The River Killings (16 page)

“They’re in the lounge.” She stuck her head out. “Can you believe Everett? That psycho jerk—”

“They’re not in the lounge,” I cut in. “I can’t find them.”

“Are you sure?” She turned off the water, grabbed a towel.

“I was just in there.”

“Then I don’t know—” Susan emerged from the shower, shampoo still on her forehead. “Molly was in there, lying on the sofa when I came in. Lisa was getting a drink at the juice bar. And Tony was in the lounge, on the phone.”

Tony? Oh, wonderful. He’d probably be ballistic that there was a kid in the boathouse. If he’d been in the lounge, he might have scared her away. But he also might have seen where she’d gone. I hurried out of the locker room, back to the members’ lounge. No sign of Tony, so I rushed to the juice bar, looking for Lisa. No Lisa. I looked in the exercise room. No Tony, no Lisa. No Molly. Just a bald guy with a bunch of tattoos and a hairy sweat-drenched body lifting weights.

“Have you seen a little girl about this tall?”

He blinked rapidly, grunting under a barbell. “A little girl? No.”

“Or Tony?”

“Tony’s around. Try downstairs.”

At the stairs, I ran smack into Lisa, who was coming up.

“Is Molly with you?” she wailed.

No. I shook my head. “She’s not with you?”

“No, I don’t know where she is. I looked everywhere.”

My heart did a flip. “But …how… What happened?”

“Molly was lying down. So I went to the juice bar to get a root
beer, and when I got back she was gone. I swear I was only gone two seconds . . .” Lisa was sweating, panting. Frantic.

“Go wait in the lounge, Lisa.” I tried to sound calm. “She’s got to be around. Don’t worry.”

Lisa nodded, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Aunt zoe. You know I’m a responsible person—”

“I know. Just go, though, in case she comes back.”

Lisa bit her lip and headed for the lounge; I raced down the stairs. The boat bays were empty except for Coach Everett, who stood at the door to the dock, talking to someone outside. Was it Molly? No. Of course not. That was ridiculous—why would the coach be talking to Molly? Besides, it was a man’s voice. I went closer, straining to hear.

“Look, man, you gotta give it to me.” Tony, I thought. I recognized his voice, but I was too far away, couldn’t hear much of what he said. “…. You have no idea what shit we’re—”

“We?
We
aren’t in any shit.”

“Yes, we are. Both of us.”

“Okay, look. You want it? No problem. Pay for it. You’ll get it when I get some cash. Meet me at the usual—”

“You know I don’t have that kind of money. I called to ask them for it, but they wanted to know why I needed it. Shit, man. If I tell them, no kidding, they’ll skin us both—”

“Tch tch tch.”

What was that? I looked around, saw no one, wasn’t sure I’d heard it. Oh dear, I thought. Maybe it was a rat. Did rats make noise?

“—You want us both to get hammered?” Tony was frantic. “If they find out you’ve got—”

“I’m a reasonable man, Tony. You can pay over time, in installments. With interest, of course. But my terms are not negoti—” Coach Everett stopped midsyllable and wheeled around, eyes daggerlike. His expression quieted only slightly when he saw me. “Hayes, Jesusgod. Don’t sneak up on people. You want something?”

“Is that Tony?” I stepped around him to look outside.

Tony pressed himself against the wall, looking unusually haggard. He needed sleep and a shave.

“Tony—have you seen my daughter? A little six-year-old? She was up in the lounge and someone said you were up there making a phone call. . . .” I braced myself to get yelled at. But Tony didn’t yell.

“Sorry, what?” His eyes darted around, jumpy and unfocused. “Weren’t you just upstairs in the lounge?” The question seemed to alarm him. “Why? Who wants to know?”

Lord, what was the matter with the man? “Did you see a little girl up there? Lying on the sofa?”

Tony’s eyes darted from me to Coach Everett and back. “No. Nobody was there. I didn’t see anybody.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nobody was there.” He was too loud. Too adamant.

Coach Everett glared at him. Tony shifted his weight, edgy. Secretive. Like a kid in the principal’s office. What was going on? Obviously, I’d interrupted something private, maybe even embarrassing.

“Okay, well.” I wasn’t sure what to say. “If you see her, send her back to the lounge, okay?” I backed into the boat bays; Coach Everett stepped outside onto the dock. Tony seemed to shrink, almost cringing as Coach put his arm on his shoulder and escorted him to the water’s edge.

T
HE
B
OAT
B
AYS
W
ERE
L
ONG
AND
SILENT,
T
HE
S
LEEK
S
HELLS
C
UP
ping each other in the dimming light, casting indifferent shadows over concrete floors. Oh, God. Where was Molly? Don’t panic, I told myself. She’s here, somewhere. But my heart was racing, adrenaline pumping as I headed back to the stairs. Maybe she’d returned to the lounge. Maybe she’d wandered into the kitchen, looking for a snack. Or outside on a balcony. Wherever she was, I’d find her. There was nothing to worry about. Molly was fine. “Tch tch tch.”

There it was again. That hissing sound. I stopped a few feet from the stairs, listening, wondering if my mind was slipping, imagining whispers. Wanting to hear Molly’s.

“Psst . . .”

No. It wasn’t my imagination. It was a definite hiss. Where was it coming from? I peered into the corners, saw only shadows.

“Mom?” The whisper was faint, but it came from above. Damn. The boat racks. She’d climbed them again.

“Molly?” I looked up. Molly was perched on a rack some fifteen feet above my head.

“Shh!” she warned.

“Molly Hayes, come down from there right now. You promised you wouldn’t climb—” “Mom. Hushh.”

Footsteps stampeded down the stairs. “Zoe—have you found her? Lisa’s a mess. She’s crying.” Susan leaned over the railing to
see me. Craning her neck, she followed my gaze. “Oh, Christ,” she said.

“Right this second, Molly.” I was furious that she’d disobeyed, worried that she might get hurt. What had possessed her to go up there again? “Come down this second.”

“Zoe, wait. I’ll get a ladder—”

“No.” Molly’s voice sounded small and far away. “I don’t need one.”

“Be careful,” I cautioned. I couldn’t reach her, but I raised my arms anyway, ready to catch her if she fell. “Hold on tight.”

“It’s okay, Mom. It’s easy.” She scampered down quickly, monkeylike, and as soon as I could, I grabbed on to her.

Susan hovered. “What was she doing up there?”

“What were you doing up there?” I echoed, furious. As angry with her as I’d ever been. “You promised me that you wouldn’t climb—”

“Don’t be mad, Mom.” Her eyes were wide and fearful, and I felt a pang, realizing that her fear was not of falling, but of me. Of my fury or, maybe worse, my disappointment.

“Why did you go up there?” I made myself calm down. “What happened?”

“What happened?” Susan stood beside me; now she was the echo.

“I got scared.” Her small shoulders shrugged.

“Scared?” Susan and I chimed, a duet. “Of what?”

Molly stared blankly at the wall, maybe trying to form an answer. As we waited, Coach Everett stormed in from the dock, shoved past us and stomped up the stairs. Oh dear, I thought. We’d better go up, too; if Tony came in and saw Molly in the boat bays, he’d put me on probation, maybe even take away my Hum-berton membership.

Sure enough, when Tony came in he started toward us, eyeing Molly, who glommed on to me like an extra appendage. Susan took a step forward, ready to meet Tony head-on. I held on to Molly, trying to reassure her while bracing myself for battle. But
there was no battle. Not even a skirmish. Tony didn’t yell or scold. He didn’t say a word. As he approached, his eyes flitted from Molly to me, on to Susan, back to Molly.

“So, you found her.” His head seemed to twitch as he spoke.

“Yes—” I began.

But without waiting for a reply, without even chastising us, Tony walked on and started up the stairs.

Molly tightened her grasp on me, staring after him. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “That man,” she whispered. “Tony? Is that who scared you?”

She squirmed, loosening her grip on my arm. “Can we go home now, Mom?”

“You don’t have to be afraid of Tony,” I assured her. “I told you. He’s just the house manager. He’s not used to kids, that’s all.” And he’d banned them from the boat bays, where we were standing.

Clutching my arm, Molly watched the empty stairs that Tony had just climbed and refused to move.

“Mom,” she asked. “What’s a gordo?”

“A
WHAT?”
S
USAN
A
SKED
. “A gordo.”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Where did you hear that?”

“From him. I heard him on the phone. He was mad that a gordo was coming.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of boat. Or maybe a launch.”

“I don’t know.” Susan smirked. “Sounds like something from a grade-B horror flick. Some creature like Godzilla. ‘Beware of the Gordo.’“ She mimicked a monster, her hands like claws, making Molly giggle.

Molly continued to play Gordo monster as we went upstairs and found Lisa, reassured her that Molly was fine and that she’d done nothing wrong, gathered up Molly’s stuff and, finally, walked Susan and Lisa to their car. All the way to their parking spot, Susan cursed out Coach Everett. He was unbearably rude. He was pathological. A pathetic has-been. A sociopath. A sadist. I only half listened, didn’t bother to comment. I was too tired. Every one of my muscles ached from tension and exercise. The bruises on my arms and face hurt. And Molly’s disappearance, even if brief, had shaken me. I wanted to go home and lock the doors, tuck her safely in bed and fall into mine.

Finally, Susan and Lisa drove off and Molly and I walked on in silence.

“It’s not real, is it Mom?”

“What’s not?”

“The Gordo.”

“Of course not. It’s pretend. Susan just made it up.”

She held my hand tighter. “But that man was scared of it.”

“You mean Tony?”

Of course she meant Tony. “I don’t like him. He said the
F
word.” “Really?”

“On the phone.” She mimicked Tony, lowering her voice, contorting her face. “ ‘No, no. Everything’s fine here. There’s no need for the Gordo. That’d just make it worse. No, no Gordo.’ Then he said the
F
word.”

Molly’s impersonation was disturbingly good, but I had no idea what the conversation she’d overheard was about. “What else did Tony say? Did you hear?”

Molly shrugged. “I don’t remember. I got scared.”

“Is that why you hid in the boat racks?”

She nodded. “They’re not dangerous, Mom. It’s easy—”

“Molly, don’t ever go up there again.”

She pouted. “Are you mad?”

“You need to stay out of the boat bays, Molly. And you need to keep your promises.” “I didn’t promise.”

“But you agreed to stay upstairs. It’s the same as a promise.” “I didn’t pinky-swear.”

“But I have to be able to count on what you say without pinky swears or promises. Just your word should be enough.”

She thought about that. “Are you real mad?”

I was tired and aching. I was irritable and upset. But was I mad? At Molly? “No, not real mad.”

She skipped, giggling with relief.

“For your information, Mom, I don’t need a baby-sitter. Lisa didn’t even stay with me. She was in the juice bar the whole time, flirting with some guys.”

Lisa flirting? Probably with the very same guys Susan and I had been salivating over. My God, I was old. Hadn’t it been just weeks ago that I’d been playing with Lisa’s little piggies, making her
giggle about the one that ran-ran-ran all the way home? Now, Susan moaned that Lisa was a thirteen-year-old with a D cup. An actual teenager. It was hard to grasp, but Lisa was old enough to want to flirt. No wonder she’d had no idea where to find Molly; her attentions had been elsewhere. On men. The idea rattled me.

Walking along the river, I held Molly’s hand, trying to memorize the feel of her small, somewhat sticky fingers; in a blink, she’d be a teenager too, and the hand she’d want to hold wouldn’t be mine. Damn, I was having one of those unpredictable sappy maternal moments. Time seemed to stop; the chaos of daily life screeched to a halt, letting me look at Molly and see not just a cherry-stained T-shirt or a scraped knee, but an actual person. How fleeting her childhood was, and how precious. Her curls bounced as she walked, and not for the first time I thought about how different we looked. The child was fair and dimpled, the mother olive and lean. A police siren wailed suddenly, ending the moment as abruptly as it had begun, leaving me reassuring myself that, even though Molly was adopted, I was still her mother. But was I? As much as Susan was Lisa’s? As much as if I’d given birth to her? Not wanting to enter that spiral, I looked out onto the river. Shells were coming in, one after the other, silently sliding through the water, silhouettes in the setting sun.

“Why does Tony have to give the coach money?”

“What?” It took a minute to figure out what Molly was talking about. “He does?”

“Coach Everett said, ‘I just want my money.’ “

“Really? Are you sure?” Had Tony borrowed from him?

“Yes, Mom. I heard him from the racks.”

“What else did he say?”

She shrugged. “Just stuff.”

Great, I thought. Try to get details from a six-year-old.

“Why does Tony have to give him money?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Molls. Maybe he borrowed it and has to give it back.” But if Coach Everett was hassling him for money, no wonder Tony looked haggard.

“But what about the Gordo?” Molly asked again.

“I really have no idea. What did Tony say about it?”

“I told you. He doesn’t want it to come here.”

We’d parked in a small shaded lot beside the river, about a quarter mile from the boathouse just below the Museum of Art. The area was speckled with sculpture gardens and trimmed hedges, benches and bike paths. Earlier, the paths had been crowded with joggers and skaters; now, after sunset, they were empty. People had gone home. We were alone, or almost; a woman was sitting alone on a shadowy bench close to the parking lot. As we approached it, I recognized her short brown hair, her mannish slacks.