A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

MEREDITH
11 YEARS BEFORE
May
“I have a confession to make,” Charlotte says. She’s on the other
end of my phone. Her tone is somber. It’s evening. Josh and the kids
have been home for hours. They’re in the next room, watching TV
together on the sofa. Josh has a book open on his lap, but he’s
laughing at the TV. It warms my heart, that a thirty-six-year-old man
can find humor in preschool TV.
Charlotte says, “Something happened,” and there’s the sense that
she knows what Bea and I did. I go into a flat spin. I’m losing control.
I’m in the kitchen when it happens. I’ve just finished washing dishes
and wiping down the table. I pull out a chair and sink into it.
“What’s that?” I ask. I’m short of breath. My heart pounds in my
chest.
She says, “Someone has been picking on Leo,” before her voice
cracks and she comes apart at the seams, saying, “Oh God,
Meredith, I’m so sorry. I feel awful about it. I should have known.”
My mind doesn’t change course so quickly.
“How would you have known?”
“It’s my job to know these things. Especially after you called about
the bruise. I should have paid more attention after that. I should have
put more stock into what you said, but instead I cast it off as kids
being kids. I’m so sorry, Meredith. I wish I’d known sooner that he
was being picked on.”
“Picked on how?” I ask, still breathless. “And by whom?”
“Brody Parker,” she says.
The name doesn’t ring a bell. “What did this boy do to Leo?”
“Well,” she says, chastened. “I’m ashamed to admit this, Meredith.
I hope you’ll forgive me, but this afternoon he locked Leo in the
outdoor toy chest.”