Molly took a quick left on Green Street, passing the dilapidated houses caught between the commercial and residential, up past the fire station where they were hosing down an engine, another left on Albany Street to West State.
The daycare was housed in an austere building, built of concrete block with big plate glass windows looking out on the busy street. It had gone through many incarnations. Molly could remember when it had been an auto body shop, then a human body shop where college kids and yuppies pedaled bicycles that didn’t go anywhere. She thought about the incongruity of people trying to burn up calories while other folks downtown or in their shacks out in the hills were going hungry; subsistence farmers eking out an existence on their hard scrabble land.
As Molly pulled up to the curb, she saw one of the new women from Kute Kids at the front door. Her back was to the street and it looked like she was locking up.
“Hello!” Molly called out as she trotted up the walk in her heels.
The woman started, then turned, her wide flat face turning puzzled as she recognized Molly. Molly had seen her only two or three times before, and ruefully noted that she looked barely out of high school. Only the wire-rimmed glasses over her unlined face gave any suggestion of age.
“Whew! I’m sorry to be late,” Molly could feel a rivulet of sweat trickling down her side.“Where's—?”
“Huh?” said the girl. Her dark hair was clipped as short as a boy's, and she had a big gold stud in her nose. Her coat was open revealing a peasant blouse with embroidered border.
“My son,” explained Molly, catching her breath.“Danny. Danny Driscoll.” Molly's smile suddenly felt pasted on her face.
“Danny,” echoed the girl. She look confused.
“Yes! Where's—?”
“I’m sorry, they’ve all been picked up,” she said flatly.
“What are you talking about?” Molly's hands were trembling and suddenly her knees felt weak.“I just came to get my—”
“Maybe your husband picked him up?”
“I don’t have one! What the hell are you talking about?”
“But your boy's not here,” she said plaintively.
“Did Danny go home with another child?” she asked with strained voice. Molly's throat felt like it was closing, choking her.“Is that it?”
The girl didn’t answer.
“Where's Mrs. Oltz?” Molly pushed her aside and opened the door.“Mrs. Oltz?” She called out as she stepped in.
The place was dark. Empty. In the faint light from the street Molly could see the little chairs upside down on the children's tables. Toys had been cleared away and floors were still wet from being mopped. Under the odor of cleanser lingered the smell of urine and mold. Molly fought the swell of panic threatening to overtake her.
“Mrs. Oltz!” Her voice echoed through the empty rooms. The only returning sound was a refrigerator. It came on with a clank and then whirred. Maybe Mrs. Oltz was in the kitchen? Certainly she would know where Danny was.“Mrs. Oltz!”
“Mrs. Oltz left,” came the voice of the girl from the dimness behind her. “She had to go to the dentist. She had to get a tooth pulled and—”
“So where's my child?” Molly spun around to confront the girl. “You know, my boy? Danny! The little guy with blond curly hair? Hey, get some lights on here!”
The lights came on and Molly squinted in the sudden brightness. Illuminated, the room seemed even more deserted. The girl looked pale and frightened.
“I’m new and…” she tried to explain, but Molly didn’t want to hear it.
“He had bib jeans on and a red plaid shirt,” Molly said, prowling around the room.“You remember?”
The girl looked at her dumbly and Molly's mind felt like it was spinning out of control. Desperately she fought to calm herself. Maybe they had sent him home with someone else? They weren’t supposed to do that, but…if she could just get hold of Mrs. Oltz. She’d know. Of course!
Molly turned on the girl.“When did Mrs. Oltz leave?”
“Around two.”
“Where's Sylvia?”
“She was sick and didn’t come in today.”
“And Louella?” Molly's eyes kept darting around, instinctively checking the doors and windows.
“She just comes in mornings and stays till lunch.”
“You mean you’ve been alone here with all the kids since two?”
“Yes, but…”
“Okay. Fine. Then you were here when the parents came to get them, right?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“What the hell do you mean think so?”
“You’re confusing me.”The girl looked as if she were going to cry. Molly was herself already crying and couldn’t help it.
“Please try to think,” she pleaded. “You were here, right?”
“Yes.”
“And saw Danny today—you do know the boy I’m talking about, don’t you?” Molly was now moving through the building, flipping on lights as she went.
“Yes, yes,” said the girl in the tiniest of voices. Her eyes were now flooded with tears and her nose was running.
Molly did a quick check of the kitchen. Then two bathrooms, the kids’ and the employees’. Nothing. The girl trailing in her wake kept sniffling. Molly reversed course abruptly, bumping into her. “Did one of the parents take Danny home?” The refrigerator had stopped and Molly could hear the blood pounding in her ears.
“I don’t think so.”
“Think? Either someone did or they didn’t. Come on!”
“No,” she shook her head.“No one!”
The exit leading to the play area in the rear was closed. She unlocked it and swung open the door. A blast of cold air rushed in. Outside, the line of deserted swings rocked in the wind. The slides and sandbox were empty. The fence was high. Taller than any adult. “Did you have them outside today?”
“Only a little in the morning. Then we had lunch. And I know he was here then.” It was the first time that the girl had said that she had actually seen him.
Molly shut the door. “If no one took him, then he's got to be here.”
“But he couldn’t be, because they’re all gone. I’m sure…”
Molly was already in the small alcove off the hall where they put the kids’ coats and boots when the weather was inclement. As soon as she flipped on the light she spotted Danny's red jacket hanging from a hook. Her chest constricted and she began breathing rapidly, shallowly. It felt like the air had suddenly been sucked out of the building.
“Oh my God!” Molly gasped, clutching it tightly to her face. The silky jacket with letters “Big Red” emblazoned on it was the one Mr. Greenhut had given him when his own boy had outgrown it. Danny treasured it. Would never go anywhere without it.“A big boy's jacket,” he had called it and had refused to take it off—even in bed. He would never have willingly left without it.
Then she spotted Danny's dinosaur-stickered lunch box tucked in the corner. Molly yanked it open. The thermos tumbled out and rolled across the floor. The box dangling from the handle was empty except for a nibbled core of an apple and some crumbs of bread.
The girl stood framed in the doorway of the alcove watching her.
Molly bolted right past her and raced back to the kitchen. “Danny!” she called out, her voice shaking,“Honey, are you here?” She went straight to the stove and pulled open the oven door. Except for layers of burnt-on crud, it was bare. She raced from one end of the room to the other; down on her knees she yanked open the deep floor cabinets, tugging out things to get an unobstructed view, pots and pans, packages of Pampers and paper toweling, blankets and towels flying across the floor. “Danny? Danny?” He could be hiding anywhere, she realized. He liked to play games, concealing himself in tight places and then jumping out and startling her with a loud Boo! It was a game that always frightened her—yet he kept doing it no matter how much she pleaded.
Her eyes went to the massive refrigerator/freezer. “Oh Jesus!” she uttered
and lurched for the handles. In her mind's eye she saw a child's body curled up in a frozen, fetal pose. She jerked the heavy door open with such violence that containers of juice and milk tumbled out and sloshed across the linoleum floor. Except for some yogurts and bruised fruit, it was empty. The freezer had nothing but a box of ice pops.
The girl was standing lamely in the kitchen watching her. Her inaction infuriated Molly.
“Don’t just stand there!” she ordered, tracking the milk and juice out into the main room. “At least help me look. Check the other rooms. If his jacket's here, he's got to be here! Somewhere! And what the hell's in here?” she asked rattling the padlocked door to a closet.
“It's just for storage.”
“Well, get it open!”
The girl started to fumble with the keys. Molly grabbed them and popped open the lock. In an instant she was digging her way through the closet, flinging aside brooms and mops as she waded into the darkness. “Danny! Danny!” Now she was screaming, she realized, and didn’t care anymore.
A moment later she was at the door leading to the basement. There was no light switch and she started down the rickety stairs. The cellar smelled of rot.“Danny? Can you hear me, love?”
From above she could make out the sound of the girl moving around the other rooms. Then her muffled voice. She was on the phone. Talking, Molly guessed, to Mrs. Oltz.
“Hey, where the hell's the light switch?” Molly shouted.
“I think the bulb went out,” the girl called back, coming to the head of the dark stairs.
“You mean you don’t have a goddamn light down here?” Molly's terror was turning to fury.
“Here,” said the girl, returning with a flashlight.
Molly swept the beam around the basement. There were piles of trash on the floor, heaps of soggy newspapers and crumpled milk cartons, a discarded sofa black with mildew and embroidered in networks of spider webs. Had she known this place was such a pigsty, that the workers were so stupid, she would never have sent Danny here, she thought in a fit of guilt.
“Anybody ever come down here?”
“Yeah. To do the diapers,” explained the girl. “But he can’t be down here. I’m sure of that.”
“How can you be so…Oh, shit,” mumbled Molly, fear gripping her. Up against a wall at the far end of the cellar near the furnace was a commercial washer and next to it a bulky gas dryer. When she got closer, she discovered that there was just enough space between the dryer and the wall for a kid Danny's size to squirm his way in. She poked the flashlight into the gap and forced her head into the opening to take a look. From what she could see, there appeared to be some kind of compartment at the bottom of the housing. It was where the burner or motor—or whatever the hell it was—sat. Just large enough to accommodate a small body. If a boy were hiding there and someone turned it on, she thought, her imagination reeling free, he’d be burnt or mangled in the belts.
She tried to slide the big steel casing away from the wall, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Here. I’ll help you,” said the girl, and together they pushed and heaved. Inch by precious inch they wedged the dryer further away from the wall.
“Little more,” Molly huffed. Then she was down on the floor, the rough concrete fraying the knees of her stockings, the white dust caking her navy skirt. There was a substantial space below the tumbler but, except for the burner, it was empty.
“He's not down here,” the girl said. “I’m sure. You’ve got to believe me.”
“Are there any other doors?”
“There's a side door. But it's boarded up.”
“Let me see it.”
Molly raced back up the stairs. The doorway was covered with a sheet of plywood. She pounded her fists against it. Nailed shut.
A wave of nausea and dizziness swept over Molly. The room began to turn and Molly had to sink down on one of the low tables just to keep from keeling over. She sat with her head lowered into her hands and could slowly feel the blood draining back. There was no way Danny was still here.“What's your name?” Molly asked, trying to get a grip on herself.
“Cheryl.”
“Cheryl,” she repeated.“I need you to think. Think real hard.”
“I’ve thought. I’ve thought of everything, don’t you know!” She was now bawling openly.“I remember him, of course I do! He's that nice little boy with the blond hair. With those curls. Big brown eyes. Always jumping around,” she blubbered.
Molly got her pocketbook which lay by the door where she had first dropped it. She rummaged through it and found some crumpled tissue. She wiped her eyes and then held one out to Cheryl. “Here.”
The girl loudly blew her nose. She kept her gaze lowered, studying the damp tissue, afraid to meet Molly's eyes.
“Look, either someone took him or he got out on his own, right?” Molly tried to reason with the girl.
“No one took him.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive! We keep the front door locked. We always do. That's the rule. Nobody could get past me.”
“So how did he get out?” she asked, as much for her own benefit as the girl's.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know!”
“Where exactly is Mrs. Oltz?”
“I called her. She said not to do anything. That she’d be right over.”
“Well, I’m calling the police,” said Molly.“Where's the phone?”
Molly was just hanging up when Mrs. Oltz came storming through the front door. She was holding an icepack to the side of her face that was swollen like a balloon. Her eyes were tiny, angry slits cut into the white sea of her fleshy face. Her gray hair stood in wiry knots.
“What's going on here?” thundered Mrs. Oltz, her words garbled through a twisted mouth wadded with cotton. “What the…?” She took in the scene of the littered floors.
“That's just what I’d like to know!” said Molly advancing on her. “Where's my boy?”
“You didn’t pick him up?”
“What the hell do you think I’m doing here?”
“Well then somebody else must have picked him up.”
“Who?” asked Molly.
Mrs. Oltz turned on Cheryl.“Well, who?”
The girl shook her head and started to cry again.
“I leave you for a few minutes,” said Mrs. Oltz,“and look what happens! And look at this mess!”
The girl was now sobbing uncontrollably.
“Please!” Molly tried to inject.
“Just let me handle this,” Mrs. Oltz threw up a hand to silence Molly. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.” She turned back to Cheryl. “Now stop your sniveling, girl.”
Cheryl cried louder and Mrs. Oltz grabbed her and shook her. Molly was dumbfounded. She thought Mrs. Oltz was going to slap her. Why did I leave Danny here, thought Molly, why?
“When did Danny Driscoll leave?” she demanded.
“But he didn’t! Let go of me!” Cheryl tried to struggle free.
“Well, he couldn’t just disappear,” said Mrs. Oltz, releasing her grip.“You kept the door locked, like you were supposed to, right?”
Cheryl nodded.
“I want to call the other parents,” Molly said.“The police are on their way.”
“The police? The police?” Mrs. Oltz looked daggers at Molly, then turned on Cheryl.
“I called them,” said Molly defiantly. Just then a patrol car screeched up in front.
“Come on, let's just all calm down.” Officer Richie Pellegrino held up his hands. All three women were shouting at once and he couldn’t understand a word. “There's probably a real simple explanation.” He was a short, barrel-chested man with a belly that arched over the wide belt holding his equipment. The cop looked vaguely familiar to Molly. She had met him somewhere, somehow in the past, but for the moment couldn’t place him.
“Okay,” said the cop,“Who was on duty here?”
“I was,” said Cheryl.“And I saw every parent who came
in.”
“Then he should still be here!” Molly jumped in.“His jacket and lunch box are still here. Look!” She held them up.“But he's not!”
“What about the father?” asked Pellegrino.
“There is none,” said Molly not missing a beat.
“Grandparents. Other relatives who might—”
“No, no.”
“Or a—”
“No! I’m the only one.” Molly jabbed a finger deeply into her chest until it ached.
“I’m gonna need a good description of the boy.” Pellegrino took out his pad and started jotting notes.“You got a picture on you?”
Molly fumbled through her wallet. “This is old. He was only a baby here. I got a better one—”
“This’ll do the for the moment.”
“Look, we’re losing time just standing here.” Molly pleaded. “If someone kidnapped Danny, he could already be miles away.”
“Kidnapped?” echoed Mrs. Oltz indignantly. “No one's kidnapped anyone!”
“But I was watching—” Cheryl tried to chime in.
“Whoa! Hold on everybody,” Pellegrino said.“Let's just do this one step at a time.” His radio squawked and he mumbled something into the mike clipped to his collar. “Give me a description.”
Molly raced through it. Every last detail. From his curly blond hair to the sneakers he was wearing—those expensive Nikes that she had finally broken down and bought for Danny, the ones with the green whoosh on the side that he called “wings.”
Pellegrino, scribbling, could hardly keep up with her.
“Please,” Molly begged.“Do something. Fast!”
“Don’t worry. All the units picked up this call. Hang on,” he said, and turned back to his mike.“Blond four-year-old. ’Bout forty-five pounds. Last seen wearing denim overalls. Red flannel shirt. White and green sneakers…”
When he finished, he turned to Molly. “Look, I know you’re worried. My boys were little once, too, you know,” he said gently. “But kids have a way of getting into things. It usually isn’t as bad as it first looks. We’ll get everything ironed out. You’ll see.”
Molly had never liked cops. As a kid growing up in Ithaca, she had been dragged in a couple of times. Once for shoplifting some lipstick up at the mall, and once for drinking beer at the falls near the high school. The kids she was hanging out with were always getting hassled, too. The cops in town had always struck her as cold and robot-like. They got their kicks out of busting you. This guy, with his soft blue eyes and silvery temples, however, actually seemed to care and she desperately wanted to trust him.
THE LAST BOY Page 2
