Still Missing

by Chevy Stevens

  “How did you guys get here so fast?”

  “Helicopter,” Gary said. Seeing that sucker fly in must have got this town all atwitter.

  So I was right, I was never that far from home. I stared at Gary’s finger resting on the dot for Port Northfield and blinked back my tears.

  “How did you get here?” Gary asked.

  “I drove.”

  “Where did you drive from?” His fingers tapped on the table.

  “A cabin on a mountain.”

  “How long were you driving for, Annie?”

  “About an hour.”

  He nodded and showed me a mountain on the map, near the dot for the town.

  “Is this it? Green Mountain?” Somebody with no imagination named that one.

  “I don’t know. I was on it, not looking down on it.”

  He sent Diane to get a map of just the town. Gary and I sat there looking at each other until she returned, the only sound his foot tapping under the table. When she got back, Gary handed me a pen and asked me to draw the route I’d driven. I tried to rough it out the best I could.

  “Can you take us to it?”

  “There’s no way I’m going back up there.” I still had the keys to the van gripped in my hand and now I shoved them across the table to Gary.

  “The van’s parked across the street.”

  He sent Diane out with the keys. She must have given them to someone outside, because she was back in about two seconds. Something tickled at the back of my mind. If I was only about four hours away, Mom could have left right away and still been in Port Northfield that night.

  “Why is it taking my mom so long to get here?”

  “Your stepfather is working tonight and they can’t leave until the morning.” Gary stated it like a fact, so I took it like a fact, but I wondered why she didn’t drive up by herself. Not to mention, since when did Wayne work at night? It was rare enough he even had a job. I figured Gary told them not to come until the next day so he could question me without them there.

  Gary excused himself and left me alone in the room with Diane for a few minutes. I stared at the wall above her head.

  “Your mother will be here soon. She was so happy to hear you’ve been found—she’s missed you a lot.” I hadn’t been found—I’d found them.

  When Gary returned, he said he’d sent some people to look for the cabin—one of the cops used to hunt in that area and thought he might know where it was. I still hadn’t told them I killed The Freak or said anything about my baby, and at the thought of all the questions they might ask, my head hurt. I needed to be by myself. I needed to be away from these people.

  “I don’t want to answer any more questions.”

  Gary looked like he wanted to press on, but Diane said, “How about everyone gets a good night’s sleep and then we can pick up in the morning? That okay with you, Annie?”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  They booked a room in a motel for me and took the rooms on either side. Diane asked if I wanted her to stay with me but I shut that one down fast—there wasn’t going to be any late-night girl bonding here. She also asked what I’d like to eat, but my stomach was in knots and I managed to decline politely. I didn’t feel like turning the TV on and there wasn’t a phone in the room, so I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling until it got dark and I turned off the light. When I was just about asleep, I felt the weight of the darkness pressing down on me, then I heard something—a door creak, a window opening? I leapt out of bed, but when I threw the lights on, there was nothing. I grabbed a flat pillow, a blanket, and the packsack and crawled into the closet, where I slept fitfully until I heard the maid roll her cart down the hallway in the morning.

  A few minutes later Diane came knocking on my door, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, bearing coffee and a muffin. She sat on the edge of the bed, talking too loud and giving me a headache, while I picked at the muffin. I didn’t want to have a shower with her there, so I just splashed some water on my face and ran a brush through my hair for maybe two seconds.

  She drove me back to the little concrete room at the cop shop, where Gary was already seated with a tray of coffees in Styrofoam cups. As Diane and I settled in, a young, pretty cop brought in a couple of pads of paper, blushing and sneaking peeks at Gary when she handed them over. He glanced at her as he thanked her, then focused his gaze on me. Disappointment radiated off her as she walked out. He was wearing another nice suit, dark blue with silver pinstripes, and a blue-gray shirt that set off his silver-streaked hair. I wondered if that was why he’d picked it.

  Seeing me glare at the mirror, Gary said, “No one’s in there and we’ll only turn the camera back on if you tell us it’s okay.” Wishing I could see through it, I stared hard at the mirror and hugged the packsack to my chest.

  “Would you feel more comfortable if you had a look for yourself?”

  I was surprised by the offer. I looked at his face, decided he meant it so there was no point in checking, and shook my head.

  He started by asking me to describe in as much detail as possible exactly how The Freak had abducted me. Whenever he asked a question he leaned back in his chair with both hands splayed on the table in front of him, and when it was my turn to answer, he leaned toward me with both arms flat on the table and his head cocked to the side.

  I tried to find a pattern to his questions, but I just couldn’t predict where he’d go next, didn’t even understand the relevance of some. The hair on the back of my neck was damp with sweat.

  Retelling that day and describing The Freak made my mouth dry and my heart lurch around in my chest, but I kept it together until Gary told me the cops who’d investigated the “crime scene” had found The Freak’s body.

  “He appears to have been hit with something in the head. Is that how he died, Annie?”

  I looked back and forth between them, wishing I could read their minds. Gary didn’t sound accusing, but I could feel the tension in the room.

  I hadn’t even thought about what some of my choices or actions might look like to someone who hadn’t been there. The room seemed hot, Diane’s perfume overwhelming in the small space. I wondered how Gary would feel if I puked all over his nice suit. I raised my eyes to his.

  “I killed him.”

  Gary said, “I have to caution you at this time that you need not say anything further, and that anything you do say may be used as evidence against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney and to have one present during our questioning. If you can’t afford one, we can provide some phone numbers for legal aid. Do you understand?”

  The words sounded routine and I didn’t think I was going to be in trouble, but I considered asking for a lawyer. The idea of delaying this process to talk to another suit made my head hurt.

  “I get it.”

  “You don’t want a lawyer?” He said it casually, but I knew he didn’t want me to ask for one.

  “No.”

  Gary made a note. “How did you do it?”

  “I hit him in the back of the head with an axe.” I swear my voice echoed, and even though it was hot as hell, my skin broke out in goose bumps. Gary’s eyes burrowed into me like he was trying to read my thoughts, and I busied myself with ripping my Styrofoam cup into little pieces.

  “Was he attacking you at the time?”

  “No.”

  “Why did you kill him, Annie?”

  I looked up and met his eyes. What a stupid fucking question.

  “Maybe because he abducted me, beat me, raped me pretty much every night, and…” I stopped myself before I said anything about the baby.

  “Would you feel more comfortable talking with just Constable Bouchard about this?” Gary’s face was grave as he waited for me to answer.

  Staring back at them, I wanted to smear Diane’s sympathetic expression across her face. I knew I’d rather deal with Gary’s tough, no-muss-no-fuss approach than get one more understanding look from her.

  I shook my
head and Gary made another note. Then he leaned in so close across the table I smelled cinnamon on his breath.

  “When did you kill him?” His voice was quiet but it wasn’t soft.

  “A couple of days ago.”

  “Why didn’t you leave right away?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Why not? Were you restrained?” Gary’s fingers tapped on the table and his head was cocked.

  “That’s not what I meant.” I wanted to get up and walk out the door, but the firmness in his voice had me nailed to my chair.

  “So why couldn’t you leave?”

  “I was looking for something.” Bile rose in my throat.

  “What?”

  My body grew even colder, and Gary’s edges blurred in front of my eyes.

  “We found a basket,” he said. “And some baby clothes.”

  The stupid rickety ceiling fan creaked as it went around and around, and I wondered for a minute whether it would crash down on my head. There were no windows, and I couldn’t get a deep breath of air.

  “Is there a baby, Annie?”

  My head pounded. I would not cry.

  “Is there a baby, Annie?” Gary wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

  “No.”

  “Was there a baby, Annie?” His voice was gentle.

  “Yes.”

  “Where’s the baby now?”

  “She…my baby. Died.”

  “I’m very sorry to hear that, Annie.” His voice was still gentle, soft and low. Sounded like he meant it. “That’s a terrible thing. How did your baby die?” He was the first person to express condolences. The first person to say it mattered that she’d died. I looked at all the little ripped-up pieces of Styrofoam on the table. Someone answered him, but I didn’t feel like it was me.

  “He just…I don’t know.”

  I clung to the calm in Gary’s voice as he said, very gently, “Where’s her body, Annie?”

  The strange voice answered again. “When I woke up, he had her. She was dead. I don’t know where he took her, he wouldn’t tell me. I looked everywhere. Everywhere. You guys have to look, okay? Please, can you find her, can you—” My voice broke, and I shut up.

  Gary’s shoulders stiffened, his face flushed under his tan as his jaw tightened, and his hands balled into fists on the table like he wanted to punch someone. At first I thought he was mad at me, but then I realized he was furious at The Freak. Diane’s eyes were shiny in the fluorescent light. All the walls closed in. My body was drenched in sweat, and sobs tried to come out of my throat but I couldn’t breathe and they piled up, strangling me. When I tried to stand, the room tilted, so I dropped the packsack and gripped the back of the chair, but it started to slide. My ears rang.

  Diane rushed to my side and lowered me slowly until I was lying on the floor, halfway across her, with my head on her chest and her arms encircling me. The harder I tried to suck some air into my lungs, the more my throat closed up. I was going to die there on that cold floor.

  Crying and gagging at the same time, I pushed Diane’s hands off me and tried to pull away from her, but the harder I struggled, the harder she hung on. I heard screaming, realized it was me. I was powerless to stop the screams, which bounced off the walls and echoed in my head.

  Up came the coffee and muffin, all over myself and Diane. She still wouldn’t let me go. My head rested on her huge boobs, which smelled like warm vanilla cookies. Gary crouched in front of us, saying something I couldn’t hear. As Diane rocked me back and forth in her arms, I wanted to struggle and take back control, but my mind and body wouldn’t cooperate. I lay there, sobbing and screaming.

  The screaming finally stopped, but I felt so cold, and everyone’s voices seemed to be coming from far away. Diane whispered, “Everything’s going to be okay, Annie—you’re safe now.”

  What a crock. I wanted to tell her I was never going to be okay, or safe, but when I tried to form the words, my lips froze. Then there was a new set of feet in front of me next to Gary’s crouched figure. A voice said, “She’s hyperventilating. Annie, my name is Dr. Berger. Try to take some deep breaths.” But I couldn’t. And I don’t remember anything after that.

  SESSION TWENTY-ONE

  So I finally heard from Gary at last, Doc, but I’m not sure I feel any better. He didn’t tell me where he’d been—I didn’t ask and he didn’t offer—which annoyed me a little. When I told him about the timing of the robberies and my new “freaky friend” theory, he said the kid could be changing his pattern to throw off the cops, or it could be a crime of opportunity—he might have just been walking by and seen me leave with Emma.

  I was still mulling that over when he said, “These guys usually work alone.” Usually? I asked him what the hell that meant, and he said he knew of a couple of cases where two guys worked together—one the finder and one the doer—but he doubted that was the case here because it didn’t fit with The Freak’s profile. Then he said, “And other than his comment about the cabin being hard to set up, he never did or said anything to make you think he had a partner, right?”

  “Guess not. But he had an older picture of me, and that’s weirding me out big time.”

  “What photo? You never mentioned a photo.”

  Then he started hitting me with the same questions I’ve been asking myself. Where could The Freak have gotten it from? Why would he have wanted that one in particular? And then he said something that still doesn’t make sense. He said, “So anyone had easy access to the photo if it was at your office.” His final question was, “Does anyone know you brought it back with you?” When I said no, he told me to keep it that way.

  It was the first time I can remember feeling worse after talking with him. Put me in such a bad mood I took it out on Luke. I just don’t know what’s going on with us these days anyway. I figured our visit and honest talk would bring us closer, but when we’ve chatted lately there was a lot of dead air, and the last time he phoned I ended the call, told him I was heading to bed. I wasn’t even tired.

  I can’t seem to let go of the fact that Luke was late that day. Was he being nice to some customer while I was being abducted? Why didn’t he drive to the open house as soon as he realized I wasn’t home? And why the hell didn’t he call the cops the second he knew something was wrong? Calling Mom could have waited. It’s horribly judgmental, because God only knows how I’d have handled things if I were in his shoes, but I keep thinking every second he delayed lessened any chance of my being found.

  During our relationship I saw him as laid back but now I’m beginning to wonder if he’s just passive. He’ll complain about a waitress or one of his cooks, but he doesn’t do anything about it.

  The whole time Luke and I were together he was never anything but patient, loving, honest—just so nice. Sometimes, like right before I was abducted, I wondered if I should be wanting something more than nice, but on the mountain all I ever thought about him was how wonderful he was. Now he’s still being patient, loving, and honest—he’s the nicest man I know. So what the hell’s wrong with me?

  My first image on opening my eyes after my meltdown at the cop shop was of Mom and Gary standing at the foot of my hospital bed. There was no sign of Wayne. I didn’t notice Diane sitting on a chair beside me until I heard her say, “Look who’s up.”

  She gave me a kind smile and I remembered her rocking me, which made my cheeks burn. Then Mom realized I was awake and almost knocked the IV out of my arm as she crawled halfway on top of me, sobbing, “My baby, my poor Annie Bear.”

  Whatever shit they’d given me was starting to make me nauseous, so I said, “I’m going to be sick,” then burst into tears. A doctor reached for my arm and I pushed him away. Then there were more hands holding me down and I was fighting all of them. I felt a prick in my arm. The next time I woke up, my stepdad was sitting beside me with his cowboy hat clutched in his hands. As soon as I opened my eyes he jumped out of the seat.

  “I’ll go get Lorraine—she just went to make a call.�
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  “Let her finish,” I whispered. My throat was sore from screaming, and the drugs had dried it out. “Could you get me some water?”

  He patted me on the shoulder and said, “I better find one of the nurses.” With that he was out the door, but the drugs kicked in again and I was asleep by the time they came back.

  Hospitals are strange places—doctors and nurses touch and prod your body in areas you would never let an ordinary stranger near, and I had at least two panic attacks that first day. They put me on something for the anxiety, then something at night that made me wake up feeling hung over, then something for the nausea. It was a small hospital, so I usually got the same nurse, and she always called me honey in the gentlest voice. It made me tear up every time and I wanted to tell her to stop, but in my shame I just turned my face away until she was done. Before she left the room she’d run her warm hand down my forearm and squeeze my fingers.

  On my second day in the hospital, when I was a little calmer, Gary told me the Crown was reviewing all the information I’d given at the station, and they’d be deciding whether to charge me with anything.

  “Charge me? For what?”

  “There was a death, Annie. No matter what the circumstances we still have to go through the process.”

  “Are you arresting me?”

  “I don’t think the Crown will go in that direction, but I still have a duty to inform you of the situation.” At first I was scared, and kicking myself for not getting a lawyer, but when I looked at Gary’s flushed face I realized he was embarrassed as hell.

  “Well, if the Crown does decide to charge me, they’re going to look like a bunch of assholes.”

  Gary grinned and said, “You got that right.”

  He started asking me a couple of questions about The Freak, and when I reached up to scratch my neck, I realized I wasn’t wearing the necklace anymore.