The Drowning Child

21

Ren’s heart was pounding. She nodded calmly.

Let’s not freak him out.

Let’s not hang on his every word, either.

Reliability level? Blood alcohol level?

‘OK,’ said Ren. ‘Talk us through why you think that. We’re listening.’

Clyde nodded. ‘Thank you. OK, so when you get a bruise, you break capillaries and blood leaks out, but it could take ten or twelve hours for the bruise to come up. If you die, your heart stops, the blood’s not pumping around any more, so the bruise might never appear. Aaron was found floating in the lake – lucky to be found, too. If he didn’t go in somewhere shallow, he wouldn’t have been.’

‘It would have been spring before the body surfaced,’ said Ren.

‘Exactly.’

‘At autopsy,’ said Clyde, ‘the ME figured he drowned – that’s what the evidence pointed to. But, you know, an ME will only resect the back tissue if it’s an abuse case, or he suspects abuse and therefore hidden bruising. But, otherwise, if the back looks fine, he would have no reason to do that.’

Ren nodded.

‘How it works is, embalming fluid replaces blood in the vascular system,’ said Clyde. ‘It makes any blood that’s in the tissue stand out better...’

It’s so weird listening to words like that coming out of a man like him. He loves this. And it’s been taken away from him.

‘When that happened with Aaron,’ said Clyde. ‘I saw a large bruise at the center of his back...’

Ren’s heart rate shot up.

‘That bruise could have been because he was hurt before he died,’ said Clyde. ‘Or... because someone was holding him under the water.’ He shifted forward in his seat. ‘That could’ve been the mark of a knee in his back is what I’m trying to say.’ He shrugged. ‘At the very least, though, I think he suffered an injury of some kind.’

Holy shit. ‘Absolutely,’ said Ren.

Clyde’s face was flooded with relief.

And now for the awful part. ‘I have to ask,’ said Ren. ‘I’m aware that you lost your job that day—’

‘I was stone-cold sober when I worked on Aaron,’ said Clyde.

‘Please look at me,’ said Ren.

Clyde shook his head, his lips pursed.

Ren reached out and squeezed his forearm. ‘We’re not here to judge you, not in any way. We just need you to tell us the truth. I can’t stress to you enough how important this is. We need the absolute truth, here, OK? Whatever that is. Because we can do something about it, once we know...’

Tears filled Clyde’s eyes. He wiped at them with his sleeve. ‘I’m a goddamn mess, I’m a mess...’

‘No, you’re not,’ said Ren. ‘That was a difficult job for you. Embalming a child, the child of someone you knew...’

‘Yes!’ said Clyde. ‘It was terrible.’

Ren waited. She could hear his breathing, growly, uneven. She looked at his fingers and noticed, for the first time, the nicotine stains. She imagined his hands before they spent most of their time gripping a bottle of liquor, younger, paler hands, years from being gnarled and ruddy, and yellowed.

All that alcohol flowing through your veins. Then embalming fluid.

I’m a terrible human being… . who loves alcohol flowing through her veins.

‘I may have had one drink...’ said Clyde.

Fuck. ‘One?’ said Ren.

He kept his eyes on his hands.

‘Look at me,’ said Ren. He didn’t.

‘It was only... it... it... took a lot out of me,’ said Clyde. ‘Brought back some bad, bad memories. This boy, only a boy, laid out, his life over, only eleven years old. Do you remember being eleven? I do. I was having the time of my life, it was all ahead of me. You never for a second think anything bad’s going to happen to you, you just think that whatever dreams you have will come true. And...’ He shrugged. ‘You never know when your life is going to be taken – gone, up in smoke. I know that, after I left the job, a seven-year-old kid was brought in – choked on a sandwich. Gone. Just like that...’

‘Pete mentioned that to us,’ said Ren. She paused. ‘What bad memories did Aaron’s death bring back for you?’

‘I... my sister,’ said Clyde. ‘My sister, Lizzie, died. She was only ten years old. She fell through a rotted deck at Lake Verny. No one listened to me... I... was the custodian there. It was a summer job when I was in high school, but I took it seriously. But, I guess, no one took me seriously.’

Ren nodded. ‘That must have been very hard for you. But your sister’s accident wasn’t your fault.’

He looked up at her. ‘I should have pushed harder. I should have ignored the owners when they said not to fix the deck yet.’

She looked at his eyes, red-rimmed, sad, and prickling with fear. Her heart sank. You poor guilt-ridden man.

‘No one listens to me,’ said Clyde. ‘Maybe if I didn’t do this...’ He swept a hand across the empty beer bottles on the floor.

‘Please don’t beat yourself up,’ said Ren. ‘We’re not doubting your memory. But I do have to ask you about your drinking that night.’

‘I understand. I understand.’

‘How much had you had to drink?’

‘I did the job, sober, like I said,’ said Clyde. ‘I prayed over Aaron’s body. Then I walked away from it. I was in a bad way. I had a bottle of vodka in my locker, I... I took a few swigs, maybe... drank half of it.’

Fuuuck. ‘Half of?’

‘A liter bottle.’

Fuuuck once more.

‘Can you really be sure of what you saw?’ said Ren.

‘One hundred per cent,’ said Clyde.

‘Why didn’t you say it to Pete yesterday?’ said Ren.

‘I said it to Gil Wiley!’ said Clyde. ‘When he was dragging me through the gates. And he told me to shut the hell up. I asked him to tell Pete. And he told me to shut the hell up again. I asked him could I tell Pete myself, and he said: “If you mention one word to Pete Ruddock about this, you’ll be the one with the bruises.” Then he said Pete couldn’t stand the sight of me, that he was only ever nice to me because he had a reputation to protect, that Pete just pities me.’

What an asshole.

‘He told me I was no different to any other alcoholic out there,’ said Clyde, ‘except for the fact that Pete hated me the most. Then Wiley said if I dared to interfere in a police investigation, he would have me hauled up in front of a judge and I would be incredible.’

Don’t laugh.

‘An incredible witness,’ said Clyde. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t be considered credible.’ He blushed.

Ugh: this is awful.

‘He said that would mean even more people not taking me seriously,’ said Clyde. ‘Officially – in a court of law. He told me if he had to do one page of paperwork because of my bullshit, that he would throw me into Lake Verny himself.’

‘Let me talk to Wiley,’ said Ren.

‘Don’t tell him I told you!’ said Clyde.

‘Could anyone else in the crowd have heard him at the gates, telling you to shut the hell up?’ said Ren.

‘Yes,’ said Clyde. He paused. ‘Just... “hell” wasn’t the exact word.’

Ren laughed.

‘You know – you’re a lady,’ said Clyde.

A lady who says fuck more times than you know.

‘OK,’ said Ren, ‘Well, I can let on to Wiley that someone else overheard this – I don’t have to bring you into it yet. And, Clyde – just so you know, Pete Ruddock considers you a friend. He speaks very fondly of you.’

Clyde gave a broad smile. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That’s really nice to hear.’

Ren leaned toward him again. ‘Have you spoken to anyone else about this, apart from Wiley?’

‘No.’

‘Good,’ said Ren. ‘We’re going to need you to keep this to yourself, OK? I promise you that we are taking this seriously. We’re going to go back to Tate PD right now to speak with Pete.’

Clyde nodded. His face was a mix of relief and fear.

Someone is taking you seriously.

But even you’re not sure if they should.

I know the feeling.