Daddy's Little Killer

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

 

Now I was the one on the verge of hyperventilation. Carrie was right. So was I. This girl's bravery, agreeing to meet with us, to relive the most horrific assault a woman could imagine, had my utmost respect. It was a new experience for me. Empathy has never been in my arsenal of psychological tricks. It's not a weapon, after all. 

"Helen?"

I glanced at him.

Whispered, "You're crying."

Stunned, I dabbed one finger under my eyes. "Excuse me."

Carrie stared at me with appreciation. "Thank you, Dr. Eriksson. It means a lot to me, knowing that you care about finding the man who did this to me. You do believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Who wouldn't? Beside the fact that there was a heap of physical evidence, it was impossible to gaze into this innocent face, disregard the limpid blue eyes and find a flicker of dishonesty.

"Because you know, no one ever believed Candy."

Now we were getting into another necessary realm. I was relieved that Carrie brought it up spontaneously.

"Oh?"

She shook her head. "Not even my parents, really. It's hard. I'm stuck in the middle, you know? She's my sister. I love her. Sometimes, it's like we're one person."

"Carrie, are you identical twins?"

"Close. We're what is called mirror-image twins."

I considered the possibility that this might extend to their personalities as well, not just physical characteristics. The phenomenon is exactly as it sounds, one twin left handed, the other right handed, hair that curls in the opposite direction, opposite symmetrically identical features, even in some documented cases of mirror-image twins the internal organs were reversed. To stand them side-by-side, it was as though one twin were the literal mirror reflection of the other.

"I've never heard of such a thing," Charlie said. "Does that mean you don't look alike?"

"I'll explain it to you later, Charlie. Carrie, I'd like to go back to what you were saying about nobody believing Candy."

"That's it. I mean, she's had some stuff, before the rape. What's that old children's story?"

I knew which one she meant-the little boy who cried wolf. "So because she had done things in the past, people weren't inclined to believe her when a real tragedy took place."

"Exactly. I know Candy isn't always the easiest person to get along with or to believe, and I even understand why my parents didn't believe her."

"Why was that?"

"Well, she skipped school all the time. She forged notes from my parents so the school wouldn't call home to see where she was. She started doing that... well, let me think. I think she was nine when the police picked her up for skipping school."

Truancy. It was listed among other petty crimes on Candy's record. I hadn't paid much attention to the dates.

"The shoplifting, the time she got suspended from school for bringing one of Dad's hunting knives with her-"

"How old was she when that happened?" Charlie was writing notes. I didn't need them. I could already see the threads of Candy's past being woven into a very clear tapestry of a girl who was beyond troubled.

"Second grade, I think."

Way outside the boundary of troubled. Pathological zip code, smack dab in the middle of it.