Free Pam by Jacqueline Druga Page B

was proud enough of them to show Richie. Come on, let’s go.” Sharon took off toward the car.
    I looked a t Connie. She huddled on the ground , crying, he r body nude from the waist down. I could have helped her, said something, but I didn’t. I just ran to my car and left town with Sharon.
     
    We never heard anything that night. Police never showed up, Richie said nothing . We figured we had scared her. I put it out of my mind , kind of , until it was on the news that she was missing. Disappeared the night of the game. I was the last to see her , and she was fine then .
    The police arrested a boy. Seems like Richie was n’t just cheating on me, she was cheating on her boyfriend , and he knew it . Nothing ever became of it ; he was released and she was never found.
    Not until 1999.
    While we didn’t have anything to do with her death, I blamed us because we left her in that construction area, alone, injured , and half naked.
    I don’t know what she went though after we left. But I know we didn’t do it. No, wait, I didn’t do it.
    I let Stacy know I wanted to print up that article , and she showed me how. I wasn’t finished searching. Not by a long shot.
    The ‘on line’ thing was new and interesting and I had a lot more searching to do.
     

Chapter Seventeen – Desmond Andrews
     
    There was no phone contact information given for young Justin Perkins. Just his plea to the news and a number where a message could be sent. He had contacted Freedom Project , but they weren’t giving out Pam’s information until she, herself, gave the go ahead.
    He did leave his number with them, and they were pretty good about not giving it out. So I left messages with my name.
    Eventually he called me back. I told him who I was and what I wanted. He confirmed my identity with Freedom Project , and the next thing I knew , he was at my office.
    I applauded his cautious nature.
    I asked him right away about the call screening process . H e said it wasn’t his idea until hundreds of calls were coming into the station and F reedom Project , claiming to be his mother or friend of his mother. Even family.
    He looked like a bright young man, soft spoken and mild. I don’t really know what his father looked like, but he did resemble Pam.
    His hair was short and light , and he looked as if he didn’t comb it. I suppose that was the style. I don’t know.
    Still in high school, he lived twenty miles from Hartford and made the journey just before my day was done.
    He explained that he was emancipat ed but lived with an older aunt whom he didn’t think was going to be around all that long.
    I explained to him that I was treating his mother.
    “So she does have a mental illness.”
    “I am not at liberty to say.”
    “But she’s seeing a psychiatrist,” Justin said.
    “She’s spent eighteen years in pretty much isolation. How do you think she is?”
    He nodded and looked down to his hands for a moment , s omething his mother often did. W hen he looked up he made eye contact. “That’s sad.”
    “What is?”
    “That she spent all that time in that place and wasn’t guilty. I feel bad. Really bad. She lost her kids in a horrible way. Then they send her away for it.”
    “I know you’re young,” I told him. “ W hat do you know about the case ? ”
    “That she was accused of killing my brother and sisters and grandmother.”
    “Did you read that your father’s testimony was a big part? ”
    “Yes, I did,” Justin replied.
    “ He was an eye witness. He said he saw he do it.”
    “That’s what they say. He never said anything to me. Nothing.”
    “Why do you think that is?” I asked.
    Justin shrugged. “Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was so distraught that he saw things wrong.”
    “ Why do you want to see your mother ?’
    “Why doesn’t she want to see me?”
    “I asked first.”
    “Because she’s my mother. I went my whole life thinking she was dead. Burned up i n a fire.”
    “Would you still want to see her