THE LAST BOY (28 page)

Tripoli's officers did a good job of keeping unwanted visitors away from Molly's trailer, but almost every time she and Danny left home there was at least one reporter dogging her heels.

A camera crew ambushed them while shopping at Tops Friendly Market.

“We just want to talk to Danny for a minute,” said the TV reporter with her moussed hair and perfect makeup as she stood in the middle of the cereal aisles, blocking Molly's cart.

“Well, Danny doesn’t want to,” Molly tried to shield Danny from the cameraman.

“Where were you all this time?” the reporter persisted.

Danny peeked out from behind his mother, smiled, then scooted back out of sight.

“What did the old Hermit—”

“Please!” said Molly, taking Danny by the hand and abandoning her groceries. She crossed the parking lot and started her shopping all over again at Wegman's.

Given the amount of media focus, the whole town was abuzz with talk of Danny's return. There was hardly a living soul who didn’t have a theory about his disappearance.

Siddhartha, the Norwegian hippie cook in the kitchen of the Moosewood Restaurant, suggested to Dansingtree, the waitress, that Danny had gone off to be raised by wild animals. “You know, just like in the story of Romulus and Remus.”

“Yeah. That makes sense,” Dansingtree agreed. Especially since Romulus, New York, was just a quick thirty miles up the road.

“One of those cursed fanatical religious sects kidnapped him!” exclaimed the Reverend Glen Thorne, shooting an index finger heavenward as he stood at the pulpit, exhorting his followers to be wary of the danger of worshipping false prophets. As pastor of the United Society of Christ, an evangelical splinter sect that held services in an old garage at the edge of town, he felt it his duty to warn his parishioners of the evil lurking in their very midst. “They programmed that boy and then turned him loose to snare new converts for their satanic beliefs.”

Others were convinced that a large ransom had been paid to a gang of professional kidnappers, while still others who worked in construction and were less prone to wild speculation surmised that the father had swiped the kid. Those who had been screwed by Chuck in some business deal figured nothing was beneath him, even hurting an innocent woman like Molly.

When one of the weekly supermarket tabloids hit the stands, it confirmed what a small but vocal segment of the population had suspected all along:

“Danny was kidnapped by aliens!” said Mrs. Song Hong, reading
aloud as the cashier at the P&C beeped her groceries through the scanner.

“
Aliens?
” repeated Annie Hubbel, swiping a carton of eggs past the intersecting red beams of light.“Does it say what kind of aliens?”

One late afternoon Wally Schuman from the
Journal
managed to talk his way through the police protection and stood in Molly's kitchen. After all the help he had given her, it was hard for Molly to turn him away.

“I don’t want him to be pressured,” she said.

“Of course not,” he responded emphatically.

“You start asking questions about where the Hermit is and he gets very—”

“I understand. Frankly, I’m really much more interested in Danny than the old man. Everybody is. I heard such wonderful things.”

“If you write a story, then there’ll be just more folks hanging around.”

Schuman took a long, thoughtful pause.“You’re worried about the Hermit coming and somehow taking the boy back, right?”

Molly guessed the tack he was taking.“So your story is going to help flush the guy out, is that it?”

“Well, yes, that's a distinct possibility.”

Molly looked at him. He had crow's-feet at his eyes and lines in his face that gave him a perpetual smile, a kindly face. “You know you’re pressuring me.”

“I’m aware of that. Unfortunately, it goes with the job.”

“If I don’t let you—” she started to say.

“Then the story becomes a lot of speculation, secondhand information.”

“Okay,” she said finally. “Just remember the ground rules.”

And she let him sit with Danny out on the stoop and talk without interference. Maybe, she told herself, maybe he can elicit
something that Danny hasn’t told me. She stood at the kitchen window watching Schuman, saw how he put his arm around her boy, the way Danny smiled and looked comfortable with him, and she finally relaxed.

“I heard,” said Schuman softly,“about that shooting star.”

Danny turned to him and smiled with a touch of pride.

“Your neighbor, Mrs. Dolph, saw you with your mother sitting out there that night.”

The boy didn’t in the least seem surprised. “Yes. I know. I saw her.”

“You see a lot don’t you?”

“Not really,” he said. “It's all there.”

“Let me tell you, what you did was pretty impressive. How did you do that?”

“Oh, just listened.” He got up, and starting poking his toe into the ground.“I’m going to make a garden right here.” he said.“I need to dig all this stuff up. Wanna help?”

“Well, maybe yes. But not right now…That man. The Hermit. He taught you that trick.”

“But it's not a trick. You could do it, too.”

Wally Schuman looked very surprised.“I
could?
”

“You just need to open your mind's eye.”

The newspaper man did a double take. “Is that what he taught you?”

“Everything is there. To see. To hear. You have a lot of powers in you.” He touched his own chest. “You just have to use them, that's all.”

“But how?”

“Just do like me!” said Danny and laughed.“You gonna help me dig?”

A half-hour later, Wally came back in. He stood in front of Molly, absorbed in thought.

“How strange,” he said finally, shaking his head. “Talking to him.…Well…I found myself at times completely forgetting that he's just a little boy. He sometimes seems so…” he struggled for the right words,“so wise beyond his years. He seems to see so much.”

“See what?”

“Just the world around us.”Wally looked entranced.

Rosie, still confined to bed, had theories of her own, and she called Molly about them during the course of the day.

“As I see it,” Rosie explained. “Danny wasn’t kidnapped at all. And he didn’t just haphazardly wander off into the woods. If you examine all the evidence—”

“You know you’re beginning to sound more and more like Tripoli.”

“A cop?” she laughed.“That's an insult! Hey, maybe
he's
sounding more and more like
me
.” Molly could hear a toilet flush. Rosie was on her wireless phone, her voice fading in and out as she moved around. “Anyway,” she went on, breathing heavily, “I’m just basing my theory on facts.”

“Like what?”

“Just think about all the things you’ve been telling me, the incredible things Danny learned. Maybe…” she went on, getting carried away in her conjecture,“maybe Danny was chosen.”

“Chosen for
what?
”

“Something special. Like the Dalai Lama. To be like a leader. Or maybe to be some kind of wizard who can—”

“Rosie, that kind of speculation just makes me nervous.”

“I don’t see why.”

“I’ll tell you why.”And finally, she told Rosie about Danny talking about being home only for a visit, about the sounds outside her trailer that night.

“Oh.…That would make me jumpy, too. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just thinking about the positive side of things.”

“And it's like everybody wants a piece of Danny.”

“Whatta you mean?”

“I don’t know. They just want to be around him. Talk to him. Wally Schuman was just here. I let him spend some time with Danny and the guy came away mesmerized. Everybody's so—”

“Well, Danny is unusual. And what's happened to him, well you’ve got to admit—”

“There's nothing to admit! I just want people to leave us alone.”

“I didn’t mean to call so much. I’m—”

“No. No! Not you, Rosie. Never you. I mean
other
people.”

Tripoli stopped at the trailer while Molly was getting Danny ready for bed. He had been in the neighborhood following up a report on a burglary and thought he’d just say hello. Or that's the explanation that he had prepared if Molly was going to put him on the spot. He tried not to think of himself as being marginalized since Danny's return, but what could you expect? he told himself. She and her boy needed time to get to know each other again. And though their relationship might never be quite the same, he hoped she would begin to miss him the way he ached for her.

“Come on in. It's open,” she called through the bathroom window. He could hear water running in the tub. “I’m just fixing Danny's bath. I’ll be right out.”

Tripoli patiently waited in the living room as the windows in the trailer began to steam up; finally he opened a couple to let in the fresh air. He paced up and down the single hallway. He took a glass of water and drank it slowly.

Five minutes later Molly emerged, the fine hairs at the nape of her neck and temples damp and sticking to her skin. She was carrying a handful of bath toys.“Got any use for these?” she asked, holding them out. She was wearing a tank top and skimpy cut-offs, which he found appealing.

“I’ve got plenty of boats,” he said with a laugh, “But I could probably use this duck,” he picked it up and squeezed it, eliciting a quack.“Yeah, this is perfect.” He gave Molly a kiss on the cheek. He was moving in for a longer, more serious kiss and could feel her pull back slightly.

“What's the matter?” he asked, looking offended.

“Nothing,” she said.“Give me a second, and let me dump these.” She tossed the wet toys into the kitchen sink.“Danny tells me he's too grown up for nonsense like this. If he's going to have ducks, they’ve got to be real ones. And his latest pronouncement? He doesn’t want me calling him Danny anymore. Now he's
Daniel.
” She rolled her eyes heavenward.

The door to the bathroom was open and Tripoli could hear the boy splashing and churning around in the tub.

“Swimming lessons,” she said with a toss of her head.

“Come here,” he said and stood his ground, waiting.

“What is this?” she asked.“A test?”

“Of course it is. I want to know if you still remember me.”

“Oh, poor Trip. Have I been neglecting you?” She came over, wrapped her arms around his neck and planted her mouth on his. “Well, better?” she asked.

He licked his lips and smiled.“A little better.”

“Want a glass of wine?” She was already moving towards the fridge. “I’ve got an open bottle of white.”

“Theoretically I’m still on duty,” he said,“but…what the hell!”

“We were given a case of Swedish Hill at the magazine.” Molly hunted through the fridge. “We carried this story on local wines, and they…Oh, here it is.”

She poured him a glass. He took a sip and let it roll around his palate.“Hmmm,” he said, thoughtfully smacking his lips.“Not bad. Not too dry. Not too fruity. A little outspoken, but—”

Molly poked playfully at his ribs. “Larry tells us we’ve got our
principles. We can’t be bought. At least not with money. Quality wine apparently is a different story…” She filled her own glass and took a sip. “So, Mr. Policeman, howya doing?” She glanced in the direction of the bathroom, then came again close to Tripoli, pressed her hips tight against him and kissed him long and hard.“Mmmm,” she hummed appreciatively, her mouth moving on his.

He couldn’t help himself and quickly had his hands all over her. “Ooooh…nice.…Has anybody ever told you what a gorgeous ass you’ve got?” he whispered conspiratorially, tracing its curve from the small of her back to her thighs.

“It's been mentioned, I think,” she said, sliding in yet tighter to him. She ran her hands over his chest. Through his clothes she could feel his muscles ripple.

Tripoli took a long drink. He could feel it warming his insides as he moved back and forth against her. His heart was thumping and his mind was racing. Where? How? “What time does Danny go to sleep?” he asked hoarsely.

Suddenly she stiffened. Then went pale.

“Wait!” she said, pushing him back.

“Huh? What's the matter?”

“It's too quiet!” She cocked an ear.

Immediately, he realized it, too. There hadn’t been a solitary sound from the bathroom in minutes.

Molly scrambled toward the bathroom and Tripoli was right behind her. When she reached the door, she let out an agonized scream.“Oh God!” she cried.

Danny was lying submerged on the bottom of the tub, motionless. Through the soapy water, Tripoli could make out the boy's features. They were totally slack and he looked unconscious. Pushing past Molly, Tripoli plunged his arms into the water and took hold of Danny. His body was completely limp, and in a flash Tripoli had him sprawled out on the bathroom floor and was prying open his jaw
when Danny eyes fluttered open and he looked up.

“What's the matter?” he asked as he sat up, water dripping off him.

“Jesus, Danny!” gasped Molly standing in the puddle, both relieved and furious. “You scared the living daylights out of us!”

“I’m sorry,” chirped Danny.

“Sorry?”

“I was just practicing.”

“
Practicing?
” echoed Tripoli. He was still breathing hard, and his shirt and shoes were soaked.

“To hold my breath,” Danny explained as he climbed back into the tub.“I’m okay. I can do it. Watch!”

The two watched as Danny, crossing his arms, slid again under the sudsy surface.

They gaped into the tub as he lay there on the bottom. He remained there motionless and continued to stay there. At first just a minute. Then what seemed another full minute. Little bubbles formed at his nostrils.

“Holy shit!” uttered Tripoli under his breath.

“That's enough!” cried Molly finally, plunging her hands into the water and pulling him up. “Okay, enough,
Daniel
, Honey,” she called out loudly. “You don’t want to give Mommy—I mean your
Mother
—a heart attack, now do you?”

“You’ll like it at our new office,” said Molly as she helped Danny fill his backpack with crayons and paper and packages of clay.

A full week had passed since Danny's return and Molly felt there was no way she could postpone going back to work. But there was also no way in the world that she was going to leave Danny out of her sight—not with that crazy man on the loose.