Bye Bye Baby

10

"Don't go stomping all over this," Erica said as we stood at Mrs Wilson's front door.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Be gentle with her."

I banged my fist on the door. Repeatedly. There was a bell, but screw that. I liked the pounding noise. "Mrs Wilson?" I shouted. "Mrs Wilson!"

"Collins!" Erica grabbed my arm.

I clamped my jaw shut, pulled my wrist from her grasp and pounded on the door some more. Eventually Mrs Wilson opened it.

I stared at her, wondering what the hell went on inside her head. I said, "Can we come in?" I could smell the drink off her.

She walked ahead of us. Slowly. As if she was afraid she might fall over. In the sitting room, she asked if we'd like a cup of tea.

Erica said no.

"Coffee?"

"Nothing to drink, Mrs Wilson," I said.

"We're fine," Erica told her. "Thanks."

Mrs Wilson picked up some bottles off the table. Whisky, vodka, something else. All looked empty. She held the bottles there for a moment and then put them back down again in the very same spot.

I glanced at Erica, hoping she'd say something. I didn't know where to begin. But Erica just raised her eyebrows at me.

Mrs Wilson crossed her arms over her chest in the shape of an X. Her voice was steady, no trace of slurring. "Is it bad news?"

"To tell the truth," I said, "it was a bit of an eye-opener." I couldn't read her expression. "We spoke to Mrs Lennox."

No reaction.

Erica said, "She told us about the accident, Clare."

Clare. Not Mrs Wilson. For crying out loud, Erica.

"An accident?" Mrs Wilson whispered. "Bruce has been in an accident?"

Erica shook her head. "Mrs Lennox told us how you and John and Bruce were in the car that night. Seven years ago."

"Yes." Mrs Wilson nodded. Kept nodding. "What does that have to do with Bruce being missing?"

"Mrs Lennox told us how… John… how John died on impact."

Mrs Wilson put her hand to her mouth. Held it there.

"She told us how you suffered terrible injuries and almost died."

"But here I am." Mrs Wilson uncovered her mouth. She was smiling, although her lips trembled. That twitch in her left eye was back too. "My skull shattered," she said, as if that was nothing out of the ordinary. "They said it was a fine old mess in there. But I'm as good as new, see?"

"Mrs Lennox also told us about Bruce."

"She told you what? She knows where he is?"

Erica looked away.

"If you know where he is, you have to tell me." Mrs Wilson stepped forward. "Take me to him. Please."

As hard as I found it to believe what Mrs Lennox had told us, the evidence was clear in Mrs Wilson's face. If you were looking for batshit crazy, Mrs Wilson was a bat with more shit than most. I wasn't angry with her any longer. I couldn't be. But I couldn't let her keep this up either.

I said, "We were considering charging you with wasting police time."

"Wasting your time? My son's gone missing. You're supposed to help me find him. Isn't that what you do?"

Damn it, maybe it was none of my business, but it had to be done. Somebody had to spell it out. "Mrs Wilson, your son was in the car the night you were hit by the drunk driver."

There was a moment while she looked confused. Then she said, "I know. I know. Me and John and Bruce. We were all in the car."

God help me. I took a breath. "Your son died that night."

"Sweet Jesus," she said. "Sweet Baby Jesus. Ask for help and this is what I get?"

"Bruce died that night." Erica moved towards her. "It's true."

No doubt about it. We even knew where the boy's grave was.

"What is this? You think saying it enough times will make it real? It won't." Mrs Wilson wiped her eyes. "I think you should go."

"Is there anyone we can call for you?" Erica asked.

"I really think you should go. Now."

"Mrs Lennox said you were seeing someone. A psychiatrist. Would you like to speak to-?"

"Get out. Get the hell out."

"We're just trying to help." Erica stretched out a hand, but Mrs Wilson batted it away.

"You pair aren't the first," Mrs Wilson said. "And you won't be the last. But you're wrong. My baby's alive and well. I make him a packed lunch every day. I take him to school. I pick him up from school. I take him to the park. I play with him. I have dinner with him. We talk about his daddy. I bathe him. I put him to bed. I read him stories." Her shoulders were shaking. "The bond we have," she said. "It's special. And nobody's going to break it."

Erica and I looked at one another and turned to go. There was nothing more we could do here. I was so depressed my knees ached.

"Clare," Erica said. "You need help."

I grabbed Erica's arm, tugged her towards the door.

"I'll find Bruce on my own," Mrs Wilson said. "I'll find him. I will."

I had no doubt she would.