The Long Way Home (18 page)

“He said he was
addicted
to your daughter?”

“All the time. I know it sounds creepy, but he’d say it sort of jokingly while he was playing with her hair or holding her hand—”

“I’m sorry, but—” Officer Dietz stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the linoleum. “I need a few moments.” She pushed away from the desk and walked briskly away. Just before she reached the hallway in the back of the room, her muffled voice came from over her shoulder: “Please don’t go. I’ll be back.”

Officer Mahoney, clearly concerned, got up from his desk and walked to their side of the room.

“We were just—” Rita started to explain, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“I heard the whole thing,” he said, looking somehow younger and yet more self-assured than he had before. “The whole conversation. You were right. She does know Davis. If it’s the same guy, we all do.” He sat down opposite them, picked up one of the framed photos on the desk, and then turned it around so they could see. “Is this him?” he asked.

Rita gasped in astonishment. There was no mistaking him. It was Davis all right. In the photo he had his arm wrapped tightlyaround the dark-haired girl they’d seen in the restaurant parking lot. Sophie, he’d called her.

“That’s him,” Jazzy said. “No doubt about it.”

Rita stood up, took the picture out of his hands, and studied it. The couple in the photo wore formal clothing and stood under an archway covered in flowers. Like they were guests at a wedding. Sophie looked up at Davis and beamed, while he looked straight ahead, giving the camera his million-dollar smile. She knew this tableau oh so well. She had similar photos of Davis and Melinda. “The girl is Officer Dietz’s daughter?” she said, venturing a guess.

“Yes, they’re engaged. They live together.”

“Oh my.” Rita ran a finger over the glass. Another lovely young woman, someone else’s daughter. He probably made Sophie feel loved and special too.

“Everyone really likes Davis,” Officer Mahoney said. “I’ve met him several times myself and he’s never said or done anything that makes me suspicious. I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

“Yes, he’s a fooler,” Rita said.

“He lives with Sophie?” Jazzy said.

“Yes, and he works for Judy’s husband.”

Rita’s eyes didn’t leave the photo. She couldn’t get over that all the time she’d been looking for him, he’d been here. She’d pictured him living on the lam, sleeping in flophouses and begging for handouts. It only seemed right that he’d suffer. But her vision of him was all wrong. He hadn’t suffered at all. Instead he was up to his old tricks—charming people with his looks and personality and getting what he wanted. He hadn’t changed at all; he just changed his location.

When Judy Dietz returned, she went straight to Rita and took the picture out of her hands. It was hard to read her face. Rita wanted to say something significant, something wise that would convince her that Davis wasn’t as charming as he seemed and that Sophie was now in danger. She was wary of sounding like a hysterical mother. It would be her word against Davis’s. Everything she thought to say seemed inadequate, so she said, “Your daughter is gorgeous.”

“My daughter is everything to me,” Judy Dietz said, gently setting the photo back on her desk. “Everything in the world.” She turned to where Officer Mahoney sat in her chair and made a shooing gesture. “Bruce, we need some privacy. Could you leave the building, please?”

Startled, he said, “Why sure, I guess. I mean, if you think that’s best.”

“Yes, I think it would be best.”

He went back to his desk to get his keys and hesitated a moment before heading out. He rested his hand on the door and looked back one more time, questioningly.

“Go,” she said, pointing, and kept her eye aimed in that direction until both sets of doors had clicked shut behind him. “Now,” she said, giving Rita her full attention, “I need you to tell me everything.”

Sleep apnea? Laverne had never even considered such a thing, but Marnie seemed pretty certain she had it. It made sense, anyway. Something had to explain all these years of feeling so dragged down. She was barely up for an hour in the morning when she felt like taking a nap. Her kids thought she was depressed, her grand-kids assumed it was because she was old, her friends thought she’d turned antisocial, but really she was just tired. Bone-weary exhausted. Putting one foot in front of the other was the most she could manage some days. There was no joy in anything.

Marnie explained how Brian had gotten diagnosed at the sleep clinic right in town. He’d gotten a referral from his doctor and then spent the night with electrodes fastened to his head and chest. “They have a camera on you all night, and they monitor your oxygen level,” she said. “It’s not a difficult test to have done. If you decide to get checked out I can drive you. I mean, if you want me to,” Marnie said, which Laverne thought was a downright nice offer.

If Laverne did have sleep apnea, the cure would be a sleep mask with a hose thing attached to a machine. She’d have to strap it to her face and have it on all night, every night. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Marnie said. “Brian got used to it right away, and he felt better than he had in years.”

“Did he have more energy then?” Laverne asked. “Was he happier?”

“Definitely more energy,” Marnie said, one finger tapping the steering wheel. “But I wouldn’t say he was happier. Brian was not a happy man. At least not when I was around. He was dour and irritable.” Dour and irritable, that’s what she said. What a combination. And then, without Laverne even asking any more, Marnie had a mini-breakdown as they were driving west on I-70. She started to cry so hard, Laverne worried they’d get in an accident. She fished the Kleenex out of the glove compartment and handed it to over. Without saying a word, Marnie took it, dabbed her eyes, and blew her nose. “Brian never loved me.” She choked out the words in machine-gun-like spurts. “No matter what I did. I tried everything. I showed interest in his work, I took care of the house, I made all of his travel arrangements. I did this for years, but none of it meant anything to him.”

“Some men are just like that,” Laverne offered. “They’re jerks.”

“No, but you don’t understand. He wasn’t a jerk. Everyone else thought he was great. He had golf buddies and work friends and college friends. Every time I turned around he was meeting someone for drinks or going out for happy hour. I’d hear him in the den on the phone, and he’d be laughing and telling jokes, and then he’d come out and it was like he was a different person with me.” She stepped on the gas and hooked a quick lane change around a minivan full of kids. They were so close when they passed that Laverne saw that the little boy in the middle seat wore a New York Mets baseball cap and regarded her with solemn eyes. “He said I was clingy.” Marnie blotted her nose with the wadded-up tissue.

“Ha!” Laverne said. “That’s jerk talk if I ever heard it.”

“He said I had unrealistic expectations.”

“Jerk, jerk, jerk.” Laverne drew in a sharp breath as the car veered slightly into the other lane. “Hey there. Watch it there, Marnie. I’d like to live another day.”

Marnie wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry for blubbering like this. I thought I’d gotten past all this. I mean, it was my choice to stay with Brian…”

Laverne shrugged. “You’re entitled to feel any which way you want.”

In this light, Marnie’s profile with her blotchy nose and down-turned mouth were even more pronounced. It wasn’t a good look for her. “Maybe I should have tried harder.”

Laverne said, “You know what, Marnie? We could go round and round on this all day, but why keep torturing yourself? It is what it is. There’s no going back, so you might as well remember the good stuff and move on. It’s time to let it go.”

“I just feel like an idiot. I wasted ten years.”

“I wouldn’t call it a waste. You helped that little boy grow up, didn’t you?”

There was a long pause and then the beginning of a smile crossed Marnie’s lips. “Well, that’s true. Troy was the one good thing that came out of all of this.”

“And now think how happy he’s gonna be when you show up on his doorstep. It’ll be one heckuva reunion!”

“I hope you’re right, Laverne.”

They drove another hundred or so miles in complete silence. Laverne was starting to doze when Marnie said, “You know, I thought I could drive straight through, but I think we’re going to have to stop for the night.”

“We’re going to have to stop sooner than that,” Laverne said. “I drank a whole Mountain Dew and I’m ready for a bathroom break.”

Rita told Officer Dietz the whole story, from the time Melinda and Davis met, to the horrible day she’d gotten the phone call saying her daughter’s body had been found. And then she told about meeting Davis and Sophie at the restaurant and Sophie’s reaction at hearing Davis had been engaged before.

Judy Dietz said not a word but listened quietly, twisting her hands and looking sicker as the minutes ticked by.

Rita said, “You might find it hard to believe that Davis was responsible. I know he’s very charming—”

“No, I believe it. When you used the word
addicted
it struck me. He tells us he’s addicted to Sophie,” Judy Dietz said. “I’ve always thought it was an odd thing to say. I’ve had a feeling about him for a while. Nothing I could put my finger on, just a niggling sort of feeling…”

“Mother’s intuition,” Jazzy said, startling both women. It was like they’d forgotten she was there.

“My husband adores him, thinks he’s tamed our daughter,” Judy said. “She used to be a wild thing, partying all the time, but she’s stopped since Davis came into her life. It’s always bothered me that Davis is so domineering, but she goes along with it.” Rita nodded. It had been the same with Melinda. Judy continued, “I have to think about how to handle this.” She raked her fingertips through her hair.

“You’ve got a gun,” Rita said. “I would just shoot him if I were you.” As soon as the words were out, she wished she could take them back. Even though she did feel that way, it was an inappropriate thing to say. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally a violent person.”

“I understand,” Judy said. “I would feel the same way. Still, I need a solution that won’t put me in jail.” She sighed and looked up to the ceiling. Her eyes went back and forth like she was in a wide-awake REM state. Finally, after a few minutes she said, “I think I’ve thought of something. Do you have a picture of your daughter with Davis?”

They ate dinner at a truck stop in Utah. It was a bustling place whose customers consisted mainly of large men with booming voices. From their table, way in the back corner near the kitchen, the smell of battered chicken and pan-fried potatoes filled the air. When the food arrived, Laverne was delighted to see the piled-high plates and the beverages served in tall glasses filled with crushed ice. “You can always tell where the good food is by seeing what place is busy,” Laverne said, digging into her meatloaf. Marnie nodded in agreement even though she wasn’t as in love with the BLT she’d ordered. The bacon was nice and crisp, but the tomato was an anemic pink, and the iceberg lettuce was fringed with brown. Still, most everything else was fine. The waitress, a peroxide blonde of about sixty-five named Shirley, was friendly, and everything on the laminated menu was cheap.

When they finished, Shirley brought a handwritten bill on a scrap of paper the size of a postcard. “You can pay up front at the register,” she said, slapping it on the table. “You drive safe now.” Marnie imaged that she had said these words a thousand times or more. They had to be etched into her mouth, her vocal cords, the very core of her.

When Laverne went to get her wallet, Marnie stopped her and opened her bag. “It’s my turn to pay. Remember?” They’d taken to trading off now that it was just the two of them. It seemed easier.

Laverne nodded. She put down her napkin and said, “I’ll make a pit stop then, while you pay.” She trundled off with her purse clutched to her side and greeted the truckers sitting at the counter as she went past. Marnie opened her wallet until she found a twenty and then got in line behind a man at the pay station. It was there she noticed the boy sitting on a folding chair behind the cash register, his ankles tied to the chair legs with twine. He wore ripped blue jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt and had a red bandana wound around his floppy black hair like he was from a 1990s boy band. He looked to be about Troy’s age, maybe a little older. From the look on his face he was in complete misery; he kept shooting glances at the parking lot and nervously chewing his lip. Marnie found herself strangely drawn to this kid. “Are you okay?” she asked him, and when he looked up, she saw intense gray eyes fringed with dark lashes.

“Don’t worry about the likes of him,” the heavyset man behind the register said. Without Marnie realizing it, the line had shortened and it was now her turn. “The kid’s getting what he deserves.”

“I told you that my dad was going to come back for me! He has my wallet,” the teenager said, and it was part wail, part indignation. Marnie knew that tone well. She’d heard it from Troy many times.

She moved closer to the counter and handed the man her bill and money. “What did he do?” she asked, looking over sympathetically. The kid looked like he needed a good hug. She was tempted to scoop him up herself.

“He ordered food and now he can’t pay. And if that’s not bad enough, he tried to pickpocket one of my waitresses. He had his damn hand right in her pocket. If another customer hadn’t noticed, he’d have walked off with her money.” The man shuffled through some bills, double-checking before handing them over the counter. “The police are on their way.” He raised his eyebrows menacingly at the kid. “Or at least they will be as soon as I call. I’m tempted to just inflict some punishment of my own.”

“That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?” Marnie said. “He’s just a kid.” The boy raised his head and gave her a grateful look. With his hair poking out of his bandana he looked heartbreakingly young. She could imagine him standing in front of the mirror in the morning, trying to get the bandana angled just right and then unwrapping it and doing it over again. Image was everything at that age.

He shrugged. “I run a business, not a soup kitchen. And the girls who work here deserve every penny they make. They don’t need some punk ripping them off.”

Marnie took her change, and when the man’s beefy hand brushed hers she got what felt like a cosmic jolt. Suddenly she saw the whole thing as if she were looking down on the scene. The repentant boy on the bench, the unyielding diner owner, and even herself, Marnie, formerly a mouse, but now someone who took charge. They were all pieces in a real-life board game and it was her turn to make a move. Behind her another customer, a large trucker, said, “Are you finished?” and she turned to see beefy shoulders, tattooed arms, and a handlebar mustache.

“Just a minute,” she said to him, and then to the owner: “I would like to pay the boy’s bill.”

“Lady, I know you’re being a Good Samaritan, and that’s real nice and all, but in the long run, you won’t be helping him. I know his type. He needs to learn.”

“I insist,” she said. “Just tell me how much and I’ll pay it right now.”

The boy leapt to his feet and moved forward, dragging the chair with him. He was taller than she’d thought, maybe three or four inches taller than herself. Still, something about him made him look small. Maybe it was the untucked T-shirt two sizes too large for him. “I swear I’ll pay you back, miss. I mean it, I’ll do anything—”

“Hey! Get back there and sit down,” the owner said, swatting him with an outstretched arm. “
I will kill you
.” The way he said it made the hackles on Marnie’s neck rise and stopped conversation in the diner. Customers paused mid-chew to see what the ruckus was about.

The handlebar mustache guy standing behind Marnie said, “Eh, Scooter, if the lady is willing to pay, let the kid go. Why be such a hard-ass?”

Scooter?
Was there ever such an unlikely pairing of man and name? Marnie watched this drama play out while still aware of Laverne returning from the ladies’ room. Marnie held up a twenty-dollar bill and raised it in the air. “Let’s just settle up, sir.” She added the
sir
as a courtesy. “If you let him go, I’m sure this young man will never bother you again.”

“That’s for sure,” the kid said, frantically. “I’ll never come in here again.”

“Damn right you won’t.” The owner plucked the twenty out of Marnie’s hand. “This should cover it.” He stuck the bill into his drawer and slammed it shut. Furious, he took scissors and cut the twine holding the kid hostage. “Now get the hell out,” he yelled at the boy, who didn’t wait but hastily dashed out the door. “Good riddance,” the owner muttered loudly. An unnecessary show of authority, Marnie thought. With the disturbance now over, the other customers resumed talking.

Laverne came up alongside Marnie with a puzzled look on her face. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you outside,” Marnie said.

“Well, that was real nice of you to pay for him,” Laverne said in the car, after Marnie had explained. They were still in the parking lot, the engine idling. Marnie felt it necessary to have the diner in sight, almost as if it would help illustrate the story. “Not too many people would have done that for a kid they didn’t know.”

“Oh, you would have done it too, if you saw him,” Marnie told her with certainty. “The look on his face would have broken your heart. Poor kid. All I could think was that I’d want someone to help Troy if he was in the same situation.”

“You were looking at him with your mom eyes,” Laverne said.

“I couldn’t help it,” Marnie said, adjusting the angle of Carson’s GPS, which was suction-cupped to the windshield again. “I guess we should hit the road. I want to get another two or three hours in before we stop for the night.”

They circled the building and turned onto the frontage road that would take them to the freeway. Marnie couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw a familiar figure in the distance. Like a mirage, the kid in the red bandana stood on the shoulder of the road, his thumb held up hitchhiker-style. “That’s him,” Marnie said, excitedly, “the boy from the diner.”

“Looks more like a man than a boy to me,” Laverne said, but Marnie disregarded her comment and slowed the car until they were alongside him.

“Hello,” she called out. “Remember me? I’m the lady who paid your bill.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I know.” He shuffled his feet in a way that struck her as being modest. “Very nice of you. Thank you.”

“Do you need a ride?”

Laverne reached over and gripped the loose skin on Marnie’s elbow. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

What a weird sensation, having someone pull on your elbow. Marnie shook her off. “We’re heading west toward Las Vegas.”

The kid didn’t wait but went to the back door of the car even before Marnie could undo the lock. There was an awkward exchange when he pulled on the latch at the same time as she was releasing it, so it didn’t work, but the second time their timing was better, and he got the door open and scrambled into the backseat like he belonged there. “This is great, thanks,” he said. “I’m going the same way you are.”

“Where exactly are you going?” Laverne asked. “And why don’t you have a ride?” She sounded downright mistrustful.

To counteract Laverne’s rudeness, Marnie said, “My name’s Marnie and this is my friend Laverne. We’re from Wisconsin.”

“I’m Max,” he said, fastening his seat belt in one smooth motion. “From Colorado. I’m heading to California. I’ll go as far as you’ll take me.”

“I have a stepson about your age,” Marnie said. “His name is Troy. I haven’t seen him in quite a while.”

“You have a last name there, Max?” Laverne’s forehead furrowed in disapproval.

Marnie could have clunked her on the head for being so abrupt. “There’s no need to interrogate him,” she said primly. “He’s had a rough day.” She steered the car back onto the roadway.

“Yeah, it’s been a rough day. My dad abandoned me at the truck stop. He has a powerful bad temper and he randomly got pissed off and just stormed out.”

“What was he so mad about?” Laverne asked.

“I said I wanted to live with my mom. That I was sick of taking his abuse.”

“Well, good for you!” Marnie said, hoping her enthusiasm would set a tone and encourage Laverne to be a little more welcoming. “And is that why you’re going to California? To see your mom?”

“Yeah, that’s why,” Max said. “She has custody, but my dad took me for a visit and wouldn’t let me go back. He wouldn’t let me call her or anything. I miss her so much.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Marnie said. She wished she could turn around and give him a smile, but she had to settle for a glance in the mirror. He didn’t meet her gaze though; he was too busy looking out the window. “Do you want to borrow my cell phone to call your mom?”

“Nah. She’s at work right now, so I couldn’t talk to her anyway.”

“You could leave a message,” Marnie said. “I’m sure she’s sick with worry.”

“I called her from the restaurant and said I was on my way. She knows I’m fine.”

“Oh,” Marnie said. Something about that didn’t ring true. Hadn’t he said his father wouldn’t let him call his mother? She was sure of it. So how had he called from the restaurant? The kid didn’t seem to have a phone on him. Or anything at all for that matter—just the clothes on his back. And there’s no way the owner would have let him call. That maniac was an inch away from killing the kid. And over what? Twenty dollars? Although now that she thought of it, that must have been a heckuva lunch. The total combined for her and Laverne’s lunch came to less than fifteen. Clearly she’d been ripped off.

“What are you going to do once we drop you off?” Laverne asked. “With no money and no phone?” She’d turned around so far her body had twisted out from underneath the shoulder portion of the seat belt.

He shrugged his shoulders defensively. “I’ll figure out something. People are nice. I’m sure someone will help me out. You did.”

“Is that a style with the kids now, a scarf wrapped around the head?” Laverne asked, casting a critical eye.

“It’s a bandana,” Marnie said. “I like it.”

Max said nothing. He looked preoccupied, as if watching the passing cars in the left lane fascinated him. With one finger, he pushed the bandana upward, giving it a jaunty look.

“It looks good,” Marnie said, but Max’s eyes never veered from the window.

“How old are you anyway?” Laverne asked him.

“Old enough,” he said, in a bored, disaffected way. “I’ve been on my own for a long time.” Marnie thought he probably meant he was taking care of himself for a long time. She remembered being that age and thinking that adults were extraneous. At fourteen or fifteen she’d been convinced that if her parents suddenly disappeared off the face of the planet, she’d manage just fine on her own. Maybe even better than when they were there.

Laverne turned up the radio, and country music blared out of the car’s speakers. She leaned toward Marnie and said something indecipherable out of the side of her mouth.

“What?”

She repeated it, but Marnie still couldn’t make it out. Finally, Laverne fumbled through her purse until she found a pen. She wrote on the back of an old receipt and held it against the dashboard, sneaking a look back at the boy. The note said, BOY UNDERAGE TAKE TO POLICE STATION.

Marnie looked from the note up to Laverne, whose forehead was creased with worry. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see that Max now had his head tipped back and eyes closed. His unlined face and long lashes made him look like a small child, and she could see that his tough-guy exterior was just a façade for a sweet, mixed-up kid. Could he be lying to them? Maybe. But she didn’t want to believe it. She turned back to Laverne and shook her head.