S is for Silence (Kinsey Millhone 19)

“It was awful at first. We always talked about everything and suddenly she was gone. I was crushed.”

“What’d you do?”

“What could I do? I learned to get by on my own.”

“She never got in touch?”

“No, but I was so sure she would. Even if it was a postcard with one line, or no message at all. A postmark would have been sufficient. Anything to let me know she’d made it to wherever. I used to imagine her in Hawaii, or Vermont-someplace completely different than this. I haunted the mailbox for months, but I guess she couldn’t take the chance.”

“I don’t see how a postcard could have put her in jeopardy.”

“You’re wrong about that. Sonia, the woman at the post office, would’ve spotted it when she was sorting the mail. I wouldn’t have told a soul, but word would’ve gotten out. Sonia was a blabbermouth, which Violet well knew.”

“You were the last person who had any substantial contact with her.”

“I know and I’ve thought about that night. It runs like a loop in my head. You ever get a song on your brain and no matter what you do, it keeps playing and playing? That’s how it is with her. Even now. Well, maybe not so much now. The images do fade, but you know what? I smell violet cologne and bang, she’s there again. It brings tears to my eyes.”

“Did it ever cross your mind something might have happened to her?”

“You mean, foul play? People talked about that, but I didn’t believe it for a minute.”

“Why not? You’d seen what Foley did to her. Didn’t it occur to you she might have come to grief?”

She shook her head. “I thought it was something else. I was there earlier that day and saw these brown paper bags sitting on the chair. I recognized some of her favorite things on top and I asked her what she was doing. She said she’d cleaned out her closet and the stuff was going to the Goodwill. Well, that seemed looney even at the time. Later-this was after she was gone-it occurred to me that she’d been packing.”

“To go where?”

“I don’t know. A friend’s house? There must have been some place.”

I blinked. “Did she say anything to that effect?”

“Not a word. Foley was gone-I don’t know where-and I’d gone over to the house to hang out. She went on talking about something else so I let it drop.”

“How come this is the first I’ve heard of it? I’ve read all the articles about Violet, but I didn’t see a reference to any bags of clothes.”

“I don’t know what to say. I told the sheriff’s deputies, but they acted like they didn’t want to hear. By then they were busy quizzing Foley about where he was on Saturday night. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. I figured since she hadn’t mentioned it, she didn’t want anyone to know.”

“But you had to think someone would have been in touch with the authorities once word got out that she was considered a missing person. Surely someone could have contacted the police without compromising her safety.”

“Exactly, but the papers ran the story twice and no one came forward, so then I figured I must have made a mistake. She might have left town instead.”

“And that’s what you told them?”

“Well, no. I got worried that if they thought she’d run off, they’d put up road blocks or something.”

“What for? She was an adult. If she left of her own accord, they’d have no right to interfere. Cops aren’t in the business of chasing runaway spouses, assuming that’s what she did.” I was trying not to sound accusatory. She’d been fourteen years old and the account she was giving me was her adolescent reasoning, untempered by later maturity or insight.

“Oh. I guess what you’re saying makes sense, but I didn’t understand it at the time. Foley was a basket case by then, and I didn’t want him hearing about it either, for fear he’d go after her.”

“But this was what, five or six days later? She could have been in Canada by then.”

“Exactly. I thought the bigger head start she had, the safer she’d be.”

Inwardly I was rolling my eyes. “It didn’t bother you that your silence left Foley on the hot seat?”

“He put himself there. I didn’t do anything to him.”

“He’s always maintained she ran off. You could have backed him up.”

“Why would I help him? He beat her up for years and no one ever said a word. She finally got away from him and good for her. He could stew in his own juices as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t going to lift a hand.”