chapter eight
Tripoli phoned ahead to the hospital to alert the physician on call. Then he had Molly carefully undress Danny. She took off his shirt and dropped it into a plastic evidence bag that Tripoli held open for her. Then he sealed and tagged it.
“We’re going to need everything,” he explained as he continued the bagging and tagging.“Socks. Shoes. Even underwear.” Especially the underwear, he thought. He took each piece, put it into an evidence bag, marked the bag, and then carefully sealed its contents. When he had it all, he handed the bundle out the door to a waiting patrolman who drove it directly to the station.
When he turned, Molly was headed to the bathroom to give Danny a quick bath.
“No, no,” he said, cutting her off.
“Huh? I just wanted to—”
“Just take him as he is. You can wash him up later. After.”
So she dressed Danny in a pair of shorts and a polo shirt and let him wear flip-flops. None of his old shoes seemed to fit him.
“Oh, these feel really good,” said Danny, wiggling his bare toes. “And they’re light, too.” He jumped around in them, shaking the trailer. Tripoli noticed there was mud between his toes. “Hey, how did you make them?”
“Make them?”repeated Molly.“We bought them when we went up to Syracuse. Carousel Mall. Don’t you remember, Honey?”
Danny scrunched up his face in thought.“Yeah, I sort of do.”
Molly changed out of her shorts, slipping on a light cotton shift. She strapped on a pair of sandals while Tripoli stood waiting at the door. He couldn’t help but watch and admire.
Outside, there was now a crowd of people, maybe a hundred or more herded behind the police lines. Some were folks Molly recognized from the trailer park, others she was sure she had never seen before. There were two crews from the local TV stations and several photographers positioned on both sides of her door. Molly now realized that the story of Danny's return had to be big news: there was no way that any journalist was going to let a story like this get away.
When the people saw Danny emerge from the trailer, they started loudly clapping and whistling, and a volley of flashes went off on all sides.
“Hey, Danny!” folks shouted all at once. “Welcome home! Where’ve you been?”
“He's back,” Molly shouted to the crowd straining at the cordon of police who had locked arms. “My little boy is back!” Taking Danny's hand, she lifted it triumphantly. Danny laughed, all the people cheered, and at that instant she felt like jumping up on the roof of her trailer and crowing out her joy, or throwing herself into the crowd and kissing every man, woman, and child who was there.
Danny seemed amused by all the attention, and Tripoli hustled him and Molly into the back seat of his car. As he drove off, he noticed a television van was right on their tail, following them. They kept up for almost a mile, then Tripoli ran a series of red lights and lost them. As they curved down the highway descending into the valley, Tripoli stole glances at Danny, whose head kept pivoting from side to side as if the boy were trying to remember where he was, where he had lived. They sped through the city where spring flowers adorning the houses gushed in colorful profusion. The magnolias in front of the court house were out in full, dazzling bloom, and Danny, who had managed to slip from his seat belt and open the window, was already leaning halfway out when Molly caught hold of him. “Be careful!” she said, pulling him back. She tried to close the window, but he took her hand away.
“No! I want the wind,” he insisted.“I need the air.”
“Well, okay, but stay put. And you need this seat belt.”
At the west end of town the traffic was heavy as usual.“Hey, get a load of this,” said Tripoli turning to Danny in the rear. He flipped on his lights and cranked the siren full volume. Magically, the tangle of cars parted and they sped through, flying over the inlet bridge, then climbing West Hill “Neat, huh?”
Danny was not impressed. His gaze, Tripoli saw, was fixed in the distance, catching glimpses of the lake below through the passing trees and houses. There were whitecaps on the surface and the water was dotted with sailboats heeling in the stiff breeze. “You like boats?” asked Tripoli.
Silence.
“I’ve got a friend with a big motor boat. We could all go out. Do some serious fishing, maybe, huh?”
“That sounds like fun,” agreed Molly above the roar of wind in the rear seat.“Danny loves to fish,” she said, recalling that picture of him with his very first fish.“Don’t you, Sweetie?”
“No,” he mumbled.“Not really.”
“Huh?” said Molly.
“Not anymore.”
“Oh…” was all she could say.“Oh…hmmm…”
Tripoli tried to turn the subject to advantage. “Is that because you did some fishing while—”
“Stop asking me!” said Danny with his childish lisp. The reflection of his resolute eyes met Tripoli's straight on in the mirror.
They rode up West Hill, and when they reached the entrance to the hospital Tripoli pulled directly into the emergency bay next to a parked ambulance.
“Emergency room,” said Danny.
“What?” said Tripoli. Somehow the kid had made out the sign. Had he been here before?
“Why are you taking me to the emergency room?”
Molly and Tripoli exchanged glances.
“We’re just going for a checkup. That's all. You’ve had them before.” Molly smoothed his cowlick and fastened the top button of his shirt. “They’re going to look you all over. Take your clothes off, maybe.”
“What for?”
“Make sure you’re healthy.”
“But I am!”
“Sometimes,” said Tripoli,“grownups do things to children—”
“You mean like sex?”
Tripoli tried to hide his surprise.
“Yes, Honey,” said Molly, keeping her voice level.
“Well that's just silly,” said Danny emphatically. “Nothing like that happened!”
There wasn’t just one doctor waiting to examine Danny. There were three of them, one of them an obstetrician. They were as curious as everyone else in town.
“Ooooh, that's cold,” Danny said when old Doc Wozniak put his stethoscope on his chest.
“Just want to listen to the old ticker.”
“Is it really ticking?” asked Danny.
“Like a clock. You wanna hear?”
Danny wanted to hear and Doc Wozniak stuck the ends into his ear.
“More like drums,” said Danny.
“Depends on the ticker.” The doctor wiggled his furry white eyebrows.“Some are like clocks. Some are like drums. Some are like broken machines. So, young fella, tell us, where have you been?” asked old Dr. Wozniak, who was not one to mince words.
“Away,” said Danny seriously, and then burst out laughing.
The team of doctors carefully checked Danny for any signs of injury or abuse. When little boys are raped, there are always some indications, even months later, some trauma, at the very least minute tears of tender tissues. They found nothing. They took a sample of blood and, while they waited for a quick answer from the lab, weighed and measured Danny.
“He's tall enough for his age,” said Emily Glover, the pediatrician,“But he's definitely underweight,” she explained to Molly.“Any idea what his diet's been?”
All eyes, including Tripoli's, went to Danny.
“Just good stuff,” Danny said.
When the lab results came back, it was clear his blood values were fine. His red count high, white low, electrolytes all in balance. There were no indications of infections nor any obvious problems. In fact, despite his lean weight, the kid was in pretty good shape. About as healthy as anyone could possibly ask for, thought Molly.
As Tripoli escorted them from the hospital to his car, they were suddenly engulfed by a mob of reporters waiting at the emergency room entrance. Blinding lights flashed on and everyone began shouting questions all at once.
&nb
sp; Amidst the pandemonium, Danny seemed overwhelmed and moved to safety in the shadows behind Molly.
Tripoli took Danny's hand and made a dash with him to the car, Molly hurrying after them. He got Danny into the back seat, but when he turned he saw that the cameras were upon them and Molly was talking to the reporters on the other side of the car.
“I was surprised, sure,” Molly was explaining.“But I always knew he’d come back. You see, I had this dream.” And she started to tell about her vivid dream. About the clouds and colors. The sheep and goats. Tripoli gunned the engine in mid-sentence.“Whoops, excuse me,” said Molly and hopped into the car.
“Now we go home,” explained Molly in the back seat as they drove away from the hospital.
“Not quite,” said Tripoli. “We gotta make another stop. Child Protective Services is waiting for him downtown. They want him to see the juvenile psychiatrist.”
“Oh, Trip,” she pleaded and started to haggle with him.
He tried to explain that it was standard procedure in kidnapping cases. The boy, Tripoli noticed, was carefully watching, listening.
The evening was unusually clear and calm. In the valley below, the lights were coming on and the small city clustered below them sparkled in the valley. To Molly, the scene was picture perfect.
“Look,” said Molly, leaning forward from the back seat to come close to Tripoli,“You can ask Danny all the questions you want tomorrow. He's not going anywhere.” She turned to Danny,“Right, Honey?”
Oddly, the boy didn’t respond. He turned to gape out the open window, his hair streaming in the wind.
“Honey?” she repeated He turned, looked at her, and then smiled, though he still said nothing.
“Back for keeps!” She kissed him wetly on the nape of the neck. She gripped his hand tightly. Bringing it close, she examined his little fingers, kissing them one after the other. Though there was dirt embedded under his nails, they were relatively short and trim.
“Someone cut your nails,” she said.
“Yup.”
“Who?”
Again he turned away.
“We’ve got to get your hair cut.”
“Do I have to?”
“But darling,” She ran fingers through his tresses, “it's ridiculously long. You want people thinking you’re a girl?”
“But I like it just like this.”
Tripoli remained silent, listening to their conversation as they cut across town, passing Dewitt Park where a group of youngsters were sitting at the foot of the war memorial strumming guitars, lovers strolling arm in arm. Danny was back, he thought, and Molly's entire focus was on the boy. It was to be expected, of course, and he was happy for her, but he couldn’t help but wonder if there would still be room for him.
Molly glanced out the window. A young mother in the park was watching her toddler running in the grass. People were standing on the street, laughing, chatting, smiling. The town suddenly seemed different to her, friendly and inviting. She thought about her neighbors who had crowded around her trailer to welcome Danny back and regretted all the miserable thoughts she had harbored. She recalled the way Larry and the folks in the office had rallied around her, supporting her all these long months, about the great friends she had in people like Rosie and Ed. And Trip. Of course Trip. Ithaca wasn’t such a bad place to live after all, she suddenly realized. Not a bad place to raise a little boy.
“Come on, Trip,” she wheedled sweetly as they reached the center of town. “Just take us home. What difference are a few hours going to make now after all these months?”
“It just makes the trail that much colder,” he said, barely audible.
“And Danny's tired. I want to clean him up. Give him some food, tuck him into bed.”
“Yes,” echoed Danny with his little lisp.“I’m tired. Very tired.”
“Geez,”Tripoli shook his head.“You’re making me out to be the heavy.”
“So lighten up a little,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder.
He drove them back to the trailer park. As they pulled through the police line, he was on the radio rescheduling the shrink for the morning and organizing a detail to cover Molly's home for the night.
The phone was ringing as they stepped in. Molly's answering machine was already filled with messages and was no longer picking up. Scrunching up his face, Danny stuffed his fingers in his ears to block out the incessant ringing.
“We’d better yank the cord if you want any peace tonight,” said Tripoli, and then pulled out the plug.
“Whew!” sighed Danny in relief. He started wandering around the trailer.
“You remember everything here, right?” asked Molly.
“Sure!” said Danny, exploring. “Well, sort of.” He popped the switch on the toaster oven up and down, turned on all the burners on the stove and watched the flames ignite; he opened the refrigerator and peered in. “Ice,” he said, licking the outside of the freezer compartment with his tongue.“Mmmmm. Cold.”
Tripoli hung back, intrigued at the way the boy kept shifting from room to room. Danny was now in the bathroom flushing the toilet. He had his hand in the bowl and was trying to change the direction of the downward swirl.
“What in the world are you doing?” asked Molly who had been trailing him.
“Looking,” said Danny.
She washed up his hands, tried to get rid of the brownish stains that had dyed his fingers and palms, took a washcloth and started scrubbing his face and neck as he squirmed around the bathroom. “Owww, not so hard.”
“Hey,” said Tripoli, sticking his head in the bathroom,“Okay if I leave you guys for the night?”
Danny was now working the faucets on the tub, cranking them on and off.“Look,” he said to Trip,“it comes out hot!”
Molly walked Tripoli to the door.“I think he went native,” she said with a laugh that sounded forced to her own ears.
“Or maybe the kid's planning on being a plumber,” added Tripoli, trying to make light of it, too. But it was weird. Bizarre, but perhaps telling. There was no pushing the boy, not now, that much was obvious. The morning would be a different story.“Hey, look, if you need me,” he touched her arm, “just tell one of the officers who’ll be here tonight—or plug in the phone and give me a call— I’ll keep my cell on, okay?”
“Thanks, Trip,” she said, giving him a chaste kiss. “And thanks for everything. You’re one terrific guy. And tonight I’m one of the happiest, most grateful human beings on this earth. Thanks for everything.”
Tripoli took hold of her tightly and was about to plant his lips on hers when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Danny peeking out of the bathroom.“I gotcha!”Tripoli said pointing, a finger as if it were a gun.
The boy, caught, giggled. “You were going to smooch her, weren’t you?” Danny said.
“Absolutely!” Tripoli said. “You’ve got one nice, smoochable Mommy.”
“Mother,” corrected Danny. “Mother.” And then he laughed again.
“I’ll bet you’re hungry,” Molly said, going to the kitchen.“I’m going to make you a yummy dinner. This is going to be a celebration— just the two of us.”
“Sounds great!” he chirped, tagging behind. “Isn’t Mr. Trip going to eat with us, too?”
“I think he went out to catch some crooks. You like Trip, huh?” she spun around to catch him in her arms. Danny's eyes sparkled with intelligence. To her his face was the picture of goodness and purity. Even sweeter and purer than she had remembered him, if that were possible. He seemed different in other ways, too. Less impulsive. More observant. More grown up. But of course. He was seven months older. Seven months in which she hadn’t been an influence. Seven months with someone else. Who else? How could they!
“Yes. He's very nice,” said Danny, breaking into her thoughts. “But he keeps bugging me with those questions. I don’t like that.”
Molly let it slide. “Hey, how's about a kiss before dinner?” she said, leaning
over. He puckered up and planted a big, wet one on her mouth. “Mmmmm, good,” she uttered, gave him another for good measure and set to work. It was still almost impossible to comprehend that he was actually back. Everyone around her had long since given up and there were times, she remembered, when even she had almost abandoned hope.
“Hmmm. Let's see about dinner,” Molly mumbled to herself as she hunted through the fridge and cabinets, seeing what she could scrounge up on short notice. With a free hand, she hit the button on the answering machine. The messages started reeling off.“Hello, this is Sally Wentworth with the New York Times, could you please give me a call at…”There was another from a reporter at the Washington Post. As well as people from Time and Newsweek. Tom Brokaw himself was trying to reach her, as were producers from CNN in Atlanta and ABC in New York City. The network morning shows were after her, too. As were all the wire services. And there were lots of calls from ordinary people, locals as well as folks from around the whole country.
“This is Cathy Peebles in Boise, Idaho. I just heard on the news about your boy coming home. I’m sure you’re ecstatic and I wanted to tell you how happy me and my family are for you. Once, when my girl was little, just about Danny's age, I lost her in a crowd and I almost died till we found her an hour later. I can only imagine…”
In the freezer Molly found a small packet of ground beef, enough for the two of them. As she slid it in the microwave and hit defrost, she noticed that her hands were still trembling. She tried to control the temptation to fuss over Danny, but found that she couldn’t resist constantly watching him. He had pulled a book off the shelf and was leafing through it. Molly noticed that it was a dictionary.
“I put your books on the lower shelf over there,” she pointed.
“Oh, okay,” he said. But, instead, he pulled out one of her old college books and sat with it cross-legged on the floor, neck bent as he slowly turned the pages. What was he looking at? she wondered. It had hardly any pictures.
“You know, you’re going to have to tell me where you’ve been,” she said, trying to make it sound as offhanded as she could.
Danny pretended to ignore her.
THE LAST BOY Page 16
