The Drowning Child

by Alex Barclay

  ‘Jesus, Ren—’

  ‘I just feel no one else will ask you the difficult shit. Your buddies aren’t going to—’

  ‘No one else knows.’

  ‘What?’ said Ren. ‘Well, that must be exhausting.’ She paused. ‘Does Sylvie think you’re going to leave Karen for her?’

  He nodded.

  ‘And how’s that working out for you?’ said Ren. What is wrong with me? I feel mean.

  Gary said nothing.

  ‘Oh,’ said Ren. ‘I get it. Do you think you’re going to leave Karen for her?’

  He gave her a side glance, but didn’t answer.

  They arrived at the bar. Sitting on the arm of a sofa, dressed in a navy-blue suit, was Paul Louderback, his arms folded, his long legs crossed. He looked like he was cut-and-pasted from an elegant drawing room. He saw Ren, smiled warmly, stood up.

  My heart …

  He’s married.

  Ben is dead.

  Nice.

  Standing beside Paul, with her back to them, was Sylvie Ross, her thick sandy hair in a high ponytail. She was dressed in a white shirt, slim-fit gray pants, pointed black heels.

  Great ass. Poor shoe choice.

  Sylvie turned around, and her face lit up as she saw Gary over Ren’s shoulder.

  God, is that what that looks like?

  I still don’t know if you and Paul Louderback have slept together. Do I need to sleep with Gary to even this all out?

  Everyone greeted each other, everyone was professional.

  Oh, what a tangled web we weave.

  Gary and Ren filled Sylvie and Paul in on the case over dinner.

  ‘Paul – you’ll be taking charge of the command center,’ said Gary. ‘I’m guessing the best thing for Sylvie to start with tomorrow is talking to Caleb Veir’s friends.’

  Paul nodded.

  ‘Sure,’ said Sylvie. ‘Not a problem.’

  She is freakishly intense with him.

  Oh, now – I get it: yes, Gary nearly died, and Sylvie realized – uh-oh – how much she loves him.

  It appears to be an alarming amount.

  Sylvie started to pour Ren more wine. Ren held up her hand. ‘I’m good, thanks.’

  Gary and Paul both stared at her.

  ‘Thanks, guys,’ said Ren. ‘Thanks.’

  An hour later, Sylvie was the first to excuse herself. Gary left thirty minutes later.

  When they were gone, Paul made a show of checking his watch. ‘Half an hour … standard time for one lover to ask another to wait before running up to join them?’ There was a sparkle in his eye.

  ‘Behave,’ said Ren.

  ‘Come on …’

  I’m committing to nada.

  ‘So, are they?’ said Paul.

  ‘No, they’re not,’ said Ren.

  ‘OK,’ said Paul, with no conviction.

  ‘And no one should use the word “lover”.’

  ‘I have definitely heard you say “I’m a lover, not a fighter”.’

  ‘No one other than me, then …’

  He smiled. ‘Now that I have cornered you alone,’ he said, ‘how are you doing? Really doing? You were very quiet over dinner.’

  ‘I was enjoying everyone else,’ said Ren. ‘I’m finding it hard to raise my game.’

  ‘You were perfectly pleasant, but …’

  ‘Struggling – I know.’

  ‘That’s understandable, after what you’ve been through.’

  Tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. ‘I keep crying randomly.’ You don’t cry. Tears well, you blink, they’re gone. And you think the feelings go with them.

  ‘It’s not random,’ said Paul. ‘We’re talking about your boyfriend, your friends, your colleagues—’

  ‘It’s all so weird,’ said Ren. ‘I’m not a widow; Ben and I weren’t “long-term loves”. Just a year. But I did love him.’

  You don’t know what love is. You’re not a victim. You don’t know how to love. And he doesn’t want to hear about love.

  ‘Have you thought about grief counseling?’ said Paul.

  ‘I’d rather shoot myself in the ass.’

  ‘Vivid,’ said Paul.

  Ren smiled, took a drink. ‘But enough about me – how are you doing? How’s Marianne?’

  ‘Well,’ he said, drawing out the word, ‘the easy answer would be “great” …’

  Oh, no, no, no, no. Do not appear available to me.

  ‘Shall I go on?’ he said.

  ‘Please do.’ Not.

  ‘It’s a dramatic move, getting back with your ex-wife,’ said Paul. ‘It’s exciting at the start, everyone is happy – the kids, our families, our friends – well, most of them – but then, the door is closed at night, everyone’s going about their business, and we’re just there, the two of us, and …’ He shrugged. ‘It’s like what people say about funerals: once it’s over, everyone disappears and you’re left on your own and … Jesus Christ, Ren – I can’t believe I just started talking about funerals. That was the most—’

  Ren shook her head. ‘Stop. I get it. I know what you’re saying. Don’t tiptoe around me or I will shoot myself in the ass. Just, be normal. Please don’t look at me like I’m a victim. I can’t deal with that. Relax in the knowledge that I know you’re not an insensitive prick.’

  ‘OK,’ said Paul. ‘OK. I’m sorry. Thanks.’

  ‘No need to be,’ said Ren. Tears welled in her eyes again. ‘Ugh. This is getting ridiculous.’

  ‘Stop …’

  ‘I just … lost so many people I loved,’ said Ren.

  Paul reached out and squeezed her hand. She looked up at him through tears.

  At least I have you.

  ‘Well, I’m still here,’ said Paul. He blushed. ‘Not saying that you love me, or loved me, but, I just mean … what’s wrong with me tonight?’

  Ren laughed, and wiped her eyes.

  Of course I loved you. In my own special and fearful way. But I have no idea what it is I’m feeling right now.

  Safe?

  ‘You … unsettle me, Ren Bryce.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Maybe I like being unsettled.’

  Ren laughed. I beg to differ.

  ‘Why are you laughing?’ said Paul.

  ‘It was just your delivery …’

  She checked her watch. It was 11 p.m. ‘OK, I’m wide awake. I’m going to take a drive.’

  ‘What?’ said Paul. ‘Now?’

  Ren nodded. ‘Every second counts.’

  And every second out there is one less second I spend alone in my bed with nothing but my own mind to fuck me.

  ‘Do you want company?’ said Paul.

  Mos def not. ‘No, thank you.’

  Ren drove out of the parking lot and read the sign: left was Tate, right was Lake Verny.

  The Crow Bar will still be open. I can ask about John Veir, I can check out Seth Fuller.

  I can throw myself into the beautiful, icy, moonlit water.

  16

  Seth Fuller stood on the bottom step of The Crow Bar, clutching the handrail. Eyes closed, he sucked air through his nose, held it, exhaled slowly through his mouth – 7-11 breathing: he had been taught how to do this by the psychologist at BRCI. He had been embarrassed at first, sitting in front of this nerdy guy, Lockwood, in his brown round-neck sweater and red shirt, closing his eyes and counting in for seven, counting out for eleven.

  ‘You’ve got this, Seth,’ Lockwood used to say. ‘And if you’ve got this, you’ll see … you’ve got the rest of your life.’

  Seth thought it was a pretty sweeping statement, but he liked the idea of having the rest of his life. He just wasn’t sure if he really did, and that, if so, he’d ever be able to breathe properly through it.

  He leaned hard on the handrail and vaulted up the steps. He walked into the bar, pulled a fifty-dollar note out of his back pocket and slapped it on to the counter in front of Shannon. He nodded toward Clyde Brimmer.

  Shannon frowned. ‘
Where did you get that?’

  Seth smiled his lazy smile. ‘I choose to take no offense at the tone of your remark.’

  ‘I’m serious.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Seth. ‘A friend of a friend of a friend.’

  Shannon rolled her eyes, but there was anger in them. ‘You better not be—’

  ‘I’m not be,’ said Seth. ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘Goddammit,’ said Shannon. ‘The town is crawling with police.’

  ‘Well, if it helps,’ said Seth, ‘I won it playing pool with the police. Gil Wiley. You can ask him yourself.’

  ‘Jesus, Seth – why do you have to create mysteries for no reason?’ said Shannon. ‘What’s the point? “Friend of a friend of a friend.” Why would you want to cause more stress for me than I’m already under?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Aunt Shannon. I wasn’t thinking …’

  ‘I worry,’ she said. ‘So easily now. I get these spikes of anxiety in my chest and once they’re dug in there, they’re real hard to get rid of.’ She touched a hand to his cheek, but didn’t let it stay there long. ‘And shouldn’t Wiley be taking care of things at home instead of out playing pool with—’

  ‘It’s escaping home that Wiley’s interested in,’ said Seth.

  ‘Not to mention he has an investigation to run.’

  ‘Wiley is no investigation-runner,’ said Seth. ‘He’ll never be anything more than a sidekick. And he knows it.’

  He pushed the fifty closer to Shannon.

  ‘And why are you paying for Clyde’s drinks, anyway, big shot?’ said Shannon.

  ‘Out of pity,’ said Seth. ‘But Clyde doesn’t mind pity. He is unconcerned with the emotion behind a gesture. A fresh drink materializes before his swimming eyes? Well, that’s as pure a gesture as anything, far as he’s concerned – a single, welcome moment that doesn’t need to be weighed down by history or motive or rationale. A beer’s a beer.’

  ‘A beer’s a beer,’ said Shannon. She put a bottle of Bud down in front of him. ‘How did the search go today?’

  She poured a whiskey for Clyde.

  ‘Well, no one found anything,’ said Seth. ‘But you get the sense they put the volunteers in places where they don’t really think they’re going to find anything, so they won’t screw up the evidence.’

  ‘Probably,’ said Shannon.

  ‘And I got nothing out of Wiley afterward,’ said Seth. ‘Even when he was wasted. I tried to pump him for information, but nothing.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be showing so much interest,’ said Shannon. ‘You know that doesn’t look good.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to worry about,’ said Seth. He paused. ‘Then again, how many times did I hear that in prison?’

  The door opened wide, and their heads jerked toward it.

  Seth’s eyes lit up. He turned back to Shannon. ‘Introducing the future Mrs Seth Fuller …’

  17

  Well, isn’t The Crow Bar a charming and battered little place? And why is Seth Fuller staring at me?

  Seth nodded at Ren, then walked over to the pool table with a look that told her he would like to appear mysterious.

  I would eat you alive.

  Ren went to the bar. ‘Shannon Fuller? I’m Ren Bryce, I’m with the FBI—’

  Shannon nodded. ‘Hi. Is there any word on Caleb?’

  ‘No,’ said Ren. ‘Not yet. Would you mind if we talked here? I just have a couple of things I’d like to ask you.’

  Shannon frowned. ‘You work late. Sure – take a seat. Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘A Coke would be great, thank you.’

  Caffeine … after 11 p.m. Great.

  There were four customers across three tables in the bar, and two guys playing pool, one of whom was Seth. Ren looked out the window to the lake.

  Nothing like a bright moon sparkling on black water.

  This is where her son drowned. How does she come here every day?

  Shannon set down the Coke.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ren. She took a long drink. ‘I was very sorry to hear that you lost your son.’

  Shannon nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through. To lose a child …’

  ‘It’s hard to know what to say, isn’t it?’ said Shannon. ‘There’s nothing worse. I’m just here to pay the bills. That’s it. I feel that’s all I’ll be doing for the rest of my life. Showing up to pay the bills.’

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to bother you at a time like this,’ said Ren, ‘but—’

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Shannon. ‘Anything I can do …’ She looked down at the floor. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t help with the search today—’

  ‘Please,’ said Ren, ‘no one would have expected you to. And there were plenty of volunteers.’

  Shannon looked at her, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I couldn’t bear the idea that I might find his body. I couldn’t bear it. I’m hoping to God he’s alive, obviously – that goes without saying, I hope – but if he isn’t … I …’ She shook her head.

  I wonder were you the one who found your son’s body.

  ‘OK … shoot,’ said Shannon. ‘Ask me anything.’ She tried to smile.

  ‘You bought this place off John Veir,’ said Ren.

  Shannon nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What can you tell me about John?’ said Ren. ‘What kind of man is he?’

  Shannon briefly glanced away. ‘He’s a good guy. It was a quick sale, he wanted to offload the place, but he was kind enough to fix a lot of things up before I took it on. He’s a trained military diver, so he did a lot of the underwater work on the jetty. Basically, anything I had an issue with, he took care of. He didn’t have to do that.’

  Ren nodded. ‘Did you get to know his family?’

  ‘Um … no, not really,’ said Shannon.

  Ooh … what was that?

  ‘Did you ever see anything that gave you cause for concern?’ said Ren.

  ‘With John? No – not at all,’ said Shannon. ‘Why do you ask? You don’t think he had anything to do with Caleb’s disappearance …’

  ‘Just information-gathering,’ said Ren.

  ‘OK,’ said Shannon, ‘because John Veir is a good man.’

  ‘I just realized,’ said Ren, ‘your son, Aaron, and Caleb were around the same age. Did they know each other?’

  ‘Well, they went to the same school – Aaron was a year behind Caleb, but I don’t think they knew each other.’

  What is this weird vibe?

  ‘Can I ask you about your nephew, Seth?’ said Ren. ‘He was in BRCI. Did he and John know each other?’

  ‘Yes.’ Eye-dart.

  ‘Was there ever any issue between them?’ said Ren.

  ‘No,’ said Shannon. ‘Not that I know of, anyway. Seth would have said.’

  ‘We’ve been told that Seth took a particular interest in Caleb Veir,’ said Ren.

  ‘What? Caleb?’

  Genuine shock.

  ‘That sounds terrible,’ said Shannon. ‘“Particular interest” – what do you mean by that?’

  ‘We heard that Seth might buy him a soda, or pay for things for him at the store,’ said Ren. ‘Do you know anything about that?’

  ‘No,’ said Shannon. ‘Why don’t you ask him yourself, though? He’s right over there. Don’t waste your time looking at Seth for this. He’s just a nice guy. When he’s got money, he likes to look after people – that’s all. Tonight, he’s paying for Clyde Brimmer’s drinks.’

  Ren handed Shannon her card. ‘If you think of anything, please feel free to call me.’

  Ren turned her attention to Seth, walked over to him.

  ‘Seth Fuller?’ she said. ‘I’m Ren Bryce, I’m with the FBI, working on the Caleb Veir disappearance. Could I talk to you for a moment, please?’

  She tilted her head toward a table in the corner.

  You have now recognized me from the search. And you are not a happy man.

  Seth walked over to the ta
ble, sat down opposite her, and pulled his stool back a few inches.

  ‘What can I do you for?’ he said. He looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘Isn’t it a little late to be working?’

  ‘Not when a child is missing,’ said Ren.

  He nodded. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘How well did you know Caleb Veir?’ said Ren.

  ‘Not very well,’ said Seth. ‘Why?’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ said Ren.

  ‘Sure I’m sure,’ said Seth. ‘Why?’

  ‘Is it true that you bought him sodas, candy sometimes, and that you paid for comic books when he didn’t have enough money?’

  Seth looked away. ‘Yeah. So what?’

  ‘So what? He’s a missing child and we were informed that you paid him a lot of attention …’

  ‘What?’ said Seth. ‘I was nice to the kid. That’s it. I’m not into little boys. Fuck that. I’d happily beat the shit out of someone who was into little boys. I’m into grown women.’

  Something flashed in his eyes.

  Ugh. ‘Was there something in particular about Caleb …?’

  ‘Nothing – I told you. Nothing. I was just nice to him. Big deal. Arrest me.’

  ‘What about John Veir?’ said Ren. ‘Did you know John?’

  His eyes flicked over to Shannon and back again.

  ‘Seth, is there something you’re not telling me?’ said Ren. ‘Or something you feel you can’t say? I can promise you it will be treated in the strictest confidence. A little boy’s life could be at stake here. I know you can understand the devastation that losing a child can cause …’

  ‘There’s nothing,’ said Seth, ‘except I think John Veir is a good man, OK? In case you’re thinking he’s not.’

  Ren nodded. ‘OK.’ She handed him her notebook. ‘I’m going to need you to write down where you were on Sunday night and yesterday.’

  ‘That’s easy,’ he said, twisting the notebook around to face him. ‘I was here Sunday night – Aunt Shannon and Clyde Brimmer can vouch for that.’

  Cute that he still calls her Aunt.

  ‘From what time?’ said Ren.

  ‘Uh … ten thirty p.m.?’

  ‘And where were you before that?’

  ‘Uh … I was in town. In Tate. In Bucky’s, having a burger, watching television.’ He wrote all this down.