There was a final swerve, then feeling theambulance climb a slight incline.
“We’re there,” someone said; and Liddyheard Kerri say, “That’s it. Now I believe in ghosts.”
“Put that in your report,” Alex saidteasingly.
“I plan to!”
They started going at it with each other,and Liddy smiled.
52
They found her.
It took them four meticulous, grueling daysin the murk and swirling current, but when they’d nearly given up one of NYPD’sscuba divers searching nearly 70,000 square feet of the river bed was down inmaybe a foot of visibility…and had the strangest feeling, he later toldreporters. “It’s like I felt it,” he said. “I was pretty much on mystomach feeling around in front of my face, going back over the same rottedpilings I’d been over, and suddenly I just saw it - like what was left of it waswaving to me in the current.”
It was a pieceof blue shirt, nine inches square roughly, tangled around river grass, somebroken glass, part of a broken boat propeller, and part of a skull. Caught inthe rotted edge of the shirt’s fabric was a Winnie the Pooh ear stud.
Liddy had been there, watching, on the thirdand fourth days, and so had been present, behind the yellow tape, when theybrought up the tangle. From where she stood, behind the docks, she had seen theexhausted, sad but relieved silence of the team as they bent over their find. Ageneral murmur had gone up, detectives were called, and Kerri came to identify theear stud.
“It’s hers,” she’d come to tell Liddy, tearfuland hugging her, then returned to the divers on the dock.
The bone was a DNA match, it was confirmed thirtyhours later, not that any cop felt they needed it.
And four days after that, on a Sunday, Liddyfound herself standing at the edge of a stone wall, by the tumbling gate of asmall cemetery in upstate New York. The others had left. Three cousins who’dbarely known Sasha had found a small place near the grave of her mother, andthere had buried her remains. There was no stone, though they’d told the fewreporters present that there would be. Now there was just the freshly dug earthand a little pile of flowers, already wilting.
Liddy moved forward, and kneeled. Placed herplump, happy Winnie the Pooh bear holding his single white rose next to thewilted flowers. She reached, and arranged Winnie’s duds: red boots and a littlehooded raincoat over a heavy sweater, for colder weather. She’d gone to achildren’s clothing store for them.
“Rest, Sasha,” she said. “Winnie’s here tokeep you company.”
The little grave was silent, but somewhere neara bird sang, and Winnie smiled at her.
Sometimes, trying to sleep, Liddy thoughtback to the soft singing she’d heard that night from the studio. Her crazed fogof memory had finally realized: it was the theme song to “Winnie the Pooh.” Now,softly, she sang it: “Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh, tubby little cubby allstuffed with fluff…”
Tears stung, so she stopped; peered up andaround. The place looked so desolate. If once there had been grass it was nowtall weeds studded by old, untended stones.
“Too cute,” she heard behind her, andturned.
Kerri kneeled to the grave too; reached topull Winnie’s hood up over his head. “Heard it’s gonna rain.”
“Should I have brought a little umbrella?”Liddy asked.
“Nah, he’ll be fine.” Kerri leaned back onher haunches, sighing.
She’d become a friend. She, Alex and Beth hadstayed till eleven that night in the ER, long after the two detectives hadgotten their statement. Beth had come back the next morning with fresh clothesand orders for Liddy to stay at her place. She did. Kerri and Alex had beenover twice after work - and they and Beth had talked, bringing solace abouttheir own dark times, their coming to terms with starting life over.
Liddy hadn’t been back yet to the loft.
“Nice and quiet here,” Kerri said, watchingtumbling clouds backlit by the dropping sun. Liddy stared at the wilted flowers,thinking of Beth two nights ago: “You gotta climb out, come out of thisstronger, re-invent yourself. Isn’t that what artists do?” She could befunny, stomping around waving her hands, and she’d been a friend long enough tobe a real drill master when it came to pulling out of despair. That was thething about good relationships: when one’s down, the other’s up and can help.
“You’re going to be okay,” Kerri saidsoftly.
“Working on it.”
“You’ll come back. Different maybe, butokay.”
Liddy nodded, and they were silent for awhile. Kerri went back to watching the sky change to blooming rose with streaksof violet.
“We done here?” she finally asked.
“Yeah.” Liddy raised her index finger toher lips, kissed its tip, and planted the kiss on Winnie’s cheek. “Take care ofSasha,” she said, and stood. Took a last look as Kerri rose too, then turnedback with her to the gate.
Beth was waiting for them, and hugged them.Liddy put her arms around them too and melted into their embrace.
Beth started to bawl. “I hatecemeteries. Can we go now?”
Kerri between them took both their arms andthey walked together, down the road a bit to the old Bronco. A cooling breezeblew in their faces; felt nice.
Driving, Kerri announced the time and said she’dhave to break laws. Alex was making one of his great, ambitious dinners “and wedon’t want to be late,” she said, taking a sharp, bucolic curve at fifty. “Heleaves his creations in the oven to stay warm - only he forgets to turn downthe heat so dinner burns.”
Beth laughed. Liddy found herself chucklingtoo. Alex was going all out, he’d announced. Had picked wines and the “most sinfuldessert” he could find; wouldn’t tell what it was but still, what a warmingpicture: Alex sizzling good eats – the sound of life - in the pan. Liddy smiled,picturing it.
Kerri found Sweet Home Alabama onthe radio, and turned it up a little. “Louder!” Beth yelled. Up further wentthe volume, and the joyous sound filled the car.
The Bronco roared around a left, headedinto the sunset all streaks of peach and
