Missing Child (22 page)

Now, she thought. If only his father would come home.

But Noah did not arrive. She waited as long as she could. Finally, she went into the kitchen and took the cheese and spinach pastries from the oven before they burned. Realizing that she was hungry, she sat down alone at the table, and placed one of the turnovers on a plate in front of her. She sat at the table, staring out the kitchen window, remembering when this had been her favorite time of day.

As the hour grew later she began to feel a little uneasy about still being in the house. What if Noah was out with someone? A woman. It seemed impossible under the circumstances. He seemed to barely be able to pull himself together since Geordie had gone missing, but lately she didn’t know what to think anymore. What if he came home with someone, expecting to find the house empty? Several times she thought of leaving, but she decided against it. What if the police found Geordie and brought him home? She would be here waiting. She stayed.

She watched a little bit of television in the den, pulling the throw up over her as she curled up in the chair. She was not aware of being tired, but before she knew it, she had dozed off.

She awoke with a start to the find the television still on, some pitchman droning on about car insurance. Caitlin snapped off the TV and leaned her head back against the chair.

With the televison off, the room was perfectly silent. Caitlin could hear every creak in the house as the wind rose outside and started to whip the trees, the branches snapping against the windows. She had loved that sound when Noah and Geordie were here, and a fire crackled in the fireplace. It made her feel snug, and safe. Tonight, alone in this house where she no longer belonged, her mind filled with questions and worries, she felt anything but snug and safe. Every gust of wind, every rustling branch made her edgy. It’s nothing, she reminded herself. Just a little wind blowing up. Maybe rain coming in. At the thought of rain, she couldn’t help but imagine Geordie, alone and unprotected in the storm, and it was hard to catch her breath from the anxiety.

And then, from somewhere outside the window, Caitlin heard a sound that made her freeze. She told herself she was imagining it. It was the wind playing tricks. But it came again. Faint, almost indistinct. It was human. And barely audible. A moan.

For a moment she sat rigid, unable to move from the chair. Who’s there? she thought, but she did not say it aloud. Her heart was thudding in her ears. She was terrified to budge and terrified not to. It was coming from outside the window. Get up, she thought. Get out the chair.

She had to go out and look. There was no choice. What else could she do? Call the police and say there was a noise in the yard? She wasn’t even supposed to be in this house and the police knew it. They knew she had been put out. She was trespassing. Get up, she told herself.

Her legs refused to obey her brain’s command. She did not hear the sound again, and she began to tell herself that it really was her imagination. It had not really happened.

And then she had another terrible thought. Noah had been incommunicado all day. What if he had collapsed or had some kind of accident outside in the yard? What if it was Noah? Get up and go out there, she thought. Spurred by the thought that it might be her husband, that he might need her help, she was able to force herself to do it.

She hurried through the first floor of the house, putting on a jacket of Noah’s because she was shivering, and trying to think what she might need outside. She slipped her phone into the jacket pocket. Flashlight, she thought. It was so dark out there. She tried to remember where they kept the flashlights in case of a power outage. Her brain refused to cooperate at first. But as she checked several likely places, she suddenly remembered. The laundry room. She went to the laundry room beside the kitchen and found the flashlights on the shelf above the washer. There were two of them, standing on end beside the tool box. She reached for the largest flashlight. Tool box, she thought. She rummaged in the tool box and took out a hammer, the heaviest one. All right, she thought, wielding the hammer in one hand and the flashlight in the other. Now go.

Front or back door? she wondered. The den was in the front of the house, closer to the front door. But somehow it felt safer to let herself out the back door of the house. She hesitated, took a deep breath, and opened the door off the kitchen. She stepped out into the night.

There was a moon that was nearly full, although it was obscured by dark, scudding clouds. Still, between the moon and the lights of the house, she was able to see the shapes of the trees in the backyard and the strange nighttime shadows that danced in the wind. She edged along the back of the house and around the corner.

She could see down to the front yard although the side yard was much darker than the backyard had been. Nothing seemed to be awry. There was an alley of trees to her left and an unruly hedge along the side of the house. She began to make her way slowly between them. She didn’t want to turn on the flashlight, but it was too dark to make out if there was anything, or anyone concealed by the bushes or the trees.

With shaking hands she snapped on the flashlight, and the beam traveled wildly over the trees and the bushes. There was no sign of anything or anyone. See? she told herself. You’re just imagining things.

But the memory of that faint moan was too vivid to ignore. She edged her way down the side yard, sweeping the flashlight from side to side. She had almost reached the den window. She could see the light from the window in the den shining out, making a pattern on the grass. She was about to put her foot into the light’s reflection when, from just behind her, a human voice moaned.

Caitlin jumped, her heart pounding, and whirled around, turning the flashlight, like a weapon, in the direction of the sound. ‘Who’s there?’ she cried.

The beam of the flashlight bounced and came to rest in the spot where she had heard the sound. At first she could not tell what she was seeing. And then, as her eyes adjusted, she recognized it. At the base of the hedge, propped up by the roots, its face turned into the leaves, was a body. A man lying on the ground.

‘Oh, Jesus!’ she cried. She wanted to run screaming, but instead she screwed up her courage and stepped closer.

‘Noah?’ she whispered, fearing what she might see. She pushed away the branches of the hedge and looked down.

His eyes were closed and his face was obscured by dark rivulets, his hair matted with blood. The body looked gray and limp, even in the flashlight’s glare. Caitlin wanted nothing more than to look away, to run. Instead, she turned her flashlight full on the face.

She screamed and jumped back.

The flashlight’s beam careened crazily over the house as she fumbled in her pocket for her phone. She pressed the familiar number on her speed dial and waited interminably for the ring, feeling like she wanted to pee, to cry, to faint. She gripped the phone with a sweaty, trembling hand. Sam Mathis answered on the second ring.

‘Caitlin?’ he said.

‘Sam. I’m at home. At Noah’s. Come right away,’ she said. ‘With an ambulance. Hurry.’

‘An ambulance? Are you all right?’

‘Yes, it’s not me,’ she said. Caitlin looked at the body on the ground. ‘It’s Dan.’

TWENTY-THREE

P
olice cars and an ambulance crowded the driveway, their lights flashing like red lightning in the darkness. Radios crackled and officers with flashlights combed the perimeter of the yard and beyond. Caitlin sat on the front porch steps, shivering, even though a policewoman had gone inside, fetched a blanket, and draped it around her.

She saw the EMTs moving a body on a stretcher and sliding it into the bay of the ambulance. She heard the heavy doors of the bay slam, and the siren’s scream pierced the night as the ambulance started down the driveway.

Sam came over to the steps and sat down beside her.

‘Will he live?’ she asked.

Sam shrugged. ‘Don’t know. The EMTs were working on him.’

Caitlin nodded and pulled the blanket more closely around her. ‘What happened to him?’

‘I don’t know that either. It looks like someone or something hit him hard enough to crack his skull.’

Caitlin winced.

‘You heard nothing?’ Sam asked, incredulous. ‘No struggle? No yelling?’

‘I heard nothing until I heard the moan that I told you about. It was very faint – I couldn’t have heard it from anywhere else in the house but the den. And even then, it wasn’t until I turned the TV off.’

‘How long were you in the house?’

‘I got here hours ago. It was not yet dark. Maybe five o’clock.’

‘He’d been lying there for hours. In addition to his injuries he’s suffering from hypothermia. His clothes were soaked through with dampness from the ground. As well as blood.’

‘I never saw him. I didn’t know . . .’

Sam nodded and peered at Caitlin. ‘What were you doing here?’ Sam asked. ‘I thought you were living at your folks’ house.’

‘I am. I . . . I don’t know. I was waiting for Noah to come home. I wanted to get the house ready for Geordie. I know it sounds crazy, but I thought we might be getting closer to finding him. Besides, I didn’t want to go back to my parents’ house. It’s awful being there.’

A car pulled into the driveway and stopped. Sam frowned as he looked at it. ‘That’s not one of my men,’ he said.

Caitlin peered at the car and then gasped in recognition as the driver emerged and started to walk toward them. ‘It’s Noah,’ she said.

Noah walked up to the steps and into the arc of light on the lawn thrown off by the porch lights. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded, panic and hope in his voice. ‘Is it Geordie?’

Caitlin jumped up, shedding the blanket, and ran down the steps to him. ‘What happened to you?’ Caitlin demanded.

‘I’m all right,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing. Why are the police here? Is Geordie here?’

‘No,’ said Sam, shaking his head. ‘We don’t know anything more about Geordie. What happened to your face?’

Noah put his fingertips self-consciously to the bruises and cuts on his face. ‘Nothing. Nothing important.’

‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ said Sam, standing up.

‘I got into a little . . . altercation. If you must know.’

‘With who?’ Sam asked.

‘My brother-in-law, Dan.’

‘Noah,’ Caitlin blurted out. ‘Don’t! Don’t admit to anything.’

‘Why?’ Noah said. ‘What do you mean? We had a . . . fistfight. Did he call the cops? What a wuss. Is that why you’re here?’

‘Dan is badly hurt,’ said Caitlin. ‘That’s who the ambulance was here for. I found Dan lying half-dead by the side of the house.’

‘That’s enough,’ Sam barked at her. ‘Don’t say another word.’

‘Dan?’ Noah exclaimed. ‘You found him here?’

‘Right where you left him,’ said Sam grimly. ‘He may not live through the night.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Noah demanded. ‘I didn’t hurt Dan. I wanted to hurt him, but I didn’t.’ He touched his own bruised face again. ‘I actually got the worst of it. He knocked me out.’

‘When did he show up here?’ Sam asked.

‘He didn’t show up here. I saw him at the cemetery,’ said Noah.

‘The cemetery?’

‘After you told me your suspicions about Dan,’ said Noah, ‘I called him. I wanted answers. He told me he was already on his way here, and to meet him at Emily’s grave. So I went out there. When I got to the cemetery Dan was already there, putting flowers on Emily’s grave. That really pissed me off.’

‘I should never have told you about Dan,’ Sam said angrily. ‘I didn’t know you’d go vigilante on me.’

‘I didn’t,’ Noah insisted.

‘Don’t say any more,’ Caitlin urged him.

‘Caitlin, no, I have nothing to hide. Look, it’s my son who’s missing and I wanted answers. But no matter what I asked, he wouldn’t tell me anything. He kept saying that he couldn’t tell me anything and that he’d tell me in good time. Good time? Every waking moment I am agonizing about Geordie. We argued and I guess I lost my temper. I threw a punch at him. Then he decked me.’

‘And where have you been since this run-in with your brother-in-law?’ asked Sam.

‘Well, as I said, he knocked me out. When I came to, I found that he had taken my phone and messed my car up somehow. I couldn’t get it to start. I had to start walking back. It’s kind of . . . isolated out there by the cemetery. No one would stop for me or pick me up. I guess I look pretty bad,’ he admitted.

‘And yet, you still seem to be driving your car,’ said Sam acidly.

‘Some guy on a motorcyle stopped and asked me if I needed help. I told him about the car and the guy said he might be able to help me. I got on the back of his bike and we went back to the cemetery. The guy started looking at the car. I mean, he knew a lot about cars, I guess, but it took him a number of tries to figure out what the problem was and fix it. I wanted to borrow his phone and call a service station, but he was determined to help me whether I liked it or not. I didn’t want to be rude to the guy when he was trying to help. So I just hung around there, waiting, while he checked out one thing after another. It turned out it wasn’t anything major. I just don’t know a lot about cars,’ Noah admitted.

‘That’s true, he doesn’t,’ said Caitlin.

‘I need to speak to this man, to corroborate your story,’ said Sam.

‘It’s not a story,’ Noah insisted.

‘All the same, I need to speak to him.’

Noah shook his head. ‘That’s gonna be difficult. He was just passing through on his way to some biker fundraiser in Washington. The Veterans Memorial Fundraiser – that was it.’

‘Can you describe this guy? Do you know his name?’

‘His name was Jim. I don’t know his last name. He was older – probably a Vietnam vet. He had a gray beard and ponytail and a big gut.’

‘Sounds like every biker you see on the road these days,’ said Sam. ‘Where was he coming from?’

‘Oh . . . let me think. Providence, I think. He was coming down the back roads ’cause he hates riding on the GSP or the Turnpike.’

Sam sighed. ‘You’re going to have to come down to the station until we can check this story out. Will you come voluntarily, or do I have to place you under arrest?’