Page 21 of Poison Wood

Now we’re getting somewhere. “Why do you think that?”

She looks down the hall, then back to me. “I used to work at the retirement home where Barbara O’Connor is.”

“And?”

“And she and I used to visit about the school before her memory got bad. She said she always worried one of the girls at Poison Wood was violent. And she said there was a lot of stuff left behind that could prove it.”

An electric current zings up my spine. “What stuff?”

Grace studies me with a look that tells me she’s enjoying having me on the hook. “She said the administrators left everything at the school when it closed. Desks, records, all the like, you know ...” She leans in closer. “All the counselor notes.”

“No way they left those things,” I say. “They would have been mandated to destroy the records.”

Grace pulls back and shrugs. “Like that school ever did anything it was mandated to do.” She checks her watch. “Oops. I gotta go. Been good seeing you, Rita.”

She trots back to the nurses’ station, and on my way to my father’s room, I start calculating the time it would take to make another trip.

Back in the room, I study my father. He’s fine, safe. He’s not going anywhere. I could run a quick errand and be back before I am even missed. Just a look. That’s all I’d need. A couple of hours at the most to see if what Grace told me is true.

I pull my father’s truck keys from my purse. “Dad, I’ve got to run a quick errand. I promise I won’t be gone long.” I bend over and kiss his forehead.

“You just got here,” Debby says.

“I know,” I say, shoving away the guilt weaving its way through my veins. “I’m sorry,” I say to my father.

He looks at me as if he knows where I’m going. “Where’s the story?” he says, his voice cracking around the words.

I squeeze his hand, but I don’t answer. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Outside the hospital, the wind has picked up. There’s no sleet, but the bone-chilling humidity is still lingering. February is brutal here. The cold as biting as the heat is in August.

I climb behind the wheel of my father’s truck and crank up the heat, but it does little to warm my chill as I work my way south toward the Kisatchie National Forest.

Poison Wood Therapeutic Academy for Girls

Kisatchie National Forest

April 1, 2000

Meadow

Dear Diary,

I am so mad. One of these girls is stealing my jewelry. My diamond earrings are gone. Ok, so I wasn’t supposed to bring those here but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to hide them in my bags. I mean diamonds are a girls best friend, right? Isn’t that what Audrey Hepburn said or some old lady like that.

Anyway, I’ve got an idea of who’s stealing so I’m going to go through her stuff later. If these girls think they are better thieves than me they’re in for a rude awakening.

April Fool’s bitches.

And as if this place isn’t bad enough, our new headmaster says we have to do laundry. All the laundry!!!

Oh, did I tell you about our new headmaster? Apparently this school can’t keep one around for longer than a few months. The first lady has already quit. This guy is British and has this accent and says things like “spot of tea” and shit. He’s such an idiot. His name is Archibald something but you-know-who called him Baldy to his face! She has detention now. She doesn’t know what I know. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

Chapter Six

Riverbend, Louisiana

Wednesday, February 13, 2019