Page 106 of Stalker

“Why were they split apart?”

“I tried to tell the administrators that the children desperately needed to be kept together, but was told time and time again, no one would want three boys at the same time. They were all so young.”

“There was another reason they were split apart, wasn’t there?”

“What do you mean?”

I leaned over, trying to offer a comforting smile. “They came from a horrible situation. Didn’t the children begin to lash out, becoming violent?” I was only guessing at that point, but I considering the anger and continued pain I witnessed in Wilder’s eyes, I could only imagine what he and his brothers went through in the first years after the tragedy.

“Yes. After about three months all hell broke loose. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But they just… it was as if they became different children altogether. They were so angry and acted out. No one could calm them. I did my best. I tried everything. I spent days and nights with them. I wanted to bring them home, but it was just… not feasible. I wasn’t married and lived in a small apartment.”

When she looked away, I could see the memories burning in the back of her mind.

“Completely understandable. I am curious as to the reasoning they were never adopted, only being pushed from one family to another. From what little I read, and there’s not very much on the lives of these three children, they were not well taken care of. It almost seemed as if the people were in it for the money and nothing else.”

I wasn’t trying to piss her off, but I sensed she wouldn’t open up to me unless absolutely necessary.

“Sadly, that happens more than you think. I’m not saying the system is perfect, but there are so many children. So many of them. And everything about what you’ve heard regarding it being difficult for older children to be adopted is true. Very true.”

“Were the children abused, Mrs. Marcus?”

“Are you insinuating I hurt them?” The look of horror in her face wasn’t an indication of her acting skills. She’d suffered right along with them.

“Not at all. I’m talking about within the foster families. It appears a few of them were agreeable for financial gain. My guess is that you had your hands tied. Perhaps you weren’t allowed to talk to them or see the children after they were placed. And my guess if you were asked to just let their cases slide.”

“I tried to maintain contact, Ms. Penticoff, but you’re right. There are some amazing, decent people willing to enlarge their families out of kindness. But there are others… brutal people who should never be allowed to go near a child. I didn’t have any say in the matter. After pushing so hard to save all three, I was told I wasn’t allowed to talk to them if I wanted to keep my job. But I still managed from time to time. I did so without anyone knowing. Things weren’t the best in the organization for a few years. Some wanted to forget the children who were considered special needs.”

“Because of their father’s crimes.”

“Yes. Plus, after a few incidents, the children were labeled as sociopaths.”

“Sociopaths? As in they were dangerous.”

She acted as if she was going to blink away tears. “Yes.”

“Were they?”

I sensed the push and pull within her, the ache that she’d likely experienced for years, even long after they’d aged out of the system. “They were, Ms. Penticoff, but it wasn’t their fault.”

“Because of the abuse.”

“And because of their father. I’m a firm believer that children are often born with the same bent on violence or peace. Cain Demarco was simply a monster. Imagine a doctor using his skill to dissect his victims while they’re still alive. He even conned young men into luring women to him. The young men were from prominent homes, their parents pillars of the community. Such a horrible tragedy.”

It suddenly dawned on me that Cain Demarco had been a doctor. My thoughts shifted to Cash’s case. Including that Drew had insisted he hadn’t been the killer. A lump formed in my throat. “Are you trying to suggest children of predatory men and women often mimic their actions, including something as horrific as murder?”

“It’s very possible. There have been case studies that corroborate certain findings. But I saw the sweetness in the boys. I was there with them for eighteen hours a day for several months. I knew they were good inside. From what I heard, their mother was a true angel. They took after her, Ms. Penticoff, which is why I could never believe the horrible stories about what they did to their foster families.”

“Please call me Cassandra.” I smiled. The woman was tensing with every second, even glancing over my shoulder as if expecting someone to be walking through the door.

“Cassandra,” she repeated.

“What did you hear? There are no formal records as to anything they were accused of.” I finally took a sip of my tea to be polite even though my stomach was in knots.

“I was told they murdered several of the people caring for them in heinous ways similar to what their father had done.”

“Then why weren’t they put in juvenile detention?”

“Because there was no evidence. Because there had been reports that… that the people who fostered them were abusive. I’m not proud of that and I should have gone to the authorities with what I knew, but I was threatened time and time again.”

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