If You're Gone (6 page)

“Did Brad give you any indication of where he was going after he left your house?”

“He was going home.”

“Brad wasn’t going to any graduation parties or other festivities that night?”

Stop using his name with that tone!

“No, he was invited to a graduation party at Jason Hamilton’s house but he didn’t want to go.” I glanced to my left to look at my dad, my eyes felt droopy and desperate like a hound dog. He gave me a quick nod then looked back at the Detective. I was on my own.

“Do you have any reason to think Brad would have wanted to harm himself?”

“What? No,” I insisted, clearing my dry throat. “Not at all.”

“To your knowledge, was Brad recently involved with any type of drugs or narcotics?” He held his pen to the paper, like it was his finger on the trigger of a gun, ready to fire.

“No, sir.” I attempted to take a deep breath, but the air in our living room felt thick. “Brad is a good guy, he wasn’t doing anything like that...” I suddenly began rambling like a faucet of words turned on full blast. “And that’s why I just think something is really wrong. It’s not like him to not communicate with anyone, especially with me. If he was going anywhere besides home he would have told me, and he definitely wasn’t going to harm himself or to buy drugs or anything even remotely…”

“Miss White,” Detective Padron interjected. “While I appreciate your desire to defend his character, his criminal record is telling us a different story.”

Both of my parents shot me looks. Mom threw her hands over her mouth to hide her gasp.

“His criminal record?” My dad asked before I could speak. His eyes were turned towards the detective but I knew the question was meant for me.

“Yeah, Brad was involved in some harmless, childish pranks… but he never told me anything about…” I trailed off, unsure how to end the sentence. My breath was leaving my body again.
This can't be happening
.

Detective Padron flipped a few pages back in his notebook. “I’m not at liberty to go into detail, but his juvenile record includes many crimes for which he was tried and found guilty. The most recent being November of…”

I didn’t have to hear him finish. His last offense had occurred only days before our encounter in the snow. All Brad's stories about raiding refrigerators must have been a G-rated version of the past. I remembered what he said in front of the lake on Friday night, ‘You saved my life.’
But what did I save him from?
A dry lump settled in the back of my throat as I rubbed his class ring between my fingers.

“That was a long time ago,” I managed to say. “He’s changed a lot since then.”

“I certainly understand that, during adolescence, youth go through various stages of rebellion. But my point in asking this is to understand his current state of mind. Frankly, at this time we have no reason to assume that Brad has met with foul play or danger of any type, however, a possible drug relapse may have altered his state of mind and caused him to want to leave. There is just nothing leading us to believe he left involuntarily.”
A drug relapse?

“But I’m telling you,” I insisted. “Brad doesn't do drugs. And he
wouldn’t
have just left voluntarily. He had a job lined up for the summer, he’s enrolled in the state college for the fall. We had made plans for the next day…” I was trailing off. It didn’t matter what I said; the detective wasn’t listening. Not to my words anyway.

“Miss White, I’m not sure you understand…”

“You need to talk to Lizard,” I spit out, cutting him off. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, did you say
Lizard
? Is this a classmate of Brad’s?” He put his pen back to the paper, ready to write.

“Yes, uh, well no. He dropped out of school early in the year, now he has some car repair shop in an old barn off Highway Forty-one. Michael Lizardo, that’s his real name, was a friend of Brad’s before we were together. I haven’t seen him since graduation, but he was upset with Brad on Friday night about missing Jason’s party. I'm sure if you just talk to him…”

“Ah yes, Michael Lizardo,” he said with a nod. “I’ve already spoken with him. In fact, he called the station to report that you have been harassing him.”

I flew out of my seat. “
What?
”

“Have you been calling him repeatedly in an attempt to get information about Brad’s whereabouts?”

“No!” I shrieked. “I mean, well yes, I called him a few times. But I called
everyone
I know!”

He motioned for me to sit back down, and I sunk down into the cushion between my parents. “I’m going to ask that you refrain from contacting Mr. Lizardo again.”

I started to speak, but my mom placed her hand on my knee and gave it a squeeze.

“You need to let me do my job,” the detective continued. “If Michael has information about Brad, it needs to come through me. I’m sure you understand.” His inflection sounded like he was asking a question but the expression on his face indicated it was, in fact, a statement.

“Yes, sir.” I nodded, squirming in my seat.
Why is he making me feel like I’m guilty of something? So I called the guy a few times, it’s not a crime. And a far cry from harassment.

“If you can give me a little more information about your relationship with Brad.” His left eyebrow rose as he spoke, his jawbone clenching in and out as he waited for my response.

I peered out of the corner of my eye at my father who was staring at me. To my right my mother fiddled with her wedding band, her hands clasped as she held her gaze towards the detective. I didn’t know where to start.
What is he asking me? Is he asking if we are sleeping together? That’s none of his business. Even if I tell him we aren’t, he probably wouldn’t believe me. If he is convinced Brad is nothing more than a common criminal, does he think that he has hurt me in some way? Brad would never hurt me. He would never want me to hurt the way I hurt right now…

“Lillian?”

I heard my name but it wasn’t from the detective, it was my mom. She rested her hand on my back.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Is this too much?”

“No, no. I’m fine.” I shook my head.
Snap out of it.
“Brad and I have been dating for about six months.” I tried to study Detective Padron’s face. I couldn’t read his vacant expression. He looked back at me for a long moment before retreating back to his notebook.

“Would you say you consider your relationship with Brad to be serious?”

I nodded. “He loves me.” I glanced down at my hands and picked at the dry skin on the edges of my fingers. I didn’t like how the words sounded when they reached my tongue, as though they were in his defense.
See, he’s a good guy. He loves a good girl like me. Or does he…

“And for how long has he been telling you that?”

“Well, not long.”

“Define, ‘not long’,” Detective Padron said, his eyebrows furled.

“I mean, the first time he said he loved me was the night of graduation. When he brought me home.”

He began writing again, more frantically than before.

“So, just to clarify, you are telling me the first time he told you he loved you was on your front porch the night he went missing?”

Well, not exactly.
“Yes.” I could feel my face growing red and hoped no one would notice. I didn't know how to explain why I had lied; it had been such a simple slip of the tongue that now felt like a blatant lie. But I couldn’t take it back.

“Yet you do not believe that he planned to leave that night? Even though he was telling you this for the first time?” He wasn’t asking, he was telling. He looked to my parents.

“Lillian,” my mom cut in. “It does sound like he may have had other intentions behind what he said. Are you sure nothing seemed strange? You didn’t get any feelings that he was trying to tell you…”

Oh no. What have I done?

“No!” I interjected. “We had a perfect picnic on the lake after graduation, it was just a really great night, that’s
all
. He wasn’t telling me he loved me as a goodbye. I’m positive.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched my dad offer a small nod to the detective. He closed his notepad and straightened his back. It was over.

“Lillian, that’s all I need from you for today if you have told me everything.” He cocked his head to the side as he spoke, undoubtedly some sort of police intimidation tactic.
It’s not working.

My mind raced back to the window, knowing it was my last chance to come clean.
But why is it important? It’s nothing more than a minor detail… right? Or could the fact that he returned to the window to tell me he loved me instead of simply saying it on the front porch in some way de-bunk the premeditation story that the detective is so desperate to believe?
I knew my parents would hear ‘he came to my window’ and automatically assume I had made a nightly ritual of sneaking out, or worse, sneaking him in. I so desperately wanted to find Brad, to have him home, but I wondered if shedding light on this minor detail would only make me a victim of house arrest when (
if
) he returned?

“I think that’s enough for now,” Dad told him before I could say otherwise. “The past twenty-four hours or so have been really tough.”

“I understand,” he said. “Well, Lillian, you have been very helpful.”

No, I haven’t. All I’ve done is add tick marks to your tally of reasons why you shouldn’t waste your time looking for Brad.

Detective Padron reached out to shake my parents’ hands and motioned for mine last.

“Will you please talk to Lizard again?” I asked as my hand met his grasp. His grip was strong; my bony fingers were crushed up against one another as he squeezed.

“It only makes sense to speak with a man that willingly goes by the name of
Lizard,
” he said with a condescending smile, revealing his surprisingly white teeth for the first time. “I’ll be in touch.”

My dad held the door for him as he left; Mom put her arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.

“I'm sure it's hard finding out Brad isn’t who you thought he was. I’m sorry.” She nodded to Dad and he headed into the kitchen, leaving us alone for a mother-daughter crisis talk.

“What? No.” I pulled away from her grasp. “He isn’t some criminal like the detective is making him out to be. You know him better than that!”

“And I would have liked to think that
you
know him better than that,” Mom said. “But if he lied to you about having a criminal record then you have no idea what else he was lying to you about, Lillian.” It was obvious this wouldn't be a comforting chat-it was a confrontation.

“He didn’t lie about his past, Mom.”
He wasn't truthful, either.
“I didn’t
ask
him if he had a record. I don’t care what happened before we were together, it doesn’t matter!”
What are the lyrics to that old boy band song? I don’t care where you've been or what you've done… it only matters if you love me...

“Well then it sounds like you didn’t want to know very much about him, did you?” Her tone dripped with condescension. “That is a very childish way of thinking. And if this relationship is as serious as you have made it out to be… Lillian, I just hope you have not made any
big mistakes
.”

“No!” I squealed. “This is completely unfair. Everyone is judging him and assuming the worst and he isn’t here to defend himself. You’re focusing on all the wrong things.” I wanted to work up a few tears to help remind her what I was going through, but I couldn’t and I wasn't sure why.

Mom stared at me silently, which didn’t happen very often. After a long moment, her eyes broke away from mine and she shifted her gaze out the picture window as she spoke.

“Regardless of where Brad is now, I want you to think long and hard about how much you really know about him and what this relationship means. You are still young…”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Exactly,” she said, turning her face towards me. “There is just so much that goes into a serious relationship and so many things you have to know about a person before you begin planning a future with them…”

“I know, Mom.” I had to stop her. “We don’t need to talk about this right now. All we need to do is find him. Please.” I chewed on my thumbnail as I searched her eyes for any sign of compassion.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Just come and get some lunch.”

Mom headed towards the kitchen, pushing her way through the swinging door that separated the rooms. The idea of sitting around the table with my family, listening to Graham and Eliza giggle and carry on without a care in the world, made me cringe.

“I’m not hungry,” I told her through the door. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Alone?” she asked emphatically, sticking her face in the doorway.

“Yeah. Who else am I going to go with?”
Not Brad.

“I don’t think that’s a very smart thing to do. Not after all that has happened…”