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I almost regret the question, but she nods.
“Yes. There were so many who didn’t. But he did. He was in the hospital for weeks. He has three childrennow.”
“That’s because of you,” Isay.
“No. That’s because of him. He survived. I was just there tohelp.”
“Do you know if the police talked to him? If he was able to tell them anything?” Iask.
“He couldn’t remember much when he woke up. The doctors said the stress was too much. He could remember being at the campfire and then it was just flashes of the rain and running. He didn’t remember anything about his attacker, being in the infirmary, or getting to thehospital.”
“Unfortunately, that’s what we’re getting a lot of this time, too,” I tell her. “People who don’t remember what happened at all or those who only can remember bits and pieces. The ones that remember the most can’t identify the killer. They couldn’t see his face and he didn’t speak. There’s nothing to go on. I feel like we can’t even start really investigating because there’s nothing to investigate. Just an old camp with terrible memories and survivors who barely know what happened tothem.”
“That’s what it was like then,” Maude says. “It seemed like nothing was getting done. Even with Mary Ellen missing. They searched the camp for her and went around surrounding areas. Knocked on doors. Went in houses. Dug through dumpsters. There were missing flyers up for months. But nothing came of it. They didn’t know what happened to her or what they were supposed to do next. We went out to the camp so many times to keepsearching.”
“You were in the search party?” I ask, surprised at therevelation.
“Yes. Only one other person on the staff was willing to go back. None of the rest of them ever wanted to see it again. I felt like I needed to go. I wasn’t able to help the victims the way I wanted to, but if I could show them around the camp and give them ideas of places that might have been overlooked during searches, maybe I could help Mary Ellen and her family.” She lowers her voice to nearly a whisper. “I can still remember her little siblings. I couldn’t believe they were there. I know I wouldn’t have brought my children to something likethat.”
“I feel the same way,” I tell her. “I don’t have children. But if I did, I can’t imagine bringing them on a search for their likely dead oldersister.”
“At the same time, this was a mother who had already lost her first husband to a car accident and her older son was in Vietnam. I can imagine she was terrified to let her children out of her sight. She wanted them close to her so she knew she could protect them. She’d remarried a few years before this and had three little ones really close together. One of them was bundled up in her arms while she searched. The other two were running around playing. I remember wondering if they knew why they were there or even that there was something wrong.
“That mother had already been through so much. But it wasn’t over. Her older son came back from the war a different person. He was never the same again. And then one of the little ones running around the camp while we searched died only a yearlater.”
“Oh, my god. What happened?” Iask.
“Some sickness. The family had become so reclusive by then that no one really knew. We learned about it when the announcement was printed in the paper. It was so horrible having him buried there next to the spot chosen for his sister. That was when I knew for sure she’d lost every ounce of hope. She was just waiting for the body that went insideit.
“After that, it all just stopped. There was no more progress. People got angry. There were suspicions constantly being thrown around. People being accused. It felt like a witch hunt. People were tortured, forced out of their homes because of it. That’s when I left Cherry Hill and moved here. I didn’t want anything to do with it anymore. It seemed like nothing was going to come of it. I stopped watching the news. I stopped nursing and took classes to become a librarian. And here I am,” she says, with a half-hearted shrug around her. “I thought it was behind me. I’ll never get over it. That will never be something I can just put out of my mind. But I don’t let myself think about it. Not untilnow.”
“Were you worried when you heard the camp was opening again?” Iask.
“Not worried. But I didn’t think it was a good idea. There are some things that just shouldn’t be done. When I heard what happened on the radio this morning, I just…” she stops, her lips pressing tight together for a moment. “There are things that just shouldn’t bedone.”
“Do you think there’s any chance it’s the same person?” I ask. “I know it’s been twenty years, but he could easily have been in his twenties then and his forties now and commit both sets ofmurders.”
Maude gives me a quizzical look. “That would be impossible. The man who committed those murders isdead.”
Xavier is at the salad bar carefully arranging his assortment of vegetables when I walk into Angelo’s. He finishes and dots the arrangement with croutons before adding a spiral of honey mustard dressing on top.
“That looks good,” I tellhim.
He eyes it critically. “I would prefer a more varied palette. This is a lot ofgreen.”
“You have the tomatoes,” I pointout.
“That just makes it look like Christmas. I need a yellow. Possibly anorange.”
“There’s purplecabbage.”
“How dareyou?”
I put my hands up and head for the table where I see Sam already working through his mountain ofsalad.
“Hey,” he says happily when he sees me. He stands up and comes around to give me a kiss that feels a little damp and tastes distinctly of Thousand Island. “Sorry we got started withoutyou.”
I shake my head as I reach for his glass of water and take a dip swig. “It’s fine. I’m late. But I have a good reason. Did you order the pizza already? We need to get out of here as soon as wecan.”
