by Chris Raven
“And that car?” Dunning questions me, curious.
“Anne’s father gave it to me. You can ask him if you think I’ve stolen it.” I turn to Eloise with a smile of satisfaction on my lips. “Mission accomplished.”
She nods, but she doesn’t smile back. She is even more serious than usual and, although she remains quiet and silent, I notice in the way that she gathers her lips and in the stiffness of her shoulders that she is nervous.
“Another child has disappeared, as we predicted.”She informs me.
“Well, now is not the time to discuss who was right and who was not.” Dunning stops her. “We’re going to go to patrol the lake. Will you come with me?”
I nod and we both headed to Dunning’s car. Eloise stays on the porch, watching us leave. I hope she can help us with her prayers, whichever God they would be. I take the co-pilot’s seat and wait for Dunning to explain to me what happened.
“The little son of the Jacksons is missing, Mark. He was playing with his brother in the garden. The eldest got in for a while to get a drink, and when he came out, the boy was gone.”
“How old is he?”
“He is just two years old.”
“I suppose he chooses so small children so that he can carry them in a backpack, as he did with Norah. That means he doesn’t have a car.”
“He may have one, but he thinks it’s easier to kidnap such young children. It’s harder for them to resist or to escape.”
“I think you should take that idea into account.” I suggest. “That would reduce the list of suspects.”
“We won’t be needing to reduce any list. If that guy shows up on the lake, we’re not going to let him escape again. Reinforcements have arrived from Highgate, Franklin, Sheldon and St. Albans and are already waiting hidden in the vicinity. This time he won’t be able to escape.”
Despite the safety of his words, I notice that the anxiety is installed in my stomach, writhing it and pressing it until it is small and compact like a golf ball. Although I hope Dunning does not realize it, I spend the time of the way to the lake to try to breathe slowly and paused. I need to calm down and be useful. Taking a civilian to chase a criminal could cause Dunning enough trouble, to on top of that, he would suffer a nervous breakdown.
Deep breathing is of no use to me. As I glimpse the surface of the lake, I feel my legs become gelatin and I’m sweating through every pore. It doesn’t matter. I have to be here. We have to stop that child from dying.
We left the car hidden near the dead esplanade we were on the night before. I look around, trying to discover Dunning’s companions, but I don’t see anyone. I would feel calmer if I knew where they are, but on the other hand, I’m comforted by the idea that if I can’t see them, the murderer won’t be able, either.
We hide behind some bushes. Dunning, unable to keep crouching or squatting for as long as we are going to have to be waiting, sits directly on the floor, opens the jacket and releases the lock that holds the pistol. I feel that the saliva thickens in my mouth to form a viscous mixture that I cannot swallow. I end up kneeling at his side because I get the impression that the legs will not hold me for much longer, while I wonder what the hell I am doing here. I’m not helping with the investigation, I’m the most hysterical and cowardly guy in many miles around and I don’t even carry a gun. I guess I’m kind of like Dunning’s pet. He must think I’ll bring him luck.
We spent hours waiting. The light is fading, and the forest is in the gloom. In a matter of minutes, the reddish glow of the sky disappear, leaving only dark shadows around us. I’m not able to see past the first trees. The place is quiet. There are no whispers or furtive treads. I can only hear the frogs’ singing and the crickets’ chirping. For some strange reason, the forest’s nightly tune calms me, getting the roaring of my heart to be reduced. At that instant, the backfire of an engine makes it beat hard in my chest again.
Dunning jumps up and begins to move towards the origin of the sound. I am amazed at the silence and security with which he advances through the forest despite his size, while I stumble upon each stone and dry twig. He turns to me and puts a finger in front of his lips, demanding silence. I shrug, trying to express that I’m not doing it on purpose, but he doesn’t look at me anymore. He moves again towards the sound of the bike, which crosses the forest towards the lake.
A couple of minutes later, the sound disappears. He must be near the shore by now. In my imagination, I can see him: A huge, threatening shadow with a backpack on his back, a monster capable of drugging and drowning a two-year-old boy without hesitating for a second. Although I try to tell myself that, with all the police who are hiding, he will not manage to carry out his macabre mission, I will not feel calm until I see the child safe and sound. If we fail, if that man manages to kill him, I could never forgive myself.
Suddenly, the forest is lit up and filled with sounds. I see the blue lights of a police car, which has also ignited its spotlights pointing towards the lake’s shore. Almost a dozen men are emerging from behind the nearby trees and shrubs, pointing their pistols at the figure that remains motionless with their hands up. At his feet, I can distinguish a backpack in which something moves. I have to contain the desire to cry of relief.
The shadow lowers one of his arms and, despite the policemen’s shouting, who ordered him to stand still, he takes his hand to his waist. The detonation surprises me and leaves me paralyzed at the edge of the forest, where I will surely be a perfect target. I feel a brutal blow to my side, which knocks me down. A huge weight falls on me and, for a few seconds, I fear that it has reached Dunning and that he is dead on top of me, but then I notice that he gets up a little and that he starts to shoot towards the shore, while he continues to cover me with his body. I hope this doesn’t last long. If I don’t get killed by the shots, Dunning’s weight will end up suffocating me. I may also suffer a heart attack because of the terror that overcomes me. In any case, I have very little chance of getting out of this alive.
From under Dunning’s body, I can see the shore. The man is running, while he turns to shoot at everything that moves. The backpack is abandoned on the floor, in the exchange of shots. I would like to be brave enough to throw myself to get it and put the child to safety, but I know that, even if Dunning’s body wasn’t immobilizing me, I wouldn’t be able to move a muscle. I’m not a hero. I don’t know who I want to fool.
The next shot hits the shadow, which throws both hands to the stomach before it collapses on the ground. Dunning gets up and runs with his teammates. In a couple of seconds, the man is surrounded and has been disarmed and immobilized. A policeman has approached the backpack and opened it to release little Mark. I get near there to see how he takes the boy out of the bag, sleepy and with a face covered with tears. I kneel at his side and the child extends his arms towards me to hug him. I grab him and squeeze him against my body, while I whisper to him not to worry and that everything will be alright. I can’t believe how small he is, how little he weighs and how close he has been to death. I notice that my face is wet, and I realize that I am crying too.
A few minutes later, we heard the hooting of another siren. The ambulances are here. The lake’s shore becomes a hotbed of police and nurses. I can see that the curious and the journalists are already congregating, but the police are preventing them from passing.
A nurse comes up to me and asks me to give her the child. Little Mark grabs my neck harder and whines.
“Easy. This girl will take care of you and take you to your mother.” I whisper to him in a loving voice. “You have been a very brave boy.”
He separates a little from me and, although his eyes are still blurry and glassy, he dedicates a smile to me that thrusts in my soul and I know I will never forget. When the nurse takes the little one, Dunning comes up to me and extends his hand to help me get up.
“Are you all right?”He asks me.
“Well, I may have a pair of broken ribs, but otherwise I’m perfectly fine.”
/> “I’m sorry I was so rude, but you were paralyzed like a rabbit. It was a matter of seconds before you got shot.”
“I know. I appreciate it. Is the suspect alive?”
“Yes, he has a good hole in his stomach and they take him to the hospital for an emergency surgery. If he survives, I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow.”
“Could I come with you? He might confess things about evil spirits, and since you’re not going to take any of that seriously, I think that someone more open-minded should be present.”
“Alright. I still think you’re crazy, but you may suffer the same kind of madness as that dude. I’ll pick you up around ten. Now come on, I’ll take you home. I think it would do you good to rest.”
VI
I’m still having breakfast, while I tell Eloise the details of my conversation with Anne’s father when we hear the noise of a car’s engine parking in front of the garden. Eloise approaches the window and opens the curtain a little.
“It’s Dunning. You should get out.”
“Fuck, he is early. I haven’t finished my breakfast.”
“I think you’ve eaten enough pancakes for today. Go on, get out.”
“You don’t want him to enter your home, do you? That’s how much you dislike him?”
“That man is like an ulcer. Dealing with him unbalances me. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not have to deal with him so early in the morning.”
“Alright, I’ll be right out. I hope to come back by noon.”
“Perfect. I will continue to look for ways to protect ourselves against that being. Now that Anne can talk to you, I think we should do another Ouija session and I want us to be ready.”
Eloise accompanies me to the entrance to throw salt again to the door as I leave. The only mention of doing another session of Ouija has already made the pancakes begin to dance breakdance in my stomach. It will be best to try not to think about it until the time comes. I approach Dunning’s car with a smile.
“Good morning.” I greet after I sit down.“Any news?”
“Little thing. Michael Patterson, our detainee, had surgery last night in St. Albans and, at least for the time being, he is out of danger. Let’s go to the hospital and see if they can let us talk to him.”
“And the child?”
“He is perfectly fine. I passed by his house before coming here and the parents have told me that he has slept like a blessed all night.”
His words soothe me. I hope that, being so small, he does not keep any memory of those hours, that for him the “bogeyman” becomes just a nightmare. In my mind, I see his watery eyes again and the smile that he dedicated to me when we were parted. How could anyone want to harm such a helpless being?
In less than a quarter of an hour, we are parking in front of Northwestern Medical Center, a rectangular, reddish-brick building. Dunning is approaching the reception, where he is informed that Patterson is admitted to the ICU and that they may not allow us to visit him. Dunning ignores those last words and tells me to follow him to the elevator.
When we arrived in the ICU area, a nurse tells us that we should wait until one of the staff physicians receives us. He points out at a small waiting room, a light green painted room with a pair of rows of white plastic chairs bolted to the walls. In the room, there is only one blonde woman with her hair tied up in a high ponytail. Her wrinkled clothes and the bags under her eyes seem to indicate that she has spent the night in this room. She doesn’t even greet us. She keeps her eyes fixed on the TV that is hanging in one of the corners of the room, which transmits a soap opera with zero volume.
A few minutes later shows up a man wearing a white robe. The woman deflects her gaze from the television as if she were waiting for that doctor to bring her news, but when she sees that he is heading towards us, she looks again at the screen.
“Inspector Dunning?” The doctor asks. “I regret to inform you that although the patient is out of danger, he is not yet conscious, so you will not be able to interrogate him.”
“Shit, I should have asked before I came all the way here. Isn’t there some way to wake him up? Any drugs or any electroshock?”
“You’re joking, aren’t you? I’m not going to perform any procedure that could jeopardize my patient’s life. You’ll have to wait.”
“Alright. I understand. Do you know how long it will take for him to wake up?”
“I can’t assure you anything. He could wake up in the next hour or it could take days. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know as soon as Mr. Patterson is conscious.”
“Patterson?” Ask the woman, getting up from the chair. “Do you want to talk to my husband?”
“Of course, ma’am,” replies Dunning. “As I suppose you know, your husband is suspected of two kidnapping offenses and an attempted murder.”
“All of that is a lie. It’s got to be a mistake. My husband would never do anything so horrible...”
The woman covers her face with her hands and starts sobbing. For a few seconds, we were all paralyzed, not knowing what to say. The doctor reacts, approaches her and puts a hand on her shoulder.
“Mrs. Patterson, you should go home and try to get some sleep. You know we’ll notify you of any change.”
“No, I want to be here.”
“I insist that there is nothing here to do. Go home to your child and rest.”
“Her child?” Terror breaks through in my head with the force of a tornado. How could we forget that? “Do you have a child? Where is he?”
“He’s with my sister,” the woman replies, looking at me frightened. “I asked her to look after him, so he wouldn’t know about any of this and she told me not to worry, that she would take him to the lake with his cousins so that he would be entertained.”
Now I’m terrified, so much so that I can’t think what to answer. Fortunately, Dunning reacts and approaches the woman.
“Do you have your sister’s phone number?” The woman nods and pulls the mobile out of her pocket. “Call her and tell her to keep the child away from the lake, to return home and wait for us to arrive.”
The woman looks at him as if she doesn’t understand anything, but the urgency in Dunning’s voice convinces her to call her sister without asking any more questions. We waited a few seconds with the breath contained until she shakes her head in denial and hangs.
“No answer. There is no good coverage in that area of the lake. What’s going on?”
“What area has she taken them?” Dunning questions.
“To the small jetty behind Maquam Shore...”
Without saying anything else, I run out into the elevator, followed by Dunning. I know the area. It’s the same place where Peter Anderson drowned. As we go down the elevator, Dunning gets in touch with his police station and orders a unit to head there immediately to find the little Patterson and get him away from that damn lake.
The journey seems eternal to us. Dunning has turned on the siren of his car and drives to almost a hundred miles per hour, but even so, it gives the impression that the landscape is always the same and that we do not get near our destiny, like in those dreams in which you do not get to escape the shadow that haunts you no matter how much you run.
Despite the speed at which we’re going, an ambulance is ahead of us when we’re about to get to the lake. I see it turning to the left, passing in front of Mrs. Anderson’s house, directly to the jetty. We followed it and parked right behind it.
There’s already a police car in the area. I also see a lot of families who had come to spend the day at the lake with their picnic baskets. Unfortunately, this will be a day they won’t forget. There’s a lot of kids crying hugging their moms. At the end of the jetty, where two nurses already run, I see a couple of policemen leaning over a very small body. They’re trying to revive him until the nurses replace them.
The two policemen separate a couple of steps and remain contemplating the scene. Dunning and I are approaching slowly. My mind is debating between the hope of having
arrived on time and the certainty that it is too late.
“Reeves, Johnson.” Dunning calls on his men, who take a few seconds to react to the sound as if they were coming out of a nightmare. “What happened?”
“Inspector Dunning, we didn’t see you... He’s the boy you told us. When we arrived, they had just taken him out of the water.”
“How has it happened?”
“We haven’t been able to ask much. We were trying to revive him, but as far as we can hear, no one explains what happened. They say he was swimming quietly with his cousins and suddenly he sank as if something were dragging him to the bottom.”
One of the nurses has stood up and comes up to us, shaking her head. My mind refuses to accept it. It cannot be, not again... I have done everything that was in my hand and, still, I have failed again, as happened with Bobby and Dave... I feel that tears overflow from my eyes without being able to stop them.
“He’s dead. I think they should call the coroner.” says the nurse, addressing Dunning.
He nods and starts making calls and organizing the investigation. I set aside a few steps to avoid disturbing and I sit under a tree to let the grief and guilt consume me. How could I not have thought about the murderer’s son? How could I not remember that I had to warn his mother? That being just collected a new piece and it was my fault. How can I forgive myself? What can I tell him if he decides to come to visit me any night?
Dunning comes up to me and he extends his hand to me to help me get up. I keep my head down and I dodge his gaze. I don’t want him to realize I’ve been crying. He passes his arm around my shoulders and hugs me tight with affection.
“It was not your fault.” He says as if he could read my mind. “One of my men is going to take you home. I’ll come by later when I’ve fixed all this.”
