by Nick Adams
I nodded. “So you went there and tracked her down all on your own?”
“She gave me the best directions she could. Said it was just like going to the fair. But after passing the little store, I had to turn off the main road to a dirt road. Once I was on the dirt, I just kept driving until I found a bunch of cars lining the road. The phone service was bad, so we had to text back and forth. I got out with my pepper spray in my hand and found her. She was hiding behind a tree to avoid the guy and we got back to the car in just a few minutes.”
“And Simon was gone.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t believe it. We didn’t have a flashlight or anything. And there were strange guys all around. A few girls, but not many. It was a weird party. We drove up and down the road calling for him. We could hear a group of guys out in the field actually laughing and mocking us.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I had lousy service. And I didn’t dare. Didn’t know how to explain where I was. Are they going to hunt for a lost dog?”
“They might take a look at the guys there. I’m sure nothing legit was going on.”
“My friend,” she said. “She’s underage. Nineteen. The cops would have smelled the alcohol on her from a mile away.”
I was nodding as she finished. None of my bullshit radars were going off. She wasn’t twitchy or nervous and averting her eyes as she spoke. She wasn’t fake crying or being overly dramatic. Just regretful. Slightly ashamed. Honest. And it was a simple fact that people from Franklin and Trenton always passed through my town to get to the state fairgrounds. She might not remember the exact roads, but she’d remember it as the basic route to the fair. Even Frank recognized the road leading to the vet’s office. I felt fairly confident that Kendra wasn’t trying to deceive me. About as confident as I could feel with someone I’d just met. She was just running on stress and grief.
I asked, “Do you remember any of the vehicles from that night?”
“Don’t know,” she sighed. “Lots of trucks, I guess. Big SUVs and pickup trucks mostly.”
“Like an Escalade?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I think I saw a couple of those. But remember, I was looking for my friend. Then my dog. I can’t be positive.”
“Okay,” I said.
“You believe me?”
“I do.”
“I trust you,” she said. “I don’t know why. But I do.”
I said, “Maybe because you’re a better judge of character than you give yourself credit for. If I was full of it, you’d probably sense it. We’ve all got instincts. We just don’t pay attention all the time.”
“The dog factor helps a lot.”
I nodded. “Dog folks gotta stick together.”
“Okay,” she said. “So we’re on the same page and we can trust each other. That’s great. But there’s more to it on my end.”
The waiter came over, halting our exchange. He topped off Kendra’s coffee and poured me a mug. Took our orders and the menus and left us. Left the beard club flyer on the table.
“How old are you?” I asked.
She smiled thinly and said, “You’re not supposed to ask.”
“Your friend is nineteen. I need to ask.”
“She’s a dancer. And I’m twenty-seven. If you look a little surprised, I’ll thank you for the compliment.”
I nodded. “Go ahead and thank me.”
“Thank you, sir. The dance studio has all ages. Kids to fifty year-olds. We’re mostly all friends.”
“All right,” I said.
“Do you think Neil would hire me if I was nineteen?”
“Don’t know.”
“I know it’s weird to still live with my dad. But like I told you, he’s not doing well.”
“I get it,” I said. “I was guessing twenty-one, and that you’ve been lying to Neil for a while about your age because the money is good. Just a guess. I’m very capable of being wrong and willing to admit it when I am.”
She reached into her purse and produced a billfold with her license behind a little clear sleeve.
“See?”
“I do.”
“The date of birth, not the bad picture.”
“I see it.”
“Well then, are we good now?”
“Yes. I was wrong.”
She shifted in her seat. Replaced the billfold in her purse and took a sip of coffee. It was a good time for me to have a sip of mine. It was decent coffee. Not Dunkins, but pretty decent. It might have been Green Mountain Breakfast Blend.
“You seem older,” Kendra said.
“Okay.”
“I mean, you don’t act like a frat boy. Or a beer-chugging country boy.”
“I’m not.”
“You seem older, but you’re really not. I think you’re twenty-five at most under that scruff.”
“Close.”
“Twenty-four?”
“What else is on your mind?”
“Aw, twenty-three?” she said. “Is that all? Really?”
I took another sip of coffee.
“Twenty-one?”
I said, “You’re funny.”
Her smile went away and she said, “Okay, doesn’t matter. I need to run something by you. Something serious.”
“Shoot.”
“You want to keep a low profile, and I can see why. But after we eat, I was hoping you’d be willing to talk to my dad for a few minutes.”
I shrugged. “Why not? You won’t be at ease until he’s at ease. Right?”
“Pretty much. And it’s not like he’s going to rat on you or anything.”
“Not if he wants to get Simon back.”
“Okay,” she exhaled. “I feel a little better now. That was my big question for the morning.”
I said, “If you’re twenty-seven, why do you need your dad’s approval?”
“I don’t need it. I want him to understand what we’re doing. We don’t often disagree. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”
“You’re his only child?”
She nodded.
“Makes sense. That’s a good incentive for him to be overprotective. Why would he want you chasing down dirt bags with some random guy he’s never met? I’d question him more if he was passive about it.”
“I totally get that. Problem is, he doesn’t seem to realize that there isn’t another option at this point. I need help. Now I’m just hoping you can convince him that we’re doing the right thing.”
“If I can, great. But it doesn’t change much for me. Either way I’m going after Simon tonight.”
She looked down at her coffee. I waited for it.
“I want to help you,” she said.
“You gave me the scoop on the Bensons. Pointed me in the right direction. That’s help.”
“Simon’s my dog. And I’m the one who forgot to lock the car that night. It was late and I was tired and I was too worried about Chrissy to think straight.”
I said nothing. I already had Willie chomping at the bit to help me. Now Kendra’s father was filled in on the situation. It was getting crowded. Loose lips sink ships, even when nothing malicious is intended.
On the other hand, Kendra had proven that she had the resolve to help a friend by following vague directions. But that still didn’t mean that she’d be any good at sneaking through the woods at night to swipe a dog from a rural house. I didn’t know if Brady kept his dogs in the house or in an outdoor pen. Their place was barely visible from the road. There were huge fields and clumps of trees and a long driveway and lots of construction equipment. And if I didn’t know exactly what to be prepared for, I couldn’t expect Kendra to be prepared.
“I’m not useless,” she said.
“Never said you were.”
“So let me help.”
“I’ve already got a helper lined up. My cousin. I trust him and he knows how to handle himself.”
“Can’t I at least drive?”
“I’m not picking teams for dodgebal
l here.”
“I can drive.”
“Sure you can. But is it worth giving your father a heart attack? You told me you’ve been arguing all morning. Clearly it’s a big deal to him. And obviously you’re affected by his concerns. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”
She went quiet.
“This morning was pretty easy,” I told her. “Actually, it was even easier than I figured it would be. But there’s no guarantee that tonight will be easy. I know these other people. They’re smarter than those Franklin nitwits. And on top of that, you need to realize that people who live out in the boonies are a different sort. They prefer to be left alone. They demand it. That’s why they built a house in the boonies. To be left alone. And that means if they hear a weird noise outside their house at night, they grab a shotgun before they call the police.”
“Lovely,” she exhaled.
“I’m just saying.”
“Please don’t say that in front of my dad.”
“He’s already considered it, I’ll bet.”
She looked away.
I said, “We’ve got plenty of time before it gets dark. Use it to think things over before you make up your mind.”
“I’ll do that,” she said. “But can you explain one thing first?”
“I can try.”
“You seem completely calm and level about this whole thing. Like nothing worries you. How do you do that?”
“I’m taking it all very seriously,” I assured her.
“Yeah, I can tell. But I’m asking how you can be serious without being nervous. Or without being cocky and mouthy. How do you maintain that sort of confidence?”
“It’s a state of mind. Being worried accomplishes nothing. And it’s not like we’re in Iraq here.”
“It’s still dangerous,” she said. “And illegal.”
“It’s just something that has to be taken care of. I’ve made up my mind to do it. That’s all.”
“Positive thinking?”
“More than that. It’s about how you see yourself, not propping yourself with good vibes. All the people that really kick ass in life say the same thing. We can’t control circumstances, but we have complete control of ourselves. Our minds decide our responses to circumstances. That sort of self-control is what makes a person sharp and effective. Not slogans and sappy put-on attempts at positive peppiness. Save that for high school basketball pep rallies.”
She was nodding as she said, “I can tell that you definitely believe it.”
“I do. You know, it’s funny, I just said the same thing to the beard club guy.”
She kept on nodding, luring me. Setting me up.
Then she said, “You know what else is funny? Your answer argues against your own behavior.”
I paused. “How do you figure?”
“Because,” she said louder, “you just admitted that your confidence is a purposeful state of mind! If you really believe that, how can you allow yourself to be bullied into wearing gloves by a bunch of microscopic germs?”
I nodded and cracked a little smile and looked away for a second. It was a decent argument. A bit of a sneak attack. Not a perfect knockout. But a good enough jab to close my mouth for a second. But it also worked against her. It let me know that I would have to keep a close eye on her from then on. And I would.
Kendra was laughing. She looked like a different person from when I’d first arrived. Brighter and energized. Sitting up straighter. And feeling proud for having landed a solid jab.
“Laugh it up,” I said. “That remark just cost you another sandwich.”
“It was worth it.”
“And I’ll need one for Willie. If he sees me eating, he’ll be jealous as hell.”
“Big macho man, afraid of germs,” she laughed. “You have to admit it’s funny.”
“You know how many people died in the Civil War before they learned to sterilize surgical tools?”
“No. Do you?”
“Plenty.”
She just shook her head. Kept on smiling.
“I told you yesterday, the gloves are just peace of mind in a nasty world. I’m in charge. Not the germs.”
Kendra fake coughed on her hand and then held it out at me while making a funny “I’m gonna get you” noise.
“I can’t beat up thieves,” she said. “But I can scare you.”
“Watch it,” I warned.
“Hey, what if I dunk a finger in your coffee?”
“Go ahead. You’re paying for it.”
She took a deep, satisfying breath and said, “Okay, okay. I’ll stop now.”
I nodded.
“Really, you’ve been awesome about everything so far,” she said, serious again. “I just needed to get that out there while I had the chance.”
“Glad you’re feeling better.”
“But seriously,” she said. Her voice lowered almost to a whisper and her eyes got narrow. “I want to see the guy who has my Simon.”
“It won’t make you feel any better.”
“I think it will. Not knowing is half the misery. I want to watch him beg you not to beat his sorry ass. Abusive bastard.”
I said nothing. She had shown me something significant within the space of a minute. Beneath her grief and frustration, her personality had shown through in the form of joke. Then she’d followed that with a solid statement of intent. Not a lot of words. But she had told me a lot. Probably more than she realized. She wasn’t resigned to being a sad victim who sank into a sea of feelings. She needed help, yes. But she didn’t see herself as incapable of being involved in the solution. It was an attitude I respected. It meant that she was someone I could work with, if need be.
But I still preferred to work alone.
“What?” she asked after a second.
“That was pretty awesome. You meant every word you just said. It was intense.”
“Really?”
I nodded.
“Maybe you’re a bad influence on me.”
“Or a good one.”
“My goal isn’t to be a turbo bitch from hell.”
“It could come in useful, if you learn to bottle it up. Save it for the right people.”
She said, “I’ve always hoped that if I was nice to people, the same would come back to me.”
“That’s great, as long as you’re dealing with other considerate people. But it’s just an open door for opportunists.”
She didn’t respond to that. Instead she said, “About this morning. I need to ask. When you were in their house, were they scared?”
“Very.”
“Good,” she said. “I hate to be that way.”
“People drag it out of you.”
“Yeah,” she exhaled. “I guess they do.”
“Why does every car and every house have a lock built into its door?”
She didn’t answer.
I let it go and just said, “Hang in there. It’s almost over.”
She nodded and seemed to take that statement to heart, and from then on the mood was lighter. We spoke more casually and enjoyed our food. I ordered two more subs to go, and Kendra ordered one to bring home to her father.
24
On my way back to my van, the beard club guy was nowhere to be seen. But the short walk wasn’t without incident.
Up ahead a woman was attempting to walk a golden retriever. She was maybe in her fifties or early sixties. Which really made me wonder. She was yanking the leash like crazy. Jerking the dog’s head every few yards. Snapping it hard. The dog was hacking and choking. I figured someone of her age would have gleaned enough sense in their years to train the dog and avoid that problem.
Apparently not in her case.
What would Clint do?
I stopped. Stood right in the middle of the sidewalk.
Human blockade.
“Excuse me,” she said when she came near. It was a demand, not a request.
I said, “No.”
She halted and looked up at me. A
round little woman. Impatient and sharp with her movements and her speech. She was shaped like a little bulldog. The snug pearl necklace around her thick neck reminded me of a studded collar.
“You’re blocking my way,” she said.
“Could be worse.”
“Ex-cuse-me?”
“Worse things could happen,” I said. “Meaning, someone could put a chain on you and snap your neck. See how you like it.”
“I don’t think I appreciate your tone.”
“I don’t appreciate anything about you.”
“Step aside, young man.”
“Make me.”
“I said step aside.”
“Say it again. See if it works.”
“You’re not amusing.”
“Not trying to be.”
“I’ll call the police. How’s that?”
“Go ahead. While you’re calling, I’ll get some video of you choking that dog. We’ll see what they think when they arrive.”
Her scowl deepened. Her resemblance to a bulldog really was uncanny. Maybe that’s why she was so angry. Maybe she was some kind of government experiment, trying to combine the strengths of humans and canines into one package. Like the pigman Kramer saw at the hospital one time on Seinfeld.
“I’m asking you to let me by,” she said.
“I will. If you promise to grow a brain. Take the time to train the dog. Maybe try enjoying life a little. Think crazy. Outside the box.”
She said nothing. Just stood there looking at me like I was a creature from Mars sent to persecute her.
“If you’re not smarter than a dog, maybe you shouldn’t have one. Maybe try a hamster. Work up from there.”
“Exactly who do you think you are?”
I said, “Undercover Canine Defense Ministry.”
She grunted.
“Try holding the leash at a consistent length,” I said. “Stop giving slack and then jerking him back. Let him get used to walking at your side.”
She grunted again.
Just then some guy came up beside me. Some young guy wearing a real nice sweater. Reminded me of Zach Morris. Nice hair. Neon teeth.
“Is everything okay here?”
“As long as you keep walking,” I said.
He paused. Then nodded. Smiled.
“Not joking,” I said.
