Carrie and I met about sixteen years ago—late 2001, I think—at a church picnic. I was relatively new to town, so when one of my co-workers asked me to tag along with him on a Sunday afternoon, I took him up on it. I’d always heard churches and supermarkets were the best places to meet wholesome, single women, and that turned out to be right. That afternoon, I met the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was standing behind a bowl of fried chicken, her greasy apron reading Union Street Methodist Church, laughing as she doled out legs and thighs and breasts to people’s plates. I remember her blonde hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail and swung to the side as she turned her head. Like a cheerleader or something. I was hooked from the moment I saw her.
After lunch, I struck up a conversation with her and we hit it off immediately. We started dating soon after, and were married In October of 2002. That was the best day of my life. The second best was the day Kyle was born.
Reading the note that psycho sent to the paper tore my heart in two. My first thought was, Not MY Carrie. Even though she denied ever cheating on me, I couldn’t get the image of my wife of fifteen years in a car with some other guy—doing THAT, no less—out of my head. By the time she got home last night, I was angry. Seething, actually. As soon as she stepped through the door, I confronted her, the newspaper clutched in my hand.
Me: Why weren’t you answering your texts?
Carrie: Sorry babe, I got busy. You know how my boss is. I can’t have my phone out while I’m working.
Me: You’ve always been able to text before. What’s going on?
The look on her face told me everything. She wasn’t a good liar and I could tell something was up. For some reason, this made me less angry. She looked hurt.
Carrie: Nothing, Dean. (She wouldn’t look at me. She moved into the living room where Kyle was, watching tv, and told him to go to his room. She started randomly picking up things off the couch like she was cleaning.)
Me: I know that look—you’re a terrible liar. Babe, please, Andrew is missing and this psycho has him. If any part of that letter is true, you have to tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. (It felt like a lie, hot and searing in my throat, but I said it anyway).
She stared at me, tears welling in her eyes, and then she just broke down. She crumpled onto the couch and sat there with her head in her hands, sobbing. I sat down beside her and rubbed her back.
Me: Carrie, it’s okay. (My heart was thumping out of my chest at this point. It’s such a terrible feeling to know you may be seconds away from hearing something that can never be taken back. And might change everything).
Carrie: (between sobs) I didn’t think it had anything to do with this…
Me: What? What is it? Just tell me.
Carrie: I swear, it was a mistake.. I never meant for it to happen.
Me: Just tell me, Carrie. Please.
Carrie: (She wiped the mascara off her face) It was that weekend you were out of town with some of your friends. Camping, I think. It was so long ago. Eight or nine years.
Me: I remember. (I’d gotten together with some college buddies, which didn’t happen very often. We hadn’t made it back until late Sunday night).
Carrie: Me and the girls went to the bar that Friday night. I swear, I didn’t think I drank that much. I had a couple beers, I think, but no liquor and no shots. And there was this guy there, and…
Me: And WHAT Carrie?
Carrie: (She looked at me finally.) Don’t make me say it.
Me: It’s TRUE??
Carrie: Oh God, I’m so sorry. I remember sitting at the bar, next to Jenny, and a guy coming up and talking to us. Next thing I remember is sitting in his car in that parking lot by the river. I couldn’t remember how I got there. I was so ashamed….I swear, we didn’t have sex….he wanted to but I said no….
Me: (I’m tearing up by this point, holding back anger). Just some random guy? In a parking lot? Jesus Christ, I’m trying to understand, Carrie.
Carrie: I know it doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know what happened—I’ve never done anything like that before. And no, not random. That’s the fucked up part about all of this. I met him at the church.
Me: At church? OUR church?
Carrie: That Friday was a service day. We were going to Gentle Hills, the nursing home on Silver, to visit the residents. The youth group does this thing called “clowning”, where they dress up as clowns and paint their faces and bring balloons to the nursing home residents who can’t get out. They absolutely love it. I brought the idea to the adult Sunday school class and they wanted to do it too. When we met at the church, that guy was there. I’d never noticed him at church, but I assumed he was just someone’s friend. Dean?
I was speechless by this point, tears rolling down my face. Devastated. But I didn’t have to tell her that. She knew.
Carrie: I’m so sorry.
Me: Did he tell you his name?
Carrie: Ray, I think. (She sniffled). If he told me his last name, I don’t remember. Dean, I know what you’re thinking. It couldn’t be the same guy. He was just a normal guy. Jeans, button down shirt. Clean cut. He seemed pretty drunk, but otherwise he seemed normal. I think he said he was an accountant. He did make some joke about us making good-looking children together, but I just chalked it up to him trying to tell me I was pretty. I think I joked about not wanting to ever have kids. That was obviously before we had Kyle. Maybe this psycho saw us somehow? Maybe he was out there by the river. I don’t know.
Me: Have you seen this guy since then?
She looked like she didn’t want to answer.
Me: Carrie?
Carrie: He called me. The next day. I guess I’d given him my number. He said he wanted to see me again, that he was in love with me. I was so ashamed, I didn’t know what to say. I just hung the phone up on him, blocked his number. I swear, I never saw him again. I just wanted to forget about it.
Me: Never?
Carrie: I haven’t seen or heard from him since. I swear to God. (She turned to face me). Dean, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t have any excuse for what happened. I guess I drank more than I should have, and I made a terrible mistake. I know I’ve ruined everything. And now all this with the kids. Please, babe…
I got up right then and left her on the couch, sobbing. If I would have said anything, it would have been it’s over, but I couldn’t bring myself to say that either. I loved Carrie. Still do. But I knew I had to get away from her, for a little while at least. I blamed her for not telling me about what happened as soon as we got the first note from Kyle, even though there really was no reason for her to think the two things were related.
I went into Kyle’s room and sat down on his bed. He was on the floor playing with some figurines. When he saw me sit down, he looked up and asked me if the bad man was coming to get him. Is that why mommy’s crying. I got down on the floor and hugged him close. I hadn’t told him about Andrew, yet. Wasn’t sure if I ever would.
No, I won’t let that happen buddy. Not ever, understand? I’m your Dad, and my job is to protect you. And that’s what I’m gonna do. I promise. I think—I hope—he believed me. I didn’t talk to Carrie for the rest of the night. Avoiding her felt awful, especially with what she was dealing with. But I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t stand the thought of talking to her.
Late that night, probably around 10, Detective Carr called. I got off the couch and walked onto the back porch as he talked. Carrie was asleep in the bedroom and I didn’t want to wake her.
He’d gone out to the retired detective’s house and talked to him about the Kerrington case. The detective remembered it well, he said—people don’t go missing in our small town very often, apparently, and this case was particularly troubling to him. Young girl from a good family suddenly disappears without a trace and he couldn’t bring her home. It still haunted him.
He confirmed the information Carr found on the missing person’s report. Suzanne was last seen at a 24-hour gym. The friend who’d seen her—Emily, he recalled—said Suzanne was excited about seeing a guy she’d met the night before. She wanted to work on her arms so they’d look good in a sleeveless top. Weird things like that, I remember for some reason. She was a good girl for being 21 years old. She never frequented the bars around town and never got in any trouble. Her main social outlet was her church, he said.
My heart skipped a beat when he said it. What church?
Union Street, Detective Carr answered. Why.
Union Street. Our church.
I knew I had to tell Carr about what Carrie did. Telling him made it even more real, somehow, and the wound was ripped open again as I recounted every detail.
Even though Carrie didn’t think the guy she cheated with was the same guy who’d taken Andrew, Detective Carr DID. And Union Street was the connection. Carrie had met “Ray” at Union Street, and maybe Suzanne had too. If that was correct, they may be the same person. He wondered at first why Carrie didn’t recognize Suzanne’s name from church, but I told him Carrie hadn’t moved to town until sometime in ’99. Detective Carr agreed: Suzanne’s case would have been long out of the public eye by then. He got off the phone hastily, saying he had some leads to track down. I knew he wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon.
After I hung up the phone, I sat on the back porch and looked into the blackness of the backyard, where Kyle stood as a stranger crept through the gate and left the terrifying note that started all of this.
Why the note to Kyle? Why now, after almost ten years?
I knew one thing. Whoever this creep was, he liked to dress up as a fucking clown.
And he used the church as his hunting ground.
I climbed back on the couch, but didn’t sleep well. I knew there’d be a crew at 3 Orange Circle in the morning, ripping up a newly poured concrete floor, and I kept picturing the shallow grave they’d surely find beneath, with the bones of Susie Kerrington inside. I hoped Andrew wouldn’t suffer the same fate.
This morning, there was no article in the paper as I’d hoped. There wouldn’t have been time for Detective Carr to get the information to them. However, I was listening to the radio at breakfast and during the morning show they interviewed Detective Carr. He instructed people to stay indoors after dark and make sure all doors and windows were safely secured. Then, he gave a description of the subject they were looking for.
Early-to-mid forties (Carrie’s and my age), probably college educated. Clean cut. Regular job, possibly an accountant at one time. It’s possible he projects the image of a put-together adult, but alone feels more like a child. He may moonlight at children’s parties doing balloon animals or face painting, or could possibly be a mall Santa or Easter Bunny. He also may attend children’s tee ball games, so be on the lookout for anyone who fits that description who isn’t a relative of one of the children playing. May be named Ray.
He’s smart, he continued. And cunning. He wants the attention he’s getting. It’s what fuels him, which also means it’s possible he’s mentally ill. He’s killed once and he may again. DO NOT confront this individual if you see him. CALL THE POLICE.
On the way back from Kyle’s school, I drove by 3 Orange Circle. There were two police cruisers and a construction truck out front. They’d put some crime scene tape up and I could see someone holding two buckets coming from around the back of the house. He reached the front yard and dumped what appeared to be broken chunks of concrete into a green dumpster bag. I guess that was the only way to get them out of the basement. Then, he turned back toward the back of the house. I could almost hear the jackhammer doing its brutal work down there in the dark. +