The Innocence Read online

  The Innocence

  Ruddy Richardson

  Ruddy Richardson

  The Innocence

  Chapter 1

  It had been 15 years since Rita had seen even a glimpse of the sleepy town of Oyster Ridge Bay. But in the early hours of the morning she found herself staring again into the branches of the large maple overlooking the porch of her old childhood home. From Mom’s large stained glass windows to Dad’s home crafted teeter-totter lonely in the yard, it was the same house she remembered from all those years ago. Lost in the memories she felt the reluctance of return mingled with the overwhelming urge to sit down and cry. Everything was going to be alright.

  “Mom, you must be kidding, this is like the cutest house ever. Is this really where you grew up?”

  Rita turned to see her 12 years old daughter, Judy, hauling her oversized suitcase up the stone path behind her. She ran her hands through her short auburn hair and pasted a smile across her face right as Judy pulled up next to her and parked herself right on top of her cargo.

  “I know right? Can you believe this? Good thing I didn’t sell it all those years ago when your father wanted me too.”

  With that comment Rita turned away from her daughter to hide the tears threatening to surface. She had survived the premature death of her father, the accidental death of her mother, and the run for survival with her children from her husband; a man who believed three bottles of whisky and a few slaps could solve any argument. Now, as she stared at a handful of keys she couldn’t help but watch as her two lives occupied the same space; sliding back and forth with the imbalance, hitting each other and intermingling. She could almost feel the tangible end of her emotional strength.

  She turned to see her son Brian, staring hard at the house from his car seat. At 4 years old he was the most difficult member of their small family to explain the situation to. How do you tell a 4 years old that his father can’t be around anymore after beating his wife half-to death with a crow-bar? No, Brian’s understanding was far different than that; daddy had to go work over in Australia, Brian’s favorite country. This only made the situation more difficult as Brian now refused to cooperate in all matters of existence short of anything that would reunite him with his father and the jumping kangaroos of the Australian outback. Gesturing for him to come join them on the eve of the front stairs, Rita felt no surprise as Brian’s small face went from open wonder to a set look of defiance as he crossed his arms across his small chest and sunk into his car seat. With a sigh she glanced back to Judy, now too engrossed in her cell phone to notice her mother’s hesitation. Control yourself and pretend everything is fine, then break down later, she told herself. “Let’s go kid,” she said to the top of her daughter’s curly blonde head, nudging the suitcase with toe of her shoe. “It’s now or never.”

  “What about Brian?”

  “The car’s not going anywhere.”

  Rita bent down to pick up the latest edition of the Oyster Bay Express from the peeling porch echoing of her childhood. The headline was the tragic result of the man hunt for a lost child. Disturbing news but missing people was nothing new for the tourist town. With the amount of carefree and incautious travelers each year, it was no big surprise when a few got lost in the caves or waylaid on the white sand shoreline. But to hear of a death of a child was always a stab for any mother to witness. Rita grimaced, tucked the paper under the arm and slid the key into the bolt. How ironically poignant, Rita thought, that our lives are just beginning while a child’s has just ended. Feeling the hint of collapse, Rita steeled her nerves, opened the door and stepped over the threshold.

  And so began the next chapter in the Broman family’s existence.

  Chapter 2

  The Oyster Ridge Express November 1 st 2003

  All Hallows Eve Tragedy By: Daniel Hutchins

  With the festivities of Halloween looming still in our minds it is with a heavy heart that I write yet another missing persons announcement. Last night Nicholas Perrins went out trick-or-treating with older brother Mathew Perrins and Mathew’s girlfriend Melissa Marks. At some point in the evening, between Maple and Rich Ave, Nicholas was lost. Mathew reported that when his brother failed to reappear with the other children perusing the street looking for houses offering treats, Mathew began searching for Nicholas, but found only his brother’s pillowcase, used for carrying the night’s bounty, propped against the large maple in Miss Franwalski’s yard. After this discovery Mathew called the Sheriff’s office straight away. Nicholas was dressed as a caped super-hero carrying a white pillow case for his treasures. Nicholas is the third child in the last month alone to be reported missing. This is distressing news for our little community and threatens to turn us from tourist destination to “avoided” destination. If anyone has any information please contact the Sherriff’s Office.

  Oyster Ridge Express November 4 ^ th 2003 By: Daniel Hutchins

  Heart Wrenching Discovery in Rock Caverns

  Yesterday was a day of mourning for our seaside community when the bodies of Nicholas Perrins (age 9, missing Oct. 31 ^ st), David Coller (age 6, missing Oct 12 ^ th), and Patricia Willson (age 8, missing Oct 22 ^ nd) were found together in Rock Caverns. Lawerence Hill, our local guide and mineral expert, was going in for his monthly geological testing of the caverns’ famous stalagmite formations when he spied a girl’s shoe that seemed to have fallen to the side near one of the shallow calcium pools in the cavern. When he walked over to retrieve the lost item he saw the small pale feet of Patricia Willson. “I couldn’t believe what I was looking at,” Lawerence later told this reporter. “I must have stared for a good thirty seconds before it occurred to me to do something.” When asked to describe the scene Lawerence turned a deathly shade of pale and his hands began to quiver. “I can’t. I don’t want to think of it for the rest of my life.” Police later released that the children were indeed all murdered. “This could not have been any kind of accident” Police Chief Merrels mentioned. They were all killed, executed. I don’t know how else to say it. But it looks like someone made them a part of something.” What that something is and other details of the crime are as yet unreleased. Condolences can be paid tomorrow at All Souls Catholic Church on Moor St. throughout the morning as the families have decided on a triple burial ceremony.

  When Rita walked through the doors of the public library on the morning of November 3 ^ rd she had the chilling feeling of walking straight in on a burial service. Kelly, her childhood friend now reacquainted over the last two years, was buried in a stack of archives that partially obscured the large extent of her frizzy, short black hair. Besides her there wasn’t another soul to be seen. Since the library was one of three hangout locations in the town for people under the age of 18, Rita was surprised to see the empty seat and shelving units.

  “What is going on today? Is there a parade I don’t know about?” Rita asked as she slammed into one of the two librarian chairs.

  Kelly turned a tear-stained face towards her; chin quivering as she told Rita the morning news. “You didn’t hear? They found the missing kids.”

  From the look on Kelly’s face Rita’s heart filled with the dread that she had been holding at bay for the last month. With the prolonged disappearance of each child came the knowledge that it was no mistake or error behind the happenings. The local talk around town circled around daredevils and midnight swims, a return of the local shark that once attacked a fishing boat back in ‘62, tales of drifters abducting children and so on and so forth.

  “Where were they found?”

  “Rock Caverns.”

  “Dead?”

  Kelly couldn’t summon more of a response than a wail as she sank back into the chair. One of the families, the Collers, had been her neighbors and fr
iends for years. The news of their son’s death had hit her especially hard.

  “So what exactly are you doing with these archives?” Rita asked her friend, brushing her fingertips against the old albums. The sent of the leather was binding and the ancient pages were intoxicating.

  Kelly regained her composure and a new hint of determined purpose lit her eyes.

  “Do you remember two years ago? Right when you moved here a tourist boy had gone missing. He was 10 years old. I remember because I thought to myself that he was a little old to be wandering and go missing. They found him in the bottom of the cove. It looked like he had gotten tangled in a mooring anchor. But when they brought him to the coroners it was obvious it wasn’t an accident. I can’t remember why.”

  “I remember but that’s not the same situation as we have here. That was in the cove. These kids where in the caverns,” Rita countered, hoping and praying that they were indeed unrelated events only similar in their tragic outcomes.

  Kelly stared at her incredulously before resuming her argument. “Yes, alright I’ll admit they are different. I know I’ve heard of this before though. Before the boy a few years ago,” she slid one of the large tomes down to their desk. “I can’t remember but it was from when I was gone to college. I remember mom telling me something when I came home during the breaks. Lecturing about being careful when I went out tide pooling and walking with friends, to stay away from the caverns. Something about a lost boy Billy, or Bobby, or… I just can’t remember. But you know. What if this isn’t the first time? I mean, what if it’s happened before?”

  “Woah. Hold on a second.” Rita felt the anxiety rising like a tide within her throat. She knew exactly what memory her friend was struggling to find but hated to concede the possibility of any pattern that could be attacking their peaceful town. She had moved here to get away from the evils of the world, not to run into their arms again. “I remember that story. But Kelly, you have to realize what you are saying. I know it’s hard from you, David’s death, but that doesn’t make this tragedy into some sort of serial situation. Don’t you think that’s a little too “daytime drama” for Oyster Ridge?

  “Just tell me his name.” Kelly replied, determined now more than ever to see through what she had begun.

  “Okay, okay. It was Bobby. Bobby Warren. His family had come down from some town up north in the mountains. His dad was an abusive alcoholic though so when he went missing it was assumed that dad had lost him. When they found his body in the caverns his dad was the top suspect but they never had anything to convict him with besides public drunkenness. ”

  “What year was it? Do you remember?” Kelly’s intensity was truly ignited now with this information. “There has to be a connection. Children don’t just die in the same place on purpose. Come on Rita, I remember you were like a detective or something back in college.”

  “It was investigative journalism. Not detective work.” Rita countered. “But of course I’ll help I mean this is my home now too.” Here investigative journalism a little known fact of her previous life. She had loved that work but had given it up when Judy was born and had never looked back.

  Kelly flashed a small smile of gratitude.

  Rita continued, her face set in fierce look of concentration. “Right. So it was the year before I left. So it must have been 85”. It almost killed the tourism economy that year so it must have been right before summer. But I’m not sure.”

  Kelly chewed her bottom lip staring at her friend before returning back to the impressive pile. She scanned the spines of the records and slid out the bottom three for inspection. Once verified she turned back to Rita. “Alright, here they are. All of 1985 clippings and press releases. We have to find something.”

  Rita sighed, wishing she had taken a little longer dropping Brian and Judy off at school that morning. It was going to be a long day. Opening the cover of her assigned reading selection however she felt the rush of rediscovery, the sense of history revealing its secrets for her to relive again. A history before her adult years; before a failed marriage, before everything that had led her back to this sleepy town that seemed to have come alive with a different intention.

  4 hours, 5 cups of overly strong coffee and 2 sandwiches later the women had found 10 articles revolving around the disappearance and discovery of Bobby Warren. Echoing the current situation, Bobby’s tragic story told of a boy, with an abusive alcoholic for a dad, going missing only to be discovered two weeks later in Rock Caverns. He was unrecognizable except for a scar on the top of his hand. His face and head had been mutilated; his body had been cut and sliced in multiple places. A marking along his spine had sent the police speculating about a cult of some kind although everyone had known that such a thing couldn’t exist in such a hole of a town. The story sent shivers through the women as they relived an event from before their childhood. How could something have happened so long ago and then again just yesterday? It didn’t seem plausible and yet both knew that it was exactly what it appeared to be. The only problem now was convincing Chief Merrels that history was repeating itself.

  Chapter 3

  Rita left the library in a rush, her mind still reeling from the information she and Kelly had found in the archives. Suddenly she felt the weight of intuition bearing down on her shoulders. Any child could be in danger. Although it seemed that the only targets so far were younger, still Brian was in that age group. “No need to panic,” she told herself. These are the kind of things that happen to other people. Not to you. Although, she added, that is exactly what the other people say too. She pushed her ancient Dodge to its max speed, determined that minutes could make the difference in her children’s futures.

  At the school Rita arrived just in time to see the bell ring and the children file out. Being a small town, Oyster Ridge had only one school that served to the educational needs of the 215 local children. Seeing their mom arrive, Judy waved goodbye to her friends and headed towards the car. Rita scanned the crowd with a rising sense of panic for her son’s bright orange backpack and yellow hat he had insisted on wearing that morning. She spotted him standing next to his teacher, Mr. Jack Morrin. Mr. Morrin was one of the most eligible bachelors Oyster Ridge had to offer and Kelly had made many attempts to set the Rita up with him on a blind date but Rita had politely declined the offer. She hadn’t felt ready and to be honest with herself, the man was just a little too good looking. He had the trim, but athletic build, of a man used to outdoor activities mixed with the educational aura of a middle and high school history teacher. Many a female vacationer had attempted to grab his attention for a summer fling but he had seemed impervious to all of them. Rumors had circulated more than once regarding his possible past when he had first arrive 10 years earlier, but they had quickly died down when it seemed he had adapted to well to the simple lifestyle of Oyster Ridge. Rita always felt uncomfortable around him but attributed it to the simple fact that she was uncomfortable around all men. She managed to pull of a smile as he saw her and waved a friendly hello. He bent down and said something to Brian who quickly nodded then bounded her direction with his lunch pail in one hand and orange back pack in the other.

  “Guess what mom.” Brian said with an air of victory in his prompt.

  Rita swallowed down the morning’s grisly contemplations and focused the rearview mirror on her sons freckled splashed face, currently sporting a broad smile that reminded her all too much of her ex-husband.

  “Mr. Morrin says I can do my colonialism report on Australia! Isn’t that so cool?” Brian’s fascination with Australia had not lessened over the years, as Rita had hoped, but rather had grown to a fanatical obsession. Brian was sure the day would come when his father would come home to find his son all grown and an expert on the country he had called home. Rita had never found the heart over the last two years to tell Brian the truth about her father or Australia. She figured the day would come on its own. Two years later it had still not arrived.

  Jack Morrin waved goodbye
to Brian as the old blue dodge slowly worked its way back out of the parking lot. One of his favorite pupils, the boy showed a strong affinity for world history and mathematics and enjoyed staying after classes to talk and share with the teacher his thoughts and ideas from the school day’s lessons. Matthew had to admit he had grown fond of the boy but couldn’t find the strength to ask out his mother after she had rejected so many of Kelly’s attempts to set them up on a blind date. Not that she wasn’t attractive or approachable but rather, that he had spent so many years keeping people at bay he wasn’t sure how to break the habit. He watched the rust spotted tailgate disappear before he turned back to his classroom. He still had a lot of work to do and the night, for him, was only just beginning.

  Jack wasn’t the only person watching as Broman’s left the school grounds. From across the parking lot another set of eyes watched as Rita loaded Brian and Judy’s work into the back of the car. They watched as her son told her his good news and as she attempted one more time to keep the truth from escaping her lips. They watched as Judy pulled out her cell phone yet again to respond to a text message. Probably from a new boyfriend, they thought. Girls her age were always talking with their new boyfriends. Both of the children were so pure, so innocent. They deserved to be saved. But the older one would be a bit of challenge. The older they got, the harder it was to make them understand why it had to be done. So many years ago they had learned that. Dear old Bobby, so uncooperative, had to be strung up in the fishing line before he learned his lesson: the body must die so that the innocence can be saved. Maybe it would be Brian’s turn this year; his turn to be rescued before he learned the truth about his neglectful father who had been the reason for Rita to return to her roots. This quiet town, this sleepy little town was the perfect place with a constant supply of those waiting to be saved.