As the Wicked Watch(38)

“Pamela,” I said, “what were Masey’s plans on the day she disappeared?”

Pamela gulped hard before she spoke. “Well, it was a routine Saturday for us. Mase knew I’d be gone to work by the time she got out of bed. So the night before, she asked me if she could ride her bike over to her cousin Yvonne’s house after her aunt Cynthia picked up my son for swim lessons that morning. Yvonne’s house is pretty much a straight shot, about a mile or so from where I live.”

“And did Masey arrive at her cousin’s?” I asked.

“Yeah, she texted me to let me know she’d made it, and that her aunt Cynthia had said Malcolm could stay at her house until I got off work. She wanted to spend some time with Yvonne’s little girl . . .” She paused.

“Imani,” I said.

“Yeah, Imani. She loved that baby. She was supposed to watch Imani while Yvonne ran around and got stuff together for a birthday party she was throwing for her husband that night.”

Husband? I thought Manny was her boyfriend.

“But I told Mase to ride back home before dark. She didn’t have no business at no grown folk’s party. About an hour before my shift was over, Masey called and asked me if she could run to the mall with her cousin and said that Yvonne would drop her off at the house if it started to get dark, and she’d just leave her bike over there.”

“Masey told me, ‘Mama, the party doesn’t start till nine o’clock. I’ll be home way before then.’”

In a shattered voice, she continued, “And I told her it was okay.”

Pamela hadn’t previously shared with me the detail about Masey’s going to the mall with Yvonne. I wondered why.

“What mall did she say they were going to?” I asked.

“Evergreen Plaza over on 95th and Western,” she said.

I’d been there. Not to shop but to cover the aftermath of a violent altercation between gang members that left two people dead. That was more than a year ago.

“So, she went to the mall with Yvonne. Do you know around what time of day that was?” I asked.

“Not exactly, but it was sometime after she called me, which was about an hour before I got off work, like I said,” Pam said.

The new information about the mall threw me. If Pam could pick up Malcolm from Cynthia’s after work, couldn’t she have grabbed Masey from Yvonne’s place after she got back from the mall?

“Did Masey ride home on her bicycle that night? Or did Yvonne give her a ride home because it was getting dark, as you’d requested?”

Pamela clasped her hands together and brought them up to her mouth and breathed a deep, heavy sigh. When she took her hands away, I thought she was going to answer my questions, but she shook her head instead. “I don’t . . . I don’t . . .” Pam hesitated. “Uh . . .”

“Pam, after you picked up your son from his aunt’s house, did you hear from Masey again?”

“No, no, I didn’t talk with her any more that night,” she said.

“And did you head home after you picked up Malcolm? Is it possible Masey arrived at home before you did, or went back out?” I asked.

Pamela slumped back in the chair and closed her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t . . . I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

Masey’s older self, her aunt Cynthia, stepped in. “It’s okay, sis. That’s enough for one day,” she said, then turned toward me and Scott. “She’s tired. It’s been a lot and the day ain’t even over.”

I know what you mean.

“Okay, I understand,” I said, looking back at Scott with a nod.

When I turned back around, Pam was staring down at the table in a near-catatonic state. I wanted to say something. To grab her by the hand and look her in the eyes and let her know, “I’m not just here for the story; I’m here for you, too.” But Pamela was in outer space. When she finally looked up, I placed a hand over my heart and whispered, “Thank you.” But her gaze passed right through me. I had hoped to speak to Pam off-camera so that I could ask her how she hooked up with Louise Robinson, but I didn’t want to burden her with such details in her fragile condition. Still, there were some housekeeping items I needed to take care of ahead of tonight’s vigil and roundtable, so I used Cynthia as her surrogate.

“Cynthia? Can I speak to you for a moment?” I asked.

Cynthia and I stepped into the living room and I told her about the plan to film Pamela with community members tonight before the vigil.

“Okay, I’ll let her know,” Cynthia said. “But I have to tell you, I don’t know how that’s gonna go. I wouldn’t expect too much from her tonight, either.”

“I understand,” I said.

I was about to head back into the dining room when it dawned on me to ask, “Cynthia, where does Yvonne live?”

“She’s over on 71st and Peoria,” she said.

I’m not all that keen on streets on the South Side, but I could’ve sworn Scott and I passed Peoria today on the way to Louise Robinson’s house.

“Is that over by Louise Robinson’s house?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.