by David Bell
Without a doubt.
“Where are we going?” Caitlin asked.
“It’s too early. We need to pass some time.”
“Where are we going to do that?”
I cut through the center of town, dangerously close to the police station. I didn’t say anything, but I looked over at Caitlin as we approached. Her eyes widened a little. She understood.
“The dog pound?”
“Remember when we used to go there?”
She nodded.
I parked in the back so the car would be out of sight of the street.
We didn’t get out right away.
“What?” Caitlin asked.
“You know, I tried to get Frosty back after I brought him here. Your uncle Buster drove me here one day.”
“What happened?”
“He was gone. Somebody had already adopted him. I tried to get their name so I could go get him. I would have paid them for him, but the shelter doesn’t give out that information.”
“Oh.”
“It’s probably someone in town who has him,” I said, trying to be reassuring. “Somebody who likes dogs.”
“I don’t want to talk about Frosty anymore.”
“Do you want to go in?” I asked. “They might let us walk one.”
She nodded.
“Did you-? You said Colter was walking a dog when he picked you up at the park that day. So you had a dog where you were?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t his,” she said. “It was his mom’s. And they put it to sleep after a couple of years. It was old.”
“He started the whole thing with a lie,” I said. “You see what he-”
“Dad,” she said. She sounded tired. And maybe she was-of me, no doubt. “What does any of it matter now? You know?”
I didn’t say so, but silently I agreed. We got out of the car and went inside.
Caitlin found a midsized mutt, something that looked like a cross between a collie and a poodle, and after getting a few minutes of instruction from a volunteer, we took it for a walk. For a shelter animal, the dog did surprisingly well on a leash. It must have lived in a home where it had received some training at one time. It didn’t resist the leash or work against it. Rather, it accepted the tie and walked by Caitlin’s side.
While Caitlin talked to the dog, I looked over my shoulder, expecting at any moment to be surrounded by police cars. After about twenty minutes of strolling, we brought the dog back to the shelter. The volunteer smiled at us.
“Well, this looks like a perfect fit,” she said. “Will we be making an adoption today?”
I looked at Caitlin expectantly. I would have given her whatever she wanted.
But she shook her head. “No, thanks,” she said. “I’m just about to move.”
Chapter Fifty-three
We made one more stop before driving to the cemetery. The sun had slipped away, a red band of sky spreading just above the treetops. The air was considerably cooler, and the wind increased. Huge flocks of black birds moved across the sky, migrating.
I drove behind the grocery store to an area near its loading dock. No one was back there after hours, and when I dropped the car into park, Caitlin looked over at me.
“Why are we here?”
“I need to ask you something. I’ll only ask one more time. Are you sure you want to do this?”
She didn’t blink or hesitate. “I’m sure.”
“Nothing will be the same if we go there and do this,” I said.
“I know. That’s what I want,” she said. And then, after a pause, she added, “Is anything the same anyway?”
“No,” I said. “But sometimes there are chances to turn back and sometimes there aren’t. I think we’re at a point where it’s going to be hard to turn back.”
She took a deep breath. It almost looked like she shuddered.
“I’m ready,” she said.
I’d been thinking about the setup of the event all morning, the logistical aspects of making what was supposed to be a trade. All I had to do was bring Caitlin to Colter, let them see each other, and I would be able to extract the information I wanted. The difficult part would be pulling back at the right moment, making sure Caitlin left with me and not with him.
“I want you to get in the backseat,” I said.
“Why?”
“How do I know you won’t just run when you see him?” I asked. “If you’re in the back, I can have some measure of-”
“Control?” she said.
“Certainty,” I said. “Certainty that you won’t just run.”
“I won’t run away. I promise. Do you believe me? I won’t run away. I’ll do what you want.”
And I did believe her. Her eyes were clear, her voice level.
“Okay,” I said. “But I do want you to get in the backseat. And stay down.”
She didn’t argue further, and she didn’t even bother to get out of the car. Like a little kid, she wormed her body over the front seat and into the back. She landed with a light thud.
“Okay?” she said. “Happy?”
I made sure the child locks were activated.
I knew Caitlin was behind me. I sensed her. But I felt alone in the dark. Very alone. The wind picked up again, scuffling leaves across the parking lot, and I shivered.
No turning back.
I drove to the cemetery.
Chapter Fifty-four
I thought of the first time I ever drove Caitlin, when she was a newborn and we brought her home from the hospital. I drove slower than slow, sensing disaster at every stoplight, in every other car on the road. New-parent syndrome. I outgrew it, let go of the fears and anxieties, let her grow up, fall down, and make her own mistakes.
At some point, she’d have to be let go again. But not then, not yet.
I reached the narrow road that divided the cemetery from the park and turned. The park was closing. The tennis courts and ball fields were empty and dark, and any day now the grounds crews and workers would begin preparing them for winter, rolling up the nets, covering the dirt infield. I flashed back to that day months ago, back when I walked Frosty here while the weather was still warm and Caitlin was gone, her memory preserved by the headstone in the ground. And I thought of Jasmine, the girl who’d looked so much like Caitlin at the time. The one who was Caitlin, as far as I was concerned. She seemed so much younger than the girl in the back of my car. Younger and more carefree, an innocent who could still run and laugh and move with the buoyant happiness of a spirit. Where was that girl tonight?
To my left, the cemetery sat in darkness. I could see the outlines of the heavy monuments and stones, the vigilant angels on top of markers and mausoleums who stood watch through the night, indifferent to the cold and the human drama in my car. As I moved farther down the road, my eyes adjusted to the light and I was able to make out the shape of a car sitting at the back corner of the park. It didn’t have its lights on, and in the darkness I couldn’t yet see if there was a person inside. It could have been Colter, but just as likely it could have been groping, fumbling teenagers, steaming the windows while their clueless parents ate dinner and watched the news. I pulled behind it, my headlights illuminating its rear and the license plate. It appeared to be empty.
The car looked enormous and old. It was an elderly person’s car, an Oldsmobile 88 or something like that, the kind of thing an elderly lady would keep in her garage and drive on special occasions.
“It’s him,” Caitlin whispered. “John.”
“You’re staying in the car, remember?” I said. “Just wait a little while longer. For me.”
She didn’t answer, nor did she move.
I stepped out onto the road and gently closed my door. I looked around, scanning the landscape for a figure. A late, straggling jogger went by on the track, huffing in the dark. The band of red in the sky was almost gone above the trees, and a sliver of moon rose to the east.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but in the dista
nce, off in the direction of Caitlin’s “grave,” I saw someone. I knew it was Colter before I went over. His thick, squat body and large head made a distinctive shape in the twilight. He stood at the grave with his head bowed, an almost reverent pose, and his hands were folded in front of him. Even though it took me a full minute to walk over to him, my shoes crunching through the leaves, he didn’t look up as I approached. But he did speak.
“You were right to do this,” he said, still staring at the ground.
“You mean to come here tonight?”
“That too.” He looked up and gestured toward the stone. It was still there, tipped over and flat on the ground. “But I meant this. The stone. You were right to do this. To bury the past. This girl doesn’t exist anymore. She really is gone. She disappeared that day I picked her up.”
“You destroyed her.”
“No, no. I released her. I freed her from the chains you had put on her-we all had put on her, in this society we live in. It restricts, it binds. I gave Caitlin freedom.”
“By raping her? By locking her in a basement?”
Colter turned toward me, raising his index finger. “No, no. Never that. Never.”
“How did it happen then? How did you have sex with her?”
“What makes you think I did?”
“She’s not a virgin. The doctor checked her out when she came back. She was a virgin when she left our house that day.”
“Was she?”
My fists clenched. I wanted to strike out.
“Don’t say those things,” I said.
“But really-do you know that? Do you?”
“I know my daughter.”
“You thought you did. You thought she wouldn’t leave. You thought she wouldn’t get in the car with a strange man. You thought a lot of things. Wrong things. Why did your brother come looking for her?”
A light mist started to fall, speckling against my face. Caitlin said she thought she’d heard Buster’s voice in the house. Buster knew Brooks, who knew Colter. .
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“Your brother, William. I know that was him at my mom’s house, hiding in the dark, right?”
I didn’t answer, so Colter went on.
“He came to my house once. He said he knew I liked little girls, and his niece was missing. He’d heard rumors, talk from the lowlifes I associated with. So he showed up on his white horse, Sir Galahad style. He was going to get the girl back, be a hero and save the day.”
“What happened?”
“I told him if he hassled me again, I’d call the police, tell them what I knew about him. Hell, I’d make stuff up if I had to. Or maybe I’d just tell Brooks to call in the debt.” He shrugged, casual as the falling rain. “Now why did he show up at my door and you didn’t? Why the special interest from the uncle and not from the father?”
“We looked. We looked and looked. We never gave up.”
He raised the finger again. “I’m sure you did. But I made sure Caitlin heard my chat with William. I made sure she knew only her uncle came to the house to find her. As far as she was concerned, her parents had given her up for dead. She felt rejected by you. When I told her you weren’t looking for her anymore, she felt like she didn’t have a family. I became her family. Hell, I became her everything. Rejection is a powerful motivator, as I’m sure you know.”
My hands were still in fists and my anger swelled. But I didn’t know where to direct it. This man before me? Brooks? Buster?
For his part, Colter didn’t seem to care. He craned his neck, looking behind me.
“Where’s the girl? Did you bring her? We had a deal.”
“She’s in the car.”
“And she didn’t run out here?” Colter lowered his eyes to mine. “Did you lock her in there? You see, that’s the problem. You’re holding her back from what she wants.”
“Where would you go with her?” I asked. “What do you think is going to happen here?”
But Colter didn’t answer. Once again, his eyes looked behind me, back toward the road and the car where Caitlin was waiting.
I turned, expecting to see Caitlin coming, but then I saw what Colter saw.
Headlights, coming down the road. Another car approaching mine.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“They’re probably just turning around,” I said. But the car stopped right behind mine.
“Is that a cop? Did you screw me?” He started moving back into the dark.
Someone climbed out of the car and looked toward us. I recognized the figure before he said anything. I had run into him out in the cemetery before.
“It’s my brother,” I said. “It’s Buster.”
Chapter Fifty-five
I walked over to the cars and approached Buster, leaving Colter behind in the dark. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Looking for you. I drove all over town looking. I figured you might end up here eventually.”
“You’re not needed-or wanted. Leave me alone.”
“Where is she? Where’s Caitlin?” He looked into the car, squinting in the dark. “Tom? What did you do? Did you hand her off to him already?”
“She’s in there, okay?”
Caitlin must have heard our voices. She leaned closer to the glass, allowing us to see her. But she didn’t make a move to come out.
Buster looked horrified. “Tom, just get in the car and take her home.”
“She’s my leverage. She’s safe in the car because I can’t have her running off before I get what I need.”
“That’s cold, Tom. Cold. Jesus-referring to your daughter as leverage.”
“Did you call the police like you called Abby?”
“We’re family, Tom. All of us. We protect each other. I did what I thought was right.”
“Family. Why did you do it, Buster? Why? You gave her away, like a piece of meat. Why? You went to that house. She was there. She heard your voice.”
He made a hurried shushing gesture by bringing his finger to his lips. He pointed at the car.
“I don’t care,” I said.
“Come on,” he said. “Over here.”
“No.”
“I want to explain.”
We stepped away from the cars, far enough so Caitlin couldn’t hear us.
“What did the police tell you?” Buster asked.
“Enough. That you owed a guy money for drugs. And he knew Colter. So-”
“I didn’t give Caitlin to anyone. I couldn’t. But I did. . I was messed up. You remember. I owed him money.”
“Colter?”
“Brooks. He was all over me. I was scared. I thought I might just leave town, never come back.”
“You should have.”
He looked hurt, but he went on. “I talked about Caitlin. I talked about her all the time. She’s my niece. You have to understand-I felt like she was more than that. Like she was mine. My kid.” He threw his hands up a little. A hopeless shrug. “I’m never going to have any of my own. You can feel that way about a niece or nephew. Even if they’re not your own, you can feel like they belong to you in some way. There’s a bond there that goes beyond blood or family or who gave birth to who. Right?”
“I’ll have to take your word for that one.”
“Like me and you, Tom. Am I your brother or your half brother? Does it matter what it’s called? Look-okay, so you wanted me to admit that my old man used to get after us and beat us, and I wouldn’t before. I was a dick, I know. Well, I’ll admit it now, right here. He used to beat us and terrorize us when he drank. And he used to come down on you most of all, probably because you weren’t really his kid. You see-I said it, Tom. I said it. You were right about my dad and all of that.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s the truth. But something else is the truth, too. I used to protect you, Tom. I used to put my body over yours. I tried to get in between you and him. I know you remember that, too. See, that’s what I’m talking ab
out. There’s a bond there, one that can’t be broken by some circumstances.”
“Go on,” I said. “What about Colter and Brooks?”
“When she disappeared, I thought of those guys. Maybe I had talked about her too much around them.”
“So you knew Colter?”
“I knew of him at the time. He didn’t know me. I thought of going to the police, but what did I know? Really? That I knew a guy who might know a guy who might have taken my niece?”
“You tell them anything you know.”
“Like you told them about me after last night? I know they came to you asking about me. Did you cover for me? Did you protect me?”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“Did you tell them about the girl we saw here in the cemetery? That little girl.”
“Why didn’t you say anything about this?”
“I had a record. They busted me for being naked by a school. And the drugs. What were they going to do with me?” He shrugged again and walked in a small circle.
I looked over to the cemetery and saw Colter’s figure in the dark. Listening. Waiting.
Buster came back to me and stood even closer. “I decided to check it out myself. I asked Brooks about it, if he knew about Colter and the little girls. He said Colter was a creep and a pervert, but he didn’t think he had anyone in the house. He’d been in there a few times. He hadn’t seen anything, or so he said.”
“Caitlin says she heard your voice in Colter’s house.”
Buster shook his head. “No, no. Never. I didn’t know where he lived. Brooks put me off. He said he dealt with unpleasant people, but he didn’t know anything about Caitlin. Tom, if I had gone there, if I had been in that house, I would have turned it upside down. I wouldn’t have left without Caitlin. Never.”
His words rang true to me. Despite Colter’s story, I believed my brother. I believed him.
