down the bluff is just about the scariest sight ever. The helicopter looks like a big old bird and Petra looks like something clutched in its talons. But I saw a lot of scary things today. I can't see Mr. Gregory, but I imagine it is all he can do to not jump up and try to drag that stretcher right on back to solid ground. of a helicopter coming closer. It is night now. I can see stars, sharp little pinp.r.i.c.ks of light above me, and I feel cold even though everyone else looks like they are sweating. Everyone is fussing around Petra, and everyone seems to have forgotten about me. I'm not the one hurt real bad, but I feel lonely sitting in my own little corner of the woods, with everyone hustling to make sure Petra is okay. I wonder about Calli. She musta got down the bluff and got help. I wonder where she is now and I look around for someone who doesn't look too busy for me to ask. But they are all running around, so I just wait and watch. Watching Petra being strapped to that stretcher and dangling from the helicopter down the bluff is just about the scariest sight ever. The helicopter looks like a big old bird and Petra looks like something clutched in its talons. But I saw a lot of scary things today. I can't see Mr. Gregory, but I imagine it is all he can do to not jump up and try to drag that stretcher right on back to solid ground.

We all watch as the helicopter takes her on down the bluff. She'll only be in the air for a minute, then they will put her in the helicopter and carry her off to Iowa City. I wonder how we will get down the bluff.

ANTONIA.

I insist that I go in the ambulance with Calli. I am not going to let her out of my sight again. I have mixed feelings leaving Ben behind, but I know that Louis will bring him to me safely. Poor Ben, he is always the one left to fend for himself, it seems. I feel a flash of anger at Griff for always leaving me in this position, the one to parent all on my own; he is never there when I need him.

Calli immediately falls asleep when she is laid in the ambulance, despite the paramedics poking at her, taking her pulse and blood pressure. One of the paramedics, a kind-looking older woman, gives me a rea.s.suring smile.

"She'll be okay," she tells me. "All her injuries appear to be superficial, but they will give her a thorough examination at the hospital and get her cleaned up. We need to give her an IV, she's showing signs of dehydration." I watch as the paramedic swipes Calli's arm with alcohol and expertly inserts the IV, Calli barely stirs at the procedure. I give a sigh of relief and the woman looks at me questioningly. "What happened up there?"