St. Columb - Chapter Seven

VII

There is a moment in everyone's life where, if they could, they wish they could go back and correct the mistakes they made; paid attention to the things that they overlooked and trusted their instinct, saying something about it. Maybe then things would have turned out differently, and the sorrow could've been avoided.
Of course, this is impossible and we must live with the choices we make, no matter how painful the circumstances may be. I often go back and kick myself for not saying something sooner, or paying more attention to what was going on around me. My husband tells me that I shouldn't dwell on such things, that I should be happy of how things turned out; one can't change the past. Though I know all of this true, and I do love him dearly, I can't help but dwell on it; especially when that laugh haunts my thoughts.

I don't remember being carried back to the orphanage nor the arrival of Scotland Yard; but when I awoke I was on the couch in the parlor, my sister was holding my hand, young Grace was dabbing my forehead with a warm cloth and Dougan was pacing back in forth in front of the fireplace.
“Rachel! Oh thank God!” Lynsay said, tears streaming down her cheeks. She squeezed my hand and kissed it.
“I told you she'd be alright Lyn, as tough as she is.” Grace said, trying to smile. I could tell that the news of Beatrice had shaken her; she was paler than usual and her eyes were swollen from crying. I heard Dougan let out a sigh of relief as he leaned on the mantel. I saw that he too was still very shaken. I sat up and rubbed my head, I must have bumped it when I fainted because it was rather sore.
“What happened? I don't remember anything after I saw—oh God....” fresh tears welled up in my eyes and I put my face in my hands, as if that would purge the vision of little Beatrice lying dead on the bank from my mind. I felt my sister crawl up on the sofa next to me on my left, Grace on my right. Both of them did their best to console me, but how does one console another in a situation such as this?
“You fainted...I thought you had had a heart attack. I almost did....anyway I carried you here and Emma called the police....” Dougan said quietly, kneeling down in front of me and taking my hand.
“Where is Emma now? Are Scotland Yard here?” I asked, wiping my eyes with my other hand while holding his tight.
“She's outside, Scotland Yard arrived a few minutes after we called. They're questioning her about the area surrounding the orphanage and all that sort of business. You've been out for almost an hour....you had me scared there for a minute.”
“You had us all scared Rach...I thought you weren't going to wake up, if it wasn't for Grace here I would've been a wreck.” Lynsay said, putting her head on my shoulder.
“I didn't really do anything...just told you she was going to be alright....I wonder where mum is...”
“I'll go see if she's still out front. The captain wanted to personally question you Rachel, would you like for me to tell him that you're up for it? Or would you rather wait?” Dougan said, standing up.
“Yes...yes tell him that I'm ready to receive him....thank you” I replied, hardly recognizing the sound of my own voice.
“Alright, be back in a jiff. Would you two mind coming with me? I think the captain would prefer to question Rachel alone. Don't worry Lyns you'll be able to see her soon.” he said, giving Lynsay a reassuring smile. She gave me one last hug and a peck on the cheek, and, followed by Grace, went out the door.
“Are you sure you're up for this? You don't have to answer any questions if you're not ready...” Dougan replied once we were alone. He sat down next to me and took my hands in his, his eyes never left mine. They were so full of concern, and, dare I say, love for me; I remember it being odd that I fell even deeper in love with him in that moment of all times.
“If I wait any longer I may forget something important. Besides, I'm sure that the captain will be gentle Dougan.” I said, taking my hand from his and stroking his cheek. He placed his hand over mine and kissed it.
“I just don't want you to feel responsible for this...you know that you aren't don't you?”
“Yes....I know.....” I tried to sound believable.
“Good, I'll go tell Emma and the captain you're awake.” he said. He kissed my forehead and went to find Emma.

I remember feeling awfully alone then, even though I knew I wasn't. Even in the warmth of the parlor with the gentle glow of the fire, I felt a chill that had rooted itself deep within my soul and would not be easily uprooted. I walked over and stood in front of the fireplace, hoping it would warm me; I rested my elbow on the mantle and cupped my chin in my hand, my mind raced with hundreds of different thoughts and emotions. I had not yet processed that Beatrice was really dead, nor did I realize that it could possibly be one of the staff members or that the killer could strike again. I couldn't decide if I was more scared or angry; more heartbroken or confused. I tried to keep my mind in order, after all the captain was due to arrive any minute; I tried to compose myself, but found it to be near impossible. As I was trying to organize my thoughts, I didn't hear the footstep behind me.

“Miss Winter?” a woman's voice startled me so much that I knocked a picture off the mantle.
“Oh dear, I'm so sorry miss. I should've made myself more known...” she said, picking up the picture and putting it on the table beside her.
“Oh no, no, you're quite alright...I'm still a little shaken I suppose.” I said, sitting down on the couch again. She took the seat across from me, I immediately found that she had a very comforting air about her. I noticed she was young, possibly in her late twenties or early thirties; she had light brown hair and her eyes were most unique: they were almost a caramel color; I had never seen anything like it before.
“I should probably introduce myself shouldn't I? I'm Celia Thomas, captain of Scotland Yard. I apologize for taking so long, I was just getting to know Emma and observing the children.”
“I beg your pardon? You're the captain?” I said, trying to maintain my shock; she laughed.
“Yes miss I am, and I must say you're the first who was awestruck and not asinine.” she smiled. Despite my state, I laughed.

I later discovered that she was the first woman to be in charge of Scotland Yard, inheriting the position from her father when he was killed in the war. She never had it easy, her father treated her exactly like he would treat any other officer that wanted to join Scotland Yard; he was possibly harder on her than he would've been any other “proby” as they called them. He wanted her to be prepared for the inevitable sneers and comments she would get being a woman in police work. Because of her hard work, tenacity and the mindset that she was going to have to work harder than any man, she earned the respect and loyalty of all of her fellow male officers in her unit. Ultimately it was a universal vote for her when it came time to elect a new captain.

She smiled, “It's a relief to see that everyone around here is as equally respectful as you. It will make my job a hell of a lot easier.”
“Well...anything I can do to help...” I said, my voice trailing off.
“Yes...well unfortunately I'm going to have to ask you some rather difficult questions Miss Winter...are you certain you're up to it? Because I can come back tomorrow, it's no problem.”
“No, no I want to be certain I remember everything....I'm afraid that if I don't do this soon I will surely forget.”
“Alright then...let's start with your discovering of the body.” she said, taking out her notepad. “About what time would you say it was when you saw it?”
“I remember it being a little after ten when I last looked at my watch, but we must have spent at least ten minutes looking for Beatrice.”
“What made you first think to look for her? Had she been prone to running away?”
“Oh no, she was very much a home body if you know what I mean. She rarely went beyond the field, and stuck close to the orphanage. Dougan and I were up on the hill, he was showing me the valley...and I noticed her bracelet in the bushes, it was glittering.”
“This bracelet?” she asked, holding up the bracelet. I remember turning my head and biting my lip to keep the tears from falling.
“Y—yes...that's the one....the Ashley's gave it to her. She was supposed to go home with them tomorrow....Oh God...they're going to be devastated when they find out...”
“They were the ones you approved of adopting the child?”
“Yes, I've known them for several months now and have been trying to find them a child that fits with them.”
“Fits? Would you explain that please?”
“Children can't just be thrown in a home and expected to adjust captain, they must be slowly introduced to the couple, and in turn the couple is put under strict observation. The Ashley's are a wonderful couple, it's just they preferred a younger child and Beatrice is—was such a wonderful girl, they fell in love with her immediately and she with them.”
“So you didn't sense any sort of ill intent with this couple?”
“Oh heavens no. They wouldn't harm a fly, both of them are war veterans and were looking to settle down with a family but Mrs. Ashley was unable to have children. They spent hours with Beatrice, and were very excited to take her home....”
“I see, well I will make sure to contact them. They may provide insight on the child that you can't, children can be different with each adult they come in contact with.” she replied, I was beginning to really like this woman.
“Yes, yes they can...”
“When you came upon the body...how was it positioned?” she asked, her voice gentle. I closed my eyes, trying to compose myself; I felt a lump form in my throat, and my stomach was doing flips. I felt the warm tears form in my eyes, I tried to blink them back.
“Take your time Miss Winter, and remember you don't have to go on, I can come back tomorrow.”
“No, no...she...she was lying on the riverbank, on her belly, her face turned to the side and her eyes...were open. One of her arms was stretched out in front of her and the other....was twisted behind...behind her back...oh God Beatrice...” I said, putting my face in my hands to quiet the sobs. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Beatrice...”
“Miss Winter...there's nothing that you could've done. Who would suspect that something like this could happen at an orphanage as upstanding as this one? This isn't your fault.” Celia said softly, putting her hand on my knee.
“That's what everyone says! It's what you're supposed to bloody say!” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks; I hardly ever lashed out at people, but grief does strange things to a person. “She was acting so strange at mealtime...I knew something was wrong and I didn't go ask her. God...I should have, oh God I should have.” I put my face in my hands again.
“She was acting strange you say?” Celia asked, her brows tightening.
“Yes, she was secluding herself more than she usually does. Beatrice is—was such a quiet child, like so many of the children here she most likely witnessed her parents dying in the Blitz. There was something very unusual about the way she behaved today, I should have gone and talked to her...”
“You say she was secluding herself, did she allow anyone to get near her or talk to her? Did she flinch or move away when they did?”
“The only child that did go near her that day was Robby Spanial. Everyone else sort of passed her by, actually now that I think about it she made herself very much invisible to everyone if that makes sense.” I replied, wiping my eyes again; I noticed that Celia's demeanor changed, she seemed very tense, and her eyes serious. I wondered what had come over her.
“Yes it does. Miss Winter how long have you been stationed here?”
“Almost two months, why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering if you've noticed any of the other children acting like that on occasion. I know that you've been responsible for almost twenty adoptions in the last month or so and that you spend quite a bit of time with the children. Have you noticed similar behavior in any of the other children?” she asked, putting her notepad in her lap. I thought about all of the children that I had come in contact with, I thought about their different personalities and attributes. I remember a light bulb going off in my mind.
“Come to think of it there are a few other children who behave like that on occasion...”
“Would you mind giving me their names and what they look like?”
“Certainly, there's Joanna Henry, Lydia Hughs, Megan Somers, and Dona Austen. All three are red-haired, with the exception of Dona, she's blonde. Dona has had an especially hard life and is very quiet, hardly speaks to anyone but Emma, Dougan or myself. When she doesn't speak to even us, I know something is troubling her.”
“All of them but one are redheads?”
“Yes, Dona is rather pale. I would think one of her parents was a redhead, that would explain her complexion. Pardon me if I'm being curt captain, but what does this have to do with Beatrice?”
Celia did not answer right away, she closed her notepad and placed it on the table beside her; she leaned forward and locked eyes with me, her face very serious.
“Miss Winter I've spent most of my adolescent and adult life on the force. When I turned twenty, I started to take a particular interest in cases involving children. I've spent most of my time specializing in cases that involve the harming, murder or assault of children...”
“Is that why you came here so quickly?”
“Yes, at first I thought that this was only a murder case however with what you just told me, I'm afraid its looking to be much more than that.”
“What are you talking about captain? Please, just come out and tell me don't play games I'm not in the mood for it. Just be frank.”
“Alright then. I believe that someone is assaulting these girls. I also believe that Beatrice was a victim of this.”
“Assaulting? But she didn't have a mark on her that I saw.”
“Not that kind of assault Miss Winter.”
It took me a minute to understand what she meant, I didn't want to believe that someone was doing something so horrifying to those girls. When it clicked, I gasped and put my hands over my mouth.
“No...you can't possibly mean...”
“Yes Miss Winter, I don't like it anymore than you do. But I have seen girls with the same kind of behavior as you described to me just now, and in most cases it's spot on.” Celia replied, her mouth tightening in anger.

I couldn't speak, I could hardly breath. Someone in this establishment was not only a murderer, but they were taking advantage of these little girls in the worse possible way: By stealing their innocence. Not just once, but over and over again.