Blood Connection

Julia heard Marilyn’s footsteps going away from her down the hall. Aft er a moment she got a note pad out of her purse and began to write. She wrote that in the event of her death; to check the telephone records of the calls that came into the crisis center at ten-seventeen p.m. Th e person making that call would most likely be the person who killed her. She tucked the note into a pocket in the inside of her purse as the telephone buzzed again. ‘Th is can’t be him again,’ she thought as she pushed the speaker button. “Th is is the crisis center. How may I help you?” There was no answer from the caller. Was this Nine Inches? Julia did not hear any street noises. Th e only sound was soft breathing. Th en she heard a sniffl e. “Hello,” she said. “Th is is the crisis center. Is somebody there?” Th ere was still no response. “I’m going to hang up if you don’t say something. You can call…” “I hurt.” Th e small voice was barely audible, but Julia knew that it was the multiple again. “Hi; this is Sandra. Do you remember me?” “Un-huh.” More sniffl es. “What is it Darling? What’s the matter?” “It hurts.” “What hurts? Tell me what’s wrong.” “I’m not supposed to tell.” “But you can tell me, Honey. Remember? We’ve talked before. Has your daddy hurt you again?” Julia immediately regretted asking such a point blank question. She was afraid the girl would hang up. “Daddy hurt me.” The girl had obviously regressed to a child of fi ve or six years of age. Although Julia was a little unsure of how to go about the dialogue, she was hopeful; now that the girl had taken on her childhood identity, perhaps it would be easier to get information from her. “Is your daddy with you now?” “No.” “Well, wherever he is now, he can’t hear you and he won’t have any way of knowing that you’ve talked to me.” Julia was doing her best to sound non-threatening and safe. “How old are you, Honey?” “Uh…fi ve.” “And is this the fi rst time your daddy has hurt you like this?” “No.” “No?” Julia struggled to remain detached and unemotional. “Honey, what is your daddy’s name?” “Daddy,” the girl answered simply. “Oh…well do you remember your mommy calling him by any other name?” “No.” Th e girl was sounding distressed. “Okay; never mind it doesn’t matter.” Julia changed her course of questioning. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself? Where do you live?” “In a house.” “Is it a nice house?” “Uhh…hunh?” Th e girl seemed confused by this question. “Well…what color is your house?” “I don’t know.” ‘Oh Julia; come on think!’ Julia’s inner voice chided. “Well…do you like your house?” “Yes.” “Is it pretty?” “Unh-huh.” “What’s the prettiest thing about your house?’ “Uh…’” the girl began, and then seemed unsure of what to say. “Is there anything in your house that you don’t like?” The girl answered without hesitation, “Daddy’s room.” “Really? What’s in Daddy’s room?” “Books.” “Books?” “Yeah, lots of books. He doesn’t like it when I play with them. He says I get them dirty.” “Oh, that’s too bad. What else is in the room?” “Uh…” “Is there a desk in your daddy’s room?” “Yeah.” “Is there a sofa?” The girl began to sob again. “Yes.” “It’s okay Honey. Please don’t cry.” Julia pulled back. “We don’t have to talk about your daddy’s room anymore. Do you have a favorite room?” “The angel’s room.” Again without hesitation. “The angel’s room? And what is it that you like about this room?” “The angel.” “The angel? What does the angel look like? Is it a big angel?” Julia felt a sense of uneasiness building within her. “Yeah, it’s really big. And she has a lot of colors.” A dreadful fear began to creep into Julia’s thoughts. She thought back to the years she and Daryl had lived in her mother’s house. Th e girls had been raised in that house until they were a little over six years old. Daryl had started his practice while they lived in that house. His offi ce was located on the ground fl oor. It had its own entrance from the outside, and also a door leading into the foyer of the house. Th e girls were not allowed to go into Daryl’s offi ce unattended. On the second fl oor was a room adjoining the girl’s bedroom; it had been used as a sewing room and study. It had always been considered Julia’s room where she and the girls would spend a lot of time together. One of the room’s most prominent features was a rather large and beautiful stained glass window. Its design was that of a majestic guardian angel with her delicate wings spread behind her. Julia felt a nervous tremble beginning throughout her body. Her mind was fl ooded with unthinkable thoughts. She tried hard to convince herself that this had to be some kind of a bizarre coincidence. Any other explanation was inconceivable. She became dizzy as her pulse quickened. “Wh…where is this angel?” “In the window.” Julia grasped at straws. “She’s looking at you through the window?” “No…she’s in the window.” “Do you mean that there is a picture of an angel in the window; made of glass?” “Uh…” the girl seemed confused. “She’s real. She’s a real angel.” “Oh my God…” “What’s the matter?” “I…I…Oh dear God!” Julia sat motionless; staring at the telephone. She realized that she had frightened the girl into hanging up. She was immobilized for a moment of stupefi ed silence. Had she been speaking to one of her daughters? As anxiety took hold of her, she began to feel like a trapped animal. How could this be happening? She got up from her chair and began to pace the small room, not knowing what to do next. She could not collect her thoughts. Th ey kept rushing back to her daughters’ childhood years. What had she missed? How could this be? Her mind bounced from one abominable image to another. Th e memories of Daryl with the girls; at the beach, in the living room watching TV together, at their games; all these images, which should have been loving memories were now twisted into unthinkable fears. “Th is can’t be,” she said aloud. “Th is can’t be happening! I’ve missed something. I must have missed something.” Julia heard Marilyn’s footsteps in the hallway; and the sound brought her mind back to where she was. How could she possibly compose herself and act as if nothing were wrong by the time the other woman entered the room? She returned to her chair and took several deep breaths and tried to calm down. She reminded herself that she had to keep focussed on the case she was on. Her mind was racing; perhaps she was wrong about the girl being one of her daughters. Coincidences happened all the time. Th is could be nothing more than a stupendous coincidence! “Are you alright?” Marilyn closed the door behind her and stood in the middle of the room looking at Julia. “I…I just got some bad news.” Julia realized that this was a stupid thing for her to say; now Marilyn would want to know what was wrong. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Is there anything that I can do?” Julia hesitated for a moment; trying to think of what to say. “No… no, thank you. It’s…family stuff …just something that I need to take care of.” “Oh Lord, I understand. If you need to leave, go right ahead; but I’m here if you need me.”