The Drowning Child

by Alex Barclay

  Then he heard it – the familiar sound of the engine of his father’s car, as it drove into the front yard. He watched as he parked, a little haphazard, never like he would at home, as if he was desperate, heading to an emergency, parking outside a hospital where someone was dying or heading to a fire because someone had to be rescued. He thought he was caught – he thought someone had told his father that he was there, in a tree, looking to see some loser’s mom’s titties. But that wasn’t what happened.

  His father was there for Shannon Fuller, who was now rushing into the yard like a puppy dog. Caleb watched them come together like they’d been thrown in an explosion, and his father was walking her backward into the house as the rain fell, and neither of them cared, like they were in a fucking movie. His dad was old, and this made him sick to his stomach. He watched as they made it only as far as the shelter of the porch before his father had hiked up Shannon’s skirt and was kissing her so hard, he …

  Caleb shuddered. He remembered the week before the school dance, telling Aaron what he saw, using it like a weapon. He told him his mom was a whore. He called her Shannon Fulfiller. And Aaron answered in the strangest way. He could still remember what he said, how easy it was for him to say it, how open he was, how he hadn’t even sneered.

  ‘At least my mom loves me,’ Aaron had said.

  ‘You fucking pussy,’ Caleb said. He had mimicked him. ‘“At least my mom loves me.” Pussy.’

  ‘Your mom fucking hates you,’ said Aaron. ‘She never wanted you. She tried to fucking drown you when you were a baby, you fucking loser. She couldn’t even stand you for that long, probably got sick of you soon as she saw your ugly fucking face.’

  ‘You’re full of shit,’ said Caleb.

  ‘It’s the truth!’ said Aaron. ‘Only reason you’re still alive is because my mom came along and saw what was happening. She took you off of your mom at Clearwater Creek. She was holding your stupid head under the water. I can’t believe my mom saved your loser fucking life.’

  Caleb felt cold, shivery, like the world around him was warm and colorful, and he was black and white, and he was ice. Nothing that came to mind he could say to Aaron: But my mom loves me! My mom is the only one who loves me! We’re a team! We … we love each other! She’s … always there for me. You’re a liar, Aaron Fuller! Aaron Full of Lies! You’re a fucking liar!

  But something had told Caleb that this was the truth. He sensed it in his pounding chest, his sick stomach, his burning flesh, his flaring pupils.

  My mother tried to kill me. Why? Why would she do that?

  He couldn’t bear to ask her. He couldn’t bear it. But he would. He would come back to her, and it would be different now. She would have missed him. She would be so glad he was back. All he needed to do was get his fucking father to stay the fuck out of everything. And Alice.

  The night of the middle school dance, Caleb had watched Aaron Fuller staring at Molly Gardner. The prettiest girl in the class, Molly had a dark streak; she was fun, but she liked creepy stuff. Aaron had been telling the story of Lizzie, the girl who haunted Cabin 8 at Lake Verny, how he had seen her, how she had a huge slice out of her leg, how she would scream and nothing would come out.

  Caleb took Molly Gardner’s cell phone when she was on the dance floor. He opened SnapChat and typed three things: an emoji ghost beside a house, a clock that read midnight, and a kiss. He sent it to Aaron Fuller. Then he deleted it.

  And, of course, Aaron had shown up. And Caleb was waiting. And there was a barrel of rainwater. And drowning is silent. And easy. So easy with just a knee pressed into his back.

  Suddenly, he felt the urge to answer Shannon Fuller, to tell her all that. So he told her everything.

  74

  Ren ran into The Crow Bar, her sidearm raised. Shannon Fuller was standing with her back to her, in the middle of the floor, her arm outstretched, holding a handgun, swaying back and forth.

  Oh my God. What have you done?

  Caleb Veir was lying at Shannon’s feet, in a growing pool of blood from a gunshot wound to the chest.

  Oh, Jesus Christ.

  Shannon turned to Ren, wild-eyed, pointed the gun her way. ‘Don’t go near him. Stay the fuck away from him.’

  Caleb was still breathing, making terrible gurgling sounds.

  ‘Give me the gun, Shannon.’

  Shannon didn’t move.

  ‘Give me the gun,’ said Ren. ‘Don’t make this any worse.’

  Shannon handed it to her, fear flickering in her eyes.

  ‘Stay back,’ said Ren. ‘Please let me help him.’

  She checked Caleb’s pulse.

  Thank God, thank God, thank God.

  ‘No!’ said Shannon. ‘No!’ Her arm shot out, and she grabbed a fistful of Ren’s hair, started to drag her backward.

  Owww! Fuuuck!

  Ren reached up, grabbed Shannon’s wrist, dug her thumb into the right pressure point, got her to release her grip. She kicked out, striking Shannon’s knee, bringing her to the ground with a scream.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Ren, ‘but you have to stay back. You don’t want him to die, Shannon. You do not want this.’ She returned to Caleb’s side, started to do chest compressions.

  ‘Is John here?’ said Ren.

  ‘Yes,’ said Shannon. ‘I locked him in the cold room. I can’t stand the sight of him. I wanted him to see Caleb die, I did, I really did. What is wrong with me? I loved that man so much … I loved him.’ She was sobbing uncontrollably, pointing at Caleb. ‘He killed Aaron,’ she was saying. ‘And he killed Luke Monroe, told him to come look at the fishes in the pond, then held his little head under. He just told us all this terrible stuff.’

  Oh, God.

  ‘He’s a psychopath!’ said Shannon. ‘He doesn’t deserve to be saved! He’s a monster, he’s a monster.’

  Ren turned to her. ‘Listen to me, Shannon. Listen. You need him to live. You do. OK? You need him to make it.’

  ‘I don’t want him to!’ screamed Shannon. ‘I want him to die.’

  ‘You do not want to go to prison for the rest of your life,’ said Ren. ‘That’s what will happen if he dies. You need to be there for Seth. He needs you.’

  ‘I don’t care if I go to prison!’ said Shannon. ‘Don’t you get it? And who gives a crap about me?’

  ‘Seth does,’ said Ren. ‘You’re more than his aunt – you’re a mother to him. And you know it. I care about you. I want you to make it, Shannon. You have to make it. You deserve to. You’re a good person.’

  Ren looked down at Caleb, at his pale face, his grim, downturned mouth.

  Her heart plunged.

  Duke Rawlins: the destruction he wrought. He took my friends, he took my boyfriend.

  He was a monster. And he started out as a boy monster.

  What if he hadn’t made it? How many horrible deaths would have been avoided? How many lives would have been saved?

  My arms … won’t move.

  She thought of Luke Monroe and his curly blond hair, how his curiosity was leveraged, how he was lured to look at fishes in a pond.

  The innocence.

  My arms … what is going on?

  She glanced up at Shannon. They locked eyes.

  No one would know. If I just stopped trying to save this boy right now, no one would know.

  Ren looked down at Caleb. His eyes began to flicker. She looked back up at Shannon.

  Shannon wouldn’t tell. She’d back me up. I’d back her up.

  Desperate, animal choking sounds were coming from Caleb’s throat. Ren looked down at him.

  He’s a monster.

  He is twelve years old.

  He’s a psychopath.

  Ren’s arms were stiff, unmoving.

  He is so fucking damaged.

  But someone damaged him.

  Her arms started to work, she started to push down, her movements rhythmic.

  Irreparably, though.

  Irreparably damaged him.

  Ren stopped a
gain. Duke Rawlins’ face bloomed in her mind, how he lay dying in the foyer of Safe Streets, how she dragged Joe Lucchesi off him.

  Her arms wouldn’t move.

  Move!

  A banging sound came from behind the bar, from inside the house.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Her heart plunged.

  Duke Rawlins killed Ben.

  Move!

  Duke Rawlins was a psychopath.

  Move your fucking arms!

  Who will Caleb Veir go on to kill?

  Ren looked down at him.

  Who will you kill next?

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  ‘What is that fucking noise?’ roared Ren. ‘Shut it up! Shut it the fuck up!’ I’m going to lose my fucking mind.

  The door to the bar burst open and suddenly the room filled: Gary, Paul, Sylvie, Ruddock, Wiley. Ren looked up, her arms working furiously.

  God bless you all. God bless teamwork.

  She fell away from Caleb, and Paul took over.

  Ren was covered in blood. She looked down at her hands, red and trembling. She looked up at Shannon Fuller, and watched her collapse to her knees. Ren crawled over to her and took her in her arms.

  ‘You made it, Shannon, OK? You made it, and Seth made it.’

  And Caleb did.

  Shannon was sobbing hysterically.

  ‘You will get through this,’ said Ren. ‘I promise you.’

  I can promise that … can’t I?

  75

  Ren walked through Tate PD, and said goodbye to the team. Paul, Gary, and Sylvie had already gone to the airport. Ren left Ruddock until the end. She knocked on his door.

  ‘Come in,’ he said.

  ‘Hey,’ said Ren. ‘I’ve saved the best ’til last.’

  He stood up.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ said Ren.

  He didn’t.

  I love your face. ‘Thank you for being so kind, Ruddock. And it was a real pleasure working with you.’

  ‘Thank you. You too, Ren. You take care of yourself.’

  They hugged.

  ‘Any word on Jimmy Lyle?’ said Ren.

  ‘He’s still out there,’ said Ruddock.

  ‘I don’t like the ones who get away,’ said Ren. ‘Speaking of which …’

  ‘Keep in touch,’ said Ruddock.

  ‘I will.’ I definitely will. ‘Come to Denver some time,’ said Ren. ‘Please.’

  ‘I might just do that.’

  Ren drove through Tate, but instead of heading for Salem, she took a detour. She pulled into Clyde Brimmer’s drive. She went up to the house and rang the doorbell. He came to the door, opened up, and once again, the smell of liquor surrounded him.

  ‘Clyde, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about,’ said Ren.

  He looked at her, eager, but fearful. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Can I come in?’ said Ren.

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Please excuse the mess.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Ren.

  He sat on the sofa, and she sat next to him.

  ‘It’s about your sister, Lizzie,’ said Ren.

  ‘OK,’ he said.

  ‘It might not be very easy to hear,’ said Ren, ‘but I think it might help you.’

  ‘OK. I trust you.’

  Aw, maan. ‘Lizzie didn’t fall through that deck,’ said Ren.

  ‘What?’ said Clyde.

  ‘This is the difficult part,’ said Ren. ‘Have you heard about Roger Lyle?’

  Clyde nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that Lizzie was one of Roger Lyle’s victims. I’ve seen evidence of this. She wasn’t sexually abused, but she had been near-drowned by him on several occasions. He made it look like she fell through the deck that day, but I looked at all the evidence, the photos of the deck. There was an ax used on part of that. It wasn’t weak enough, and I’ve seen the photo of Lizzie – she wasn’t a heavy girl.’

  Clyde was open-mouthed, silent. Tears poured down his face. Ren put her hands on his. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I know this is hard for you to hear, but I hope it brings you some peace. You weren’t responsible for what happened to Lizzie. Roger Lyle was a very evil, and very clever man.’ She paused. ‘If you want further confirmation, Clyde, there is the option of—’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No – I don’t want her taken from the ground. I want peace for her too. I know you wouldn’t have come here to me today if you weren’t sure. Like I said, I trust you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ren. ‘And thank you for everything you did for us.’ She paused. ‘Can I give you a ride anywhere, before I go?’

  ‘I’d like to visit the cemetery, please.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Ren. ‘That’s not a problem.’ I’d have taken you to the moon if you asked.

  At Portland airport, Ren stood with Paul at his boarding gate – he would be flying back to DC with Sylvie.

  ‘See you,’ said Ren.

  ‘See you?’ said Paul. ‘Have I done something?’

  ‘No – not at all,’ said Ren.

  ‘“See you”? Who is this lady before me and what has she done with Ren Bryce?’

  ‘I’m sorry. And who you callin’ a lady?’

  He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes. ‘Can I come see you? Or … you could come to DC?’

  For what? ‘Hmm …’

  He looked hurt. ‘Not quite the reaction I was hoping for …’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Ren. Don’t you know that your ‘Can I come see you?’ is really ‘Can you fix me?’ And that the answer is ‘No, I can’t.’

  ‘This is about Marianne …’ said Paul.

  Ren laughed. He is clueless. ‘No – it’s not.’ It’s about you. ‘I’m sorry. I just … can’t be close to anyone right now, I don’t think. Honestly, I’m feeling like …’ you took advantage of me.

  ‘Like what?’ said Paul.

  She looked away.

  He laughed. ‘I love that you started the sentence with “honestly”, and then didn’t finish it.’

  Ren smiled, turning back to him. ‘Says it all. Yes, I do not want to be honest about my feelings. Which really means: I don’t want to be dishonest about them. So I’m going to go for the trailing off thing, followed by silence.’

  He hugged her.

  Ren stepped back, looked up at him. ‘Look after yourself,’ she said. ‘Talk soon.’ She started to walk away. ‘Unless the plane goes down …’ She paused. ‘Merciful release.’

  ‘Ren?’ said Paul.

  She stopped and looked around. ‘Yes?’

  ‘You do know that the world’s a better place with you in it, right?’

  Ren laughed. ‘The bottom line is this – whatever your triumphs or tragedies, if a movie were made of your life story, someone would be eating popcorn as you die.’

  ‘So, who would play you?’ said Paul.

  ‘Nick Nolte.’

  She walked away to the sound of his laughter.

  I love making him laugh. I love his laugh. Stop being mean to him.

  As she went toward the bar, she passed Sylvie and Gary saying a passionate farewell in a dark corner by the coffee shop.

  He looks like an amazing kisser.

  Jesus.

  Christ.

  Ren went to the bar and sat down, ordered a vodka cranberry.

  She checked her messages. The tally of ignored texts from Joe Lucchesi had reached six.

  I’m a terrible human being.

  She started to text back.

  And say what? You are so fucking hot: goodbye. Thanks for the amazing sex: goodbye. I remind you of your dead wife: goodbye.

  Something in her heart was overriding the thoughts, overriding the words.

  Go away, heart. You’ve been nothing but trouble.

  She smiled to herself. The bartender caught her eye. He smiled back.

  ‘I’m a million miles away,’ said Ren.

  ‘Well, wherever you are, it looks like a great plac
e.’

  ‘It’s a fucking hellhole.’

  ‘So you’re the type who smiles on the road to hell …’

  ‘I sing and dance too,’ said Ren. And fuck.

  She finished her drink, checked the time.

  Gary walked in. ‘I knew I’d find her here,’ he said to the bartender.

  ‘Because I texted him where I was,’ said Ren.

  ‘On the road to hell,’ said the bartender, handing a beer to another customer.

  Ren laughed. Gary sat down beside her. ‘Did you make a new friend?’

  ‘Every stop I take,’ said Ren. She checked the time on her phone. ‘I’m going to run to the ladies. Or maybe walk casually.’

  ‘Vodka cranberry?’ said Gary.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  As Ren reached the door to the ladies’ room, Sylvie was coming out. Her eyes were red.

  ‘Oh,’ they both said at the same time.

  ‘You’re still here,’ said Ren. ‘Are you OK?’

  Sylvie nodded. ‘Yes.’ She tilted her head back. ‘Well …’ She tried to smile.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Ren. ‘Is it …’

  Sylvie let out a breath. ‘It is.’

  Fuck. You are hurting. And I am judging.

  Sylvie tried to smile. ‘Mistresses don’t have horns, you know.’

  Their boyfriends, however …

  ‘I know you look at me and you don’t like me,’ said Sylvie.

  I’m not sure that’s what it is, actually …

  ‘I’m your worst nightmare,’ said Sylvie. ‘You think women like me let other women down. And here’s the thing: I agree. Or, at least, I used to.’

  ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘You’ve never had an affair with a married man,’ said Sylvie, ‘am I right?’

  Ren nodded.

  ‘Because you’ve never met one who blew your mind,’ said Sylvie. ‘It could be as simple as that. I’m bright, I’m strong, my self-esteem is not exactly in the toilet. I’m a psychologist, for Christ’s sake. Sometimes, I have no idea who this person is when I look in the mirror … except someone who is in love with Gary Dettling. I honestly don’t know how this happened. Have you ever fallen for someone who just takes your breath away, it makes no sense, there’s no logic, it goes beyond your beliefs, your expectations, your principles?’