there’s Jim,” Mara said, looking past me. I turned and Mr. Landry, dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt, hurried toward us carrying two disposable cups of coffee. He nodded at me by way of greeting and handed one of the cups to Mara. “I just got off the phone with the chief. You know who their main suspect is?” he asked incredulously.
“Who?” Mara clutched at his sleeve, causing his own cup to tip, and coffee spilled to the ground. “Did they arrest someone?”
My curiosity was piqued. I hadn’t gotten any details about the crime beyond what Mara had told me and that ridiculous news story from the night before. I pulled a Kleenex from my bag and crouched down to wipe up the spill. I purposely didn’t bring up the news report with Mara, not wanting to upset her needlessly.
“Joseph Wither.” He laughed. An angry bark that held no humor.
“Seriously?” Mara asked, pressing her fingers to her lips. “They said that?”
“Not really, no,” Jim said. “The officer said that the Crow girl said it was Joseph Wither coming back from the dead and that he stabbed Cora with some kind of knife.”
“What would make her say that?” Mara asked. “It must be a mistake.”
“Of course it’s a mistake,” Jim snapped and I pulled Cora’s door shut in hopes that she couldn’t hear our conversation. “The police officer said that it’s most likely the Crow girl was just scared and confused.”
I thought of the newscast from the night before. “Joseph Wither?” I asked, inviting further explanation. Thinking that maybe the news reporter did get it right.
“A ghost,” Jim said, throwing his arms out in frustration. I wanted to grab the cup of coffee before he spilled it all over his wife, or me for that matter. “A phantom. He’s not real. Just some stupid character the kids talk about. She may as well have said it was the Easter Bunny or a leprechaun for what it’s worth. At this rate the police aren’t going to catch anyone.”
“What does Cora say?” I questioned. “Has she talked about the attack at all?”
“No, she hasn’t said anything beyond crying out in her sleep.” Mara shook her head. “The police wanted to question her yesterday but she was so out of it after the surgery they decided to wait until today. Someone is supposed to come later this morning to talk to her.”
Cora’s door opened and Kendall poked her head out. “What’s going on?” she asked in a whisper. “You’re being really loud.” She was a striking young woman. Tall and lithe with the stature of a ballerina.
“Did we wake Cora?” Mara fretted. “It’s nothing.”
“It is something, goddammit.” Jim brushed roughly past Mara, sending a wave of coffee across the front of her T-shirt.
“Ouch!” Mara jumped backward and pulled her wet shirt away from her skin. “Jim,” she hissed, “let her rest. Don’t bother her.” But Jim had already swept past Kendall and into Cora’s room with the rest of us trailing after him.
“Cora,” he said, trying to keep his voice low and composed but instead it came out as brusque and exasperated, causing Cora to startle awake. “Cora, the police need to know who hurt you. Can you tell us what you saw?”
“Mom?” Cora called out uncertainly.
“Stop it, Jim, you’re scaring her! She’s not ready to talk. Leave her alone!”
“Mr. Landry,” I said, keeping my voice even but authoritative. “The more upset Cora is, the more difficult she may find it to remember the important details of the event.”
“Event?” Jim swung around toward me, causing me to take a step backward. “Event? This wasn’t an event. Someone targeted our twelve-year-old daughter, beat her and stabbed her with a knife. That is not an event, it’s attempted murder!” His breath came out in ragged puffs.
“I understand,” I said, trying to lead him from Cora’s bedside. “It’s very upsetting.”
He didn’t move but continued to speak to Cora. “This is very important, Cora.” He leaned down so that his lips were near her face. “Violet told the police that Joseph Wither hurt you. Why would she say that? Was someone down at the tracks pretending to be him? Can you remember what he looked like?”
“I don’t remember,” Cora whimpered. This was not helping. Cora was clearly distraught and forcing her to try to remember what happened could make her shut down, making it more difficult for her to recall important details of the crime.
“Dad, stop it,” Kendall cried before I could step in to try to