Pretty Girls - Page 39

The Tesla shook as a brown UPS truck drove by.

Lydia said, “This is taking forever.”

Finally, the video loaded, but there wasn’t much to see. Captain Mayhew was standing behind a podium. Congressman Johnny Jackson, never one to miss a media opportunity, was standing behind him, slightly to the right so that he’d still be in the camera frame. They were both looking at a closed door off to the side. There were flashes of light from the cameras and shuffling sounds as the reporters grew impatient.

A voice-­over explained, “We’ve been told that the parents arrived in the building five minutes ago.” The reporter did a recap of the Kilpatrick disappearance, going back to the police finding the girl’s car in the parking lot of Lenox mall.

Claire could remember doing press conferences with her family. Back then, there were really only three news stations, so the conferences were held in the small front lobby of the sheriff’s station. Claire and Lydia were told to look devastated, but not too devastated. Helen had worried that Julia’s abductor would see her last two daughters and want to take them, too. The sheriff had told them to address their comments to Julia, because he adamantly believed she was out there in some run-­down hotel laughing at her parents making fools of themselves on the evening news.

Lydia said, “Here they come.”

On the screen, the side door opened. Anna Kilpatrick’s parents made their way up to the stage and stood on Mayhew’s left. He nodded at them as if to say, We’ll get through this. They did not nod back. They both looked like death-­row inmates awaiting execution.

Lydia said, “They found the body.”

Claire shushed her, but seconds later, Mayhew confirmed her guess.

He said, “The remains of a young woman were found at approximately four a.m. this morning on a jogging trail off the BeltLine.”

The BeltLine ran through Midtown. Claire had some friends who jokingly referred to it as the Rape Line because of the large number of sexual assaults that happened on the trail.

Mayhew continued, “The Dekalb County crime lab was able to identify the remains based on photographs and fingerprints. The Kilpatricks confirmed the findings an hour ago.”

Claire asked, “They let them see the body?”

“Wouldn’t you want to?”

Claire wasn’t so sure anymore.

Mayhew said, “At this moment, we have no additional leads. We would ask that anyone who recognizes the man from this sketch please call the hotline.” He held up the police sketch of the man who’d been seen near Anna’s car. “The Kilpatricks would like to thank everyone who helped search for—­”

Claire muted the sound, because she knew what was coming next. The reporters would ask questions. Mayhew would not give them answers. She watched Mayhew gesture to Bob Kilpatrick, Anna’s father. The man had the same weepy, broken expression that she had seen countless times on her father’s face.

Lydia had seen it, too. “He reminds me of Dad.”

Claire forced herself to look away from Eleanor Kilpatrick. The woman was clinging to her husband like they were lost at sea. And they were lost—­even if they made it back to land, they would always be on unsteady ground.

Lydia held Claire’s hand. She felt the comfort of her sister’s touch spread through her like warm water. They sat in the car, listening to trucks whir by. Would Claire want to see Julia’s body? It would be different after all these years. There would just be bones, but the bones would mean so much because they would have something to bury, some place to leave their grief.

“What’s happening?” Lydia was not posing an existential question. She was pointing to the touch screen. Eleanor Kilpatrick had pushed Mayhew out of the way. She gripped the microphone in her hand.

Claire turned up the volume.

Eleanor Kilpatrick’s angry voice screeched from the speakers: “—­was branded like a goddamn animal!”

The feed was cut. The Channel 2 news anchor came on-­screen. “We’d like to apologize to our viewers for the language you just heard.”

“Find the uncensored feed,” Lydia ordered. “Find it!”

“I’m looking.” Claire had already pulled up the search page. The news feed had updated again. There were a dozen more sites carrying the press conference. Claire picked the sketchiest one. The rainbow wheel in the center of the screen started to spin.

Lydia said, “Try another one.”

“Give it time.” Claire gripped her hands together so she wouldn’t grab the screen. She was about to give up when the page finally loaded.

Mayhew was frozen, the microphone in front of him. Jackson stared straight ahead like a good soldier. Claire pressed the PLAY button. He said, “The remains of a young —­”

“It’s at the beginning.” Lydia had obviously been paying attention. She scrubbed her finger along the bottom of the video until it got to Eleanor Kilpatrick’s outburst.

“This is bullshit!” the woman screamed.

Johnny Jackson skillfully stepped out of the frame, leaving the damage control to Jacob Mayhew.

“Mrs. Kilpatrick.” Mayhew covered the mic with his hand.

“No!” Eleanor Kilpatrick tried to push away his hand. She was a small woman. She couldn’t move him, so she turned to the reporters and yelled, “My daughter was cut up!”

They responded with a strobe of flashing lights.

Mayhew repeated, “Mrs. Kilpatrick.”

She grabbed the mic away from him. “Her breasts were mutilated! She was branded like a goddamn animal!”

Mayhew tried to get the mic. She jerked away from him. He tried again but Bob Kilpatrick sucker-­punched him in the stomach.

“She was our baby!” Eleanor cried. “She was just a child!”

Two uniformed cops pinned down Bob Kilpatrick. His wife kept screaming, even as he was dragged away. “What kind of animal would do that to our little girl? What kind of animal?”

Mayhew wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was clearly furious. In front of all the reporters, he grabbed Eleanor Kilpatrick around the waist and carried her across the stage. The mic dropped when it ran out of cord. Mayhew practically threw the woman through the open doorway. The door slammed closed. The camera stayed on it for a few seconds before cutting to black.

Both Claire and Lydia stared at the screen.

Lydia asked, “Did you see what she did?”

“Yes.” Claire reloaded the page. They waited for the video to load. Instead of skipping forward, she played the press conference from the beginning. First Mayhew, then Eleanor Kilpatrick. As soon as the video finished, she reloaded the page so they could watch the news conference a third time.

The reporter’s voice-­over. Mayhew at the podium. The Kilpatricks entering the room.

Neither Claire nor Lydia could stop watching. They were both transfixed by Eleanor Kilpatrick’s outburst, the way she traced an X on her belly when she said her daughter had been branded.

Claire paused the video. Eleanor Kilpatrick froze on the screen. Her mouth gaped open. She had her right hand pressed to the left side of her belly, slightly off center, just below her ribs.

Lydia said, “Her breasts were mutilated.”

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