The Fort

by Aric Davis

  “Your call,” said Dr. Martinez to Bambi.

  “All right, fine,” she said. “But I already pretty much told you everything. Some suburb kids were out fucking around. I don’t know for sure what they were doing—”

  “I love a good rumor,” said Dr. Martinez. “Spill it, Bambi. Everything you heard. My friend and I are very good bullshit detectors.”

  “OK,” said Bambi. “I heard there were some kids going around scamming johns. I couldn’t tell you for sure what they were doing, but what I heard was that there were some chicks that might have been working, but might not have been, really. Like, they were acting like hookers but were setting up guys to get robbed. I can’t prove any of it, and I won’t testify or anything. This is just all stuff I heard. Can’t believe half what you hear. Everybody’s been talking and talking, with all these girls turning up killed. And then this other girl goes missing.”

  Van Endel was a little surprised. “You heard about our high school girl? Our missing Molly?” He held up Molly’s picture again.

  Bambi gave him a look. “Molly who? I don’t know any Molly high school girl. I’m talking about Shelly. She’s a friend of mine.”

  “Shelly who?”

  “I don’t know Shelly who, I just know she’s my friend and she disappeared that night. Shelly’s her real name, but she goes by Angel. She went missing, but nobody knows anything but that they saw her get in a green car. You know what that means.”

  “I do,” said Van Endel. “I know all about that. What did she look like?”

  “A little like the girl in your picture, only not as pretty.” She laughed. “The streets are rough, you know? She was short, way shorter than me—”

  “About five three, dark hair, one hundred twenty pounds or so?”

  Bambi shrugged. “That’s Shelly, but that’s a lot of girls. Why, though? You find her? Did someone hurt her? Did he hurt her?”

  Van Endel shook his head. “We haven’t found Shelly, no. Or at least she better hope we haven’t.”

  “One last question,” said Dr. Martinez to Bambi. “Sorry if it seems like an odd one. Do you know if Shelly keeps condoms on her, or does she go bareback?”

  “No one sane goes bareback,” said Bambi flatly. She spared a look to the man on the ground. It wasn’t kind, but he didn’t see it. “You have to be careful. It’s not the 1970s, now that AIDS is around everywhere. Shelly keeps rubbers in a little black wallet in her back pocket, like, all the time. She gets the big ones, with foil. Johns like that. I’ve got mine right here in my purse, the same kind.” She smiled sadly. “These are gold-foil wrapped, supposed to be for big dicks. Far as I can tell, they fit little dicks the same way.”

  45

  Tim sat in the driveway, watching the fireworks with his mom, dad, and Becca. They could see the ones from the high school and the ball field well enough, and the alternating blasts of the two were a nice reminder that even with everything else going on, some things could still be normal. Despite his raging issues with them, Tim was happy to see his parents sitting together closely and with clasped hands. After all, it was far better than the alternative.

  There was nothing too exciting about being outside under the stars and the explosions, but it had been such an odd week that to have something happening that felt so normal was almost a treat. He and Becca had had a brief interval of privacy when their parents were both outside looking at the hole where the patio was to be laid, but she hadn’t mentioned the phone call from earlier again. In fact, she’d acted as though he wasn’t in the room with her. Tim had the feeling that Becca really just wanted the whole thing to go away, that maybe for her Molly’s being gone was just how things were now. He didn’t like thinking that of his sister. Her coldness had always felt to him like more of a symptom of being a teenager than like an actual part of her personality, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  Becca should have wanted to know what else they’d discovered. She should have wondered about how he and his friends were still talking while under house arrest. She didn’t appear to care, though, and Tim was pretty sure that all she really gave a crap about was her life being normal again, as if that were even possible. Everything was spiraling further and further out of control, or at least that was how it felt to Tim, and as much as he wanted to just have everything go back to normal, he knew that looking for a green Dodge Dart was far more important. He couldn’t wait for the fireworks to stop so that they could all go to bed and he could see his friends again.

  Finally, the explosions from the professional barrages reached a crescendo, first at the ball field, and then at the school. Smaller, private fireworks were still being launched, of course, but Tim knew what the big ones’ being done really meant. Sure enough, his dad said, “All right, gang, let’s head on in. Show’s over.” Tim hid the smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to be free again, a ghost with only one purpose, loose in the night.

  Tim went through the motions of brushing his teeth and washing his face, then walked to his bedroom. When he walked in, he was startled to see his dad waiting on him. “Is everything OK?” Tim asked, utterly sure that his dad had somehow discovered his nocturnal missions.

  “Everything’s fine,” said Stan, waving a hand to Tim’s bed. Tim sat where he’d been directed, and his dad did too. “I need to ask you something,” said Stan. “I’d like to think I can expect you to tell me the truth, but if you don’t, it’s going to be on you, OK?”

  “All right,” said Tim. “I’m not going to lie to you.”

  Stan sighed and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “Were you telling that cop the truth?”

  “Yes,” said Tim. “We told him the truth about everything. But we’ve been over this. Why are you asking me again? Am I just going to get in trouble for it all over?”

  “I’m asking because I’ve been feeling like a real asshole. And despite how you might feel about our little situation, I don’t actually enjoy coming off like that to you.”

  Stan took a breath, then said, “I know you never met my dad, but you didn’t miss out on much. He drank too much, hit my mom, hit me, spent his whole life not trusting anyone and not liking anything. The whole reason I wanted kids in the first place was to prove to myself that I didn’t need to be like him, that I could break that ugly pattern. I always felt like I was doing an OK job of that until this week. Between the crap your sister pulled and what happened with you at the police station…It’s all been a little much.

  “But what I keep going back to was you looking so shocked when that detective didn’t believe you. The look on your face, as well as the way I reacted. At the time, I thought that you looked shocked that you got caught, but now I’m not so sure. I think maybe you were shocked that they said they’d found the body, and that you were telling the truth, or at least what you thought was the truth, the whole time. I’m going to talk to your mom about it tonight, and depending on what she says, maybe we can figure out a reduced sentence.”

  Tim nodded. “Dad, here’s the thing. You know me. Why would I make up a lie like that? It wouldn’t do me any good, and I’d get caught for sure. Plus, it would mess up the cops when they were trying to do their jobs. It’s not like I have some crazy history of making up ridiculous lies.”

  “I’ve thought about all of that, Tim. Over and over again. Like I said, I’ll talk to Mom, and we’ll see what she has to say now that she’s had the chance to cool off for a few days, all right?”

  “Dad, listen. Unless you guys decide that you believe me, I don’t even want to not be grounded anymore. I’d rather just do the punishment and know, for sure, that you guys don’t trust me anymore.”

  Stan stood, shook his head like he was trying to clear water from it, and walked to the doorway. “We’ll see you in the morning,” he said. “Hopefully your mom will come around.”

  “Sure,” said Tim, but all he could think was that if he got caught sneaking out, being believed wasn’t going to matter one bit. Still, it could be worse. He
felt sure that it was for Molly.

  46

  Van Endel and Dr. Martinez had talked to three more prostitutes, all with varying degrees of success. None had helped as much as Bambi, but they had helped fill in the gaps of her story. They told the same tale. Van Endel felt sick after hearing the words over and over again. We missed it, we missed all of it. He saved himself one indignity: he didn’t puke as they left the city to head north, back to the station. Finally, Dr. Martinez broke the silence.

  “You can beat yourself up all you want,” she said. “But you have to wait until later. You need a plan. What are you going to tell Chief Jefferson?”

  “I’m going to tell him the truth,” said Van Endel. “We need to get those kids on the horn right now and see what they have to say. First the boys they saw Molly, and then later, the teenagers. The sooner it happens, the better, for everyone. Christ, even for us. I can’t believe we didn’t make those boys go over the story again. We should have talked to all three, tried to wring out any small details that were there to be found. If only—”

  “You need to stop,” said Dr. Martinez. “You’ve been busting your ass on this, and for that matter so have I. My practice could use a little more attention than I’ve been giving it, believe me, but all I’ve wanted to do is bang my head against this with you, and that’s exactly what we’ve both been doing.

  “And besides: even if you’d wanted to keep after those kids, there’s no way Jefferson would have wanted to hear it, not after finding that body. Everything pointed to those boys’ lying. There’s no one who thought otherwise.” She shrugged. “Now we have the chance to do something about it.”

  “So you think this is right?” Van Endel asked, his hands tight and sweaty on the steering wheel. “You think this is for real?”

  “I do,” said Dr. Martinez. “I think we have most of the puzzle put together. All that’s left is to find Molly and whoever took her, and of course pray that she’s still alive. Can you imagine the state she must be in if she’s still alive and was taken by Riverside?”

  “No,” said Van Endel with a grimace. “I really can’t.”

  Once they were back in the station, which was running on a skeleton crew, thanks to the holiday, Van Endel headed for his desk and his long-abused chair. Dr. Martinez borrowed a neighboring chair from one of the other desks and sat next to him as he dialed Jefferson’s pager number. A few short moments later, Van Endel’s phone began ringing.

  “Van Endel.”

  “What do you need, Dick?” Chief Jefferson sounded as out of sorts as Van Endel had guessed he would. “Lanie and I got a room downtown to watch the fireworks out the window, and we’re expected in the lounge soon.”

  “We need to reopen the Molly Peterson investigation. We need to talk to old witnesses. I have a very strong feeling that the girl who was found behind the movie theater isn’t Molly. After talking to some sources downtown, I’ve got a hunch that Molly was one of two girls taken that night, most likely by our man who keeps dumping bodies at Riverside. I want to get your permission to apply for material-witness warrants for every teenager she was with that night, and I want to talk to those three boys they saw her as well.”

  There was silence from the other end of the phone, and finally, Jefferson spoke.

  “Dick, have you been drinking tonight? No offense, but this sounds like you had some sauce and got your noodle a little overdone. Not the end of the world if that’s the case, but if—”

  “Chief, I’m serious,” said Van Endel. “I really want to grill Molly’s pals and get them to break. I know they will. As for the boys, I need to hear what they saw. It could be vital to this case. It could mean the difference between that girl living or dying.”

  “Dick, I think we can have a talk about this on Monday, after the holiday weekend is over, but right now, it’s Saturday and my wife’s giving me a stink-eye. As for today, I’m going to stick with the assumption you gave me a couple of days ago. If you recall, both you and the coroner agreed that the girl was almost definitely Molly. Also, we do have an inquiry out on that situation, to try and figure out that whole mess with her teeth. As for bothering those kids and stirring up that sort of hornets’ nest? Are you out of your mind? We knew those boys were lying, and we still know it.

  “Let me guess how this all started. You and the doctor were out talking to that pack of whores-cum-witnesses, and after you either threatened them with arrest or rewarded them with money, they gave you information. Dick, you’re a good detective, but your cop-sense needs calibration. Get the ship righted, and we’ll talk about this in a couple of days, OK?”

  After a long moment of silence, Van Endel sighed. Jefferson was an ass-hat. “All right.”

  “There you go. I can hear it in your voice, Dick. You need to either start drinking if were dry or stop if you were already wetting your beak. Christ, we’ve already got the body; leave those people alone. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal,” said Van Endel, and hung up the phone.

  “What did he say?” Dr. Martinez asked, though it was obvious from her eyes that she knew.

  “He said that I need to let sleeping dogs lie.” He clapped his hand together and stood. “That means no material-witness warrants, and those teenagers are not going to break without them.”

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “We are going to go get a beer. I’m buying. After that, I’m going home, and first thing in the morning I’m going to find those boys and see if they feel like talking to someone who is ready to believe them.”

  “And apologize,” said Dr. Martinez. “You are someone willing to apologize and listen. Where are you buying me a beer? I’d prefer not the Shipwreck.”

  “Oakway it is.”

  “Fine,” she sighed. “Shipwreck, then. But the fact that you had the name of an even worse bar so handy is not a good thing, Detective.”

  47

  Luke was alone in the fort. The Fourth of July fireworks had finally ground to a stop, and now all that was left to do was to wait for his friends to show up.

  Hooper. The name from the mailbox was stuck in his head like a piece of stringy beef between two molars. He was almost sure that he was familiar with the name in some local way, but he couldn’t come up with anything, and so the name stayed just a name, rather than a solution. The house seemed a likely enough place for Molly to have been kept, or was possibly even the place she was still being kept, but Luke was no detective, and he knew it. The truth was, their criteria for discovering which house it was had no sort of scientific method. They had decided what they thought the house would be like, but that was based on stupid kid stuff, not on reality.

  It was all going to come down to Tim. Luke had decided hours ago that no matter what he came up with, none of it would matter if Tim didn’t have info on the car. And even then, if Tim discovered the make or model of the car and it was just a normal car, like a brown sedan or something, even that wouldn’t matter.

  Not for the first time, Luke wished they had just been believed in the first place. It would have made everything that they’d had to do unnecessary, and they could have just had a normal summer.

  He was surprised to find that he missed being at home. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was that made him feel that way, because when he thought about all the separate elements of home, none of them made him miss it at all. Still, the thought of his bedroom, and particularly his bed, seemed almost magical compared with the fort. Not that a few days away from it wouldn’t make him miss their secret space in the woods, but as for sleeping in it, he’d had enough.

  He looked as his watch: they’d be here any minute. As if in answer to the thought, Luke could hear the sounds of feet on the boards of the ladder. He smiled. Finally.

  Tim came up first, followed immediately by Scott. Both of them wore the smile of the guilty, something Luke had felt on his face a lot lately too. It still sucked not to be trusted, but it was pretty cool to be doing something about it.

&nb
sp; He let them get settled, then sat Indian-style in the fort with his friends. “Well?” Luke said. “Don’t leave me hanging, I’ve been bored for like six hours.”

  “My sister got us some info,” said Tim. “Apparently, the guy who took Molly was driving a green Dodge Dart.”

  “Kind of a boring car for a kidnapper,” said Scott. “I expected something cooler. A Dart’s like something one of our parents would drive. I guess if that’s the car, then that’s the car. But it still seems sort of lame.” Then Scott perked up and began digging in his left pocket, his hand finally emerging with a nickel-plated revolver. “It’s a .38,” he said. “Carl says it doesn’t kick too bad, or at least that’s what he told my mom when he was trying to get her to keep it in her purse.”

  “Is it loaded?” asked Tim, sounding nervous.

  “Of course it is,” said Scott. “It holds six bullets. Do either of you want to hold it?”

  Tim waved his hand no, but Luke took it from him. It felt cold and a little bit evil to Luke. A rifle could be used for lots of things, but as far as he knew, a pistol like this was used for killing people, and not much else. He handed it back to Scott, handle first.

  “I didn’t do as well as you guys,” said Luke. “Looking for weird houses was way harder than I thought it would be. They pretty much all look a little weird if you don’t know the people who live inside of them. There was one that stuck out, though. It had a name on the mailbox. ‘Hooper.’”

  “Nope, that can’t be the one,” said Scott, irritated. “That’s one of Carl’s Vietnam buddies. He’s a little weird, but not like that kind of weird.”

  “What kind of car does he drive?” Luke asked quietly, feeling like he already knew the answer.

  When Scott replied, his voice was weak. “I’m pretty sure it’s a green Dart, you guys.” Luke saw him swallow, or try to. Luke’s own mouth had just filled with cotton. “Holy fucking shit,” Scott said. “Do you really think it could be him? It just doesn’t seem possible that I would know the guy. He’s been over like a million times.” He put his hand on top of his head and clamped down on it. “You know what, though? He was supposed to come over and help Carl with Mom’s car, but he got sick or something.”