Cruel Justice

28

CARLEE FELT A SURGE of relief as they pulled up to their home in the Richmond Hills section of south Tulsa near St. Francis’s Hospital. It wasn’t that their camping vacation had been unpleasant—at least, not most of it. She was just glad to be home. Glad and happy and … comforted.

Gavin and Ethan poured out of the car and scrambled toward the front door.

“Don’t forget your bags!” Dave shouted behind them. “If you think I’m carrying in everyone’s luggage, you’ve got—” He stopped, recognizing the utter futility of it. They were already well out of earshot.

Carlee turned to him and smiled. “But you will carry in my luggage, won’t you, lover boy?”

“But—”

She quickly scurried out of the car and beyond the point of protest. She scooped the morning paper off the driveway; the Bloms must not have been by yet to collect the mail.

Inside the house, she found few surprises. All the major appliances and electronic devices appeared to be where they had been left. Ethan was already perched in front of the television set. Gavin was on the phone.

“Let me know if she still loves you, Gavin,” Carlee shouted merrily.

Gavin frowned, covered his free ear, and pressed the receiver closer to his head.

Carlee entered the kitchen. She poured herself a Dr Pepper—the real thing—with honest-to-God crushed ice from the refrigerator. Heaven on earth. The door slammed, and she heard Dave struggle to haul in all the luggage at once, grunting and groaning up the stairs. She felt a little sorry for him, though not sorry enough to help.

He’d survive. What Carlee wanted desperately were a few minutes alone, a little quiet time, a chance to think. Camp-outs were great for familial bonding, but they were lousy for private meditation. And she needed to pull herself together.

She still didn’t know what had happened to her at Turner Falls. Dave had tried to take care of her as best he could. He even ended up fixing the beans. But he never mentioned what had happened. He wasn’t being inconsiderate; it was just his way. Misbehaving kids he could deal with. A wife needing some TLC he could deal with. But something so … foreign to their experience … He just couldn’t handle it. He didn’t know what to do. So he pretended it hadn’t happened.

Unfortunately, Carlee knew it had happened. Twice. And more and more she became convinced that it was not just a dream, not just a hallucination. Every time she thought about it, she saw a little more. It was like a movie unspooling reel by reel. New details came to light.

Like, for instance, that window she was looking through, when she saw the woman. She knew now that the window was open; that’s how she smelled the blood and heard the screams. And the room …

It was the caddyshack at the Utica Greens Country Club. She was certain of it.

But how could that be? She hadn’t been to that country club for almost ten years, since she quit her job in the kitchen. She hadn’t been anywhere near the place; she and Dave certainly couldn’t afford to be members. And yet, she knew that was what she was seeing.

A sudden pounding upstairs brought her back to the present. It was Dave, stomping around with the luggage. Well, perhaps she could give him a teeny bit of help. In a minute. She pulled the rubber band off the paper and dropped it flat on the kitchen table. Her eyes drifted across the front-page stories.

The air flowed from her lungs as if sucked out by a vacuum.

Her lips moved wordlessly; her eyes were transfixed, locked onto the photograph on the front page of the Tulsa World.

It was her.

The woman.

Carlee stumbled backward, caught herself, then slowly sank into a chair. She suddenly became aware that she was making a sharp high-pitched noise, something like a cross between a cry for help and an aching moan. She put her hand over her mouth and willed herself to stop.

“Is somethin’ wrong, Mom?”

It was Ethan. He was staring up at her with worried eyes, for the second time in recent memory. Kids never miss anything.

“Get your father,” she said breathlessly. “Then go back to your television program. I’m fine.”

A few moments later Dave came barreling much too fast down the stairs and into the kitchen. He put his hands on her shoulders. “What is it, honey? What’s wrong?”

Carlee lifted a shaking hand and pointed at the newspaper on the table. “That’s her,” she said.

“That’s who?” Dave glanced at the paper and the black-and-white photo on the front page. The accompanying article explained that the woman had been murdered about ten years before; a Tulsa man was accused of the crime. The trial was scheduled to start soon. “Did you know this woman?”

Carlee shook her head from side to side.

“Then—what?” His face was a combination of sympathy and helplessness.

“That’s the woman I saw,” Carlee said. She wrapped her arms around herself. “The woman I saw covered with blood.”

“At Turner Falls? At the campground? But she’s been dead for ten years.” His voice evidenced his utter lack of comprehension. “What are you saying? That you had some kind of … psychic vision or something?”

“No,” she said, still trembling. “I saw her murdered. With my own eyes.”

“But—if you saw it, why didn’t you mention it before now?”

She looked up at the ceiling, as if hoping for some assistance, some answer, some salvation. She looked in vain. “Because I didn’t remember.”

“You didn’t remember?” Deep wrinkles furrowed Dave’s brow. “You’re saying you saw this woman get killed and then … .forgot about it?”

Carlee placed her head against his chest. “I know it sounds insane. I don’t understand it either. But that’s what happened. I saw that woman die. I know I did.”

“And you forgot about it. And now, just as the case is about to go to trial, you remember again. Isn’t that an incredible coincidence?”

“It isn’t a coincidence,” she said softly. “I heard a report about the trial on the radio. I didn’t even think about it consciously, but afterward—that’s when I remembered.”

“This still doesn’t make any sense to me. How could you see a murder and forget about it?”

“I don’t know,” she said. Tears streaked her suntanned face. “I don’t know. But I did.”