The Baby

The baby lay abandoned in the grass toward the end of the rest area. A pool of dim, filthy light from the streetlamp overhead slashed through the pouring rain and across the child’s left knee. The light was absorbed in the soaked, cheap motel bath towel on which the baby was lying.

Beyond the rest area, countless pine trees, from great-great grandparents to yearlings and infants, marched off up the side of the hill in staggered, irregular columns as if to escape the downpour themselves. The alternating blue and red lights of a police cruiser swept over the trunks, down along the slope of the hill, then leapt closer to race over the supports of the rest area shelters and the bathrooms. The thrumming of the rain set up a constant roar.

Large, heavy drops randomly slapped into puddles hard enough to clear them for a split second before the water ran back in. The rain beat relentlessly on the baby’s torso as if to bring about resuscitation, or maybe just to punish it further.

Now and then a drop found its way into the child’s slack, purpling mouth, spending its energy on the tongue before seeping down to settle in a lung. Now and then a drop splatted against the baby’s open eye. Now and then one disappeared into the hole where the other eye had been.

When the anonymous call had come in from a pay phone in the rest area, state highway patrol officer Rich Gausey was the nearest unit. He pulled into the rest area and drove to the far end. He reached over the back of the front seat to retrieve his yellow slicker, then stepped out into a puddle and hurriedly put it on. His left foot was soaked up to just above the ankle.

He closed the door of his cruiser, then swept the area with his flashlight. Finally he located what he thought was probably the body about thirty feet away. He picked his way across the wet, pockmarked asphalt, then padded across the spongy grass, his left foot squishing more than the right.

As he approached the crime scene he caught the body in the beam of his light. He shook his head and muttered, “Damn.” The infant was obviously dead. He turned and swept the beam of the flashlight toward the rest area shelters. The distant ones were empty.

Under the shelter nearest the bathroom a small group of people were gathered at the front corner, gawking in his direction. Beyond them to the right, at the front corner nearest the bathroom, were two people: a tall, thin, man somewhere beyond middle age and a short, stout, considerably younger woman.

In the dim, rain-blurred light the yellow and pink daisy print on the woman’s dress stood out, electric on a dark blue or green or grey background. Her hair was dark brown or black and stretched back into a severe bun. Her shoes were the same clunky black flat-soled, lace-up teacher shoes like Gausey’s mother used to wear.

The man’s bib overalls covered a service-station blue shirt and the legs almost reached the top of his heavy brown work boots. The brim of his thin straw hat alternately flapped up and down in the stiff wind gusts.

Sitting at a table in the back corner of the shelter nearest the bathroom, a short distance behind the couple, were a few other people. It looked to be a young man and two women. The officer couldn’t make out much more about them, but at least they were minding their own business and not gawking like the others.

Officer Gausey moved to the left side of the body so he would be facing the shelter and crouched on his haunches. Rain ran in a steady stream off the flat, stiff brim of his plastic-covered Smokey the Bear hat. The bottom of his wet yellow slicker whipped around his feet and calves in the wind. Every few seconds the blue and red lights from his cruiser swept across his shoulders and his right cheek.

Lighting crackled across the sky as he hunched over a small notebook to protect it from the rain. He laid his pen on the notebook for a moment, locked it down with his left thumb, then reached up with one quivering hand to straighten his glasses.

To his right a car started, the sound mixed with the thunder that pounded the rest area. The rain seemed to redouble its efforts, slamming down in sheets. The car idled for a moment, then the driver backed it out and drove along the exit. The headlights swept over him as it passed.

He retrieved his pen from beneath his thumb and quickly jotted a note about the child’s missing left eye. He looked again, jotted another note about the large knot on the right side of the child’s head, including its approximate dimensions. Another look, then a note about the absence of abrasions on the arms and legs and torso. And another note about the makeshift—

The wind gusted hard, blowing him off balance for a moment. He caught himself and started to write again. A bit of water trickled from the sleeve of his slicker. It ran alongside the heel of his right hand and onto the small piece of paper, smudging his previous note.

He leaned forward, peered at the notebook through the misty lenses of his glasses: A makeshift cloth diaper from a cheap dish towel. He could still read it all right. He looked at the baby again.

The makeshift diaper had nearly swallowed the bottom half of the little body. Under the child’s thighs, a few thin, yellow-brown streams were bleeding into the stained motel towel. The rain kept the smell down. He closed the notebook and stood, slipping it through the pocket of his slicker into his trouser pocket, then crouched again.

For a moment he studied the towel. He didn’t want to disturb the crime scene, but the position of the edges of the towel on the grass seemed of no importance, and it didn’t seem right to leave the child uncovered. He pitifully tugged at the near edge of the soaked towel, folding it up over the child. Then he reached across and pinched the other edge of the towel, pulling it over the child as well. Neither part reached quite far enough to cover the disfigured little face.

For a moment he considered pulling the towel from underneath the baby and using it as a cover, but that would disturb the crime scene too much. Besides, it didn’t feel right to leave the child lying on wet dirt and grass with nothing beneath it.

He shook his head. Under his breath, he said, “Damnit,” then rose, intentionally looking away from the baby again. He turned and squished across the spongy grass to the asphalt, then tried to avoid all the potholes on the way to his cruiser. For a moment he considered moving the car closer, but decided against it. Maybe the rain would stop soon. He opened the trunk and pulled out a thin emergency blanket, then splashed back across the parking area and the grass and covered the child.

As if on cue, the wind came up and lifted one corner of the blanket so the baby’s face was again laid bare. “Well shit.” Gausey squatted again and covered the baby’s face, then looked up toward the people gathered under the shelter at the near corner. He waved and yelled, “Hey!”

But they were all looking away or down. Anywhere but at the man calling for assistance.

Gausey sensed some movement on the edge of his vision. The man standing alongside the short woman glanced behind him, then looked at Gausey and pointed to himself. He mouthed, “Me?” as if he might be heard over the pounding rain anyway.

Gausey nodded. “Yeah, you!” He waved again, impatient. “C’mere!”

The man glanced down at the woman, apparently saying something to her. As she turned and walked toward the people at the table behind her, he stepped out into the rain. He squished, squished, squished across the intervening grass to Gausey’s side. “Yessir?”

Gausey looked up at him. “What’s your name?”

“Why you wanna know that?”

Jesus Christ. “So I’ll know who I’m talkin’ to, that’s why.”

“Oh. Leroy. Leroy Blummer.” He proffered his hand.

Gausey looked at the hand, then higher at the man’s face. “Yeah, okay. So look around, would’ja, Mr. Blummer? Find something heavy, a rock or something, to hold down the corners of this blanket.”

Blummer leaned forward. Calmly, he said, “Looks like maybe you’ll need four of ‘em.”

The officer looked up at him again and frowned, then rolled his arm in front of his chest. “Yeah, yeah... four of ‘em. Could you hurry please?”

The tall man shrugged, then straightened and looked around for a moment. Finally he moved away toward the fence at the back of the rest area.

Gausey watched him go. Should’a called somebody else. He looked in the direction of the shelter again. Everyone in the crowd was watching again now. The woman had faded into another dim silhouette at the table in the back of the shelter.

Soon the tall man reached the fence. He looked about for a moment, then stooped and picked up something. He walked a few paces, stooped again and picked up something else. With both hands full, he turned to walk back to Gausey. When he got there, he stuck out one hand. “Here y’go.”

Gausey reached up and took the large rock from the man, then turned away to place it on one corner near the baby’s head. He reached his hand up behind him, expecting to feel the weight of the other rock in his hand, but nothing was forthcoming.

He looked around. Another large rock lay where Blummer had been standing a moment before. Gausey picked it up and laid it on the other corner near the baby’s head. He looked around again. Blummer was back out near the fence, looking, stooping, retrieving.

When he came back, he said, “Here y’go,” and handed another large rock to the officer. Then the tall man knelt, placing his right knee firmly in the spongy grass. He leaned forward and placed a half of a concrete block on the final corner near the child’s feet. He mumbled, “Good of you to cover her up like this.”

Gausey rocked back on his feet and looked at him. “Thanks.” He stood, then offered a hand to Blummer to help him up.

“Aw, that’s a’right.” He leaned forward and put both hands against the wet grass, then pushed himself to his feet. He wiped off his hands on his overalls, then slipped his hands into his pockets. “Well, I reckon that’s that.”

Gausey glanced at the blanket-covered lump and nodded. He looked at Blummer. “You didn’t happen to see how this came about, did you?”

“Me? Oh, well no. I wasn’t here when it first happened if that’s what you mean. I mean, I didn’t see them folks actually dump that little girl or nothin’ like that. Sure is a shame though.”

“Yeah, it’s— wait. How do you know it’s a little girl?”

Blummer shrugged. “I didn’t know at first, when they all piled outta that truck and headed for the bathroom, but after they come out she got to cryin’ an’ that fella told that woman, he said, ‘Shut that little bitch up,’ real mean like.” Blummer had whispered the word bitch. “Some folks just talk that way, you know, with curse words an’ all.”

Gausey thought of his notepad in his trouser pocket. It wouldn’t do to pull it out in the rain again. He looked up at Blummer. “Yeah, you’re right... listen, if you don’t mind, let’s step back over there to the shelter. Maybe you can tell me what else you saw.”

“A’right.”

As they stepped under the shelter, another highway patrol cruiser pulled up, then a sheriff’s deputy in a white SUV with a gold stripe and a six-pointed star painted on the side.

Gausey waved at the men as they got out of their vehicles, then pulled his notebook and pen from his trouser pocket. As the officers approached, he recognized both of them. He nodded at the highway patrolman. “Sarge, how you doin’?”

The big man shook his head as he and the deputy stepped under the shelter. “Damn rain.”

The deputy glanced past the end of the shelter, where the roof was peaked. “Just kind’a keeps comin’, doesn’t it?”

The sergeant looked at him and grunted. “Long as I’m on duty.” He turned back to Gausey. “Whadda’we got? Radio said something about a baby, right?” He glanced at Blummer, then back at Gausey. “Who’s this?”

Gausey said, “Yeah, it’s a baby.” He tipped his pen toward the tall civilian. “That’s Mr. Leroy Blummer. Found some rocks for me to hold down the blanket. He was just about to make a statement.” Gausey looked at the deputy. “Jim, can you radio for the coroner? No need for an ambulance.”

“Sure.” The deputy stepped away and keyed the mike attached to his left shoulder.

Gausey looked at the sergeant. “Tell y’what, Bill, I’d just as soon somebody else had gotten to this one first.”

“Bad?”

Gausey shrugged. “It’s a baby with a pretty bad bump on its head.” Then he remembered Mr. Blummer was standing right beside him. He shrugged. “It’s just, you know, a baby, what with the rain and all....” He shook his head, then looked at Mr. Blummer. “So why don’t you tell me what you saw, Mr. Blummer?”

The deputy joined them again. Quietly he said, “Coroner’s on the way.”

Blummer said, “Well, like I said, I didn’t see ‘em actually dump her or nothin’. She was with ‘em when they all piled outta that truck and headed for the bathroom. An’ then when they come out some rain got on her and started her cryin’. That’s when that fella told that woman to shut her up. His voice was real mean, like he was mad about somethin’ more’n a baby cryin’.”

The sergeant said, “Do you remember the make and model of the pickup?”

“Oh it was one’a them real nice big pickups with a full back seat. I’ll bet that thing even had two, three kinds of music right in the dashboard. Prob’ly speakers in the back doors, the whole nine yards. Not sure what folks need with all that nonsense.”

Gausey made a note, then asked, “Do you remember the color or the make... the brand?”

Blummer frowned, then thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Oh, gotcha. Yep, it was white and it was a Ford. I think it had F250 on the side. An’ the license plate was outta state, I think. I couldn’t see it real clear what with the rain an’ all, but it didn’t look familiar, y’know?”

“Any idea of the year of the pickup?”

Blummer thought again, and shook his head. “Nah, but it was pretty new lookin’. ‘Course under these lights all the cars look new... ‘specially in the rain.”

The deputy looked at the sergeant. “I’m gonna call this in and go see what I can find.”

The sergeant nodded, then looked at Blummer. “How many people got out of the pickup?”

He held up one hand and slowly counted them off on his fingers. “Well, let’s see... there was the man, he was drivin’. That’s one. And then the woman. She come outta the front passenger seat with the baby. That’s two, ‘less you wanna count the baby, but for adults that’s two. And then there was Billy and Sissy and Aunt Teresa. They all got outta the back. So five, all told if you don’t count the baby.”

Gausey wrote it down, then frowned. “Billy and Sissy and Aunt Teresa?”

“Yessir.”

“No, I mean how do you know the names?”

“Oh, well... that fella, he must’a said their names when he allowed how there wasn’t a much better feelin’ in the world than startin’ over clean without no problems. Him and Billy had already come outta the bathroom and they was waitin’ for the women. They was just talkin’ quiet and lookin’ at that big ol’ map over there by the Coke machines, tryin’ to figger out where to go next. And then they was lookin’ around, not like they could see a whole lot in the dark. But it wasn’t rainin’ yet and­—”

“Excuse me,” the sergeant said. “Where were you when all of this was going on?”

“Oh, well I should’a said, me an’ Little Mama—that’s her was standin’ by me earlier—we was standin’ right over there by the near corner of the shelter by the bathroom.” He pointed again. “We was there the whole time, so we heard everything real plain.

“So anyway, then Aunt Teresa come out with the baby, and that’s about the time it started rainin’. Just a few drops at first, you know how it does, but big ol’ drops. They was all just standin’ under that little roof over there where the Coke machines are.” He pointed. “That’s when the fella started talkin’ about startin’ over and how good it was gonna be and everything. Y’know, come to think of it, he did just call ‘em Billy and Teresa. Later on, the other woman, the front-seat woman, she’s the one who called the other woman Aunt Teresa.”

Gausey said, “So what about Sissy?”

“Huh?”

“Sissy... you said the man call them Billy and Teresa and later the other woman called the first woman Aunt Teresa, but what about Sissy?”

“Oh... y’know, I don’t remember. I guess one of ‘em must’a said her name too, or maybe I’m just thinkin’ her name’s prob’ly Sissy since she’s prob’ly the boy’s sister.” He shrugged. “An’ ‘at boy, he prob’ly ain’t no good either. Prob’ly knocks up girls without thinkin’ about the consequences an’ all that sort’a thing.” He stopped and looked at Gausey. “‘Course I don’t know. I’m just sayin’.”

Gausey made a brief note and glanced at the sergeant.

“Anyhow, the man was still goin’ on about all that startin’-over stuff when the front-seat woman come out of the bathroom, and that was all of ‘em. I remember she called the other woman Aunt Teresa and thanked her for takin’ the baby for a few minutes while she was usin’ the bathroom.

“Then Aunt Teresa passed the baby over to the other woman, an’ the front-seat woman had her kind’a cradled in the crook of her elbow, you know how you hold a baby like that. Well, a wind gust come up and some rain blew in and one big ol’ drop hit that little baby in the face. I mean, that’s what I think must’a happened. Well, that’s when the baby cut loose and started cryin’.

“Now the fella, he was still goin’ on about startin’ over and all that, and I think he must’a thought that was a pretty important speech ‘cause that’s when he stopped and yelled at the front-seat woman to make the baby shut up.

“I remember the woman turned away from him—so then she was facin’ us—and she grabbed a hanky out of her bra and dabbed at the little one’s left eye with it. I seen women keep all kinds’a things in there.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how they keep it all straight. Anyhow, she was cooin’ at the baby and all that, you know, like a mama does, tryin’ to calm her down.

“I reckon the man felt like the baby interrupted him or somethin’, like the baby knew what it was doin’, so he just kept gettin’ madder and madder. Some folks are just like that.

Anyway, that’s when he started herdin’ everybody toward the pickup. ‘Cause of all the startin’-over talk I guess, I remember him yellin’ a whole long thing. He yelled, ‘Just get in the goddamn pickup.’” Blummer’s voice dropped to a whisper when he repeated the curse word. “Then the man said, ‘Hell, we might just as well go back as go forward if we’re gonna be stuck with a screamin’ brat.’ Like I said, he sounded real mean.

“Just before they got to the pickup, the woman—the one with the baby—she told him real quiet, like maybe she was tryin’ to calm him down, that some water hit the baby in the eye and it must’a hurt but she was takin’ care of it.” He snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s how I knew about the rain hittin’ the baby in the face. I heard her say it. And the fella, he unlocked the doors on the truck with one’a them beeper clicker deals. He smashed down on it. Might’a broke it I think. About that time the rain really started comin’ down. Real hard, like now.

“Anyhow, the boy and the girl and Aunt Teresa got in the back again and the woman with the baby, she had some trouble gettin’ the door open and gettin’ in ‘cause the truck set kind’a high up, but she done it. And just before the man got in on the other side, he yelled, ‘Hit it in the eye? By god I can fix it so that won’t ever happen again!’ still real mean like.”

The sergeant waved his hand side to side. “Wait a minute. He threatened to harm the baby?”

“Well, now I ain’t sayin’ it was a threat. I’m no expert on all that. I’m just sayin’ what happened.”

The sergeant nodded. “Okay, go on.”

“Well, when they was all back in the pickup he started it up and backed out real fast. Even slid a little when he slammed on the brake. Then they drove on out the exit lane and that’s the last I seen of ‘em.”

“You didn’t see them stop or slow down or anything?”

“Nope. It was rainin’ just like it’s rainin’ now, maybe a little harder.” He pointed. “You look over there toward the exit, you can’t even see tail lights very far. Might see brake lights if you was lookin’, but I guess we wasn’t lookin’, or else the fella didn’t slow down. Now I’ll tell you what I think. I think they hightailed it the hell outta here and if you’re gonna catch ‘em you need to get at it.”

Gausey frowned. “So when did you see the baby again?”

“Well, things seemin’ as strange as they seemed, me an’ Little Mama, I guess we kind’a walked down that way. That must’a been when we seen the baby, but we didn’t get real close. Yeah, that was it. It was wrapped in one’a them thin old Motel 6 towels I guess, or it might’a been a Super 8. I like Motel 6’s commercials better, what with that ol’ boy sayin’ they’ll leave the light on for’ya an’ all that, but ‘tween you and me I wouldn’t stay in either one’a them ratholes. Rather crank the seat back and sleep in my pickup.

“Anyhow, the baby didn’t keep in it very long, the towel I mean. Even with it rainin’ cats and dogs and that ol’ towel all heavy with water and clingy, she flung it right off without a whole lot of effort.”

Gausey’s eyebrows arched. “You saw her fling off the towel?”

“Well, no. No, I didn’t see her actually do it but I figgered it had to be what happened since she was layin’ on top of the towel in the middle. Anyhow, it was layin’ there on the right—the baby, not the towel—alongside that exit lane that leads past the driveway to the old caretaker’s house.

“She was just the other side of where the exit lane takes that tricky curve back to the left, the curve they put in there to slow down speeders I guess. Well, almost every time headlights swept up over the curb, that baby flung up one little arm or the other. It was almost like she was waving goodbye to the good folks passing through Stabler County in the black early mornin’.”

Again Gausey arched his eyebrows. “Wait a minute. So you saw the baby doing that? Moving her arms?”

“Well, no... I was tellin’ Little Mama I reckoned if she was to move her arms it’d look like she was wavin’ goodbye. And then Little Mama allowed that maybe that baby was reachin’ for them lights when they raked across her, that maybe the baby thought that’s what life was: one set of folks dump you off and another set slows down and picks you up.” He laughed. “Actually, I guess that’s kind’a what it is, ain’t it?”

Gausey wasn’t smiling.

Blummer quickly added, “‘Course that was kind of a sad thought though and I was upset for awhile that she put that in my head. I could’a done without it if y’know what I mean. ‘Cause you know, the only reason them folks weren’t still out there on the freeway doin’ 75 in a 70 is ‘cause they had to stop and pee or worse.” He shook his head.

“Hell, there ain’t nothin’ restful about a rest area, and people sure as hell ain’t here to pick up nothin’. Just a place to damn dump off what you don’t want, whether it’s outta your body or outta the floorboard of your car or even... even a little baby. ‘Course I guess that baby was outta somebody’s body too, so I guess you could say maybe they saw it as waste, ‘specially the way they just kind’a chucked it.”

The sergeant put up one hand. “So you saw—”

“Well, now hold on... I shouldn’t talk like that. I mean, I didn’t see whether they actually chucked that baby, you know, just... just chucked it out the window or somethin’.

“I mean, they might’a slowed down, you know, if they had any sense. Yeah, that’s it. They might’a slowed down and dropped it easy or... or you know, they might’a even stopped for just a minute, got outta the pickup for a minute and... and laid it down gentle. Well, I mean, if they was carin’ folks, but—”

His head dropped forward and his shoulders drooped. He shook his head slowly. “Ah, but I don’t think so. I mean, if they was carin’ folks... I mean, if they cared at all about that baby... well, then that baby’d still be in that pickup, you know, safe and warm instead of layin’ over there in the damn grass outside that damn ninety degree curve in the damn rain.

“Anyway, when a car passed and the headlights swept up over that baby... I mean, in my imagination, you know... it wagged that one little arm just like it was sayin’ goodbye and hurryin’ ‘em on their way. And cryin’ like that, y’know? Pitiful. Pitiful.

“Like I said, I don’t hold with Little Mama’s version and I ain’t gonna repeat it no more ‘cause I heard somewhere before that if you repeat stuff, well, that’s how you give power to it. And I sure don’t wanna give power to nothin’ like that ‘cause that’s just an ugly damn thought.

“And then whenever a pickup passed—that’s what the baby’s people was driving, a pickup, you know, and a really damn nice pickup if you remember—well, whenever a pickup passed, that baby kicked one little leg straight up and out. Straight up and out, y’know? And that’s when it started hurtin’.”

Gausey frowned. “That’s when what started hurting, Mr. Blummer?”

“Well, I mean that’s when I imagine they regretted what they done. You know, when that little baby kicked like that, helpless and tryin’ to feel her mama. Just tryin’ to kick like she was kickin’ the wall of her mama’s womb. Only a few days ago. Couldn’t’a been more than just a few days ago that baby was safe and warm in her mama’s womb. Not out here with people like me an’— I mean, not out there with people like that. People who’d hurt her.

He shook his head again. “I mean, what is it? What in the world is wrong with people like that? Hell, what’s wrong with me, y’know? What’s wrong with us? I mean I just can’t figger what in the world is wrong with people like that. Sure was pitiful hearin’ that little baby cryin’ like that. Wavin’ her little arms and kickin’ so hard. Cryin’ so hard like that. Enough to make a man lose his damn mind.”

Gausey looked at him. “Crying... you mean before the baby and her mama got in the truck, right?”

Blummer nodded. “Huh? Sure, yeah... before and after... you know, before and after... cryin’ and wavin’ her little arms. And her poor little eye all gouged out like that.” He looked at Gausey. “Did you know the old bastard gouged out her little eye? The son of a bitch! Did you know he did that? How could I do that? How in the hell could he do that? What’s wrong with these people?”

An icy finger crawled up Gausey’s spine. “Could you turn around for me, Mr. Blummer?”

“What’s wrong with people like that, officer?” Blummer rocked his head back and laughed, then yelled in the direction of the table at the back of the shelter. “Little Mama, get Bud and Sissy and my sister over here, would you please? The good sergeant here is gonna want to talk to you.”

Lightning flashed in the sky, and a long moment later thunder rolled up through the valley.

Gausey took Blummer lightly by the elbow and turned him toward the parking lot. Together they walked across the spongy grass. “Watch your step, Mr. Blummer.”

They stepped down over the curb and onto the asphalt, where Gausey did his best to guide Mr. Blummer past the potholes. When they reached the patrol car, he leaned past Mr. Blummer and unlocked the back door, then opened it. “Go ahead and have a seat, Mr. Blummer. Watch your head.”

Red and blue lights flashed, flashed, flashed, raking across the area as the coroner’s SUV pulled into the rest area.

Gausey watched him drive by and thought he was very glad he didn’t have that job.

Blummer turned his back to the patrol car, preparatory to sitting, then looked over the officer’s shoulder. “Just tell ‘em the truth, now, Little Mama. Just tell ‘em the truth and let’s get the little one cleaned up, okay? It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay.” He glanced down at Gausey. Quietly he said, “Thanks, officer. It’s all gonna be okay.”

* * * * * * *