Read Online Blood Ties by Lori G. Armstrong - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lori G. Armstrong
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Women Private Investigators, Crimes against, Indians of North America, South Dakota, Murder Victims' Families
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Took a shower, probably popped some pills and slept for two days.”
72
“Didn’t your family get suspicious you were holed up in your room?”
“Not really.” She shrugged. “My dad was a mean bastard so I usually avoided him anyway. Told my mom I had cramps or something.”
Kevin let out a slow, quiet breath. Shelley didn’t notice, but I did. “Shelley, why didn’t you go to the police?”
“Did you?” she countered.
I shook my head.
“Th
en you understand. By the time Dick got back, I knew I was pregnant, knew the baby wasn’t his, and if I told him the truth, he wouldn’t believe it. He’d accuse me of screwing around. I had no desire to do the right thing and live up to my dad’s prediction that I’d become just another unwed mother.”
“You never considered abortion?”
“For about ten seconds.” She clasped her hands —
probably unconsciously — in a prayer-like pose. “I may be a lapsed Catholic, but I’m still Catholic enough to feel guilt. And at that young age, my ideals hadn’t yet soured.
I believed that maybe it’d happened for a reason. Maybe God had a higher purpose for the child.”
“And
now?”
“I’m not sorry I had Sam. After Dick and I got married, I convinced myself it never had happened, that she really was Dick’s kid. I stayed sober, for the most part, when I was pregnant.” She shuddered. “Worst times of my life.”
73
“You never thought about counseling before coming out here?”
“Once, about three years ago, I went into Catholic Social Services. I hung around for a while and then I saw . . .”
She faltered; her limp hair obscured her face. “I saw that it was too late to help me, so I walked out.”
Kevin lit a cigarette. I’ve only seen him smoke twice.
Once, when I was seventeen and my father beat the shit out of me; the other, after our friend Todd’s funeral.
Messy, disturbing business, this case, and it reminded me I’d gotten off track. Nothing Shelley related so far seemed signifi cant to the case. But that was the kicker; I knew she hadn’t told us everything. “Did the counseling out here help Samantha?”
“Just made her act worse. Th
at damn counselor bad-
gered her and then Sam stopped talking to everyone.”
“Including
you?”
“Especially me. I told her to go home. If she needed to talk it out she should try CSS. Maybe they could off er her the peace they couldn’t give me.”
Kevin said, “Shelley, this is very important. Did Sam try counseling there?”
“Somewhere. I don’t know when, or how often she went, or who she talked to, but she did go.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“She told me she knew exactly who could help her.”
Another cryptic teenage remark or an actual clue? “Th at’s
74
all she said?”
“Yep.” She tilted her head, gaze zooming briefl y to the dry erase board by the fi ling cabinet. “Rather snottily, too.
Told me she’d take care of it herself, since she was used to taking care of things without my help.”
“Did this person help her?”
“Not that I ever noticed.”
Kevin took over the questions. “How did she act the last time you saw her?”
“Not like my Sam. Went from being pissed off to suicidal.”
Fine, greasy blond hair swept Shelley’s narrow shoulders. “Th
at pissed me off . Goes against everything I believe in, what I’d taught her. Suicide is the only unforgivable sin, not only according to Catholic tenets, but in my eyes as well. It’s the most selfi sh act known to God.”
I disagreed. Murder, unlike suicide, was never a choice.
I closed my eyes and hoped Kevin had suffi cient information for today. I’d heard enough.
“Did Sam tell you where she’d been staying?” Kevin asked.
“No.”
“Didn’t it bother you that you didn’t know?”
Th
e chair creaked as Shelley shifted her weight. “I’m isolated out here. I go for days without visitors or phone calls, and Dick and I weren’t
72
“Didn’t your family get suspicious you were holed up in your room?”
“Not really.” She shrugged. “My dad was a mean bastard so I usually avoided him anyway. Told my mom I had cramps or something.”
Kevin let out a slow, quiet breath. Shelley didn’t notice, but I did. “Shelley, why didn’t you go to the police?”
“Did you?” she countered.
I shook my head.
“Th
en you understand. By the time Dick got back, I knew I was pregnant, knew the baby wasn’t his, and if I told him the truth, he wouldn’t believe it. He’d accuse me of screwing around. I had no desire to do the right thing and live up to my dad’s prediction that I’d become just another unwed mother.”
“You never considered abortion?”
“For about ten seconds.” She clasped her hands —
probably unconsciously — in a prayer-like pose. “I may be a lapsed Catholic, but I’m still Catholic enough to feel guilt. And at that young age, my ideals hadn’t yet soured.
I believed that maybe it’d happened for a reason. Maybe God had a higher purpose for the child.”
“And
now?”
“I’m not sorry I had Sam. After Dick and I got married, I convinced myself it never had happened, that she really was Dick’s kid. I stayed sober, for the most part, when I was pregnant.” She shuddered. “Worst times of my life.”
73
“You never thought about counseling before coming out here?”
“Once, about three years ago, I went into Catholic Social Services. I hung around for a while and then I saw . . .”
She faltered; her limp hair obscured her face. “I saw that it was too late to help me, so I walked out.”
Kevin lit a cigarette. I’ve only seen him smoke twice.
Once, when I was seventeen and my father beat the shit out of me; the other, after our friend Todd’s funeral.
Messy, disturbing business, this case, and it reminded me I’d gotten off track. Nothing Shelley related so far seemed signifi cant to the case. But that was the kicker; I knew she hadn’t told us everything. “Did the counseling out here help Samantha?”
“Just made her act worse. Th
at damn counselor bad-
gered her and then Sam stopped talking to everyone.”
“Including
you?”
“Especially me. I told her to go home. If she needed to talk it out she should try CSS. Maybe they could off er her the peace they couldn’t give me.”
Kevin said, “Shelley, this is very important. Did Sam try counseling there?”
“Somewhere. I don’t know when, or how often she went, or who she talked to, but she did go.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“She told me she knew exactly who could help her.”
Another cryptic teenage remark or an actual clue? “Th at’s
74
all she said?”
“Yep.” She tilted her head, gaze zooming briefl y to the dry erase board by the fi ling cabinet. “Rather snottily, too.
Told me she’d take care of it herself, since she was used to taking care of things without my help.”
“Did this person help her?”
“Not that I ever noticed.”
Kevin took over the questions. “How did she act the last time you saw her?”
“Not like my Sam. Went from being pissed off to suicidal.”
Fine, greasy blond hair swept Shelley’s narrow shoulders. “Th
at pissed me off . Goes against everything I believe in, what I’d taught her. Suicide is the only unforgivable sin, not only according to Catholic tenets, but in my eyes as well. It’s the most selfi sh act known to God.”
I disagreed. Murder, unlike suicide, was never a choice.
I closed my eyes and hoped Kevin had suffi cient information for today. I’d heard enough.
“Did Sam tell you where she’d been staying?” Kevin asked.
“No.”
“Didn’t it bother you that you didn’t know?”
Th
e chair creaked as Shelley shifted her weight. “I’m isolated out here. I go for days without visitors or phone calls, and Dick and I weren’t
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