Missing Child (4 page)

‘Hi, Caitlin. You know Janice?’

Caitlin shook her head and Naomi introduced her to the other mom, who then said she had to slip away.

Caitlin looked around the noisy auditorium. ‘I’m looking for Geordie. He ran in here before I could tell him to wait.’

‘I haven’t seen him,’ said Naomi. ‘I’m just leaving. Who’s his teacher?’

‘Mr Needleman,’ she said.

‘I’m sure Mr Needleman’s flitting around here somewhere in his ballet slippers,’ said Naomi.

‘He seems like a very good teacher,’ said Caitlin, a note of reproof in her tone.

‘Oh, yeah. He’s capable,’ said Naomi. ‘I just think it would be helpful for these boys to have a more . . . traditional role model.’

‘Traditional?’ said Caitlin.

‘Masculine, I mean,’ said Naomi. ‘That’s why I like Travis to go to Scouts. One of Rod’s old army buddies is the Scout leader. I like him to have that kind of influence. Life is confusing enough these days.’

Caitlin didn’t want to get into an argument with her sister-in-law. ‘I think it’s good for kids to know all kinds of people,’ she said diplomatically.

‘I suppose,’ Naomi sighed. ‘Well, I’ve got to get to work. If I see Geordie on my way out I’ll tell him you’re looking for him. You should check out Travis’s project. He did it on recycling,’ Naomi said proudly.

‘I’ll look for it,’ Caitlin promised.

Naomi headed for the door and was swallowed by the crowd.

Caitlin made her way over to the display from Mr Needleman’s class, and began to look for Geordie’s project. Every so often she glanced around, looking for Geordie, but there was no sign of him. She went through every student’s project until she found Geordie’s and then she took it in, trying to memorize everything about it, so she could describe it to him when she saw him.

‘Geordie did a good job,’ said Alan Needleman, coming up beside her.

Caitlin turned and looked at the teacher. He was young – not much more than thirty – but his blond hair was already thinning. He had pale eyelashes and dimples. He wore an argyle vest over his shirt, the latest in running shoes, and exuded a kind of positive energy which made Caitlin smile every time she saw him. Rumor had it that he lived with a male partner who worked at the fire department in Deptford County. ‘He’s very proud of it,’ Caitlin admitted.

‘He told me that you helped him collect the leaves and look up the Latin names.’

‘I did,’ said Caitlin, beaming. ‘We went over to the Arboretum. It was fun. I love doing things with him.’

‘He’s a very special boy,’ said Mr Needleman.

‘We think so,’ said Caitlin, scanning the room again for a sign of Geordie. ‘Have you seen him, by the way?’

‘Oh, I’m sure he’s running around here somewhere.’

Caitlin looked at her watch. ‘I hate to leave without telling him myself, but I’ve got to get to work. Will you let him know that I saw his project?’

‘Sure,’ said Mr Needleman.

‘It’s not like him to miss out on a chance to be praised,’ said Caitlin, frowning as she glanced around the hectic scene.

Alan Needleman rolled his eyes. ‘They’re all the same that way. Don’t worry. I’ll tell him.’

Caitlin parked in her space at the college, went into the building and unlocked the door to her office. August and September were usually a nightmare of students changing schedules, changing their majors, changing their minds in general. But, to her surprise, the last week or so had been quiet. She even had a little time to catch up on her paperwork in the mornings before her first student appointment. She went out into the reception area to say good morning to Beverly. Angelic pictures of Beverly’s four kids were lined up on her desk. But this morning a stranger sat in Beverly’s seat.

‘Good morning,’ said Caitlin.

‘Hi, Dean Eckhart,’ she said. ‘I’m June. I’m filling in for Beverly. One of her kids fell off the deck and broke his wrist.’

‘Oh, no,’ said Caitlin.

‘She’ll be in tomorrow.’

‘Thanks,’ said Caitlin. ‘Do you know what to . . .’

June held up a hand. ‘Beverly briefed me. All’s well.’

‘Thanks,’ said Caitlin, pointing back toward her office. ‘I’ll be in there.’

June nodded and picked up her phone, which was ringing. ‘Dean Eckhart’s office.’

Caitlin went back into her small but comfortable office and waited for her phone to ring. But whoever the caller had been, June did not put them through. Caitlin frowned. It could have been some matter that wasn’t in Caitlin’s purview. Of course, she would expect Beverly to be able to screen her calls, but how could June be expected to know which ones to put through? Stop micromanaging, she thought. Enjoy the peace and quiet. ‘I’m sure she knows what she’s doing,’ Caitlin said aloud to no one in particular. Suddenly, Caitlin’s cell phone rang and she jumped. She fumbled to pick up the phone which she had not expected to ring.

‘Mrs Eckhart?’ said an unfamiliar voice.

‘Yes.’

‘This is Miss Benson. I work in the office at Geordie’s school. I tried to reach your husband but his phone seems to be turned off.’

‘He’s in court. What is it?’ Caitlin asked. She thought about Geordie’s complaints of illness this morning. Maybe he wasn’t faking. Maybe he really wasn’t feeling well. ‘Is Geordie sick?’

There was a silence at the other end of the line. ‘I was just calling to ask
you
that,’ the woman said slowly.

Caitlin frowned, instantly wary. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, he is not in school today. It’s our policy to check on all absent students.’

Caitlin could hear the thudding of her own heart in her ears. ‘There must be some mistake. He is in school. I took him there myself this morning.’

There was another silence. Then Miss Benson said, ‘I will double check this and call you right back. It will only take a moment.’

‘Wait a minute. What’s going on?’ Caitlin cried.

Miss Benson hesitated. ‘Geordie’s teacher reported him absent to the office.’

‘Mr Needleman? That’s got to be a mistake. I talked to Mr Needleman at the Fall Festival this morning.’

‘I’m sure it is. I’ll call you right back after I check.’

‘No. Wait. Don’t hang up,’ Caitlin pleaded.

‘I won’t. I’ll call on the other line.’

Caitlin’s hands were sweating on the phone. She wiped them on the pants of her suit.

The woman came back on the phone. ‘I’m sorry. There’s no mistake. Geordie did not show up in Mr Needleman’s class. We are going to make an announcement and search the building. I can call you right back.’

‘No. No. I’m coming over there right now.’

Before the woman could reply, Caitlin ended the call, and scooped up her purse and her jacket. She felt dazed, as if she had just been punched in the face. She stopped by June’s desk just long enough to say that she didn’t know when she would be back. Ignoring June’s protest and questions, she headed out the door.

THREE

A
s she raced up the school steps two at a time, Caitlin prayed. ‘Let it all be a mistake. Oh, please, God. Let it be a misunderstanding.’

A big, colorfully painted sign announcing the Fall Festival was set up in the school lobby. Caitlin rushed past it, threw open the door to the office and saw the knot of people standing there. Before anyone spoke a word, she knew.

Mr Needleman approached Caitlin directly. ‘Mrs Eckhart. We are combing the school.’

Caitlin shook her head. ‘I told you at the festival. He was here.’

‘I know. I know. But he never turned up in my classroom,’ Mr Needleman said.

‘I don’t understand . . .’

Mr Needleman looked pained. ‘As soon as I realized . . .’

The principal, a stout, middle-aged woman named Mrs Hunt, stepped forward and spoke soothingly. ‘Let’s not panic. There’s any number of possible explanations. His father may have picked him up. So far we have had no luck reaching him.’

‘He’s still in court. I called the court house on my way here,’ said Caitlin. ‘I told them to send his father over here right away.’

‘Good. Hopefully, he may know something about where Geordie is. But we don’t want to waste precious time, just in case. I’ve called the police and they are on their way. Meanwhile, the entire school is being searched. He could be hiding somewhere. Kids do that sometimes.’

‘Oh my God,’ said Caitlin. ‘The police?’

‘Just a precaution. Here, sit down,’ said Mrs Hunt, offering her a chair. Caitlin wanted to refuse, but her knees were shaking uncontrollably. She sank down onto the seat. She could hear phones ringing in the office and voices talking excitedly. A murmuring crowd was gathering in the foyer, outside the office. Someone in the office offered Caitlin a glass of water, which she declined.

In her mind’s eye she went over the events of the morning. Cereal, a quick stop to see the horses and then, the drive to school. She could see Geordie, darting through the crowd, eager to get to the Fall Festival. But he wasn’t there when she went into the auditorium. Why didn’t I look for him? she thought. I shouldn’t have left until I saw him, and told him that I’d seen his project. Why did I just leave?

Mrs Hunt came over to Caitlin and rested a cool hand on her forearm. ‘Your husband just called. He is on his way.’

‘He hasn’t seen Geordie?’ Caitlin asked fearfully, knowing the answer. And her next thought made her stomach churn, as if she were going to throw up. He had entrusted Geordie to her. It was her fault.

Mrs Hunt tried to smile encouragingly.

Caitlin couldn’t summon any words to speak. Geordie.

Outside she heard the sound of a siren. The police were arriving. A clammy chill coursed through Caitlin’s body. Where could he have gone? Had someone . . . Her mind could not bear to rest on the possibilities.

Through the glass outer wall of the office, Caitlin could hear the thud of footsteps, and the front doors opened. It was not one policeman, but about a half a dozen who rushed in. Two of them entered the office while the others waited in the foyer, ignoring the questions they were being peppered by from the curious knot of students and teachers who were gathering there.

The first officer, a bald, strong featured man in his early fifties with graying fringe and dark eyebrows, wearing a tie and jacket, introduced himself curtly. ‘I’m Detective Sam Mathis,’ he said. ‘Any sign of the missing child since we spoke?’

Mrs Hunt shook her head grimly.

‘All right,’ said the detective. ‘Do we have photos of him?’

Caitlin hesitated and then said, ‘Yes.’ She stood up unsteadily, fumbling in her bag.

Detective Mathis turned and frowned at her. ‘Are you the child’s mother?’

‘Stepmother,’ she whispered, pulling out her wallet with the school picture of Geordie taken last year.

‘Where is his mother?’

‘She is . . . she died,’ said Caitlin, handing him the photo from the plastic sleeve in her wallet. ‘This is Geordie.’

Detective Mathis gazed impassively at the photo. ‘How old is Geordie?’

‘Six,’ said Caitlin. ‘He just turned six. Yesterday was his party.’

‘What was he wearing this morning?’ His tone was abrupt, but not unkind.

Caitlin tried to think. ‘Um. A sweatshirt. One of those hoodies. A gray one. A T-shirt with some crazy picture on it.’

‘What kind of crazy picture?’

Caitlin tried to visualize the shirt. ‘One of the
X-Men
. Wolverine, I think.’

Detective Mathis turned and passed the photo to the secretary behind the desk. ‘Does he always wear glasses?’

‘Yes, always,’ Caitlin whispered.

‘Did you get that?’ Detective Mathis asked the secretary.

Miss Benson, the young secretary, nodded apprehensively.

‘Type it out, scan this photo to the page and make me a hundred copies. Can you do that? Right away?’

The young woman nodded and rushed to comply.

‘Who reported him missing?’

Alan Needleman stepped forward, raising a hand half-heartedly. ‘I’m . . . Geordie’s teacher. My name is Needleman. Alan Needleman. The morning was somewhat chaotic. We have the Fall Festival going on . . .’ He waved his hand in the general direction of the sign in the foyer.

The cop frowned at the slightly built man in his colorful argyle vest. ‘And?’

‘And so, I didn’t get to take attendance right away. But when I did . . . Geordie wasn’t there. I’d seen his mother at the festival this morning, and she told me that she brought him to school today. So I . . . got worried, of course.’

Detective Mathis turned back to Caitlin. ‘All right. I need to know exactly what happened. You drove him here today?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where was his father?’

‘He . . . Noah . . . is an attorney. He had court this morning.’

‘So you drove him from your home directly to school?’

‘Yes. I mean, no. We stopped . . . along the way . . .’

‘Stopped for what?’

‘To pet some horses. He likes to do that. Then we came to the school.’

‘And you took him inside?’

‘Yes.’

‘You physically took him in. By the hand?’

‘Well, no. I mean, he was excited about the festival. But I saw him go in. He ran ahead. But I watched him go inside.’

‘You didn’t go with him?’

‘I was behind him. Just a little bit behind him,’ said Caitlin.

Detective Mathis had cool, gray eyes which were unreadable. ‘This front door here?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Caitlin admitted, her face flaming. ‘There’s a door down by the auditorium that was open this morning, for the Fall Festival. People were going in to look at the projects.

‘What is that?’ Detective Mathis demanded of Mrs Hunt.

‘Well, we have it every year,’ said Mrs Hunt. ‘The kids do autumn-related projects, and it’s all set up in the auditorium. The families can come in and look at them before school. Everything’s set up in there.’

‘You went in to look at the projects?’ he asked Caitlin.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Did you see anyone else as he went in? Did anyone pass him coming out?’

‘There were lots of people,’ said Caitlin miserably. ‘Coming and going.’

Detective Mathis looked at the principal.

‘I’m afraid that’s true,’ Mrs Hunt agreed.

‘Anyone you recognized?’