And Now She's Gone(97)
Ruth leveled her shoulders, ready to spit fire.
Walter placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder.
Tears burned in Ruth’s eyes, and she asked, “What do you want?”
“I just need to know where she could be.”
The couple simply blinked at her.
Gray rooted in her battered Liz Claiborne purse and pulled out the copy of the birth certificate from Mail Boxes Etc. “You’re listed here, yes? As Elyse’s parents?”
Walter studied the birth certificate, then handed it to Ruth. “That’s us.”
Relief made Gray’s shoulders drop and her muscles relax. “Okay. Good. It’s been a very long July. Tell me where she could be and I’ll go there, and I’ll stop bugging you. Is she here?”
“She’s here,” Ruth said.
“Why don’t we just take you there?” Walter gazed down at his wife. “Okay?”
Ruth smirked. “Fine. Just let me just turn off the iron and get my phone.” She disappeared from the door.
“I can follow you,” Gray said. “I have a rental.”
“That’s probably best,” Walter said.
“Please don’t tell her that I’m here,” Gray said. “I don’t want her to run again.”
Walter said, “She’s done running. I know that like I know there’s a God in heaven.”
The couple climbed into the Hyundai without saying another word to Gray. Her soul danced with anticipation. She had waited for this moment for almost two weeks now, and here it was. What was Gray going to say to the insurance fraud thief? She had no authority to bring Elyse back to L.A. She’d have to refer the case to the police.
Gray texted Nick with nervous fingers. Elyse/Isabel is here! I’m with her parents now. Going to meet her.
Nick typed one word.
What???
At red lights and stop signs, Gray texted Nick, noticing no other cars except one—the copper Hyundai leading her through Whistler, Alabama. After a last call you later, she noticed that they’d driven into a beautiful park.
The Millers parked at the curb.
Gray parked behind them and climbed out of the Chevrolet.
Hearses and limousines were parked at curbsides all around the grounds. People wearing blacks, blues, or whites stood at gravesides or marched in clumps to burial sites. Dragonflies buzzed here, too, and their iridescent wings caught the sunlight.
The Millers walked east.
Gray frowned, and called out, “Excuse me…”
Walter glanced back at her. “C’mon. This is the best place to meet her. She’s over here, waiting for you.”
Ruth took Walter’s hand.
The trio wound through headstones and markers in an older part of the cemetery. Someone had planted an American flag at Clyde Irby’s grave. Someone had stuck pinwheels on Vera Armstrong’s marker.
Another minute of walking and then the Millers stopped. Ruth slipped into her husband’s arms. He kissed the top of her head.
Gray came to stand alongside the couple. “May I ask the obvious question?”
Ruth said, “Thought you wanted to meet our daughter.”
“Ah. Yes. I get it.” Since Elyse was on the run, she’d wanted to meet Gray in a safe place, a sacred place. Sanctuary. She glanced around the park, eager to meet the Mary Ann she’d been chasing since July 11.
Ruth Miller handed Gray a picture of a pretty little girl with ribbons in her hair. The toddler clutched a sand bucket filled with water for the castle she was building. A Mary Ann in the making.
“She’s still beautiful,” Gray said.
A liar, but still beautiful.
The Millers were staring at her.
Gray canted her head. “I’m … missing something.”
“Sweetie…” Ruth Miller smiled at Gray, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile. This one held contempt and pity, “Bless your heart” mixed with strychnine. She stooped beside an oxidized grave marker, then stroked the letters. “Our daughter is right here. This is Elyse.”
ELYSE LORRAINE MILLER
OUR LOVING GIRL
JANUARY 12, 1973–SEPTEMBER 22, 1975
53
Minutes had passed, and Walter Miller was leaning against the Hyundai. He lit a cigarette as Ruth pushed a piece of Nicorette from the blister pack. More cars had rolled into the cemetery. More dragonflies glided over to greet them. The swampy sun had embraced them all.
Gray stopped shaking and made it back to the cars at the curb. She’d taken pictures of the burial site, but she knew that her shaking hands had made those shots blur. She fumbled in her bag again for the birth certificate. “This is you, correct?” She pointed at the signatures there.
Walter said, “Yep, that me.”
Ruth said, “And that’s me.”
“But Elyse…”
“Died forty-six years ago,” Ruth said. “We were vacationing at the beach. It was a gorgeous day, but the waters didn’t know that. Elyse was pulled under, and Walter and our friends … They found her, but she’d drowned. We buried her here and…” This time, Ruth pulled a document from her purse, and offered it to Gray.
STATE OF ALABAMA—BUREAU OF VITAL STATISTICS
Elyse Lorraine Miller, female, black, single, age 2 years, 2 months, ten days. Date of death September 22, 1975. Cause of death: drowning. Place of burial Walnut Hill Cemetery.