Set You Free

by Jeff Ross

  “Of course you can’t. And what about Ben? Do you have any leads there?”

  “You know that’s why we need to talk to your brother.” She’s been pushing a thumb against her cuticles. She suddenly laces her hands and cracks her fingers.

  “Because he’s not a suspect or anything,” I say.

  Detective Evans smiles, giving her neck a quick tweak. “Because we need to talk to—”

  “Because if the rumors about Steph are true,” I interrupt, “then I have to wonder if maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, if Stephanie Carter is dealing drugs, wouldn’t it be possible that someone grabbed Ben for revenge or a missed payment or something?”

  “I highly doubt that happens outside of movies,” Detective Evans says, a patronizing little smile on her face as if I’m a child who is asking a silly question. “And at the moment, we don’t know—”

  “But how can you be sure?” I say. “I mean, if you had no idea that Stephanie was into this kind of thing until last night—which I have to assume is true or else she would have been arrested ages ago, right?—what else don’t you know about her? Maybe she sold Ben to buy more drugs.”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” Detective Evans says.

  I shrug. “Oh. Okay. I see.” I push off the wall and move across the room to the desk. I sit on the arm of one of the two chairs there. “What was it you were saying about the truth before? That it will set me free? What is the truth now? Because it seems to me it has changed.”

  “Nothing has changed, Lauren. We still need to talk to your brother. If you know where he is and aren’t telling us, then you can be charged with—”

  “Even though he’s not a suspect or anything,” I interrupt again.

  “Even though he might not be a suspect.”

  “Might not be.” I nod in agreement. “Okay, gotcha. Can I go now? I’m missing History.” Detective Evans narrows her eyes at me.

  “Good luck with that whole Stephanie Carter thing,” I say. “Can we expect to see her picture up beside Ben’s now as well? If the rumors are true, that was a lot of marijuana she was found with. It really feels like a thing you’d normally see on the evening news. So there’ll be a report, right? All the media outlets have been alerted? We’ll see bags of pot laid out for the cameras, street values being estimated for the general public, all that?” I stare at Detective Evans for another moment. She stares back. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” I open the office door and step out.

  In the hallway, I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths before walking away.

  I decide not to return to class. I’m too angry to pay attention. Besides, I may as well use the fact that everyone is tiptoeing around me to my advantage.

  Instead, I text Grady to meet me at the Starbucks. Then I shut my phone down.

  I know I’ve thrown out a red flag for Detective Evans. If she ever saw me as an innocent, frightened teenager, she no longer does.

  She knows I’m capable of lying to her. If anything, I’m going to be followed that much more closely now.

  I’m almost out the door when JJ Carter steps out of a hallway and blocks my way.

  “What did you do?” he says.

  The hallway is empty but for us. Everyone is in class. JJ’s face is all red.

  “What are you talking about, JJ?” I say.

  “Why was Detective Evans talking with you?” He gets closer to me. His arms are back, his chest out. I remember him in third grade, endlessly being reprimanded by Mr. Gordon for picking his nose. Once, Mr. Gordon turned JJ’s desk over to show the class his booger collection. He was humiliated. I hold on to this image as the stink of Axe body spray assaults me.

  “She was just following up on some information I gave her.”

  JJ gets scary close. “About Steph?”

  “What about Steph?” I say, deciding to play dumb.

  He screws up his face at me. “Your brother took my brother,” JJ says, getting even closer. “I don’t know why, but I know he did it.”

  “He didn’t,” I say. “Why would he?”

  “Because he’s a pervert. That’s why. Your whole family is messed up.” I back away, and he grabs my arm. “Where is he? Where is your brother? I swear to God, I’ll rip your throat out if you don’t tell me.”

  “Mr. Carter!”

  JJ lets go of me as our History teacher, Mr. King, runs toward us.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” JJ replies.

  “Are you all right, Lauren?” I love Mr. King a little right then. Love him in his vest and tie. Love him with his long hair and tattoos.

  “Sure,” I say, rubbing my arm.

  “What was going on here?”

  I back away. JJ is still glaring at me. I keep thinking booger-boy because that’s how JJ was known for years, and I almost laugh.

  “I have to go,” I say.

  “Lauren, come back,” Mr. King says.

  But I start running.

  I saw something in JJ’s eyes I didn’t like. A real and true hatred.

  The Starbucks is empty. It’s almost noon, and the lunch crowds have filled the restaurants along the street. The barista from the day before greets me and slides down the counter.

  “Hiya,” she says. “By the way, my name’s Crystal.” She extends a ring-covered hand.

  “Lauren,” I say.

  “Are you meeting Grady again?”

  “I am.”

  Crystal’s eyes go all distant. I notice a butterfly tattoo on her neck. It seems to be pumping its wings. I look more closely and see that the body of the tattoo is right over the thick vein running up her neck.

  “So did you two, like, date before or…?” I ask.

  “I wish,” she says. “It wouldn’t have worked out, but it could have been fun for a while, right?”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  Crystal leans back from the counter. She’s wearing a tank top and a black vest above a pair of ripped jeans. She has a wealth of tattoos up her left arm but none on her right.

  “Not to be rude, but you don’t really seem his type,” Crystal says.

  “Oh, we’re not dating.”

  “Why not? He’s about the nicest guy I’ve ever met. He’s smart. He doesn’t buy into all the bullshit out there. He’s, like, genuine.”

  “Okay, but I’m still not interested,” I say.

  “Yeah, keep that up. It’ll drive him crazy. I came on too strong. But we’ve talked about it since, and it’s obvious we wouldn’t have worked. We’re, like, too much the same. Listen, you want a coffee? I have an extra latte here.”

  “Sure,” I say, wondering why there would be extra lattes anywhere. “Thank you.” I’ve just sat down with my free drink when Grady comes in through the back door.

  He looks around before sitting across from me. “Do you have your phone on?” he asks.

  “No. I need you to take that program off now. That game is truly over.”

  “Did Detective Evans say something?” Grady asks, taking my phone.

  “No, but she couldn’t, could she?”

  Crystal is suddenly at the table. She puts a tiny cup down in front of Grady. “Double espresso, I presume.”

  Grady smiles. “Thanks, Crystal.” As she walks away, he downs the drink in one shot.

  “She wanted to know what I was doing at the roadhouse last night,” I tell him. “But since no one actually
saw us there, she couldn’t actually ask.”

  “And now that the signal is gone, she won’t know where you are or what you’re doing. It will drive her insane.” He laughs, slides my phone across the table to me and looks out the window. “They can still track you if they want. But it’ll have to be done legally. I can’t see a judge giving her the right to tap your phone. You haven’t done anything.”

  “I don’t get why she doesn’t believe me.”

  Grady shrugs. “Probably because you keep lying to her.”

  “Just now. I mean, with the Steph thing,” I say to Grady’s amusement.

  “If she wasn’t suspicious before, she really has reason to be now.” His smile is genuine. He seems to be having a good time.

  “Right after that, JJ Carter attacked me in the hallway.”

  “Attacked?” Grady says, looking worried.

  “He grabbed me and told me how my family is messed up and how he would rip Tom’s throat out. It was really scary.”

  “What a prick. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, though I am not totally all right. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Grady is looking at me differently.

  “The infuriating part is that they’re still running Tom’s picture with Ben’s,” I say. “I saw it on the news this morning.”

  “That must be coming from the mayor’s office. I haven’t seen anything about the drug bust either. If he asks for something to be kept quiet, it will be kept quiet.”

  “And JJ seems to know it.”

  “JJ is a different problem altogether.” He’s smiling again.

  “Are you high?” I say.

  “No, why?”

  “You seem to be enjoying this too much.”

  “Well, everything but you getting attacked, yeah. That was never planned. But I like to think this way. We do something, then they do something, then it’s our turn again. It’s fun.”

  “Fun?”

  “It would be if a kid wasn’t missing and my best friend wasn’t the main suspect and you didn’t have a psychopath threatening you and throwing bricks through your window.”

  “Tom’s your best friend?” I say.

  Grady looks directly at me. “Somehow, it seems I get along well with your family. Which might give some credence to JJ’s speculation that you’re all a bit messed up.”

  “What about your uncle or people who work at the wrecker?”

  “It’s only my uncle and me, and I wouldn’t call him a friend. Friends are people you choose to spend time with. You don’t have a choice with your family.”

  “But you must have—” I begin before Grady interrupts.

  “Are you trying to make me feel bad or something?”

  “No, it’s just…”

  “I was homeschooled, remember? I spent mornings with my uncle, afternoons with my mom or alone. I’ve never been on a sports team. I moved between all these adults who hoped I’d turn out okay but didn’t actually have a clue how to help that along. I worked at the record shop and had friends there, but that closed and they all moved on. Now I’m stuck with you and your brother.”

  “Stuck?” I say, trying to sound hurt.

  “You just made a mockery of my life. You’re not allowed to feel hurt.” He smiles again, and it’s really a very nice smile. He barely has to work at it.

  “I’m not even certain who I am anymore,” I say. Grady doesn’t respond, so I go on. “Like today, when Detective Evans was grilling me, I didn’t feel nervous at all.”

  “Good for you!”

  “Okay, a little nervous. But, like, before I felt as if I’d done something wrong. Like I was a criminal or something. But that’s not true. I haven’t done anything wrong. And neither has Tom.”

  Grady leans back in his seat. “That’s how the police operate. They need information, and people are vessels to get that information from. It’s why this is all so much fun. It’s a game for them, right? So…let’s play the game.” Grady crosses his arms and looks out the window. “It’s, like, my dad. Okay, he was drinking. He might have hit that guy. But no one really knows for certain. The police figured it was him. They had him on the side of the road and the timing all matched. But then they had to go and interview everyone around him. His family, friends, co-workers. They asked everyone about his drinking problem. He didn’t have a drinking problem. He had a really bad day and decided to drink because of it. Stupid choice number one. He decided to drive home. Really stupid choice number two. But you ask about someone’s drinking problem, and there’s suddenly no debating it. That’s the starting point. So instead of being able to say, ‘He doesn’t have a drinking problem,’ you’re forced to say, ‘I didn’t know he had a drinking problem,’ and that’s not fair. They ruined his life.”

  I drink some coffee and stay quiet. Grady goes on.

  “He’ll get out someday, but so what, right? What does it even matter anymore? His old life is gone. His co-workers think he’s a lunatic. Which is why if you do talk to your brother, you need to get him to call Detective Evans.”

  “What? Why?” I say, caught totally unaware by this suggestion.

  “Because he hasn’t done anything. But the longer he’s missing, the more likely it is they’ll find something to pin on him.”

  “That’s really paranoid,” I say.

  “The police were tracking you without your knowledge. You don’t think they could find something to put on Tom to keep him in jail?”

  “Isn’t that all the more reason for him to stay missing? At least until Ben is found?”

  “You mean if Ben is found,” Grady says. Then he quickly adds, “Which he will be. For sure.”

  “I know.”

  “Yes,” Grady says. “Absolutely.” He taps the table, glances out the window. “I have some things to show you.”

  “What?” I say.

  “They have to do with your friend JJ Carter.”

  “You have my attention,” I say.

  “It’s a video on my laptop.” He looks around the Starbucks. “This isn’t really the place to watch it. Let’s go to my uncle’s shop.”

  “Okay,” I say, grabbing my bag and standing up. “Let’s go.”

  TWENTY

  On the outside, Rodney’s Wreckers looks like every other wrecking yard on the planet. Inside the main garage, though, it’s a different situation altogether.

  “This is incredibly clean,” I say.

  “That would be thanks to my uncle’s OCD.”

  There are three cars and a couple of motorcycles in various states of repair. The floor is a pristine white. “There isn’t even any oil on the ground,” I say.

  “Who wants to work in a giant mess? We leave that outside.” Grady closes the door and walks to a desk on the far wall. Laptops blink from a bookshelf, neat and organized with all the outlets and cords linked through the back.

  Grady sits at the desk and pulls a chair up beside him. “Grab a seat. I want to show you a couple of videos.”

  “Said the creepy guy to the young girl.”

  “Do you still find me creepy?” He looks right at me, his eyes narrowing.

  “Depends on the videos, I guess.” I get an eyebrow raise from him. He flicks on a monitor and opens a video player.

  The image on the screen is of Erin and Jack sitting beside one another on the couch in their living room. A clock running in the bottom right corner of the screen shows that the video was made at eight thirty in the morning on the day Ben disappeared. Grady incr
eases the volume.

  The first voice I hear is Detective Evans. “And what time did you put Benjamin to bed last night?”

  “Eight,” Erin answers. “I gave him a bath, read him a story and tucked him in.”

  “Do you know if he went right to sleep?”

  “Not likely. He never does. We normally get a half dozen visits from him after he’s supposed to be asleep.”

  “What time did you last physically see him?”

  “I went in at eleven thirty,” Erin says, then looks to Jack, who shakes his head.

  “I didn’t go into his room last night. I was on the computer until midnight and then straight to bed.” Jack Carter is wearing a dress shirt and perfectly creased pants, as if he’ll be leaving for a business meeting at any moment.

  “Do you remember when Jack came to bed?” Detective Evans asks, looking at Erin.

  “Sure,” Erin says. “It was right around midnight, like he said. I was still reading.”

  “So we know for certain that Benjamin was in bed at eleven thirty. Was he awake?”

  “No,” Erin says. “The second time I went in, he was out. I tucked him in again and gave him a kiss on the head and…” She stops and turns away from the camera. Jack glances at her but doesn’t touch her. Not even a hand on her arm.

  Nothing.

  “I know this is difficult, but we need exact times so we can check security and red-light cameras. So the last time either of you saw Benjamin was at eleven thirty?”

  Erin gives a slow nod. The camera shifts slightly, revealing JJ Carter sitting on a bar stool that has been placed behind the couch.

  “When was the last time you saw Benjamin?” Detective Evans asks.

  “Like, yesterday?” JJ says. He’s wearing one of his trademark Abercrombie & Fitch polo shirts with professionally torn jeans. His hair is an oil spill. I think about how I looked when Detective Evans showed up at my place less than an hour after this interview. It wasn’t pretty.

  “Do you recall the time specifically?”

  “Like, in the afternoon?”