by David Bell
“Left again,” she said, her voice lower. She pointed outside. “That party we went to was down that street. I don’t even remember the guy’s name.”
“I don’t either.”
“Erased by time, I guess.”
“What does Felicity like to do?” Michael asked. “You know, for fun. What is she interested in?”
“She loves the dog,” Erica said. “She’s into music and singing. That’s how she got to know this teacher so well. He runs a children’s choir in the summer, through the school. He heard her sing once, at an audition, and he really recruited her to join. She loves it.”
“Good,” Michael said.
“When she started getting into the singing, I thought of Lynn. Maybe she got that ability from her.”
“I know she didn’t get it from—” But Michael stopped himself before he said, I know she didn’t get it from me. He refused to give the impression he thought he was Felicity’s father. And he was trying not to be cold, given how much pain Erica must have been in.
“How is she?” Erica asked. “Lynn?”
“She’s good. She had a rough time when the band broke up. And then she had cervical cancer right after that.”
“She did?”
“Yeah, it was scary as hell. And then my dad dropped dead last year. But she’s coming up on five years cancer free.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” After a moment, she said, “It’s weird to know people so well and then have them fall out of your life completely. Your parents weren’t that crazy about me, but Lynn was always nice. Maybe we shared some kind of rebellious kinship.”
“Clearly.”
“And she lives in Cottonsville too?” Erica asked. “Not LA or even Nashville?”
“Her home is in Cottonsville.”
“But both of you are there. That’s unexpected.”
Michael didn’t bite. “She’s happy there.”
“Okay,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about the past either. Right now, I’m more interested in finding Felicity than anything else. We can worry about the rest later. The house is on the right. That one.”
Michael eased the car to a stop in front of a modest ranch-style house. The porch light revealed two flower boxes anchored to the wrought-iron railing, and an American flag hung limply next to the door. From behind the large front window, soft light glowed, and Michael thought he saw the flickering images of a TV screen. It looked like someone was home.
“Does this guy live alone?” he asked. “And what’s his name again?”
“Wayne Tolliver. And he lives alone.”
“And you don’t want to just ask the cops to come by and talk to him again?”
Erica threw her latest cigarette out the window and into the man’s yard. She pushed the door open, pulling the coat along with her. “Let’s go.”
Michael went out on his side, hustling to keep up with Erica as she moved across the lawn. Above, the stars were appearing, tiny pinpricks of light, and a low moon rose behind the jagged roofline of the houses. The temperature remained warm, the air muggy and full of swirling insects.
Michael wanted to return the call to Angela, but Erica hurried across the lawn and bounded up the steps. She rang the doorbell several times in a row just as she had at his house, and then used the flat of her hand to pound. She took the jacket and slipped her arms into the sleeves, pulling it tight to her body.
“Hold on,” Michael said.
But he watched the door come open, revealing the figure of a slender, middle-aged man, blinking in the face of an intrusion on his peaceful night at home. Before Michael could reach her or stop her, Erica reached out with her right hand and shoved the man back, sending him tumbling into his house and out of Michael’s line of sight.
And Erica went through the door after him, her other hand, the one that hadn’t done the shoving, sliding toward the pocket of her coat.
chapter
fifteen
When Michael came through the door, Wayne Tolliver was on his back, scrambling away from Erica like a frightened crab. She followed after him, trying to step over his pumping legs. Michael shut the front door, making sure they didn’t give the neighbors any kind of show. And then he reached for Erica, trying to pull her back from Tolliver and keep her calm.
“Easy, easy. I thought we wanted to talk to him.”
Tolliver managed to push himself over to the couch, and he leaned back against it, his butt still resting on the floor. Even sitting down, Tolliver looked thin and tall. He wore a button-down shirt, black pants, and house slippers, one of which had fallen off in the struggle, revealing a pale, knobby foot. His thinning brown hair fell over his forehead, and once Erica seemed to be calming down, he reached up and brushed it back off his face. Michael guessed he was in his mid-forties.
“I’m sick of talking, Michael,” Erica said. “I’m sick of answering questions. I’ve been doing that all day. That’s all you wanted to do in the car, just interrogate me and question me. I want answers now. I don’t want to give them.”
“You’re not going to get them this way,” Michael said, imagining the police bursting in at any minute and arresting him and his ex-wife for breaking and entering and assault. Michael walked over to the helpless-looking Tolliver and held out his hand.
Tolliver’s eyes, wide with suspicion and fear, were two ovals of mistrust. But Michael kept his hand out, and finally the man relented and accepted the help. Michael pulled him to his feet and then eased him onto the couch. A bottle of Glenlivet sat on the end table, a half-full tumbler by its side.
“Why don’t you have some of that scotch?” Michael said, pointing.
Tolliver’s breathing started to return to normal. He smoothed the sweater down across his chest and stomach, trying to look dignified and composed after his slide across the floor. “I think I will. Thank you.”
His voice sounded refined and thin.
Erica came close as Michael stood between her and Tolliver. She too breathed heavily, but from anger, not exertion. She remained silent as Tolliver sipped his drink, his lips pursing as the liquid went down.
“Okay,” Michael said, trying to control the situation. “Now everyone is calm. No one’s going to jump anybody, are they?” He looked at Erica who didn’t say anything in response. “Right?” he asked, prompting her.
“He needs to answer some things,” she said.
Either the scotch or Michael’s body serving as a human buffer emboldened Tolliver, because he said, his voice as sharp as a scalpel, “I already answered all the questions. With the police, this morning. Do you think that was pleasant for me? An educator dragged in there when a little girl disappears?”
“Did you tell them how obsessed you are with Felicity? How you tried so hard to get her into the choir? Did you tell them all of that?”
Tolliver rolled his eyes. He reached out and poured more scotch into his glass, his movements slow and mannered, even though his hand still shook. After he had taken another drink, he asked, “Who is this? Another male friend?”
“This is Felicity’s father,” Erica said.
Hearing the words spoken that way, to another person and not to himself, made them seem somehow more real, more powerful, and Michael couldn’t deny that some part of him liked the sound of them. While he held himself back from completely accepting the reality of those words, he knew he was slowly warming to them.
Tolliver’s eyebrows rose. He looked smugly surprised. “Well,” he said, “Felicity’s father. At long last we meet.” He studied Michael, one eyebrow cocked. “I know your sister. Lynn.”
“You do?” Michael asked.
“Not well. I’m a musician too. I admire her skill as a songwriter. I heard she had a health problem.”
“She’s fine. What did you tell the police?” Michael asked.
“Would e
ither of you like a drink?” Tolliver asked.
“No,” Michael said. “Just tell us what she wants to know, and then we can leave.”
Tolliver sighed theatrically. He placed the glass on the table. “I told them the truth. I was teaching a class at the community center this morning. It’s summer break, and that’s what I do. I also told them they were welcome to come and search the house, but they didn’t take me up on it. This is the condensed version of the story, of course.” He looked at Michael. “I think Felicity is a great kid. I do. I think a lot of my students are great kids. But I thought Felicity merited special attention.” He cut his eyes at Erica. “And not for the reasons some people think.”
“Because of her talent?” Michael asked.
“That,” he said, “and she needed other things.”
Erica shifted next to Michael, moving in the direction of Tolliver but not going all the way. Michael sensed something easing in her posture, a resignation.
“After child protective services had been called on Erica,” he said, “I thought it might be good for the kid to have someone paying attention to her.”
chapter
sixteen
Michael turned to Erica who was standing so close, he could once again smell the sweat and desperation coming off her body.
“When was that, Erica?” Tolliver asked. “Last month?”
Erica was shaking her head, and Michael noticed that her left hand had slipped back inside the coat pocket, the one her hand was in when she first went through the door into Tolliver’s house. She looked less defiant and more sad, some of the steel going out of her jaw. Her features drooped ever so slightly, an almost imperceptible sagging. Michael remembered that look and pose from college. It often came after the intensity, after the drama, when she appeared to be running out of steam, slumping back into herself as though overwhelmed by everything.
“What is he talking about, Erica?” Michael asked.
She took a step back, focusing her attention on Michael as if Tolliver weren’t even in the room. The vulnerable look in her eyes took Michael back to the times in college when they fought or when Erica felt sad. To the days near the end of their marriage when tears fell constantly. Erica seemed to feel everything more deeply than other people, to bend far but never break under the weight of emotion. Michael hated to see it, hated to see someone he once cared about looking that way after everything else she’d been through.
But he wanted to know what had happened. He needed to know before he went another step down that road.
“It’s not easy being a single mom, Michael,” she said. “It takes a toll. Day after day of being alone with Felicity.”
“Of course.” He kept the next thought to himself: That was your choice. You could have had my help if she really is my child.
“I admit there were times I wasn’t the best parent, juggling a career with raising a daughter and trying to have some kind of life for myself. I made mistakes when Felicity was young. Maybe I partied too much from time to time. Maybe I left her alone a little longer than I should have on a few occasions.”
Michael listened, withholding judgment. Behind him he heard the neck of the scotch bottle clink against the glass as Tolliver poured himself another round. Michael had to admit having a drink sounded good.
Erica said, “It’s true someone called child protective services on me a month ago. I’d gone out and left Felicity home alone. She was wrapped up in doing homework, and I hated to interrupt her. I was just going to the store to get something to bring back for dinner. Just a twenty-minute round trip. No big deal. And I kind of wanted a little break, a little time alone to clear my head.” She reached up, scratched her forehead. It also looked like she was shading her eyes, preventing Michael from seeing them as she spoke. “But I ran into someone. A friend of mine.”
“I heard it was a guy,” Tolliver said. “An ex-boyfriend.”
Erica lowered her hand, gave Tolliver a frosty look. The vulnerability disappeared. “Yes, an ex-boyfriend of mine.” She looked back at Michael. “His name is Jake Little, and we’d dated when Felicity was young. It’s the only serious relationship I’ve had since we split up. To be honest, he’s the closest thing to a father Felicity has ever had.”
Michael tried to picture the guy, wondered if he’d been acting as father to his own biological child. He felt what he knew in the moment was an unreasonable jealousy. Had another man served as Felicity’s father? How much had he really missed out on?
“Jake moved back to town two or three years ago. When he and I first split up, he moved out of state, and we fell out of touch. But when he moved back to town, it was easy to pick things up. I’d been alone a long time, and Felicity knew him. And she needed a dad.” She looked at Michael. “Don’t you agree?”
“What happened that led to this call?” Michael asked.
“Jake and I split up again about eight months after he moved back to town. It just didn’t work then. Or ever. And I didn’t want to get in too deep with him and let Felicity get attached to him all over again.”
“So you cut it off cold with him?” Michael asked. “This second time?”
“Not cold. We talked from time to time. He knew about Felicity’s life. In a pinch, he helped out with watching her a few times. He took her to the zoo once, but our romance was over. I wasn’t going to play that game with him.”
“So you went to the store, and what happened?” Michael asked.
“I ran into Jake in the parking lot. We talked, sitting in my car. And, yes, I opened a bottle of the beer I’d bought. We both had one while we talked. I lost track of time. I hadn’t had that kind of good long talk with an adult in a long while. And Jake . . . He wanted even more contact with Felicity. He pushed for some kind of full visitation rights. He pointed out that he’d been like a father to her. You know, I don’t take it lightly if a man wants to come into our lives. It can jerk a kid around if she never knows who her mom is bringing home. I wouldn’t do that to her.”
“What else did this Jake guy want?” Michael asked. “To date you again?”
“Possibly,” she said. “It’s complicated, Michael. Like I said, I had to be careful. Let’s just say Jake got pushy. He made me feel uncomfortable because he wouldn’t stop trying to have some kind of contact with Felicity, something regular and weekly. It scared me. It’s been Felicity and me for a long time. I don’t want that balance upset. I don’t need a man to step in, so I had to cut him off and out of our lives. It was the best thing.”
“Did he hurt you?” Michael asked.
“No, it’s fine.”
“Back to that night,” Tolliver said.
Erica glared at him before she said, “When I realized how much time had passed, ninety minutes or so, I rushed home. Felicity was fine. She was doing homework with the dog next to her, just like when I left her.” She sighed. “But one of the neighbors had seen me leave and figured out Felicity was home alone. They called the cops. I still don’t even know who.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Michael asked.
“The problem is she’s not telling the truth,” Tolliver said, standing up from the couch. “You were gone over two hours, and you stumbled into the house. You drove that way, and you left your daughter alone.”
“How do you know?” Michael asked, turning away from Erica.
“Because everyone in town knew,” he said, approaching them. “I work at the school. We hear about what happens when the social workers get called out to a home.”
“Did they press charges?” Michael asked, still facing Tolliver.
“He’s lying,” Erica said, causing Michael to turn around. “That’s some bullshit rumor that went around the school. The cops asked me a lot of questions. They asked Felicity a lot of questions. But in the end, they decided no abuse or neglect had taken place. They closed the file. The embarrassment was enough
punishment. I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. And I didn’t drive drunk or stumble in. I was talking to Jake. A serious talk over one beer. That’s it.”
Michael’s mind churned through Erica’s story, not sure what to believe. But one thing did stand out.
“But you left her alone today,” he said. “You told me you left her in the car in the park while you walked the dog. I know it’s not the same as leaving her at home alone, but why would you ever even let the kid out of your sight again?”
“And that’s not even all of it,” Tolliver said from behind, his breath brushing against Michael’s neck in a way that made him shiver. “Tell him what’s been going on the last few days.”
Before Michael could ask, before the words could even form, Erica brought her hand out of her coat pocket and swung it in a low arc toward Tolliver’s leg. Michael’s mind tripped over the possibilities. A knife? A small club?
But then came the sound and the flash, something that crackled like lightning, followed by Tolliver’s wail of pain and collapse to the floor. He was writhing like a wounded animal, his body thrashing.
Erica held a stun gun.
chapter
seventeen
9:40 P.M.
Angela followed Griffin into Michael’s office. The desk was neat and clean, not cluttered with papers as hers currently was. On the wall behind Twitchell hung Michael’s two diplomas—a bachelor’s degree in management from the University of Kentucky and an MBA from the University of Louisville. Alongside those were framed photos of Angela’s and Michael’s families, including a snapshot of the three Frazier children from many years ago with Michael standing behind his two blond-haired sisters.
