THE LAST BOY (2 page)

The publication was a small operation. Larry ran it with three editors, two editorial assistants, and the newest addition—Molly. She was essentially the secretary—with a fancier title—but the job came with the promise of advancement to assistant, then, maybe, some day, to full editor. A dream job. People like Doreen and Sandy and Ben could come and go as they pleased, sometimes even work at home if they wanted to.

Now, as the sun sank behind the hills, it was nearly 5:30, and Molly was eager to leave but didn’t dare until Larry started packing up or gave her the nod. Her boss was a tall man, somewhere in his forties, she guessed, an exuberant, entrepreneurial type with a head of dark, curly hair and strong, chiseled features—the kind of man who knew how to get things done. Before coming to Ithaca, he apparently had been a hotshot executive at
New York Magazine.
All it took was a call from him and he had a guy like Danny DeVito in town visiting the local wineries and generating a piece in the
Upstater.

Molly thought him a bit vain: he worked out to keep himself trim and always had a bright-colored handkerchief folded into the breast pocket of his suit. She had seen him around town with a number of different women. Some of them were married. Ostensibly it was for business, but Molly wondered—not that it was any of her concern. “He's a dandy,” she often thought to herself with a half smile. The kind of guys who had always attracted her were more
rough and tumble, men who were a bit on the outs with society. Like her ex.

Now the office was empty, silent except for the sound of Larry's voice. He was still on the phone. Molly was about to call Kute Kids to let them know she’d be a little late, but an important fax came in and she got distracted. Then the other lines started ringing. A writer in Vermont hadn’t received his check. An artist was still missing two photos that he needed to retouch. Panic. Panic.

Once it passed 5:30, Molly started getting anxious. She really needed to pick up Danny by six when they closed Kute Kids. If parents came late, they were fined. And the fines were hefty—$15 for the first fifteen minutes, $25 for every ten minutes thereafter. Mrs. Oltz, the director, was usually pretty pissed about it, too, thought Molly with a rising sense of panic.

Molly finally stuck her head into Larry's office and raised a finger. He covered the mouthpiece and mouthed,“Five more minutes.”

Molly busied herself, though her eyes kept darting to the clock. Quarter to six. If she drove at breakneck speed, she could still make it—if traffic wasn’t bad. When Larry got off the line, she sneaked a peek into his office, hoping to find him packing up his briefcase. He was reaching again for the phone—didn’t even notice her.

While Molly waited for her chance to finally leave the office, she kept thinking about Danny, about bedtime, the way he always wanted her to crawl under the covers with him, cuddle him and tell him stories. Sitting at her desk, Molly closed her eyes and summoned his image; now she could feel him, smell the scent of his hair, sweet and clean, hear his voice, high and excited, his words tumbling into each other. Danny.

Molly made good time down the highway. Curving down from the eastern heights, she skimmed the edge of the lake, on her right Stewart Park with its tall willows arching gracefully over the shore.
She’d be late for Danny's pickup—but not
that
late. Once she reached the edge of town, however, it seemed every stoplight and intersection conspired against her. Then she hit the construction on Route 13. The downtown traffic was snarled. The air was rife with choking dust as commuters heading home through the hub of town were slowed to a crawl. Then Molly's lane came to a complete stop as men with red flags waved the oncoming traffic around a swirl of dump trucks and graders.

“Come on. Come on,” she said, banging her hands futilely on the steering wheel.

She switched on the radio. It was already well into the local news. She listened to some mindless babble about sports, then the recap: something about a Conrail tanker car derailing alongside a trout stream just south of town. Seven thousand gallons of diesel fuel had spilled out. The plume was now in the fast-flowing waters of the inlet and heading toward the lake, killing all the fish and aquatic life in its path. There was mention of development plans for the Westend. Sales figures for new and existing homes. Though the economy in the rest of the country was vibrant, the sales figures for last month were still sharply down. Molly listened but couldn’t quite concentrate. She put on an easy listening station, but it just irritated her. She peered up at the distant sky; in the waning light she could see a fresh line of dark, menacing clouds moving in from the west.

Traffic started to move again. She checked her watch. Twenty after six! There goes a chunk of today's pay to fines, thought Molly, and could feel her stomach wrench into knots. By now all the other children were certainly picked up and Molly could envision Danny waiting just inside the door, his jacket on, his little lunch box clutched in his hand. He always looked so desperate when she was late—though he never uttered a complaint; he just looked at her with that hurt look.

Molly took a quick left on Green Street, passing the dilapidated houses caught between the commercial and residential, up past the fire station where they were hosing down an engine, another left on Albany Street to West State.

The daycare was housed in an austere building, built of concrete block with big plate glass windows looking out on the busy street. It had gone through many incarnations. Molly could remember when it had been an auto body shop, then a human body shop where college kids and yuppies pedaled bicycles that didn’t go anywhere. She thought about the incongruity of people trying to burn up calories while other folks downtown or in their shacks out in the hills were going hungry; subsistence farmers eking out an existence on their hard scrabble land.

As Molly pulled up to the curb, she saw one of the new women from Kute Kids at the front door. Her back was to the street and it looked like she was locking up.

“Hello!” Molly called out as she trotted up the walk in her heels.

The woman started, then turned, her wide flat face turning puzzled as she recognized Molly. Molly had seen her only two or three times before, and ruefully noted that she looked barely out of high school. Only the wire-rimmed glasses over her unlined face gave any suggestion of age.

“Whew! I’m sorry to be late,” Molly could feel a rivulet of sweat trickling down her side.“Where's—?”

“Huh?” said the girl. Her dark hair was clipped as short as a boy's, and she had a big gold stud in her nose. Her coat was open revealing a peasant blouse with embroidered border.

“My son,” explained Molly, catching her breath.“Danny. Danny Driscoll.” Molly's smile suddenly felt pasted on her face.

“Danny,” echoed the girl. She look confused.

“Yes! Where's—?”

“I’m sorry, they’ve all been picked up,” she said flatly.

“What are you talking about?” Molly's hands were trembling and suddenly her knees felt weak.“I just came to get my—”

“Maybe your husband picked him up?”

“I don’t have one! What the
hell
are you talking about?”

“But your boy's not here,” she said plaintively.

“Did Danny go home with another child?” she asked with strained voice. Molly's throat felt like it was closing, choking her.“Is that it?”

The girl didn’t answer.

“Where's Mrs. Oltz?” Molly pushed her aside and opened the door.“Mrs. Oltz?” She called out as she stepped in.

The place was dark. Empty. In the faint light from the street Molly could see the little chairs upside down on the children's tables. Toys had been cleared away and floors were still wet from being mopped. Under the odor of cleanser lingered the smell of urine and mold. Molly fought the swell of panic threatening to overtake her.

“Mrs. Oltz!” Her voice echoed through the empty rooms. The only returning sound was a refrigerator. It came on with a clank and then whirred. Maybe Mrs. Oltz was in the kitchen? Certainly she would know where Danny was.“Mrs. Oltz!”

“Mrs. Oltz left,” came the voice of the girl from the dimness behind her. “She had to go to the dentist. She had to get a tooth pulled and—”

“So where's my child?” Molly spun around to confront the girl. “You know, my boy? Danny! The little guy with blond curly hair? Hey, get some lights on here!”

The lights came on and Molly squinted in the sudden brightness. Illuminated, the room seemed even more deserted. The girl looked pale and frightened.

“I’m new and…” she tried to explain, but Molly didn’t want to hear it.

“He had bib jeans on and a red plaid shirt,” Molly said, prowling around the room.“You remember?”

The girl looked at her dumbly and Molly's mind felt like it was spinning out of control. Desperately she fought to calm herself. Maybe they had sent him home with someone else? They weren’t supposed to do that, but…if she could just get hold of Mrs. Oltz. She’d know. Of course!

Molly turned on the girl.“When did Mrs. Oltz leave?”

“Around two.”

“Where's Sylvia?”

“She was sick and didn’t come in today.”

“And Louella?” Molly's eyes kept darting around, instinctively checking the doors and windows.

“She just comes in mornings and stays till lunch.”

“You mean you’ve been
alone
here with all the kids since
two?”

“Yes, but…”

“Okay. Fine. Then you were here when the parents came to get them, right?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“What the hell do you mean
think so?”

“You’re confusing me.”The girl looked as if she were going to cry. Molly was herself already crying and couldn’t help it.

“Please try to think,” she pleaded. “You were here, right?”

“Yes.”

“And saw Danny today—you
do
know the boy I’m talking about, don’t you?” Molly was now moving through the building, flipping on lights as she went.

“Yes, yes,” said the girl in the tiniest of voices. Her eyes were now flooded with tears and her nose was running.

Molly did a quick check of the kitchen. Then two bathrooms, the kids’ and the employees’. Nothing. The girl trailing in her wake kept sniffling. Molly reversed course abruptly, bumping into her.
“Did one of the parents take Danny home?” The refrigerator had stopped and Molly could hear the blood pounding in her ears.

“I don’t think so.”

“Think?
Either someone did or they didn’t. Come on!”

“No,” she shook her head.“No one!”

The exit leading to the play area in the rear was closed. She unlocked it and swung open the door. A blast of cold air rushed in. Outside, the line of deserted swings rocked in the wind. The slides and sandbox were empty. The fence was high. Taller than any adult. “Did you have them outside today?”

“Only a little in the morning. Then we had lunch. And I know he was here then.” It was the first time that the girl had said that she had actually seen him.

Molly shut the door. “If no one took him, then he's
got
to be here.”

“But he couldn’t be, because they’re all gone. I’m sure…”

Molly was already in the small alcove off the hall where they put the kids’ coats and boots when the weather was inclement. As soon as she flipped on the light she spotted Danny's red jacket hanging from a hook. Her chest constricted and she began breathing rapidly, shallowly. It felt like the air had suddenly been sucked out of the building.

“Oh my God!” Molly gasped, clutching it tightly to her face. The silky jacket with letters “Big Red” emblazoned on it was the one Mr. Greenhut had given him when his own boy had outgrown it. Danny treasured it. Would never go anywhere without it.“A big boy's jacket,” he had called it and had refused to take it off—even in bed. He would never have willingly left without it.

Then she spotted Danny's dinosaur-stickered lunch box tucked in the corner. Molly yanked it open. The thermos tumbled out and rolled across the floor. The box dangling from the handle was empty except for a nibbled core of an apple and some crumbs of bread.

The girl stood framed in the doorway of the alcove watching her.

Molly bolted right past her and raced back to the kitchen. “Danny!” she called out, her voice shaking,“Honey, are you here?” She went straight to the stove and pulled open the oven door. Except for layers of burnt-on crud, it was bare. She raced from one end of the room to the other; down on her knees she yanked open the deep floor cabinets, tugging out things to get an unobstructed view, pots and pans, packages of Pampers and paper toweling, blankets and towels flying across the floor. “Danny? Danny?” He could be hiding anywhere, she realized. He liked to play games, concealing himself in tight places and then jumping out and startling her with a loud
Boo!
It was a game that always frightened her—yet he kept doing it no matter how much she pleaded.

Her eyes went to the massive refrigerator/freezer. “Oh Jesus!” she uttered and lurched for the handles. In her mind's eye she saw a child's body curled up in a frozen, fetal pose. She jerked the heavy door open with such violence that containers of juice and milk tumbled out and sloshed across the linoleum floor. Except for some yogurts and bruised fruit, it was empty. The freezer had nothing but a box of ice pops.

The girl was standing lamely in the kitchen watching her. Her inaction infuriated Molly.

“Don’t just stand there!” she ordered, tracking the milk and juice out into the main room. “At least help me look. Check the other rooms. If his jacket's here, he's got to be here! Somewhere! And what the hell's in here?” she asked rattling the padlocked door to a closet.

“It's just for storage.”

“Well, get it open!”

The girl started to fumble with the keys. Molly grabbed them and popped open the lock. In an instant she was digging her way through the closet, flinging aside brooms and mops as she waded
into the darkness. “Danny! Danny!” Now she was screaming, she realized, and didn’t care anymore.

A moment later she was at the door leading to the basement. There was no light switch and she started down the rickety stairs. The cellar smelled of rot.“Danny? Can you hear me, love?”