The Fort (13 page)

“I can’t believe this,” said Dr. Martinez. “They were acting scared and a little unsure of themselves, but I thought with time and some hard work we were going to get somewhere. Are they sure it’s her?”

“Pretty damn sure,” said Van Endel. “I have to tell these kids to get the fuck out, and then I’m going to the drive-in, and then the morgue. Want to come?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” said Martinez, her face a stone.

26

The door opened, and both Scott’s and Beth’s heads snapped toward it. Van Endel walked in first. He looked furious. Dr. Martinez followed, not looking a whole lot happier. “There is a very good chance that Molly is deceased,” said Van Endel. “A body has been found.”

“Oh, my God, how awful,” Scott’s mom said. “Her poor mother.”

Van Endel was pacing the small room back and forth. “Agreed,” he said. “Her poor mother. But we have a problem. A big one. The medical examiner is pretty sure that the girl we found has been dead for a couple of days, likely the same day she was taken. The body’s pretty badly burned, but he’ll know exactly how long soon enough.”

“That’s not possible!” Scott nearly shouted. “We just saw her, and she was alive. It’s been like two or three hours, tops, and most of that was spent waiting to talk to you!”

“Young man,” said Van Endel, “I am going to say this one time, and one time only. Calm down. Right now. My boss has it in his head that you kids are lying, and I’m starting to agree with him. As I said, we still need to verify details, but it seems highly likely that the body recovered is Molly, and if that’s the case—”

“Mom, this is crazy! We saw Molly, and if someone would just lis—”

“Scott,” his mom said, “you need to shut your mouth, OK?” Scott couldn’t believe it, but it was happening. She wasn’t even looking at him. “Detective, Doctor, I’m so sorry. I’m not sure what he was thinking, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. I’m so sorry we wasted your time. I honestly don’t know what else to say to you.”

“I get that. I’m not the only cop that’s been working a lot of unpaid overtime on this one. We really wanted to bring Molly home safely, and this prank, if that’s what it is, is just a slap in the face.”

“I understand completely,” said Scott’s mom. “Scott has a savings account. If there are any fines, he will be working to pay them off. When can we leave?”

Van Endel looked at Dr. Martinez, and she shrugged her shoulders. “You can go now.”

Tim sat in the back of his dad’s car. Luke was across the backseat, but neither of them was looking at the other. Luke’s mom had never shown, so Tim’s folks were giving him a ride home. Tim had never seen his mom so pissed off, but his dad was worse. He hadn’t said anything since shaking the hands of the doctor and the detective. He’d apologized to them both just before they all walked to the car. His mom had said, “I don’t want you two to say one word in that car. If you can help it, don’t even look at one another. Your father and I are furious with both of you, and I’d like to spend this car ride forgetting that either of you is even back there.”

They dropped off Luke at the entrance to the trailer park without a word. He got out, looked like he wanted to say something, probably “Bye,” or “Thanks for the ride.” Instead he just shut the door and walked away.

Now the shit’s going to hit the fan
, Tim thought to himself, and of course, he was right.

His folks were silent for the rest of the ride, but when his dad parked the car, his mom said, “Room. Now. Your father and I need to discuss some things. And don’t look at me like you want to say something. I don’t want to hear a word of it.”

“Tammy—”

“No, Stan. Not now. Go, Tim, I’m too mad to look at you right now. And when we come to talk to you, I highly suggest that you don’t have your nose in a book. I want you sitting at your desk, not doing anything. Is that clear?” Tim nodded, an impossibly huge lump in his throat. “Then go,” said his mom. “Just go.”

They came for him twenty minutes later. He was sitting at his desk, doing exactly what his mom had instructed, absolutely nothing. The minutes had dragged by like hours, every second a drop of water waiting to drop, pregnant for an impossibly long amount of time. It was almost a relief when he heard a firm knock at his door.

“Come to the kitchen table,” said his dad.

Tim stood, leaned back his head, and let out a deep breath.
Will it just make things worse if I argue?
He closed the door behind him gently and walked to the kitchen, to what felt like the hangman’s noose.

His mom was sitting at the table with an open bottle of wine and an empty glass sitting in front of her. His dad had a beer where he was sitting. Normally Tim or Becca might have cracked a joke at a sight like that—it was just early afternoon—but today was not the day for jokes.

I need to remember that I know what I saw, and that I’m not lying. Easier said than done.
Tim sat in his chair, facing them and glad that he wasn’t crying or acting like a baby. The cops were wrong, but that wasn’t his fault.

“First things first,” said his dad. “Your mother and I are extremely disappointed that you were involved in whatever it
was your friends cooked up. Lying to the police, especially about something so serious, is no laughing matter.”

“But I wasn—”

His mom slapped the table, making her wine bottle and glass do a dance, and causing his dad’s beer to foam over. “Let him finish,” she snapped, “then let me finish, and
then
we’ll listen to what you have to say. But only, and I mean this, only if you are going to tell the truth.” She shrugged. “Everything you say right now sounds like bullshit.” His mom lit a cigarette, something Tim hadn’t seen her do in years, and drew off of it, the smoke collecting around the hanging light in the kitchen. His dad gave her a look, a not very nice one, and then continued speaking.

“Like I was saying, this is serious business, Tim. The cops could have charged both you and us for what you boys did. I’m not going to ask why; you can tell me later, when you’re less indignant and give up on this notion that you can convince me that what you’re claiming is somehow true. I’m just—dumbfounded that you would be a part of this. This isn’t you.” He pushed out a sigh. “But I guess it
is
you, or who you’re trying to be, for God knows what reason. And we need to deal with it,
now
. Your summer is over, starting right now. You’re going to help me put in the patio, and when that’s done I’ll come up with something else.

“That’s one thing. Another is this: I’ve already spoken to Carl, and you and Scott are no longer friends for the rest of this summer, also starting right now. I’m talking
no
contact. And if it was possible to monitor your behavior at school to that degree, you can bet we’d say you’d never be friends,
period
. You’re sure as hell not going to be hanging out outside of school, I can tell you that. I couldn’t get ahold of Luke’s mom, but same thing there, and Carl agreed, by the way. From now till school starts, you three are no longer friends. I don’t want to hear a peep about it either.

“Carl and I also agreed that when his new schedule allows him some room to get time off, he and I are going to go out and
tear that fort down. There’s no reason for it to be up there if you guys can’t use it. Do you have any questions?”

“No,” Tim said, barely holding back the emotions and the tears with a mantra:
We didn’t do anything wrong, and someday they will see that, and they will hate themselves for this moment. And I will fucking hate them too.

27

Van Endel had expected the crime scene to have been horribly mishandled, but whatever unis had arrived first had done a good job of sealing it off. It was a small blessing. Tracy Vincent, the so-called whiz kid, as well as the youngest and most highly respected of the county coroners, was leaning against a tree, fastidiously eating an apple and reading a book. He was young, black, and brilliant, and how he’d moved up the ladder so quickly without making enemies was almost as amazing as his climbing it in the first place.

Van Endel and Dr. Martinez approached him. The three of them knew each other by name and by sight, but had yet to share an after-work cocktail. Tracy was known to be a bit of a loose cannon at the bar, as Van Endel had been before making detective, and he had a fear that they might get along too well. Tracy folded up the book, stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans, and walked to them, hand extended.

“Here to check out our crispy critter?” Tracy asked, a smile on his face. He shook Martinez’s and then Van Endel’s hand, then said, “Seriously, though, this one is going to be tough. I’ve got a
body that’s been burned about as badly as one can be, a mouth on it full of busted-out teeth, and not a whole lot else.”

“Are you sure on the time of death?” Dr. Martinez asked. Van Endel could hear a hope in her voice—a hope that the boys were telling the truth after all—but that was a hope that he had left behind in the chief’s office.

“Come with me,” said Tracy, holding up the caution tape for them and then following after them. “Looking good, Doc. Keep hitting that gym. Just don’t get rid of all of that cushion, all right?”

“Seriously, Tracy,” said Dr. Martinez, annoyed even as she fought to suppress a smile. “We have to go look at a dead girl. Show some respect.”

“I got respect for days, Doc,” said Tracy, his smile audible in his voice. “As a matter of fact, I was respecting that a—”

“Tracy, I am not in the mood,” said Martinez.

“What say we go to work now,” said Van Endel, “and shut the fuck up?”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so on edge about a case, and knowing why made it even worse. It wasn’t normal to have more than a couple of material witnesses lying to you, and when they did, it was usually fairly easy to press on them until one of them ruptured and burst. This was different. Two groups of kids, different ages, and no associations besides the Benchley kids. Even among those two, there was no apparent angle, just a big sister and a little brother living in separate worlds.

The pit where the body lay covered in a white sheet was surrounded by prints from a German shepherd, along with boot prints from its trainer. Such things were unavoidable at a fresh crime scene.

As if reading his thoughts, Tracy said, “The other ones are mine. No one else has been in here. Which makes these fellas over here pretty goddamn interesting.” Van Endel and Dr. Martinez swiveled their heads to follow his finger. There was indeed another pair of prints—boots, if Van Endel wasn’t mistaken.

“I brought shit to do molds,” Tracy said, “but I knew you’d blow a damn gasket if I did them before you could walk around and do all your stuff.”

“I appreciate that,” said Van Endel. “You had a look at the body. Our missing girl is one hundred twenty-five pounds, give or take, and she’s listed at five feet, four inches. That anywhere close to a match with this girl?”

“That’s where it gets tough, with this sort of barbecue. First glance, the woman in this pit figures to stand about five foot, tops, but people shrink as they burn. Think of the last time you cooked a steak.”

“We get it, Tracy,” said Dr. Martinez.

“Can the kitchen references, then,” said Tracy, grinning. “Anyways, our girl here got cooked with an accelerant, could be gas, but I’m thinking hotter. Bones crack from that kind of heat, which further degrades our ability to nail down a positive ID. So where we’re at now is, we’ve got a young lady who may or may not be Molly Peterson, but who most certainly was killed and burned to death roughly forty-eight hours ago, give or take about four hours.”

“That seriously the best we can do?” said Van Endel.

Tracy knelt next to the sheet-covered body and slipped on a pair of white latex gloves. He removed the weights securing the blanket that covered the corpse until it would be placed in a body bag, and then pulled it from the top half of the girl.

“To be perfectly honest, Detective,” said Tracy, “I think we’re doing pretty fucking good with what we’ve been left. Once I get her to the lab, I’ll be able to pin the time of death down a little closer, but sometimes, what you see is what you get.”

“Poor girl,” said Dr. Martinez softly under her breath, then made the sign of the cross across her chest.

Molly, or whoever it was, had been burned to almost nothing. Her skin was ash, covering not-quite-burned red flesh, along with white and yellow fat. Her eyes were gone, and her arms were
folded up unnaturally, as the fire had forced her limbs to tighten. Her neck was tilted back as far as her spine would allow, her mouth open as though she were still trying to scream. The teeth were destroyed, just as Van Endel and Martinez had been told they were.
If Tracy can get an ID from those, he’s even better than he says he is.
Van Endel stared death in the face for a few moments longer, and when he looked away, he saw that Dr. Martinez had turned as well.

“Cover her up,” said Van Endel.

Tracy did, moving around the body deftly, taking care not to put his feet too near her. There would be time for poking and prodding later, but that was for the lab, not where she lay now.