The_Conveyance

by Matthews, Brian

  "It's been a long night," I told Frank. "Everyone's exhausted."

  "I hear you." His scowl softened. "I appreciate what you've done. Thank you."

  I informed Toni about Kerry's phone conversation, the one she'd had before she rushed out of the house. "We need to look at her phone and find out who she talked to."

  Toni set her soda on the nightstand. "Do you mind if I stay here?" She looked at Frank. "It's not that I don't care. It's that I'm so damn tired. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

  "Sure," Frank said, and I added, "You’ll be all right by yourself?"

  "An hour or two of sleep will do me good." She kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "Promise you'll call if you learn anything."

  I returned her kiss. "Get some rest. We won't be long."

  As we climbed into Frank's Charger, I saw the lights go out in the motel room.

  "She okay?" Frank asked as he pulled out of the parking lot and sped toward the lake.

  "I hope so." The interior of the Charger was warm from Frank's mad dash to Emersville. I remembered how cold it was at the lake and cranked the blower. "Where were you? We called your cell over and over and got worried when you didn't answer. It's not like you to go off the grid."

  Frank looked sheepish. “Damn phone died again.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Frank.”

  “I know, I know. I’ll get a new one as soon as I can.”

  I brushed aside my frustration. “We’ll deal with that later. For now, tell me where you were.”

  "After leaving the DA's office, I grabbed lunch and went over my notes. The case is a murder charge involving an ice chipper and a bottle of drain cleaner that goes to trial in two weeks. Jakobson, the D.A., wants me up on the facts."

  "And it took all night?"

  He gave me an unfriendly stare. "I was about to head home when I overheard a call on the police band. Kid missing from his home, mom in a panic, thinks he's been kidnapped. I decided to help.” He shook his head. “We came, we searched, we found no evidence of foul play. Likely the kid ran away. I would too, if I had her as a mother. What a loon. Anyway, we put out an Amber Alert. Last I heard, the kid was still missing."

  "You're not worried?"

  "Kids run away all the time. He's probably at a friend's house, hiding in the basement. Figures if he gives his mom a fright, she'll buy him a video game or some such shit. I see it all the time." Frank sailed around the curve in the road and approached the lake's access road. He slowed when I pointed it out and nosed the car into the gap between the trees. "The kid's mom gave me a bad vibe. Wouldn't budge from the kidnapping angle, even after I explained how most missing kids are runaways."

  "Did you call the FBI?"

  "Not enough evidence to suggest a kidnapping. I'm telling you, the kid ran away."

  "What about the dad?"

  "Dead."

  "Recently?"

  "A few months ago. Died overseas. Active military. Poor bastard was blown up by one of those IEDs. Iraq, I think."

  Father died overseas. Mother a little off. Boy willing to run to get away from her.

  Ding ding ding.

  "This kid who ran away, is his name Doug Belle?"

  Frank's eyes widened. "Jesus, Paco. He's one of yours?"

  There was no sense in denying it. "When did his mom report him missing?"

  "Around eight. They'd finished dinner and the kid went to do some homework. When she checked on him, he was gone."

  "No note? Nothing to suggest he wasn't coming back?"

  "Clothes were still there. So were a few of his dad's medals, which he keeps in his room. Can't see him leaving without those."

  We approached the beach. Frank hit the Charger's flashers, letting the cops know he was one of theirs.

  "He called me this evening," I told Frank as he parked next to an Emersville PD cruiser. "At least, I think it was him."

  "When was this?"

  "Around six."

  "Did he say why he called?"

  "That's the strange part. He didn't say a word. I'm sure it was him, though."

  Frank hesitated. "What can you tell me about him?"

  "Sorry, you know the rules."

  Frank killed the engine and pocketed the keys. "He's missing, Paco. Any information you can provide might help us find him."

  I thought about Johnny Richardson, Doug's friend with the harelip. "There's not enough reason to break confidentiality. If the situation changes, I'll see what I can do."

  "Fair enough, I guess." Frank climbed out of the car. "Who'd you say was in charge here?"

  "The guy standing by the shore. Name’s Sytniak. See what you can find out. I'll stay here and keep warm."

  While Frank went to converse with the officer, I checked my phone for calls from my service. Finding none, I tapped in the Belle's home number. While I couldn't reveal anything to Frank, there was nothing in the rules about intervening myself.

  Dee Dee answered on the first ring and practically shouted into the phone.

  "Dougie? Is that you? Where have you been?"

  "It's Doctor Jordan, Mrs. Belle."

  A surprised pause. "What do you want?"

  "I saw the Amber Alert." No sense getting into the details of my association with the police. "You haven't heard from Doug?"

  "No, and he's been gone for hours. I don't know what to do. I want my little man back."

  "Do you know why he'd run away, why he'd suddenly leave like this?"

  Another pause, longer this time. "He was mad," she finally said, not mentioning the kidnapping story. "He gets so mad sometimes. I don't understand why. I mean, I know he's upset about Tink, but why take it out on me? It's not like it was my fault."

  The sudden shift from concern for her son to concern for herself wasn't surprising, but it was depressing. The narcissistic elements of her personality would hinder her forming a lasting bond with her son. Neediness would overshadow her love for him, and he would suffer for it.

  "Have you tried calling Johnny Richardson's house? Doug spoke pretty highly of him. Maybe he went there for a while."

  "Who?"

  "Johnny Richardson? Boy in his class? They hang around together?"

  "Oh, him."

  "You know who I'm talking about?"

  "Yes," she said coldly. "Dougie wouldn't go there. I don't like him hanging around with that boy."

  "I don't understand. It sounded like they got along well enough."

  "That boy is trouble."

  "In what way?"

  "He's, you know, deformed." She whispered the word, as if speaking it were an offense to God, and she didn't want Him to hear.

  My heart sank. "You mean his harelip?"

  "What else do you think I mean?" Dee Dee Belle's voice coiled with anger. "He's got a future, my Dougie does. He's going to be a football star. He needs to make friends with kids his own caliber. Hanging around with some kid who could be in a 'fix my face' charity commercial is disgusting. It'll scare away people, important people, like scouts and agents." She gave an irritated huff. "Dougie needs to stay here with me. I can protect him. I can make sure he becomes the man he's supposed to be, one Tink would be proud of. No, my son is not with that...that retard."

  Listening to Dee Dee Belle spout her prejudices made my want to vomit. The woman was vile. She couldn't even stomach using Johnny Richardson's name.

  "You should try Johnny's house," I said, setting aside my personal feelings for the woman. "Doug might be there. You could bring him home. Everything else can be dealt with later."

  "I told you, my son—"

  "Is missing," I said, cutting her off. "The police are looking for him. If a simple phone call can end this, you need to do it." I took a steadying breath. "If you don't call them, I will. The police can check the Richardson house for Doug. I'm sure they'll also want to know why you didn't mention his friend."

  "You'll be breaking confidentiality," Dee Dee Belle said. "Do it and I'll sue you!"

  "Doug has an Amber
Alert out. I have to assume he's in danger. Any assistance I provide would be protected by law." Apparently finished with Officer Sytniak, Frank approached the car. I held up a finger and pointed to the phone. He nodded and moved away. Returning my attention to Mrs. Belle, I added, "Doug's safety comes first. I'm sure you understand."

  "All right, I’ll call" she said, her tone caustic. "But know this—you're fired. I'll find another therapist to help my son. Someone who’s more professional."

  She hung up before I could respond. Not that I minded. Sometimes I had a hard time holding my tongue.

  I met Frank by the shore. He was looking at the water.

  "Who were you talking to?" he asked, his breath misting in the cold air.

  "Wrong number."

  He turned to look at me. "You called the mom, didn't you?"

  "Don't know what you're talking about."

  An evil grin spread across his face. "Get anywhere with the bitch?"

  "You should be getting a call soon." The moon was setting across the lake. Waves caused ripples of argent to slither across the surface. "What did the officer say?"

  "Nothing good," Frank said, and lost his smile. "They haven't found her. The divers are getting cold. I think they're going to call it and try again in the morning." He swallowed hard. "Maybe she'll, you know, surface by then."

  By surface, I think he meant float to the surface. "What about the car? Did you get her cell?"

  "They won't let me." He kicked at the sand with the toe of his shoe. "Claim it's part of the evidence."

  "Is it?"

  "Yes, it's part of the fucking evidence."

  We stood for a while, watching the water.

  "I can't imagine how you're feeling," I said, breaking the silence.

  "How do I tell the kids?" Frank said. "How do I keep Nate from blaming himself for not stopping her? How do I keep him from developing...what do you call it?"

  "Survivor guilt."

  "Yeah, survivor guilt."

  "They'll need to talk to someone. I'll get you a name."

  "Maybe I'll need one too."

  "Two names. It's not a good idea for you to see the same therapist they do."

  "If you think it's best." He drew in a breath and let it seep out from between his lips. "How did I fuck the puppy on this one, Paco?"

  "What do you mean?" I said.

  "How did I miss the signs? How did I not see it coming? Where was my head, if I couldn't see how depressed she'd become?" He stuffed his hands into his jacket. "How did I fuck the puppy?"

  "Maybe Nate's not the only one prone to survivor guilt."

  He lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "I guess we're all in the same boat. Kerry kills herself, and the people who love her are left to pick up the pieces. It's not fair."

  The significance of his words was not lost on me. "You said it out loud. You admitted her death is real. That's how the healing begins."

  "How long will it take?" he said. "How long before I start to feel normal again?"

  I left his question unanswered because there was no answer. Everyone was different, and healed at different rates.

  "We'll worry about this later, after—"

  Frank's cell chirped, followed immediately by mine. I didn't know who was calling him, but Toni's name came up on my screen.

  Frowning at one another, we answered our respective phones.

  "Hey, honey," I said.

  "Brad," Toni said breathlessly. "Get back here, right now."

  "What's wrong?"

  "It's Kerry." Toni let out a squeal of laughter. "She's here."

  "What?"

  "She's wet and she's cold but she's here and she's alive."

  My head spun. "We'll be right there."

  I hung up and turned to Frank. He was finishing up his conversation.

  "I'm leaving," he told me. "And you're coming with."

  "Frank, wait."

  He didn't seem to hear me. "Your patient, Doug Belle. We found him."

  "There's something I need to tell you."

  "He's in a marsh, about a mile from his home." He started for his car. "We need to get there pronto."

  I hurried to catch up. "Why? What’s going on?"

  "He's armed with two knives and a gun, says he's going to kill himself, says he won't talk to anyone but you." He opened the car door. "Get in, Paco. You're on the clock."

  "Frank, hold on." I reached in and took the keys from his hand. "Listen to me."

  "What the—? Have you lost your mind? The kid needs you."

  I lifted my phone. "The call was about Kerry."

  His face paled. "What about her?"

  "It was Toni. Kerry's with her."

  "Say again?"

  I smiled. "Your wife is alive."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Frank notified the rescue crew that his wife had apparently turned up alive. They called off the search, and Officer Sytniak informed Frank he needed to speak with Kerry. Frank told him he would arrange a meeting, but not until tomorrow. When Sytniak balked, Frank explained how a crime had not been committed, and Sytniak could not force an interview. Tomorrow would have to suffice. The officer didn’t look happy, but he agreed. “Tomorrow it is.”

  We climbed into the Charger and left, stopping at the motel long enough to confirm Kerry Swinicki was there, and she was alive. We told our wives about my patient and the danger he faced.

  "Go help the poor kid," Toni told me. "He needs you."

  "We'll talk when you get back," Kerry said. Her face was pale, her pajamas soaked. Her eyes looked haunted, like she had traveled a great distance and didn't like what she had seen. "I'll explain everything."

  "Damn right you will," Frank said with a touch of anger. "You scared the hell out of everyone."

  Kerry winced but didn't apologize.

  "I'll put her in a hot shower," Toni said, and started herding Kerry toward the bathroom. "Warm her up. See what I can do about drying her clothes. The motel's vending machine has candy bars. I'll get her a few. She needs to eat."

  She shut the door on us—and a potential argument.

  Frank and I climbed back into the Charger. Rock Mills was thirty minutes away. With his flashers going, we could make it in under twenty. Frank called the officer in charge and told him we were on our way.

  "Where do you think she's been all night?" Frank asked tightly.

  "She's alive and that's what matters. Do you still have the metal egg, the one from the doll?"

  Frank blew through a red light, not that there was much traffic at this hour. "Sure. Why?"

  I filled him in on the details of the break-in, how the burglars were looking for something called a proximity lock. "They took Thumbkin, but it was missing the egg. I think the egg is the lock. It’s what they came for." Frank ran another red light. He may have been concentrating on the road, but I knew he was also listening. "I thought they'd found you, maybe killed you to get it. The guy who beat me up said he would take it that far. It's why Toni and I were in Emersville. The dolls came from there, so we thought we might find you there."

  "Went Delta Team on me, huh? Search and rescue operation?" He removed the egg from his pocket, the metal glinting red in the Charger's dash lights, and dropped it into my hand. "Here you go."

  That it weighed almost nothing still surprised me. It contained no gears, held no power source, yet something had punched a hole in it with a force stronger than anything we could replicate. What function it performed, what job it was intended to do, was a dark mystery.

  "A lock fastens something in place," I said. "Or secures a door, so no one can open it."

  "It also stops a mechanism from engaging," Frank said. "Think the lock on a gun. It keeps the weapon from firing."

  "It could also mean homing in on a location, like locking onto a target."

  Frank gripped the wheel tighter. "I don't like the sound of that one."

  Neither did I. "What does proximity have to do with a lock? By definition, something locked
would have to be nearby. Again, unless it is some kind of homing device." I pocketed the egg. "We need to find the person who assaulted me. He'll have the answers."

  "One crisis at a time," Frank said, taking the exit for Rock Mills. "The marsh is a few blocks from the kid's house. We'll be there soon." He glanced at me. "Time to open up. What's the kid's issue? Why's he threatening to off himself?"

  "Doug's basically a good kid who lost his father and has been acting out his anger and depression over the loss. Fighting, letting his grades fall. The kind of externalizations you'd expect from someone his age. But threatening to kill himself would be a radical departure from his previous symptoms."

  "He never talked about suicide?"

  "Not with me, and his mother never reported it."

  Frank grunted. "What's your take on her?"

  "Lots of narcissistic traits. Self-absorbed, emotionally immature, explosive if confronted. Likes to call Doug the man of the house now that her husband is dead. She doesn't want the responsibility of adulthood, so she forces it on him." We were coming up on the marsh. I unbuckled my seat belt. "Did she give you much trouble?"

  Frank turned a corner. Several police cruisers crowded the end of the street. He parked behind one. "Other than the kidnapping fantasy? Yeah, she didn't want us looking in his bedroom. Had to threaten her with child protective services before she'd move away from the door."

  "What'd you find?"

  "That’s the kicker—we didn’t find anything unusual. Posters on the walls, some video games. School books. And bottles of lotion. I think your patient has a serious skin problem."

  Frank's badge got us past the security perimeter, and we quickly found the officer in charge. Lieutenant Ricky Weston stood near the front of the line of cars. Dee Dee Belle lingered beside him, wearing a bulky coat over her silk pajamas. She'd combed her hair and had taken time to apply makeup. As she talked to Lieutenant Weston, she lightly touched his arm and smiled.

  My stomach turned.

  Dee Dee Belle was flirting.

  "Lieutenant Weston!" Frank shouted, having seen the same display and undoubtedly reached the same conclusion.