Chapter 5: Cindy's Home

After that start to the morning, it was with great reluctance that I took her home. I was curious about Cindy's mother, this woman that Cindy had so clearly painted as uncaring and unfeeling for anyone, even herself.

We left my trailer some time after ten. It had turned into a bright and sunny morning and was already in the low 70s. Nice Northwest Florida fall weather. It had rained the night before, and the ground was still wet. Many of the yards contained puddles of muddy colored water where cars had worn ruts in front of the trailers. I expected that the water would evaporate and the day would probably get hot and humid later. I thought it would be a nice day for shorts and a tee-shirt but Cindy wore her dress and tennis shoes instead. Her dress was threadbare and worn but was the best she had. The faded green dress she wore at least had no holes. The dress would have been fine for fall in a more temperate climate but was better suited for winter in this area. I thought that if we stayed outside she would be sweating later on.

I thought that part of the problems she had fitting in was her clothes. She had a few faded tee-shirts which had seen better days. Most of them had small holes in one or more places and were washworn. Most of her panties were the same way. She had no extra bras in the basket of clothes she had brought from her trailer. She had no jeans and only a few pair of oversized shorts. It looked like she had been given hand-me-downs from a group of circus freaks. I didn't know how I was going to convince her mom but I was going to buy her some clothes so she would better fit in with the teens in the area. I know it must be hard to make friends when you looked like you were the poorest of the poor. I also remembered my own teen years and clothes had a lot to do with how you fit in and with your self-esteem, even for guys. We had all needed to blend in then, so that we weren't singled out. I doubted that it was that much different now.

As we walked towards her trailer I noticed that for a Saturday morning there was little activity in the trailer park. The place had no common area and the gravel road in between the trailers was usually where the kids came out and played. A lot of them would be watching cartoons and playing video games but there should be some outside this late in the morning. As I said, it was strange. In the emptiness, I could feel that there were eyes watching as we walked down the street. Cindy sensed this too and clung tightly to my arm. I knew that most of the people who lived here seemed to be poor hard working people. For the most part they were the type neighbors who watched out for each other and especially each others kids. Not exactly an organized neighborhood watch program, but close. I wondered why that protection had not been extended to Cindy yesterday afternoon. I would try to find out, but I didn't expect to get very far, not with their kids involved.

As we reached Cindy's trailer I noticed something strange. The door of her trailer was half opened and there were muddy footprints on the iron steps and inside the door. By the look of the deep ruts, that had not filled with water, someone had driven a four by four in here after it had rained. There was no mud on the mat and so whoever it was had not bothered to wipe their feet at all.

Again I hesitated at the door but Cindy pulled on my hand and we walked inside. Except for the mud, the inside of the trailer was much the same as we had left it. There were no baskets of clothes near the door, as there had been the night before. Closing the door I noticed that there were still no lights, but by the light from outside I could see that the muddy footprints went back toward the back of the trailer.

I started to ask Cindy to check and see if her mom was up and about but then thought better of it. After all, she could be lying in a pool of blood in the back and I certainly wouldn't want Cindy to stumble into something like that. I wasn't sure what but something wasn't right. Instead I called out from the living room. "Mrs. Deal, This is Jim Saunders, are you home?" I knew that this would seem foolish if she was home but better sound foolish than have a hysterical teen on my hands. Cindy looked at me as if I was daft and started to walk towards the back of the trailer. I caught her arm and shook my head no. She looked puzzled but stopped. I then pointed back to the couch and motioned for her to go sit down.

She started "But Jim, I..."

Instantly, I motioned for her to be quiet and called out louder. "Mrs. Deal, This is Jim Saunders, I need to talk to you, are you decent? Could you come out for a moment?" Hearing no noises I walked to the back of the trailer through the short hallway prepared to knock on the bedroom door if need be. I didn't need to knock. All of the doors in the back were opened and, unless someone was hiding under one of the beds, no one was there.

The bedroom was a jumble. The drawers to the worn dresser, in what I took to be the main bedroom, were opened and empty. I went and checked the closet and it was empty as well. Several small items of clothing and some coat hangers were strewn on the floor. A sock had muddy footprints across it. I went into the bathroom. The medicine cabinet had been thoroughly cleaned out. Not even a tooth brush was left. What the hell was going on? As I started back towards the living room I ran into Cindy, in the hall. She looked worried and confused. She asked, "What's the matter, Jim? Where is my mom?" I didn't have an answer for her.

We returned to the living room and I looked about. There was my note from the night before, right where we had left it on the table. It didn't look as if it had been touched. There were two possibilities that I could see. One was that Mrs. Deal had left of her own choosing, cleaning out her clothes and planning on coming back for Cindy later. Having experience in rental management I knew what rent skipping was. Still, something did not seem right here. Even if Mr. Muddy Footprints was helping her, she should have missed her daughter and at least looked around for a note. The note had not even been touched. And why leave the door wide open? It was puzzling.

I walked out to the living room and sat on the couch. Cindy joined me and made her seat on my lap, hugging my neck. I was puzzled and wondered if there was foul play involved. I decided not to mention that possibility to Cindy. "Cindy, did your mom say anything to you about leaving?"

Cindy shook her head no and then while she was shaking it, her face brightened and she said, "It must have been Uncle Steve. He must have came and got her."

"Who is Uncle Steve?" I asked.

Cindy explained that he was a guy that her mom had met in a bar about six months ago. Then she explained to me about Steve. "Steve scared me Jim. He would stay here for two or three days a week. When he was here all they did was drink and fight and do sex stuff. I never understood why mom let him keep coming back. It must have been the beer because mom would get the worst of the fighting and she would tell him that he was worthless in bed. I would have to keep in my room because I was scared after they started."