The Drowning Child

by Alex Barclay

  She turned to the empty side of the bed. I don’t want to be alone. I’m tired of being alone. I want someone to tell me it will all work out.

  Ren arrived at Tate PD at nine, hurrying across the parking lot, struggling with her purse, and her briefcase. The command center had been overtaken by a sense of urgency – voices were raised, detectives were mobilizing.

  Sensory overload. Sensory overload.

  Her phone beeped with a text, just as she met Paul Louderback rushing toward her, pulling on his jacket.

  ‘That’s from me,’ he said.

  Her phone beeped three more times.

  ‘What’s going down?’ said Ren.

  ‘A report just came in,’ said Paul, ‘a body – badly decomposed, as yet unidentified – has been found in Roger Lyle’s house on Richmond Road.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Ren. ‘Oh, fucking, no.’

  Ren and Paul drove together to the scene.

  ‘I thought you said that area was searched during the week,’ said Ren.

  ‘Because I was told it was,’ said Paul. ‘Wiley again – abandoning his duties. He crossed this off his list.’

  ‘His wife,’ said Ren. ‘She had a meltdown on Thursday. He had to go tend to her. He probably figured leaving an empty house off his list wasn’t the end of the world. Fuck, though.’

  Ruddock was gray-faced, coming down the path as they arrived.

  ‘Got an ID?’ said Ren.

  ‘One Franklin J. Merrifield,’ said Ruddock.

  ‘What?’ said Ren.

  ‘Looks like an OD: drug paraphernalia around the body.’

  ‘This is where he’s been hiding out?’ said Ren.

  ‘He was chained to a radiator,’ said Ruddock. ‘This is where he was being held captive.’

  ‘Yet supplied with drugs,’ said Ren. ‘So, this has to be connected with his supplier in BRCI. He probably helped him get away, but may have wanted him out of commission and deliberately facilitated the OD. How did they access the property?’

  ‘No signs of forced entry,’ said Ruddock.

  ‘Who has keys?’ said Ren.

  ‘The son – Jimmy Lyle,’ said Ruddock. ‘There are footprints in the back yard and one of the neighbors saw him getting out of a car yesterday on Pleasant Lane – that’s the road at the back of here. He may have come back, found the body and then taken off.’

  ‘He would only have done that if he had something to hide,’ said Ren. ‘I’d be getting everyone the fuck inside my house if I came home and thought there was a dead body in there.’

  ‘We’ve put a BOLO out on him,’ said Ruddock.

  ‘Could Jimmy Lyle have helped Merrifield escape?’ said Ren. ‘Could he have left him here?’

  ‘No,’ said Ruddock. ‘He was going on vacation, and he needs to sell that house.’

  Ren nodded.

  ‘We spoke with the boss of the real estate agency,’ said Ruddock. ‘The woman handling the property has been away on business for the past week. There were no viewings lined up.’

  ‘Find out her address,’ said Paul, ‘find out who she lives with, who she works with, who might have access to her keys.’

  ‘The call between John Veir and Rob Lockwood on the Sunday Merrifield escaped,’ said Ren. ‘What if that was about this? Could … Lockwood have been the supplier? Could this have all been about to hit the fan? Could Merrifield have been about to blow Lockwood’s cover, and Lockwood needed to get him the fuck out of there?’

  ‘But how does John Veir fit in?’ said Paul.

  ‘Well, John Veir didn’t reveal the whole fentanyl story to us,’ said Ren, ‘which would totally have bolstered his claim that Merrifield had taken Caleb.’

  Her phone beeped with a second email from Bob Freeborn at CVIP.

  ‘We’ll leave this with you, Ruddock,’ said Paul.

  She waited until she was back at her desk to open Bob’s email:

  We cross-matched one of the structures in the sleeping-bag photos to later photos … these ones were taken between six and eight years ago.

  Ren started to look through them. She stopped at one that had a yellow inflatable kiddie’s pool and stepping stones trailing back through the garden.

  Where did I see those stones in the grass? That shape?

  She closed her eyes.

  The stones in the grass.

  Darkness. Moonlight. Grass. Wet. I … fell.

  Ruddock appeared in the doorway.

  ‘It’s not just Jimmy Lyle who’s gone AWOL,’ he said. ‘Teddy Veir just called to say that John Veir has been missing since last night. And he left his cell phone at home.’

  ‘I might know why,’ said Ren. ‘I just got more photos from CVIP and, if I’m right, they were taken in the Veirs’ back garden.’

  There were two cars in the Veirs’ driveway when Ren arrived: one was Teddy’s. Ren rang the doorbell. She could see Teddy through the glass, at the bottom of the stairs. She opened up right away.

  ‘Can I come in?’ said Ren.

  ‘Of course,’ said Teddy, panic flashing in her eyes. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Have you had any word from John?’ said Ren.

  ‘No,’ said Teddy.

  ‘Who’s here with you?’ said Ren.

  ‘My friend, Patti.’

  Patti Ellis, who you were looking after the night before Caleb disappeared.

  You look better than I thought you would.

  ‘Can we all take a seat?’ said Ren. ‘This is a very difficult subject, but considering everything, I have no choice but to tell you about this. We received photos from CVIP – that’s the Child Victim Identification Program. Your sleeping bag, Teddy, came up as a match with one that was seen in the background of photos of child abuse, dating from the seventies to the nineties.’

  ‘OK,’ said Teddy, ‘but we wouldn’t have used it during that time. It was years later. Like we said, we never really knew where it came from.’

  ‘Some of the photos from the garden are more recent,’ said Ren. ‘I’m going to show you parts of some of the photos – obviously, I won’t be showing you anything distressing, but I think you might recognize the background.’

  She showed them to Teddy. ‘Yes,’ said Teddy, horrified. ‘That’s our garden.’

  Patti Ellis burst into tears. Her body folded in on itself, her head bowed against her knees. Ren and Teddy turned to her.

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Patti. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘What?’ said Teddy. ‘What is it?’

  Patti gestured toward the photographs. ‘I remember that time … you were in the hospital, John was in Iraq.’ She looked up at Ren, her eyes filled with pain. She pointed to an arm in one of the photos, where there was a triangle of dark freckles. ‘I know who that is.’

  Ren’s heart rate shot up.

  ‘It’s Jimmy Lyle,’ said Patti.

  ‘Jimmy Lyle?’ said Ren. ‘Roger Lyle’s son?’

  Patti wept. ‘I’m so sorry, Teddy, I’m so sorry. This is my fault – I brought Jimmy into Caleb’s life. I was seeing him back then. He was married, but we had this thing, on and off for years. I didn’t say anything, because I was ashamed, and he didn’t want his wife to find out, and …’

  Teddy was momentarily speechless. Then, ‘Did you know about this, though?’ pointing towards the photos, her voice edging immediately into hysteria. ‘That Jimmy was into this?’

  ‘No!’ said Patti. ‘Of course I didn’t! I trusted him completely!’

  ‘Did you leave Caleb alone with him?’ said Teddy.

  ‘Yes,’ said Patti. ‘But not for a second did I think—’

  ‘How could you not have known?’ said Teddy. ‘How?’

  Ren cut in. ‘A lot of people don’t know these things,’ she said. ‘People are very good at hiding those parts of themselves.’

  Teddy turned to Patti. ‘You were supposed to be looking after my son!’

  ‘I was!’ said Patti.

  Teddy looked at Ren. ‘Do you have photos of Caleb? ‘Hav
e you seen any? Is it definite?’

  ‘No,’ said Ren. ‘I haven’t, however, received all the photos, yet.’

  Teddy turned to Patti. ‘Does John know about this?’

  ‘No!’ said Patti. ‘Wouldn’t he have told you?’

  ‘No,’ said Teddy. ‘He likes to protect me from things.’ She glanced at Ren, and got a compassionate look in return.

  Shit … if John Veir knows about this, and knows that Jimmy Lyle is back in town … maybe John has gone to find him. Or maybe if John found out Jimmy left town last week, he might have thought he took Caleb with him. He didn’t tell us, because he wanted the chance to confront him.

  67

  The full investigation team were gathered in the command center when Ren arrived back at Tate PD. Ruddock was at the top of the room.

  Whoa: this looks serious.

  ‘OK,’ said Ruddock. ‘We have an update on Merrifield. The real estate agent shares a house with a divorced woman called Serena Jones, whose boyfriend is a courier for a pharmaceutical company that delivers to Salem Hospital. Jones’s maiden name is … Lockwood.’

  He waited for everyone to process the information.

  Oh my God. ‘Lockwood was the supplier in BRCI,’ said Ren.

  ‘According to Salem PD, Jones and her boyfriend have admitted to getting Merrifield out of the hospital that day in his delivery van,’ said Ruddock. ‘He deliberately held back some of his Friday delivery so he had a reason to be there on a Sunday.’ He paused. ‘Then Jones used her roommate’s key to gain access to the Lyle house.’

  ‘And was there a plan?’ said Ren. ‘Why were they doing this?’

  ‘Because Lockwood told them Merrifield threatened to blow his cover,’ said Ruddock. ‘They’re keeping quiet on the rest of it. They admit to supplying Merrifield with the heroin, but they’re not going to admit the OD was deliberate.’

  ‘So Merrifield thought they were going to release him into the wild?’ said Ren.

  ‘Apparently, so,’ said Ruddock.

  ‘Have they taken Rob Lockwood in?’ said Ren.

  ‘He’s waiting for his lawyer,’ said Ruddock.

  Paul Louderback turned to Ren. ‘Do you want to fill everyone in on the Veirs?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Ren.

  After the meeting, Ruddock called Ren into his office, closed the door behind them.

  You look haunted in the eye.

  ‘What is it?’ said Ren.

  ‘There’s something I want to show you,’ said Ruddock. He handed her a Christmas card.

  She read it. ‘It’s from Wiley. And his wife.’ Then she looked up at him. The handwriting – it’s the same as the note in Roger Lyle’s room. ‘Written by his wife?’ said Ren.

  ‘Isabella, yes,’ said Ruddock. ‘It looked familiar when I saw it, but I didn’t want to say anything …’

  Because you know I have my doubts about Wiley.

  ‘I wanted to make sure I was right,’ said Ruddock. ‘It took me a while to find the card. I haven’t said a word to Gil,’ said Ruddock.

  Isabella Wiley’s drink problem, Isabella found wandering drunkenly on Harvest Road the previous Thursday.

  ‘She must have gone to confront Lyle,’ said Ren. ‘Hearing about Aaron pushed her over the edge.’

  ‘Knowing that it was the night of the middle school dance and Lyle’s house was so close to the school …’

  ‘Lyle probably said something vile to her, as these assholes do,’ said Ren, ‘and whatever it was left her in a weeping mess on the side of the road for her husband to pick up. She obviously can’t bear to tell him.’

  ‘You know, I still have my wife’s photos,’ said Ruddock. ‘I went through the boxes.’ He handed Ren a photo. It was a beautiful, beaming little Latina girl in a swimsuit. A towel was thrown on the bench behind her. Ren could make out the image of a swan.

  ‘Oh, God,’ said Ren. ‘She’s in one of the CVIP videos.’ She shook her head. ‘Poor Isabella.’ She paused. ‘And poor Wiley.’

  Ren went back to her desk and continued going through the images. She stopped when she saw something familiar in a little boy of about ten years old with auburn hair to his shoulders, standing proud, his chest out, a swimming medal on a ribbon around his neck.

  The next images were him again, but they were all wrong.

  Oh, God. Oh, God.

  Not you too.

  Fuck.

  Ren called Ruddock. ‘I’m going to go out to The Crow Bar,’ said Ren, ‘I need to talk to Seth Fuller. It looks like he was one of Roger Lyle’s victims, too.’

  ‘I just got a call about Seth Fuller,’ said Ruddock. ‘I’m afraid it’s not good.’

  68

  Ren parked the car in the parking lot, but sat holding the steering wheel, her head bowed. She thought of Seth Fuller as a little boy, his long hair being grabbed by Roger Lyle, so he could torture him, so he could be his killer or his savior, so he could twist him all up inside and damage him and make him reach out to dissolve the pain. She thought of him watching the world going on around him, seeing dumber kids get better grades than him, feeling a terrible emptiness inside where he had been robbed of his innocent soul. She thought of him tearing open a fentanyl patch and how tragic it was that to take that was worth more to him than his life.

  Just do this.

  Seth Fuller looked up at Ren from his hospital bed, panic in his eyes, his face ghostly, his skinny body hooked up to monitors, tiny little lines making sure everyone knew that his heart still beat, that his blood still flowed, that he was alive, that he had a chance, that he had a future.

  She blinked back tears. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad you made it.’ She sat down on the chair beside his bed, touched his arm.

  He struggled to speak. ‘Are you here to arrest me?’

  Ren smiled. ‘I am definitely not here to arrest you.’

  ‘Phew,’ said Seth.

  ‘I am so sorry, Seth,’ said Ren. ‘I know about Roger Lyle. I know what he did to you … and a lot of others.’

  Tears slid down Seth’s face. He turned away.

  ‘I can’t imagine what you went through,’ said Ren.

  ‘I told one of my friends once,’ said Seth. ‘We were ten. He just laughed. He thought it was a joke. I don’t think people believe that anyone would do this. I don’t think people understand. My hair … I hated how he grabbed my hair. When I shaved my head, I was twelve years old, and I got sent home from school, because it was against the rules. But Lyle called me in for extra classes and Aunt Shannon thought that made me was special. That cliché. And I couldn’t bear to tell her the truth. Her sister was dead, she was looking after me, she was so proud of how well she was looking after me. And that son-of-a-bitch just clamped his hand around my skull and pressed his fingertips right in, and it didn’t matter …’

  ‘These kind of abusers are very clever,’ said Ren, ‘and there are almost no signs.’ She paused. ‘Who gave you the patch, Seth?’

  ‘I got it from a guy in Salem.’

  Ren looked at him. ‘That’s a lie.’

  He looked away.

  ‘I want to help you,’ said Ren. ‘And whoever gave you that patch did not. You owe them nothing, Seth. You owe it to your Aunt Shannon to tell me the truth. From what I heard, you wouldn’t be here without two people: Clyde Brimmer and your Aunt Shannon. The most obsessive safety freak in town found you. Did you know Clyde carries around all kinds of emergency supplies – epi pen, Narcan – Narcan is what saved you. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?’ She paused. ‘So you certainly owe it to him and to Shannon to tell me who gave you that patch, because whoever it was doesn’t give a shit about you, Seth. Shannon does. You owe her.’

  A tear slid down his face. He looked at her. ‘That’s the problem …’

  The problem? Why would it be a problem for Shannon? Ren waited for him to expand on that. He didn’t.

  Oh, Jesus Christ. I know who it was.

  ‘John Veir …’ said Ren. ‘Was it John
?’

  Seth looked away. ‘John Veir saved my life.’

  And once more in Seth Fuller’s damaged story, savior and killer are intertwined.

  ‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘So, why would he give you a fentanyl patch now?’

  ‘He’d heard about Wiley beating the crap out of me,’ said Seth. ‘He knew I was in pain, and that my doctors would have a hard time prescribing meds, because of my addiction issues. And Aunt Shannon would have been all over it.’

  There is something so strange about this.

  ‘He just wanted to help,’ said Seth. ‘I feel bad.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ said Ren. Jesus Christ. Please fucking don’t.

  Why the fuck is John Veir messing about in Seth Fuller’s pain, while his son is missing and his whole life has been turned upside down?

  ‘How did it happen?’ said Ren. ‘Why did he give this to you? Did you reach out to him?’

  ‘No,’ said Seth. ‘He just showed up. He thought he was doing the right thing by me.’

  But he couldn’t possibly have!

  ‘Will he be prosecuted?’ said Seth.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ren. Oh, yes. ‘Do you know where he got the patch?’

  Seth shook his head. ‘I don’t know – someone who’s sick. Not a dealer. Some lady who’s got cancer. That’s all I know.’

  Patti Ellis. Jesus Christ. Is anything sacred? ‘Do you still have the package it came in?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I don’t know where it is.’

  Ren stood up. ‘We’re going to get you some help, Seth. You won’t have to deal with this alone. Not the abuse, not the addiction … I want to make sure you get all the help you need. You deserve a wonderful life. Do not let the actions of one sick bastard take another day away from you.’

  I want to save you. I want to save you. I want to save you.

  But why, the fuck, would John Veir want to risk your life?

  Ren’s cell phone rang. Gary. She picked up.

  ‘Ren? We’ve had a sighting.’

  ‘Of Jimmy Lyle?’

  ‘No – Caleb Veir.’

  69

  Ren pulled into the side of the road.

  ‘Pardon me?’