The Necklace

by Matt Witten

  As she passed the exit for Galway, another song came to her: “Rock Around the Clock.” It was one of her few joyful memories of her father. They’d sing it together after dinner sometimes, during the ten minutes or so when he had some life in him before settling down to TV and sleep. A couple of times she even danced with him.

  “We’re gonna rock around the clock tonight,” she sang. “We’re gonna rock rock rock until broad daylight …”

  She checked her odometer. She’d already done fifty miles. Only fourteen fifty to go! She’d make it all the way to Buffalo by this evening, maybe even a couple hours farther. Then she’d get off the highway and look for a cheap motel. She hadn’t made any reservations on the internet because she figured she’d just see how far she got each day and count on finding a place then. She could always sleep in her car if she had to.

  She tapped out the beat of the song on her dashboard. Tomorrow she’d drive to Niagara Falls, maybe even spend the whole day if it wasn’t too expensive. Giving herself a couple extra days for this trip had been a smart idea. And her mom was right: the folks who donated to Amy Lentigo Night wouldn’t mind if Susan spent a little of the money taking her first vacation in forever.

  She knew it wasn’t just about seeing the sights. Amy’s killer was about to be dead. It was time, finally, for Susan to be free.

  She began singing again, a country hit from one of those American Idol singers. It came out after Amy was killed, and had given Susan great comfort over the years. “Jesus, take the wheel,” she sang, “take it from my hands—”

  Suddenly she heard a horrible grating screech. What the hell?! Then the car shook violently under her feet.

  She felt it slowing, so she slammed the gas pedal. But nothing happened! Did the car just die? In the mirror, she saw a truck bearing down on her—hard. Its tires screamed and the driver blared his horn. Now the truck filled her whole mirror.

  She didn’t have time to check how wide the shoulder was. She swerved right—and smashed into a metal guardrail. Her body got thrown toward the right, as the front of her car veered back onto the road. She tried to get back behind the wheel and straighten out without spinning. The truck roared even closer.

  She fought the steering, swerving left and then right. Then, about half an inch from her side mirror, the truck squealed past.

  The Dodge Dart slammed to a stop on the shoulder.

  Susan sat there, heart pounding. “Holy fucking crap,” she said.

  Two more cars swooshed by her. Then she tried to start the engine again.

  It whined, growled, and screamed. But the car wouldn’t move.

  I’m such an idiot! Why did I push this old car to eighty-five?

  God, it better not be dead.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SATURDAY, APRIL 13, TWENTY YEARS AGO

  SUSAN STALKED BACK and forth in the kitchen, unable to sit down. Officer Lynch was telling the cop on the other end of the radio call, “Take Frank to the station in Luzerne. And keep asking him where Amy is. Don’t let up.”

  Lynch signed off and radioed several other cops, directing the search of Frank’s house, car, and computer. Frank’s wife was off in Ohio visiting her mother, so he could have brought Amy back home if he wanted.

  What if Amy is in Frank’s basement, alive? But twenty-five minutes later, just after midnight, word came over the radio that Amy was nowhere to be found in Frank’s house.

  Then Susan heard the voice of Lynch’s sour-faced partner come crackling over the radio. “Okay, Frank’s here. We put him in the box.”

  “Sill not talking?” Lynch asked.

  “No. He used his phone call on some lawyer he knows named Dewey Martin. Ambulance chaser from Saratoga.”

  “I’ll be right there. Over,” Lynch said, and got off the radio. He asked Susan to stay home by the phone in case he had any questions for her. Or in case Amy called. Then he took off.

  Without the police radio, Susan felt even more cut off from everything that was going on. Fortunately, Molly came back from searching, so she wasn’t all alone.

  “Let me make you a cup of coffee,” Molly said gently. “You need to sit down and catch your breath.”

  But as soon as Susan sat down, Lenora walked in through the door. Susan jumped back up, fingers curled like talons, ready to rip her mother apart.

  “How could you just leave a message?” she yelled. “Why didn’t you make sure you reached me?”

  Lenora yelled right back, “You always go home after you drop Amy off! How was I supposed to know today would be different?”

  “You should have checked!”

  Molly said, “Ladies, this isn’t helping.”

  Susan shouted, “Your creepy fucking boyfriend kidnapped my daughter!”

  “How can you even think that?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “That’s bullshit! Frank would never do that!”

  “I know you’re both very upset,” Molly said, “but please, quiet down.”

  Susan opened her mouth and let out an ear-splitting, wordless roar. Her mom jumped back, terrified, and put her hands up to protect herself from Susan’s rage.

  It was three in the morning, almost twelve hours since Amy had disappeared. Susan was afraid she really would hurt her mom, so she went outside and screamed Amy’s name to the wind. The hoot owls went quiet for a few moments, then resumed.

  She couldn’t just stay here with Molly and her goddamn mother and do nothing. She felt like she would spontaneously burst into flames. She jumped in her car and started the engine. Molly and Lenora came out the front door and called to her, but she raced off.

  Five minutes later, she was at the police station. The parking lot was full of police vehicles, not just from Lake Luzerne but Corinth, Lake George, Queensbury, and Glens Falls. There were cops coming and going, searching for Amy, she assumed. She got out of the car, ran up the front steps, and went inside, blinking at the fluorescence. A young woman in a gray V-neck sweater was at the front desk, showing a couple of cops a street map. Susan hurried up to them. “Where is Frank Simmons?”

  The woman said, “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that. Who are you?”

  “I’m the mother,” Susan snapped.

  She walked around the woman and opened the door to the hallway. The woman stood up and grabbed her arm. “Ma’am—”

  Susan shook free and ran down the hall.

  The woman and one of the cops chased her, calling to her to stop, but she ignored them. She looked in all the rooms that were still lit up at this hour of night. She found a big room full of cubicles, with five or six cops inside, and went in.

  The woman and the cop were still coming after her, shouting that she couldn’t go in there. Another cop got in her way, but she dodged him and kept going. Something told her the man who took her daughter was here somewhere.

  And then she found him. Inside a small room with a big plate-glass window. He was in his fifties, balding, with the thick brown beard and tiny snub nose Amy had noticed. He looked terrified. He sat at a small table by himself, banging his fists together to relieve his anxiety.

  Susan tried the door. It was unlocked. She hurried into the room and Frank looked up. His face was ugly, pinched and loathsome. What had her mother seen in this creep? She stormed up to him. “Where is my daughter?” she demanded.

  Frank sat there with his mouth open.

  “What did you do to my daughter?”

  She laid into him then, with both fists. He raised his arms to defend himself, but she punched him square in the mouth. She’d never fought anybody before in her life, but she landed blow after blow. He tried to back away from her, but his chair slipped and he fell to the floor. She kicked him and yelled, “Where is Amy? Where’s Amy?”

  Two cops came in and grabbed her arms, but she kept kicking Frank savagely.

  Then Lynch ran in and shouted, “Susan!” He pulled her into a rough bear hug and moved her backward so her feet couldn’t reach Frank any
more.

  Frank sat on the floor bleeding from his split lip and feeling his ribs where she’d kicked him. A middle-aged guy in a leather jacket—Frank’s lawyer, Dewey, Susan figured out—ran in and yelled, “What the hell is going on? What did you do to my client!”

  Still in Lynch’s grasp, Susan turned her head and looked down at Frank. “Please,” she begged. “Just tell me. Where is my daughter?”

  Finally Frank stood up. “I don’t know,” he said.

  Dewey said, “Don’t say a word, Frank.”

  “I don’t need this shit,” said Frank. “I don’t know where your fucking daughter is. I was out fishing yesterday.”

  “Shut up, Frank,” Dewey said.

  Frank pointed a finger at Susan. “You’re an even bigger bitch than your mom, you know that?”

  Lynch said, “Where were you fishing?”

  Dewey warned, “Frank, I’m telling you—”

  But Frank ignored Dewey. Susan studied Frank’s eyes, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth, as he said, “Schroon River. Just over the bridge past Warrensburg.”

  Lynch said, “When did you leave there?”

  “Sundown, whenever that was. I went home, ate leftover pizza, and went to bed. Slept pretty good too, ’til your goons woke me up in the middle of the night.”

  “Anybody see you yesterday afternoon or evening?”

  “No. I was supposed to go out with this bitch’s mother, but she stood me up for some other guy. Now I am gonna shut the fuck up. Counselor, this little beatdown I just got, can I sue the cops for it?”

  “Hell yes,” Dewey said. “It’s worth a hundred grand easy.”

  Frank smiled. “Excellent. Thanks, lady. I’m much obliged.”

  Susan wanted to rip this guy’s balls off. But she let Lynch walk her out of the room. She had no choice.

  “What do we do now?” she demanded.

  “Well, at least now we have his alibi,” Lynch said. “Let’s go to my office and cool down for a minute.”

  “I don’t want to cool down! Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

  “We’ll find out. We have people going through his computer, and we’re looking for any other places he might have gone. Now why don’t you head on home.” They were back at his cubicle now—plain metal desk, no decorations—and he reached into a drawer and pulled out a two-thirds-full bottle of Jack Daniels. “Take this with you. Pour yourself a drink when you get home.”

  Susan knew Lynch was not a touchy-feely guy, so she appreciated the gesture. She took the bottle and drove home. Molly and her mom were still there, and so was Danny. She tried to read Danny’s mood. Mainly he just seemed terrified, like her.

  “Anything new?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I just beat the crap out of Mom’s boyfriend.”

  Lenora sat there, totally thrown, while Susan described how she got Frank to talk. By now Lenora knew better than to object out loud, so she kept her mouth shut.

  But Danny gave Susan a half-smile and said, “Good job, honey.”

  Susan looked in Danny’s eyes. And for the first time since they’d gotten the bad news, they touched each other.

  It was tentative at first, but then they put their arms around each other and cried.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SATURDAY, APRIL 13, TWENTY YEARS AGO

  DESPITE THE JACK Daniels, Susan didn’t sleep that night. Lynch called her throughout the night and the next morning to update her. The police thought if Frank killed Amy, he might have dumped her body at a place he was familiar with. So they got a cadaver dog on loan from Albany and checked fishing spots near Warrensburg, and also a hunting blind somebody said Frank used during deer season.

  Every time Lynch called, Susan was petrified he was about to say they’d found Amy’s body. She could barely breathe, and if she was standing, which she tried to remember not to do, her legs got wobbly.

  But each time, he was only calling to say they’d come up empty.

  Around noon, Lynch stopped by to tell them the latest in person. As Susan and Danny listened, they sat close to each other on the living room sofa. If Danny was still mad at her about Frank, he was stuffing it way down inside, at least for now.

  “Frank Simmons works at a Xerox store,” Lynch said. “But before then, he worked for a locksmith ’til he got fired for being late all the time. Anyway, at the locksmith he learned how to use skeleton keys.”

  Lynch looked at them above the rim of his coffee cup and waited expectantly. Susan sensed she was supposed to be figuring something out, but she didn’t know what. She felt dumb.

  But Danny got it. Eyes widening, he said, “You think Frank broke into our house yesterday and heard that message from Susan’s mom.”

  Lynch nodded. “Right. He doesn’t have a good alibi for the morning either. He could easily have done it.”

  Susan grabbed at her hair, trying to think it though.

  Last week Frank meets Amy— “Pretty Baby”—and gets obsessed with her, maybe stalks her. Yesterday he waits for Susan and Danny to leave the house, then he breaks in—

  She stopped. “Why would he break into our house?”

  Lynch said, “If he was a pedophile fixated on Amy, he might’ve wanted to steal something of hers, like her underwear. Then he hears Lenora’s message and decides he’ll show up at Amy’s school and try to grab her.”

  Danny frowned, thinking. “He figured since Amy knew him, he could just say, ‘Grandma sent me,’ and she’d get in his car.”

  Susan put her hand to her heart. “Has he ever done anything like this before?”

  “He’s never been arrested for a sexual crime, not exactly. But last year he got busted for indecent exposure—urinating on the street in downtown Glens Falls one Saturday night when he was drunk. He also has two DWIs.”

  My mom sure knows how to pick ’em, Susan thought.

  But did he kill Amy? Did that weasely piece of shit—

  Lynch put his coffee down. “I want to ask you guys something. How would you feel about talking to the media?”

  Susan pictured it and shuddered. She’d be one of those crying mothers she saw on TV sometimes with microphones in their faces. God, she so did not want to be one of those women!

  “Will it help?” she asked.

  “It might. You’ll have more people on the lookout for Amy.”

  “Then sure, we’ll do it.”

  The street outside their small house was littered with reporters’ cars and TV vans. Three times that day, Lynch led Susan and Danny out to their front yard to speak to the cameras. “Please, if you have our daughter …” “Amy was wearing a beaded necklace and a pink Ninja Turtles jacket …” “If you know anything, please. Please help us!”

  When Susan and Danny weren’t parading their pain, they walked through the woods all day long with the other searchers. She called Amy’s name so many times she turned hoarse. Danny was a rock, holding her hand and putting up with all her frantic, semi-insane thoughts. The only sort of slightly positive thing about this whole horrible experience was that their shared terror had brought them closer together than they’d been in a long time. Danny had been a little moody the last few months, frustrated by his problems at work. But now both of them were totally focused on their family. They’d gotten out of the habit of touching each other, but now they seemed to be doing it all the time.

  But she kept getting crazy thoughts. First she got it into her head that maybe Frank’s beard meant he belonged to a cult, and then she wondered if Frank had sold Amy to someone he met on the internet—she’d heard a story about that happening to a girl in Indiana. Or maybe Amy was okay but had amnesia and was wandering around Aviation Mall in Glens Falls, so they should look there.

  Danny and Molly tried to get Susan to eat something, offering her mild foods like Saltines or oatmeal or the string cheese Amy liked so much. But she wasn’t hungry, even when night came and she hadn’t had a thing besides coffee and bourbon since yesterday evening at the diner.r />
  That felt like so long ago now. Like another lifetime.

  At one in the morning, Susan and Danny came out of the woods behind the town dump after yet another fruitless search. They turned off their flashlights, got in the car, and headed back home.

  The door to Amy’s room was open, and for a moment Susan almost expected her daughter to run out and greet her. But nothing had changed inside the room. Amy’s two stuffed bunnies still sat on her pillow, exactly where they’d been yesterday morning when she left for school.

  “How long will the cops be able to hold Frank?” Susan asked Danny.

  “Unless they get more evidence, I think they have to let him go tomorrow. But I’m sure they’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “Maybe he has her hidden away somewhere,” Susan said. “Maybe he’ll lead the cops to her.”

  “It’s possible.”

  They finished off the Jack Daniels, and Susan managed to get a few crackers down. But she still didn’t sleep much, thrashing violently and waking up repeatedly. At four a.m. she awakened from a dream in which a man with a blank, fuzzed-out face and a long dark coat threw Amy off a bridge into a river.

  She couldn’t get back to sleep, and by five o’clock she and Danny were back in the Dodge Dart driving toward the nearest bridge over the Hudson. They scoured the area around there, then headed for two more river bridges. After that, they went to Bon’s Ice Cream and Miniature Golf, which was still closed for the winter. There were woods out back where the kidnapper could have taken Amy.

  It was such a horrific mission, searching day and night for something that you desperately hoped you wouldn’t find, that would destroy your life forever if you did find it.

  Lenora was riding with them now, in the back seat. Earlier this morning, Susan and Danny had gotten in a big argument about Lenora, and for maybe the first time ever, Danny was on his mother-in-law’s side.

  “You gotta let it go, Susan,” he had said. “Your mom loves Amy.”