My recovery was slow. I was in an extreme amount of pain and was adamant about reducing the doses of my pain medication. The doctor continued to visit me regularly. After a couple days I was able to open one eye.
During my recovery, Grizz pestered me to death. He was obsessed with finding the guy who did this. He grilled me constantly on anything I could remember, even the slightest detail. Did I remember hearing a bike pull up? What color were the guy’s eyes? Was his hair long and did it show beneath the ski mask? What other kinds of things did he say to me?
I wasn’t the only one who got grilled. Poor Moe. She took the brunt of Grizz’s anger.
“What the fuck were my dogs doing with you in your room while Kit was being attacked? I have those dogs for her protection when I’m not here, not yours’!”
I begged him not to be so hard on her. It was obvious she felt awful and somewhat responsible. He berated her relentlessly. I felt so sorry for her, and when I was finally able to get around, I did what I could to intervene. But, like I said, he was obsessed. And because he didn’t know who did this to me, Moe was his whipping post. I honestly don’t know if he ever physically hurt her. I hope not. Truth was, there was nothing he could do or say to make her feel any worse than she already did.
Grizz temporarily turned over his business operation to Blue. He was going to expend every effort to find out who did this. Every informant was told there would be a substantial reward for information leading Grizz to the guy who was responsible.
Over the next several months there were a few false leads. I cannot tell you the fear I saw on the faces of the men Grizz paraded in front of me. He would make them talk to see if I recognized their voices. He made them wear a ski mask to see if anything seemed familiar. I was certain I would recognize the voice and physical appearance of my attacker. None of those guys were even close.
I eventually made a complete physical recovery. I didn’t do so well with the emotional part, though. I felt like I’d been violated, and I was certain Grizz wouldn’t want me after that. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. He’d been hesitant after I told him I was healed. I didn’t realize it was because he was afraid of hurting me. Once I convinced him he wouldn’t hurt me, we resumed our physical relationship.
It was hard for me at first. I couldn’t close my eyes. I had to have them open the whole time, and I needed the light on. I had to see it was Grizz. It took me a long time to let him kiss my body. I tensed, waiting for the painful bite. Knowing that I was still struggling with it only fueled his anger. He started picking on Moe again.
I wish I’d noticed the change in her. I was just too wrapped up in what had happened to me; too wrapped up in my own recovery. Looking back, I should’ve called Grunt and asked him to come back to the motel and spend time with her. I am ashamed to say I didn’t notice the depths of her despair and loneliness until it was too late.
It was 1979, and around the fourth anniversary of my abduction. A few months shy of the one-year anniversary of my attack. After my attack, Grizz purposely kept Damien and Lucifer away from Moe. I think this hurt her more than anything, and I felt horrible about it. Horrible enough to defy him and let her see them when I knew Grizz wasn’t going to be around.
That’s how Chowder found her. Grizz was gone, and I let her take Damien in her room one night. I kept Lucifer with me. Chowder heard Damien crying the next morning, and he let himself into Moe’s room.
He found Moe peacefully lying in her bed with an empty bottle of pills next to her.
Dead.
I cannot tell you the extent of my devastation. I felt every emotion possible: grief, anger, despair, depression, guilt. Lots of guilt. I’d always thought of myself as a caring person. How was it I didn’t notice how bad Moe’s depression had been?
I remembered little things then. I remembered when Grizz would take me for rides to look for land for our future home. Moe was never included. What would have happened to her if we moved out of the motel? Was she expected to stay there indefinitely? I was horrified that I’d not given her future a second thought. I remembered my complaints and gripes about being dissatisfied with my life. What did Moe think about her life? What kind of life had she actually led? Not much of one, really.
Chowder made the necessary calls, and before long Grunt, Blue and Grizz showed up at the motel.
Grizz found me sitting on the edge of the couch staring at the blank TV. I got up and lunged at him. He thought I was coming in for a hug and never expected me to go ballistic on him. I beat on him with every ounce of strength I had in me, and he stood there and took it.
Exhaustion eventually overcame me, and I fell into his arms. He caught me and tried to hug me, but I shoved him away. I sat back down on the couch.
“What are you going to do with her?” My voice was cold. Distant.
“Same as everyone else.”
“No.” Heat flashed through me and I stood up. “No! Absolutely no way is Moe going to be thrown away and become alligator food. No way, Grizz.”
“I suppose we could take her farther out and bury her. If that’s what you want, Kit.”
I thought a minute. “No. That’s not good enough. I know a place. Not until tonight, though. And I need some time alone in her room.”
He followed me outside. I walked toward her room. Grunt was sitting on a lawn chair on the motel sidewalk. He had his head in his hands. When he looked up at me, I could see he’d been crying. I went straight to him and threw myself into his arms as he stood up. I don’t know how long we stood there crying in each other’s arms, but Grizz left us alone.
I asked Grunt to come into her room with me. I wanted to find something personal to bury her with. When we walked in, Moe was still lying in her bed. Nobody had bothered to cover her face. Looking back now, I’m glad I got to see her.
Moe looked more beautiful and peaceful than I’d ever seen her before. She wasn’t wearing her heavy makeup. She was lying on top of her motel bedspread wearing a white T-shirt that was several sizes too big for her. It was the only time I ever saw Moe wearing something besides black. I wondered if she’d planned it.
I went through her drawers and found there really wasn’t much to Moe’s life. Other than her black clothes, makeup, drawing tools and doggie treats, there was nothing there. Grunt and I were getting ready to leave when I thought to look under the bed. There was some sort of metal box. I couldn’t get to it. Grunt knelt down next to me and was able to reach it. He pulled it out.
We opened it. There were two items in it. One was a plastic food container. Grunt popped the top off and we noticed what looked like a small piece of old meat wrapped in cellophane. It was Moe’s tongue.
The other item I recognized immediately. It was my wallet.
* * * * *
Grunt and I looked at each other with the same expression. We both could understand why Moe had saved her tongue. It was personal. If this had been a few years earlier, I probably would’ve thrown up. But I guess living at the motel had hardened me somewhat. I’d seen people murdered, so a shriveled tongue wasn’t anything to be upset about.
But my wallet? She’d defied a direct order from Grizz. Why?
We guessed she’d saved it for me. Her life and identity had been taken from her. Maybe she didn’t have the heart to destroy my identity like Grizz had commanded her to do that night.
“Thank you, Moe,” I whispered.
I took the wallet and put it in my back pocket. I knew without asking that Grunt would never tell.
When I got back to number four I found the bag I was carrying the night Monster abducted me. I no longer used it. It was wadded up in a corner shelf in my closet. I put my wallet inside and forgot about it.
Later that night, Chowder and Blue carefully wrapped Moe in her bedspread and carried her out to the bed of Blue’s pickup truck. I rode in front with Blue and Grizz, and Grunt rode in the back with Chowder, Moe and the shovels.
I directed them to the only place that seemed appropriate. It was dark out, but there was a full moon. Enough for me to find the shady ficus tree on a lonely rural road in Davie.
I picked a spot, and Chowder and Grunt meticulously cut and rolled up the grass. Then they started digging. I told them to make sure it was deep. I didn’t want any chance of animals getting to her. Grizz gently handed her over the low fence to Blue, who carried her to the edge of the freshly dug grave. Before they lowered her in, I reached in under the bedspread and placed the plastic food container with her.
After they filled in the grave, they put the sod back. It barely looked like the ground had been disturbed. I was certain nobody would notice.
As we drove away I had to look back. He was there, and he was magnificent—Moe’s beautiful, brown horse. He was standing next to her grave.
Years later, as I was being interrogated by the police about my knowledge of the people who’d lived at the motel, I could never bring myself to give up Moe’s final resting place. I was able to tell them honestly how she died. Her family would at least have that closure. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell them she was actually buried on their property. I couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t dig her up and move her to a cemetery, give her a proper burial. I knew in my heart this was the only burial Moe would want.
Grunt stopped at Fess’s on his way back home and told him what happened. Sarah Jo later told me her father cried like a baby that night. He was upset he didn’t get to say goodbye, but he also understood the less fuss, the better for everyone. He asked if he could pay his respects. Grizz wouldn’t tell him where she was buried, but I think Grunt may have.
I would drive by that ficus tree many times over the coming years just to say hello to my old friend Moe. The area was still undeveloped and there was never anyone around. But on a few occasions, I saw dried, dead flowers at the foot of the ficus tree. I was pretty sure Fess had been there.
Subconsciously, I blamed Grizz for Moe’s death. Heck, I might even have blamed myself. I struggled with my life as it now was. What right did I have to have a happy life when Moe was dead and would never have one?
I started to question my beliefs. Who was I? I reminded myself that I’d witnessed murders. Then I struggled with why I even had to remind myself. Wasn’t a murder tragic? How could I not think about it every single day?
And perhaps worse, I was in love with a hardened criminal. At that point, I think I was starting to wake up from the illusion of my seemingly perfect life with Grizz. How could I convince myself our lifestyle was okay? Who had I let myself become? Did I see a future with him? Was I going to have his children?
I sunk deeper into depression, and it only got worse that summer when Grizz finally found the guy who attacked me.