Finding Davey

by Jonathan Gash

  “From anyone else this would sound like self-pity.”

  He tried the scalding coffee again, gave up. “Maybe you’d be less encumbered.”

  “Don’t throw my words back at me!”

  “Know what the problem really is?” He became self-conscious. “I never was numerate. Kylee’s maths about the competition daunt me. She taught me her numbers, starting at a hundred answers. They became forty thousand, and now it’s a hundred thousand with more still coming in. That’s only for one question. She’s pleased, says we’re on song.”

  “Trust her. You always have.”

  “The new book comes out this week.”

  “It’s already out.” She smiled. “George sent it today while you were dressing up like a funeral director.”

  They spoke of the itinerary: Kansas City, Omaha, Fort Worth and Dallas, back north to Oklahoma City.

  “Arranged to coincide with festivals,” she admitted. “Next time, maybe I’ll think of the travelling before I work out destinations.”

  “Geoffrey will phone tonight.”

  “I’ll handle it, Bray.” She took his hand. “Time you left things to me.”

  Chapter Sixty

  “I heard all about the camp,” Mom told Clint gaily. “We were so proud, right, Pop?”

  “Sure were!”

  “What did you like most, honey?”

  “The log slalom!” Clint cried excitedly. He felt real strange at home. “We did canoeing, then waterfalls. And backpacking! I didn’t like the hidey games.”

  “Hidey games?” Mom asked, suddenly glassy-eyed.

  “We had to chase each other. One of us had to hide. I got scared.”

  “Didn’t you tell that girl, Brighter Sally?”

  “No. They would have said I was chicken. Me and Leeta and Carlson and Consuela and Elgin were a team.”

  “Did you win?”

  But Hyme was paying a fortune and didn’t want Mom to forget it. That Sally. He wanted value.

  Clint told how he’d learned to ride a pretend bucking bronco, because if you fell off you only fell into a sponge. Mom was relieved. After supper Clint watched some kids’ programme on TV. He sat still.

  “This is the one where we got into the competition,” he offered during the break. It was only five minutes each half, though Mom was sure he must be tired after the ride home.

  “What competition, honey?”

  “The game.” Clint was animated, spinning round to tell her. “You send off an answer when they ask a question, see? We’re great. We won the practice game. Ask anybody!”

  “Send off?” Mom froze staring at the television.

  “We’ll get our pictures taken if we win!”

  Mom gazed in horror. So this was it, these angular figures with cloaks, odd hats, the landscape’s skies filled with kites and rectangular clouds.

  “Pop?” she said faintly. “Come and see.” She made eye signals to Pop but he didn’t heed.

  “They give us a million bucks. We’ll be famous.”

  “Million bucks?” Pop emerged to follow the conversation.

  “The competition! KV!” Clint used to feel queer saying the initials, but familiarity had made the strange sensation go away. “You guess answers. If you guess them all you get a million dollars!”

  “It’s the competition, Pop!” Mom exclaimed with a fixed grin. “Kids enter their names and addresses. Remember?”

  “We didn’t have enough computers to go round,” Clint told them joyously. “Brighter Sally said we couldn’t join in it. But Carlson’s brother sent the answer.”

  “Did he now,” Mom said faintly.

  “He’s wicked!”

  Mom talked about it a while, let Clint see his programme. The new question would be shown tomorrow. He went to bed after his hot drink.

  The CNN news briefly mentioned the KV series. It was coming in for serious criticism from educationalists and moral preachers. Mom listened, repeating almost every word to Pop.

  “We must do something, Hyme. It’s time we left here, go somewhere else.”

  “Go where?” Hyme was sick of it. Doctor had guaranteed no comeback.

  Mom considered. The school, Clint’s friendships. It was a threat far worse than she’d perceived. At first she’d only worried about local newspapers, Clint’s photograph, possibly some Little League list.

  “Anywhere, Pop. Anywhere else at all.”

  The next morning they packed. Pop called the head and Clint’s class teacher. Clint, he told them, had been summoned for a special clinical evaluation. No, they had no criticism of the school, in fact they were very pleased. They wanted Clint’s doctors to see for themselves. They would let the school know how long they would be away.

  Clint, Pop said, sent his love.

  Geoffrey wasn’t able to do any more than reassure Mr Maddy. It went against the grain to pretend that Kylee was a relative, but he’d promised Bray.

  “My father takes responsibility very seriously,” Geoffrey told the computer manager.

  “You understand my position, Mr Charleston,” Maddy said earnestly. “I was given false information about the girl’s age and status.”

  “Which is the reason I’m here, to convey my father’s undertaking to resolve the issue completely. He accepts responsibility for the girl’s behaviour.”

  “Until he returns?”

  “He has appointed a counsellor, Mrs L. Vinson, to assume charge of the girl for the next three weeks.”

  “Very well.” Maddy asked about probation.

  Geoffrey repeated his father’s firm assertion. “My father has an agreement with them until the end of the year.”

  He left sweating and uncomfortable, wishing to hell he knew exactly what Bray was doing. He felt he’d pulled it off, bought his dad some time. Thank God Shirley had decided not to come.

  In Bray’s house, Kylee checked the clocks. The house felt her own. She checked the hunt shed first, then Davey’s old shed. No sign of intruders.

  She made Creb phone the neighbours and tell them that Kylee would be walking Buster. She liked running the dog over the fields.

  She settled into a peaceable existence. It was her first real home. Bray seemed everywhere. She collected his letters and put them on the mantelpiece. She got them the right way up, because the stamps were always in the top right corner. On the second morning a post girl called. Kylee scrawled anything, grabbed the package and slammed the door.

  Answers to the second question came pouring through the computer terminal.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Jim Stazio met them on their arrival in Portland. He thought Oregon dull. Lottie and Bray found it beautiful. The sweep of the river was grand, the countryside exquisite.

  “We got a start yet?” he wanted to know.

  Lottie was delighted by the riverside shops. Bray was disappointed in the furnishings, but Lottie countered that he had tunnel vision and went bric-a-brac hunting.

  “I want to be doing, Jim,” Bray told Stazio. “Kylee’s working out the second set of answers. Hundred and fifty thousand, give or take.”

  Jim was unfazed. “Any idea how many are repeaters?”

  “Sending in different answers?”

  “Them too. I mean the core.”

  “Not yet. Kylee’s got it.” Bray thought it wise not to say anything about Kylee’s personal problems. “She’ll send it today.” If she’s not caught, that is.

  “Three goes out tomorrow?”

  “That’s so.”

  “Ten days is all, then.”

  Bray felt nauseous of a sudden. Jim nodded his understanding.

  “Thing is, Bray, you’re at the stage of wanting to postpone. Once, I had a man sprung from the state pen, unjust conviction. He was due out. Know what? Proved innocent, clear as maybe, he didn’t want to go.”

  “He was innocent, yet couldn’t face freedom?” Bray pondered.

  “Couldn’t take the emotion.” Jim chuckled, hooked a chair with his boot, putting
his heels on the seat. “What seemed a promise when he was behind bars changed into a risk the minute he was freed. Get the point? Maybe you longed to see your elder brother for years, but he’s due in today and you jess can’t meet that plane. Or say you want your niece to call after some argument, and now she’s phoning from Atlanta you can’t pick up that phone. It happens.”

  “It’s cowardice, Jim.”

  “It’s human is all. I got a couple of sisters together. Didn’t know they were related, lived within eighty miles of each other twenty years. Know what? I brung them into town. They took three days – three whole days – before they got up courage to meet!”

  “They were frightened?”

  “How the hell’d I know? Wouldn’t come out of their hotels. Drove me crazy, called me night and day. Wanting to know what the other sister was like, what she’d be wearing. Christ, I lost twenty pounds.”

  “It’s still cowardice.”

  “That’s why I come, Bray.” The obese man wanted brown sugar, waited in silence until the girl brought it over. “I got a couple of friends. We’re making a team.”

  Bray didn’t understand. “What sort of team? A police team?”

  “Private. Not like your search groups, relatives. Not that. There’s all sorts of bureaux for that kinda thing. More like, well, what’s happened with your boy.”

  “For whom?”

  “For people the systems don’t want.” Jim Stazio raised a hand to ward off criticism. “I know, I know. When your son Geoff and his wife came, I admit I was kind of stupid. I thought them more shit delivered right to my door. And went about saying things like why the hell can’t folk keep a fucking hold of their kids and save police a load of mess. Thinking this shouldn’t be our problem. I admit it. No excuses.”

  “The first thing you said was, our problem wasn’t unique.” Bray judged the other for a moment. “You spoke of the thousands of children who go missing, some senator’s exaggerations, remember?”

  “I’m not liking this, Bray. I also told you any search would be useless. I used different words, but I meant exactly that.” He smiled with some bitterness. “I wasn’t much good, huh?”

  “Best I’ve met. I’m relieved you’re with us.”

  Jim wagged a warning finger. “No kindness, pal, or the deal’s off. I’ve explored what I could. I’ve got an ex-cop, and a computer spinner. We’re forming a company when this works out. I’ll get two more retirees for weight.”

  “This?”

  “Your hunt, Bray.” They weighed each other. “Proper channels work sometimes. Other times they only tell the bereaved to piss off and go manage.”

  “Will your, er, team be any use, Jim?”

  “Honest to God, I don’t know. But it’ll be more than nothing.”

  “What…?” Bray began, and couldn’t continue.

  “What if your hunt fails?” Jim took the point. “Then I’ll learn from that. If it succeeds, it could be used for others. Know what I’m saying?”

  “You came to tell me that, Jim?”

  “Not quite. We want to use your hunt as a prototype. Free of charge. Anything you plan, we’ll help with, on the understanding whatever you learn we can use later.”

  “I owe you at least that, Jim.”

  “Christ, Bray, you’re a bastard. Didn’t I tell you no kindness?”

  Lottie returned. “You two not falling out, I hope? D’you like my Chinese ginger jar?”

  They said it was admirable. Bray hated it. If it pleased her, fine.

  Jim left that afternoon. Bray promised to give him the breakdown the instant Kylee finished the last set of replies. After ten more days of lectures, attendances at seven antique auctions in three different states, now there were only the crowded hours of hurrying time.

  The new place was called Dallas. Pop extolled its virtues to Clint.

  “A city of lakes, son,” he said, showing Mom and Clint the Trinity River. “Boats, countryside, you got it all here. One of the richest —”

  “Pop,” Mom cautioned, beaming at her son. “You’ll love it here, Clint.”

  “Will I?” Clint asked.

  “Sure will, son,” Pop boomed, taking a detour to show the river bend to best advantage. “And you’ll do just great!”

  Clint looked out at the city. He was sorry to leave his friends, but Mom said it would only be for a week while Pop did some business. On the plane Mom had let him watch a film about space ships.

  They parked and went for ice cream. The house Mom and Pop had taken was near University Park and Highland Park close to the huge lake called White Rock.

  “Lake in each of its four corners, Clint!” Pop boomed.

  Clint wanted strawberry, which was Carlson’s best flavour. Next time he’d ask for chocolate, which Leeta liked. Melanaya changed all the time.

  Mom said, “We love it here. Right, Pop?”

  “Sure. First came before you were born.”

  Clint started the ice cream. It felt thicker than the camp ice cream.

  “You like the house, the garden, honey?”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  As they’d moved in, he heard a dog barking, and two children calling. He saw a ball rise, fall, rise again with an awkward bounce. Maybe he would like it.

  “Do I have to go to school here?”

  “Why, no!” Mom exclaimed. “The very idea!”

  “We’ll be going home soon, son.” Pop winked. “Then you get right back to school. You’re doing so well.”

  “Right back!” Mom echoed. She didn’t like Clint asking sudden questions. “This is sort of an extra furlough, isn’t it, Pop?”

  “We’re really going to enjoy it!”

  Clint watched the Dallas terrain and the lakeside, where two groups of families were clustered round something they’d found in the water. There was laughter. Car doors slammed nearby. A car passed with a picnic basket strapped to its roof. A man and a lady were standing in the distance. He couldn’t see them because of the sunshine. The man had a jacket over his arm, almost like hanging down in front. The school janitor wore one of those when he was doing the boiler.

  There was a public phone nearby.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Clint said, finishing the ice cream. “That was real nice.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Geoffrey heard from Mr Maddy that Kylee hadn’t reported in. When Bray rang, Geoff told him it was too serious.

  “She’s a minor, Dad. The police’ll become involved. Then what?” Geoff had a right to be distraught.

  “Mr Maddy won’t want his firm involved —”

  “Dad. Listen. After everything that’s happened to us, we can’t take any more. Shirley’s on the brink of recovery, though God knows how much longer it’ll take.”

  “Bear with me, son.”

  “Let me tell you what I think. This work you’re doing with Kylee, whatever it is, is frankly unhealthy. I want you out of it. She must go back to the authorities. They’re equipped to handle these things. God Almighty, Dad, she isn’t normal. Semi-autistics aren’t your job.”

  “I made it all right with her father —”

  “It’s not all right, Dad!” Geoffrey’s voice rose. Bray knew there’d be no dissuading him. “I won’t have police knocking at my door, never again! I went to the Tech College on Sheepen Road to see Mr Walsingham. He’s given up on the girl. She’s nothing but trouble. He said as much!”

  “Tell you what, son.” Bray thought quickly. When all else failed, settle for the best good lie. “If I hear from her – any time at all – I’ll phone Kylee’s father. I’ll talk her into telling Mr Catchpole where she’s staying. That lad, Porky, remember Porky? They reach her through him. You keep in touch with Mr Maddy, Geoff,” he added recklessly, hoping that offspring didn’t know their parents quite as well as they thought.

  “What good will that do?”

  “She might call in for something.” Almost delirious at the risks he was taking, Bray ploughed on. “I agree. Time for authorities t
o take over.”

  “I’m glad you see it my way, Dad. I can’t keep up this deception any longer.”

  “Okay, Geoff. Let me take over. I’ll get Lottie to phone you. She’s sound as a bell. She’ll know what to do.”

  Lottie, seated opposite on the sofa, rolled her eyes. She was checking the map of the USA.

  “It’s not been sensible, Dad,” his son said, dispirited. Bray’s hopes rose. Was he going to get away with it? “I know she must have been a help over Gilson Mather’s history. And Lottie is a godsend. But this child’s a loose cannon that can sink our family ship, careering about the decks.”

  Thank you, Geoffrey, for explaining the metaphor in full. Time to break off when a chat got this far.

  “Lottie’ll handle it. She’s just gone to check the next venue after Dallas-Fort Worth. Don’t worry.”

  Geoff sounded relieved. “Ring if I can do anything, Dad.”

  “Right. Love to Shirley.” Bray replaced the receiver, shielding his eyes from Lottie’s glare.

  “I’ll do what?” She laid the map aside.

  “Everything. I knew you’d make the offer.”

  He didn’t make jokes, so she smiled along. She reminded him of the time. Bray was due at a massive question-answer session. Kylee’s second set of answers were all in except for a trickle. The next question was due, with its shoals of guesses.

  “Have your shower, Bray. You just have time.”

  “My name is Stefan,” the blonde giant laughed, tapping his chest. “I am guard, right?”

  Laura was his wife. They had both worked for the police, and ran a security agency. Pop insisted on back-up, a different couple from a separate team.

  “You will be careful?” Mom said for the umpteenth time.

  “Sure will, lady,” Stefan promised.

  To him it seemed crazy. The mother was coming with them to the regatta, so what could go wrong? Stef gave Laura the sign that meant make a show of security so tight it was stupid.