“We’ve talked about this before. I thought we both agreed that your mom works because she likes work. She makes friends there.” And, Megan suspected, Tonya Fletcher worked outside the home to get away from her controlling husband. Megan believed the abuse issue ran deeper than just Gerry. During her conversations with the woman, though, Megan had never gotten Tonya to open up.
“Maybe she wouldn’t need friends if things were better at home.” Gerry rested his chin on his knees. Tears continued to cascade down his cheeks. “Maybe she’d be happy with my dad.”
“You don’t think she’s happy with him?” Megan pried at the situation as delicately as she could. Normally, she would have been tempted to wait until Gerry was better able to deal with the situation, but with the MPs about to be notified, she couldn’t afford to do that. Boyd Fletcher was going to go through the roof when he found out what was going on.
“I don’t know,” Gerry answered. “I think they’d be fine. If it wasn’t for me.” He choked back a sob, faking a cough. “I’ve heard my dad say that. I told you he’s said that.”
Megan knew. When Gerry had told her he’d heard his dad say that, she’d felt sympathetic and angry all at once. No child should have to hear or endure the things Gerry had. But there were others out there that had things as bad and worse.
“Did you do something to cause the fight tonight?” Megan asked. The MPs would want to know, and it was better to know the answers to the questions those men would be asking so she didn’t get blindsided.
“No.” Shivers coursed through Gerry. “It just started over dinner.”
“How did it start?”
“They were talking. About going out. Mom was tired. You could see that she was tired. Dad said he wished they could go to a movie, the way they used to before they had me. But they didn’t have anyone to watch me and he didn’t want to take me.”
Megan forced herself to remain silent.
“Mom told Dad to go ahead and go, that she would stay with me while he got out of the house and relaxed for a little while. He said that going out wasn’t the point, that he wanted to go out with her, that they never got to do anything together anymore.”
The Fletchers rarely went out as a couple, Megan knew. But some of the gossip around the base was that Boyd liked to hit the bars, and having a fight with his wife gave him a good excuse to go.
“Dad got mad then,” Gerry went on. “He started cussing and throwing things. He broke one of the vases Mom had made in her art class.”
Evidence for the MPs, if it hasn’t been cleaned up, Megan thought and felt immediately guilty that she had to think like that. Tonya Fletcher hadn’t gotten to finish her art class due to her husband’s reluctance to watch Gerry by himself. When Gerry had suffered his “bike wreck” during one of the art classes, Tonya had stopped going.
“After the vase got broke,” Gerry said, “Mom got mad. She started yelling back at Dad. She hardly ever dares to do that. She said if anybody deserved to get out of the house, it was her because she was stuck there all day just waiting for him to come home and find something wrong with everything she did.” The boy’s voice lowered. “Then Dad said the way he heard it she wasn’t there by herself all the time.”
Megan measured the question carefully, then asked, “Your dad suspects your mom sometimes has company at home when your father is gone?” That was a new wrinkle in an already volatile situation.
Gerry wiped at his reddened eyes. “Dad says she does. But, Mrs. Gander, I’ve never seen anyone else there. I come home every day right when I’m supposed to, and I’ve never seen anyone. Mom just sits there alone.” He sniffled, a little more under control now because he was so physically exhausted. “Sometimes, Dad asks me if I’ve seen anyone around the house when he’s gone. He gets me by myself and asks me. But there’s never been anyone there. I don’t think he believes me, though. Most of the time he just tells me I’d lie for her because she’s got me trained to do that.” He wiped at his eyes and looked at Megan. “Tonight, Dad said he thought Mom was up to something. Then he started talking about how I don’t look anything like him. Or her, even.”
That, Megan knew, was true. Gerry was much smaller than his father, but that could have been just genetics, a throwback to another part of the Fletcher family, or to Tonya’s family.
“Dad said I looked like someone else,” Gerry said, “and that someone else was probably really my dad. Mom yelled at him, telling him he should never say something like that in front of me.” He gnawed his lip. “I think Mom was really embarrassed and that’s why she did it.”
“Did what?”
“She threw a pot at him. Just picked it up from the stove and heaved it at him. He was so surprised that it hit him in the head. I couldn’t believe it. Then he crossed the room and slapped her.”
Megan forced herself to remain under control. From the sound of things, the Fletcher situation had dropped into complete chaos.
“Mom fell,” Gerry said. “Dad drew back like he was going to hit her again. Before I knew it, I ran at him.” He started crying again, covering his face with his hands and shaking his head in denial. “I hit my own dad, Mrs. Gander. I never thought I would do something like that.” He sobbed brokenly. “What kind of son would do that?”
Megan swallowed the lump in her throat. “A son who cares about his mother and wanted to
