Before She Was Found(33)

I nod. I know he’s just doing his job. Maybe it’s the small size of the department or that they don’t have a lot of violent crimes to investigate, but so far I’m not impressed.

“I’ll talk to Violet,” I say wearily. “I know she wants to help Cora, too. She just needs some rest.”

“Thank you,” Grady says and I get inside the vehicle. Violet and Max are sitting low in their seats, keeping their heads down—Violet, trying to hide her tears, and Max, trying to make himself invisible to anyone passing by who might know him. I close my eyes and lift my face to the sun’s weak warmth—so different from the persistent, unrelenting sunshine back in New Mexico—and for the first time since our car broke down leaving us stranded outside of town, I regret coming to Pitch.



Case #92-10945


Conversation dated November 17, 2017,
via DarkestDoor.com


JW44:
I JUST FOUND YOUR POST, CORAREEF12. I KNOW ALL ABOUT
JOSEPH WITHER. PEOPLE WILL SAY HE’S JUST A LEGEND BUT HE’S REAL. HE’S NOT WHAT THEY SAY, THOUGH. HE’S JUST LONELY. HE’S LOOKING FOR PEOPLE TO BE HIS FRIEND, TO TRAVEL WITH HIM.
4leafclover:
Don’t listen to him, Corareef12. He’s full of shit.
JW44:
4LEAFCLOVER, I WASN’T TALKING TO YOU.
Corareef12:
It’s okay, 4leafclover. I want to know.
4leafclover:
This is NOT okay!
JW44:
YEAH, 4LEAFCLOVER, SHE WANTS TO KNOW. SMALL MINDS CAN MOVE ALONG NOW...
4leafclover:
Fine, it’s your funeral. I’m out of here.
JW44:
GOOD! CORAREEF12, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?
Corareef12:
I don’t get it...why would he kill them if he wants them to be his friend?
JW44:
HE KILLS THE ONES HE DOESN’T WANT, TAKES THE OTHERS WITH HIM. THEY DON’T DIE—THEY LIVE FOREVER. THEY BECOME HIS SHADOWS.
Corareef12:
But that’s impossible.
JW44:
IS IT?
Corareef12:
Yes! How would you know, anyway?
JW44:
BECAUSE I’M WITHER.


Text Message Exchange
Between Clint Phelps, Abby Ridgewood and Ryan Maren


Monday, April 16, 2018


Clint: Wither Lives! Just ask Max
Abby: ?????

Ryan: What happened?
Clint: Kid got stabbed at the train yard. Wither Lives!
Abby: UR full of it

Clint: His sister was there. Said it was Wither. Ha ha
Ryan: No way! Who was the girl?
Abby: Is she okay? Did she die?

Clint: Not yet


Dr. Madeline Gideon


September 14, 2018


I interviewed Mara Landry in one of the family rooms located on the third floor of the children’s hospital. I wanted to talk with Mara privately before I met with Cora but understandably she didn’t want to be too far away from her daughter.

She settled onto a love seat covered in a striped, industrial-strength fabric made to stand up to the wear and tear of hundreds of worried and grief-stricken parents and visitors. I pulled a chair up and sat down next to her, positioning myself so I could see if anyone was lingering near the door to ensure privacy for our conversation.

Mara looked somewhat rested compared to when I saw her the evening before. Knowing that Cora’s injuries weren’t life-threatening certainly must have eased her mind. Her blond hair was brushed and tucked smoothly behind her ears and her face was expertly made up. Someone must have brought her a change of clothes. Gone were the paint-splattered yoga pants and sweatshirt. Instead she wore tailored jeans, ballet flats and a long-sleeve black T-shirt.

During the fifteen minutes that we visited, Mara painted a picture of a happy twelve-year-old who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I took note that Mara didn’t mention any of the anxiety that was noted in Cora’s medical records.

“Where are the police in their investigation? Have they given you any more information?” I asked.

“Just bits and pieces,” Mara said. “It’s very frustrating. The officer did say that they didn’t think robbery was the motive. I mean, obviously. Who would rob a twelve-year-old? But then he said that the ER nurses found two hundred dollars in Cora’s pocket. Why in the world would she have that kind of money with her?”

“What did Cora say?” I asked.

“She said she didn’t know. She couldn’t remember.” Mara shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why were the girls at the train yard?” I asked. “Did you find out what they were doing there?” I asked this question not just out of curiosity, but because it would give me some insight into Cora and her personality. Was she a risk-taker? A follower?

Mara immediately bristled. “I don’t know why they were there, but I’m sure it was Jordyn’s or Violet’s idea,” she said, pressing her lips tightly together in disapproval. “Cora has never really had a best friend before. The closest thing to it moved away last year. Cora had a very difficult time in school last year. One of her classmates ended up being very nasty. The girl treated Cora horribly, but Cora kept putting up with it until I finally called the school and the girl’s parents.”

Mara sighed. “Maybe I should have let the girls handle it on their own, but I just couldn’t stand seeing her suffer. She’s had a bit of a hard time finding a new group of friends. You know how it is in rural towns.”

Mara waited for me to agree with her, that yes, I understood the intricate, social rituals unique to towns with populations that hovered below a thousand people. I knew better than to respond. If I agreed with her, then I was passing judgment on the community she calls home. If I disagreed, then I was not validating her experiences.