by E. Groat
“Harry, I know in my gut that Beckman murdered those kids. He had a thing about that school. We’d meet there at odd hours of the night to conduct business. He practically interrogated me on a daily basis as to the activities going on with Erskine, and his bid to get that school and the surrounding area. It didn’t strike me then, of course. I thought it was just hate and competitiveness with Erskine, but it didn’t subside when Zoe and Garth wanted to continue the project. It’s ironic Beckman had a part in my thinking. If he had not been driven to get leverage on Mayor Harris, we never would have seen Beckman on video. This has all been an accident, Harry, a frigging accident! The old monster never expected to be caught. But he’s dead, Harry. Dead, the kids too. How do I prove it, and what good would it do?”
“Let’s just say it would have a cleansing effect on you, and closure for some parents. Curiosity was getting the better of me too. Detective DeLuca helped go through the police cold-case files and paper archives. We found the names of sixteen children out of one hundred and five who went missing and were never recovered. All white, between the ages of seven and sixteen, during the years 1965 through 1970. These sixteen missing children all had one thing in common — they went to the Buchanan School. They fit the forensics timeline for the bodies recovered. None of these missing boys were itinerants or derelicts. They all came from two-parent, middle-class families.
“There are some parents who still have not given up hope of hearing something. I talked to a couple of them, Josh, and it was something they thought they had put behind them. I did not want to raise their hopes, and I told them my visits were for research purposes.”
“Harry, I’m hoping to find something, anything, that might link Beckman to these kids. It’s more than a shot in the dark, isn’t it? It’s probably impossible, but I talked to Garth, and he okayed the guys to set aside anything interesting from the dig. Hell, I feel like Indiana Jones.”
“Yeah, me too. Just don’t have me riding a horse beside a Nazi tank.”
* * *
Norm was at the trailer, and he was expecting Josh. Garth had given him a call to explain the visit. Norm was visibly perturbed and put out, but reluctantly helpful. Garth knew his foreman’s temperament, which was why he suspected he had better make the call before Josh’s arrival.
“Hell, man!” Norm marveled. “We dig things up all the time, but we’ve got deadlines to meet. We can’t stop and examine everything we turn over. You want me to pull two men to sift through dirt?”
Josh realized how silly this all must sound to someone like Norm.
“We chase kids out of here all the time,” Norm continued, “trying to get in here to dig through dirt...”
“Kids!” Josh yelled. “That’s it! We need kids!”
Harry and Norm stared at Josh in wonderment. Within a heartbeat, Josh was talking to Zoe on his cell, getting her to call Father Fitzhugh.
“Look, tomorrow is Saturday,” Josh said. “You’re not working, right?” Norm nodded. “What if we brought kids over to do this for us?”
“Are you crazy, man?” Norm exploded. “The insurance, the liability. They could get hurt, anything could happen.”
“Come on, Norm, not with the right supervision. Want to play scoutmaster for a day? I’ll take full responsibility for the outing.”
Beaten, Norm relented. Josh gratefully shook Norm’s hand in stony silence and said he would see him the next morning about nine. Josh did not illicit a smile from Norm. The attorney and gumshoe likened Norm’s grumbling to that of a gut-shot bear, an amusing term Harry remembered fondly from his uncle.
At nine the next morning, the site found itself crawling with twenty-five of St. Xavier’s munchkins. The enthusiastic children took their task to heart, and none found themselves reluctant to do the job outlined for them. The children, of course, looked upon this as a giant outing, a license to root and get dirty to their heart’s content. A giant scavenger hunt was laid before them. It was mostly boys, but a few girls threw their hats in the ring. They were instructed to report anything that looked interesting, or anything they were not able to recognize, and bring them to an appointed meeting place.
By this time, Josh had opened up about his suspicions to both Father Fitzhugh and Zoe. They both listened, dumbfounded. After hearing the story of the twins, and their treatment on the video, Father Fitzhugh did something very un-priest-like. He spat indignantly, like a street fighter, and vowed to Josh that the unholy scum who did this would pay by the hand of God. At times, Father Fitzhugh’s priestly trappings gave way to his baser instinct of loathing for some of man’s inhumanity to man. He hated bullies, those who preyed on the smaller and weaker. He found himself praying for guidance and understanding when he was faced with a particularly troublesome boy with a chip on his shoulder. Patience and love usually brought many around, but he knew there were some who were truly the devil’s own. He prayed for their souls, leaving the more complex judgment for the almighty. For his part, he found forgiveness most difficult when faced with stories of such brutal, sickening behavior.
Without letting Josh continue, as he needed no more convincing, Father Fitzhugh rose. Looming tall as an avenging angel over Josh and Zoe, he announced the children would be ready for their task. He did not even give a thought to the irony that these small, helpless ones may well be the investigating forces who brought accountability to an evil dead man, and peace of mind to Josh. His nights and days were tormented since he saw the video almost three months ago. He needed some closure to this, even if they found nothing. It was the knowing that he had tried that would allow him undisturbed sleep once more.
It was early afternoon when the adults noticed a slowing down of the troops. It was again Tiny’s incredible ribs and pizza for all, and that fueled the slagging group to continue their quest. The kids were instructed to separate bottles, cans, and anything that was glass or pottery. Norm was on the big Cat moving dirt, with a grinning nine-year-old on his lap. Norm was usually as grizzled as a day-old beard, but this particular youngster had managed to pierce that granite-faced exterior.
“I’ve known that man for most of my life, and look at him!” Zoe marveled. “He’s smiling!”
And sure enough he was, allowing the carrot-topped kid he had in his lap to operate the levers and steer, much to the chagrin of the others below. Before he knew it, kids were lined up, as if for pony rides in the park. Norm was loving it.
“See, Father,” Zoe observed. “I know miracles happen every day. Look at Norm. As a child, I would come to job sites with my father and Norm would be there. He never let anyone near his equipment. He was as cantankerous then as he is now, but he always had cherry cordial chocolates for me when he knew I was coming.”
The quest continued until the shadows got long and the children grew tired. And in the end, it was all too simple. A few precious and fine articles were mixed in among the tin cans, bottles, old tires, little-girl barrettes, shoes, quarters, dimes, cigarette lighters, and various sundries. There was a gold watch, covered with dirt but intricately carved with the initials “N.R.B.,” an 18-karat-gold cigarette lighter, gold belt buckles, two money clips. Among a dozen pocketknives, four were pearl handled, all bearing the initials “N.R.B.” They lay in a neat row, echoing anguish from the past that Josh now found audile, tangible, and very real. He held a smooth, ball-like object with Beckman’s initials. It only took seconds to understand it was the top portion of a broken cane. It made Josh cringe to think of what uses Beckman had for it. Dropping it in disgust, he again thanked Father Fitzhugh and the children for their participation, and sent them home.
Norm and Harry left, and the site suddenly took on an eerie, distant, lonely feeling. Zoe and Josh were left standing in the fading daylight, with soft rushes of whirling dust obscuring their view of the setting sun.
“Come on,” Josh finally said. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I guess you’ve found your answers,” she declared as she start
ed to open her door.
Josh just shook his head, knowing she wanted to help but couldn’t. Zoe hugged him warmly and told him to call if he needed anything. Her previous infatuation with Josh had evolved into a deep friendship. As she watched him drive off, her thoughts turned to Garth a continent away. He was due back next week, and she was going to make his homecoming special. A soft smile took hold of her face as she thought of his return.
Chapter 31
Her name was Khali. Her large eyes were the color of ripened dates, and her exquisitely chiseled nose and jawline epitomized the signature of her breed. The nose of this delicately carved face nuzzled in Garth’s extended hand, indicating immediately that this man was accepted. Khali was Kahalan, one of the five strains of the Arabian. She was the favored one in all of Riza’s stables. It had been years since Garth had been riding, and that was in Central Park with Zoe. Not since his earlier visits to the Gulf had he ridden such an animal. After the firestorms and stress of the past week, he was ready for a day of relaxation and celebration for a job well done. So it was that he gladly took the invitation to ride with his old friend.
It was early, as one did not sightsee in the desert in the latter part of the day. Garth marveled at how some things never changed, and never did a saying hold more truth than in the timeless rapture of the desert. Civilization and modernization had tamed it somewhat, but the conquests were small. The respect of a thousand years was obvious. Like the oceans, it had the capacity to minimize your entire life and existence to nothing but a whisper.
Garth gave way to freedom that day, and he and Riza raced as they did in their youth. Unfettered, he thought of nothing concerning construction, deadlines, or work in general. God, he hadn’t felt this good in years. He felt the hot desert air, the horse beneath him, and the comfort of Zoe’s arms. The winds had blown the acrid smell of the smothered wells away, and the air was renewed. Life was good.
* * *
Fate, pure and simple. Not the horse, nor the proficiency of the rider. The accident came suddenly, like the small, swirling sand devils around them. A soft thud and the wrong alignment of the body left Garth in a stunned and immobile position. His mind was clearly seeing himself rise and remount, as if he were dreaming, but his body was not responding.
It was not until Riza was kneeling above him that he realized the predicament he was in. An icy fear enveloped him, and slowly the heat of the surrounding desert turned cold. Garth was scared, more scared than he had ever been in his life. Riza covered him with a small blanket. Time and reality stood still. A blurred Riza was speaking, but Garth lay there unable to decipher the meaning. He swooned, and his memory retreated.
Riza rode as he had never ridden, for his friend’s life. They had no cell phones on them, as they had left the bothersome devices behind. Within the hour, every medical device and form of assistance was at Riza’s disposal, and skilled paramedics had transported Garth to Kuwait’s finest hospital for around-the-clock supervision and monitoring.
News came quickly, but the operative word was “wait.” Zoe was contacted shortly after the doctors made their initial diagnosis. Riza reluctantly told her about the events of the past several hours, and informed her his jet would be at her disposal.
Josh would not be dissuaded. After a frantic call from Zoe, he was on that plane with her. Within the next few hours, they had arrived, greeted Riza, and gone to Garth’s bedside. The next several hours would take their toll on Garth’s friends—and, of course, the most on Zoe. Anyone who had been through such a process knew the waiting could be more terrifying for the people waiting than for the patient. They had heavily sedated Garth, and Zoe would not be able to speak to him until the following day.
The night was long for everyone. Riza and Josh broke away from Zoe, giving her some space, only to pop up every so often to see if she needed anything. Zoe would not leave the hospital, so Josh and the minister stayed with her. Which meant Riza’s ever-present bodyguards also had a long night. Most of the time, they stayed silently in the background, unheard and unseen. Sometimes, their presence was remembered when an unsuspecting resident or nurse made their way to this private floor. They were subtle and precise. There would be no disturbances for anyone tonight, unless it was the doctor administering care.
Josh and Riza busied themselves with mundane conversation and walks around the hospital grounds. The night grew long, and they all caught cat naps throughout its long silence. They waited, and they slept. Conversation grew scare. All anticipated the morning light.
The morning broke, hot and glorious, engulfing the whitewashed city. The first plaintive call of the muezzin was heard, high and lonely, wooing the faithful to prayer. Riza disappeared for his own moments of privacy. Zoe awoke with a start, immediately praying to God for Garth’s recovery. She approached the nurse on duty, hoping for any positive news, but it was not forthcoming. Morning brightness grew into afternoon shadow, and it was not until late in the afternoon on the second day—when the fifth and final call for prayer to Allah was summoned — that Zoe, Riza, and Josh saw Dr. Rasul greeting them with a wide grin and a fast-approaching gait.
Ignoring Zoe, he spoke directly to Riza, and announced with great gusto that the patient was out of danger. Though the fall had severely traumatized the spinal cord, it was the general consensus of all attending physicians that there was no irreparable damage, provided that the patient remain in somewhat of an inanimate state for an undetermined time. Garth just needed rest and time to heal his badly bruised neck and spine.
The next face the threesome encountered was that of a very groggy, almost-coherent Garth. He mustered a weak smile when Zoe reached greedily for him, careful not to disturb his position. Catching his breath from her onslaught, he peeked over her shoulder, eyed his two friends and winked. Whether they called him God or Allah, it seemed he could not bring more joy to anyone who was in that room tonight. God and Allah be praised.
Chapter 32
The night was intoxicating, as someone so aptly put it. The stars rained down in torrents as Zoe and Garth gazed toward the heavens, so full of laughter and love that the surrounding quiet of the forest echoed with mirth. Recovery had been hard, long, and tedious, but never once did Garth feel he would not regain full use of his legs and all his motor skills. He was strong and he knew it.
After a month in Kuwait with excellent care, Garth asked that he be released to go home. His injuries were bruises and trauma, things he understood. What he did not understand at that point was that time and his inertness were the keys to recovery. The healing process would begin; it was the length of time that frustrated him. Never a man to stay still too long, he was irritated by the bed rest and inability to function at his normal pace, until Zoe and the doctors put things into perspective — Garth would fully recover in time; others in similar circumstance were not so lucky and ended up in wheelchairs.
Garth promised to follow the doctors’ orders, agreeing to supervised rehabilitation and promising not to take it upon himself to play doctor. With this promise, he was released into Zoe’s care. She took him home and directly to their cabin, now equipped with a hospital bed and a visiting therapist from the nearby village.
* * *
This night was special. They had been at the cabin for nearly a month, and this was the first time they had ventured out for a short walk. A very short walk, but a walk!
Garth had a little difficulty with his speech, but now that had completely disappeared. By the end of the second week he was back making wisecracks at Zoe and their occasional visitors. Visitors were allowed, but Zoe made it clear to everyone concerned that Garth was not to be disturbed with anything concerning the project and its progress. Her mandate held fast until the beginning of the third week, when she noticed that not knowing how the downtown project was coming along was doing him more harm than good. When she allowed Norm and Josh to report every three or four days on the status of the project, she found Garth took on a particular glow that she was unable t
o supply.
By the end of the sixth week, Zoe gave up; she was no match for his pent-up enthusiasm. They made a deal. There would be no plans for a large wedding. They would quietly get married and spend two weeks at sea, where Garth could continue his therapy and focus on complete rehabilitation. Garth happily agreed to this. No sooner had the words been said than Zoe had the bags packed. She helped Garth into his temporary wheelchair, got them into their car, and headed back to the Big Apple — straight to the docks, where they booked a trip on the Star of Norway.
After being quickly and seamlessly checked into their cabin, Garth looked at Zoe, bewildered by the whirlwind transportation from mountain cabin to ship.
“You had this all planned, didn’t you?” he said.
“You are all mine for the next two weeks. Then you can go back and play with your project. You are not out from under doctor’s care. Yet.”
Zoe and Garth were married at sea by the captain, and Garth continued his therapy. The warm sun and waters worked magic. When the two-week therapy cruise came to an end. Garth walked into his office after three months.
He was married to Zoe, he could walk, and the day was beautiful. He was a blessed man.
Chapter 33
“Guess what?” Zoe chortled to Josh as he walked into Garth’s office. “We’re going to be your neighbors.”
She was perched on Garth’s desk, amid preliminary renovation plans for a house she had found in Suffolk. A bewildered Garth was trying to seem interested, but his mind was elsewhere at the moment. Norm called about fifteen minutes ago, petulant about the bricklayers Garth had engaged. Garth told Norm he would be at the site in twenty minutes, but Zoe had him imprisoned in preliminary architectural renderings.
“Thank God you’re here, man!” Garth bellowed. “Rescue me. Norm is threatening to run my brick man over with the dozer.
