Chapter 9
Sycamore Park in Pomona was almost empty at 8:30 in the morning on Saturday. Sharon hadn’t slept much the night before from worries about Cindy.
Although her supervisor would think it a breach of professional boundaries, Sharon was conducting an investigation of the Brewsters during her time off. And maybe it was a breach, but who else was going to help Cindy? If professional edict enabled the suffering of children, what good was it?
Maybe Sharon’s motivation stemmed partly from losing her sister at age thirteen. But Sharon didn’t want to think about that or go there emotionally right now. Maybe later, maybe with the right person to help comfort her and listen and support her, but not now. It was a horrific memory she avoided for the most part.
She sat hidden behind a large Sycamore trunk with her two-year-old golden retriever, Cuddles, watching the Brewsters by the playground about two hundred feet away.
Sharon had on a brown skirt and sandals, and the dog took advantage of this by licking Sharon's bare knees, calves, and feet.
The name Cuddles came naturally a year and a half ago when she picked the puppy up from the Humane Society. Cuddles was the cutest thing she had ever seen. Although the dog was now full-grown, the name still fit her well.
Sharon couldn’t see the grandparents anywhere. They were supposed to be providing proper supervising for the girl.
She wasn’t sure because the county worker hadn’t returned her phone calls, but it was unlikely the parents had unmonitored visits with their daughter yet. The grandparents should be here watching over Cindy with the parents.
She took a snapshot of the family scene with a digital camera she had borrowed from work, and she dropped it back into her purse. When she combed her fingers through her dog’s long, golden-brown hair, the dog licked Sharon’s mouth.
“I don’t like spying, Cuddles, and I suggest you never do it.”
The dog’s tongue darted at her cheek.
She patted Cuddles on the back. “I just need some incriminating evidence.”
Cindy absently kicked sand as she walked around the monkey bars, the cement pipes, the swings, and the two slides. Her parents sat on the bench in the shade of a tree near the edge of the play area. Their smiles contrasted with their daughter’s lost expression.
Sharon noticed the girl holding a small object in her right hand.
She raised the binoculars, which were strapped around her neck, adjusted the focus, and had to track the girl a minute before she could get the right angle to see what it was.
It was a small wooden box.
Cindy wasn’t tossing it in the air. She wasn’t sitting down and studying it, trying to figure out how it opens. She wasn’t pushing it down the slide to watch it fall and wasn’t showing it to the two other children in the sand area. She just held it as she walked around.
Sharon took the dog’s leash and snuck one tree closer to the playground, then squatted by the trunk, scratching her face on the bark as she peeked around it.
Mary jumped off the bench and screamed vehemently at her daughter, shaking her index finger at the poor girl. All Sharon needed was to observe Mary hitting the girl once, maybe get a picture of it; then she would have evidence for the county social worker. The mother’s hand came close, but never touched her daughter.
She wished she had sophisticated equipment such as a directional microphone to hear distant conversations. Even the threat of a beating would be damaging to the Brewsters’ case. But that kind of equipment was more appropriate for the police or FBI. Her type of investigation was never conducted by Rosebud Foster Care or even DCFS.
As the girl began to cry, a man in a white T-shirt and blue jeans walked quickly across the sand area to them. Sharon moved the binoculars onto him and recognized him immediately as Laif Dryson.
What the hell is he doing here?
She hoped he wasn’t in a psychotic state, which he claimed was some sort of gift.
Cuddles licked her hand.
When he reached them, Mary shook his hand and laughed with him. They sat on the bench beside Joe. They talked and smiled as though they had been friends for years.
Well, at least Laif had interrupted the mother’s corrosive yelling at the girl.
Cindy sat in the sand, watching them as she dried her tears. No one paid attention to her, not even the other two children using the slide.
Sharon desperately wanted to run to the girl and hug her.
Cuddles began to whine.
Just who was this Laif? She wished she had spent a little more time discovering him and his interest in the girl. Why had he run from the Greenwiches yesterday, yet now mingled and laughed with Mary and Joe? He had said he could relate to Cindy, but was now laughing with her abusers.
The other two children ran across the grass to their mother calling them from a car in the parking lot. Within a couple of minutes, that family drove off.
Laif stopped conversing with the Brewsters. No other people were around.
Cuddles whined louder and tugged on the leash.
He stood up and moved back a few steps. Sharon wondered if he was going psychotic. His hands were folded as though in prayer. Pearl white light shone from them like that night she had seen him at the car crash, except this was visible in broad daylight.
She pulled out the digital camera from her purse and almost lost hold of agitated Cuddles.
Mary and Joe jumped behind the bench and hunkered down, holding each other. In that meager shade, shadows accumulated around them.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. She took a few snapshots to confirm this.
Cuddles barked, scaring her half to death. “Shhhhhh.”
The Brewsters stood and a hungry darkness erupted from their chests, eating the light from Laif, causing Sharon to gasp.
He fell to the ground.
She dropped the camera into her purse and moved back.
Joe kicked Laif once, twice, three times, and kept kicking. She wanted to intervene, to stop Joe, but didn’t want to get caught, unable to explain the reason for snooping into their private affairs. Cindy sprung from the sand, grabbed her father’s arm, and tried pulling him away. He pushed her to the ground.
Sharon dug into her purse for the camera again. A push with a fall might be considered abusive.
Cuddles ripped the leash from Sharon’s hand and ran toward the sand area.
“No,” she called, trying her best to stay quiet.
She moved out from her hiding place, afraid of getting involved, but walking towards them anyway. She didn’t have much choice with her dog about to storm through. “Cuddles!” she yelled, but it was no use. The Golden Retriever ran with unabated intention.
Cuddles made it to the sand, throwing globs of it into the air with her quick paws, and just before she reached Joe, she leapt high, jaws agape—despite this dog never having growled at, let alone bitten, anyone before.
Blackness lashed from Joe’s chest like a great whip and cracked on the dog, sending her yelping to the ground.
What on earth is that? It couldn’t have been a real whip because it quickly vanished.
Sharon was sprinting towards them now. With no cover she was easily seen, and Mary picked up her daughter and ran with Joe in the opposite direction, where their car was parked. By the time Sharon reached the sand area, the Brewster family had driven off.
Cuddles whimpered on her side. Laif was still.
She felt her heart pounding against her chest as she checked the entire scene. As a social worker, she was trained in first aid and CPR, but that knowledge seemed to have evaporated from her. The only thing she recalled was to check the scene for danger.
What next?
Cuddles stood up, a bit shaky.
Sharon was horrified of making a mistake, paralyzing her actions. She didn’t want to mess up and hurt Laif.
This was completely opposite of last night when she dove headfirst into danger at the crash scene. She cursed herself. Last night, it was obvious what step to take: get the guy out of the car. But what does one do when the victims have been attacked by shadows? Was she losing her mind? She must have been seeing things. Right?
This wasn’t supposed to have happened. She came to this park only to observe. It had been a beautiful sunny day. In fact the sun was still out, but it felt too bright and hot now.
Call. That was the next step.
Call for help. Or if she couldn’t call, ask someone else to do so. Her cell-phone was in the car, one block from here. She looked around the deserted park. Screw that. Anyways, calling didn’t seem entirely correct considering what she had just observed, which couldn’t be explained to any medical personnel.
Sharon knelt beside Laif to check his pulse. It was steady but a little fast. She bent down close to his nose to check for breaths. She felt exhales tickle the skin on her neck. He was alive.
Relief washed over her.
Her dog slowly walked to her, and she stroked the dog’s fur. Cuddles licked Sharon’s hands, whining less than before.
Laif turned on the ground and moaned.
Sharon helped him sit.
He looked at her, his eyes deep, mournful, sparkling light brown in the sun.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Evil,” he said with a dusty throat.
“What?”
He took a deep breath. “Lies so dense they take physical form.”