Two Girls Down

by Louisa Luna

  Vega had heard that a few times since she’d gotten to Denville—the “youse.” It made her think of old movies, newsboys waving papers on the street corner.

  “One,” said Cap.

  “No,” said Vega.

  Maryann focused on Cap.

  “I’ve been to every morgue in eastern Pennsylvania. I’ve seen a baker’s dozen of John Does, anyone who’s male between the ages of twenty and forty. All’s I want is a body. All’s I want is some dust or some nails or something to bury and say the Lord’s Prayer over. Can you imagine that, wanting something like that?”

  Cap shook his head.

  “I can’t, ma’am.”

  “You shouldn’t have to. Nobody should.”

  Her nose crinkled up, lips tightened and released. Vega knew she was trying not to cry, and that this was not an unfamiliar effort.

  “You went to the police,” Vega said, trying to move things along.

  Don’t let them get emotional unless you’re looking for a confession. Otherwise you get stuck in tears and reminiscing.

  “Well yeah. That’s what I’m supposed to do, right?” she said. “They put him up on the NamUs website; they questioned the neighbors. Did a lot of paperwork for about a week. Turns out no one cares too much about a grown man who goes missing, especially one they think’s retarded.”

  She somehow, thought Vega, did not sound bitter saying this. It was like she was observing it all.

  “I guess you can’t blame them,” she said, and then her tone went flat. “He wasn’t as cute as those two girls.”

  “Were there ever any solid leads?” asked Vega.

  “No. Not that they told me about. I put up flyers and kept updating the profile on NamUs. Once we got close—they had a body down in Philly that matched him, but the face was all decomposed. Then they did the teeth and no go. Ain’t him. I got sick about a year later, so I don’t do much anymore. My youngest keeps up with it more nowadays.”

  She shrugged.

  “Is it your lungs?” asked Vega.

  Cap turned to her, startled.

  Maryann nodded.

  “I’m stage 3B. Which means I’m only seventy-five percent screwed as opposed to a hundred percent screwed. Funny thing, I only smoked here and there when I was younger. Doctors don’t know if it was Nolan’s smoking or my folks’ or the asbestos around Beth Coal where I worked for twenty years.”

  She crossed her hands in her lap and smiled at them.

  “And really, who cares? Machs nix, as my dad would have said.”

  “Is it in all of your lymph nodes?” said Vega.

  “Oh yes, hon. It’s everywhere. Survival rate is shit, excuse me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Cap.

  Maryann shook her head as if to tell them not to worry. Vega’s mouth was unbelievably dry just then; she bit the tip of her tongue to create some liquid.

  “Could we speak with your other son at some point, Ms. Marsh?” Cap said.

  “I don’t see why not. I’ll give you his number,” she said. Then she reached into the pocket of her sweater and pulled out her cell phone. “You know,” she said, pausing, “the detective called me yesterday. The one who I filed the report with originally.”

  “Detective Ralz?” said Cap.

  “Yes, Ralz. He said he was going over old files and wanted to know if I’d ever heard anything. I told him no. We talked for only a couple of minutes.”

  Cap glanced at Vega. Maryann put on a pair of reading glasses and held her phone in her lap, tapping the face of it.

  “You know what they say about coincidences,” she said, still eyeballing the phone.

  “That there are none?” said Cap.

  Maryann looked up at a point above their heads. “Is that what they say?” Then she shrugged. “I thought they said something else.”

  —

  The Linsoms lived on a cul-de-sac in the Sherwood Forest subdivision, part of the Sprawl, as Cap called it—rural edges on the north side of town transforming into Monopoly-house planned communities. He’d seen a billboard on the highway on the way in: LIVE LIKE A KING IN SHERWOOD FOREST. Then the list of amenities, if the name was not enough to grab you: 2-, 3-, 4-BEDROOM NEW LUXURY HOMES, JACUZZIS, WINE CELLARS, OUTDOOR GRILL ISLANDS. There was the happy family right in the picture, standing in their front yard. See them waving? See how cheery they are? You’d be that happy too if you had your own outdoor grill island. Instead you have a boring indoor oven, and your kids think you’re a failure.

  “You talk to the kid, okay?” said Vega as they walked up the driveway.

  They had not really spoken after leaving Maryann Marsh’s house. Cap couldn’t tell if Vega was working something out in her head or if it was something else—the vaguest sense of grief seemed to rinse over her face, but there was no way he was going to ask her about it. Maybe in the future, over beer or tea or motor oil—whatever she consumed in her leisure time.

  Lindsay Linsom answered the door and let them in. Her face was an arrangement of delicate bones, her hair pulled into a neat bun. Everything inside was white—white walls, white carpet, white furniture, the only standout a mahogany upright piano against one wall with a nickel-plated table clock on top, ticking audibly. Mrs. Linsom led them into the sunken living room and offered them drinks and seats on the couch.

  “We met with the police at the school yesterday,” she said. “They asked Cole some questions already.”

  “We understand, Mrs. Linsom. Like I said, we have some new information that we have questions about. Cole might be able to help us with it. It will take only a few minutes.”

  Mrs. Linsom looked at both of them and touched her hair gently.

  “Of course we want to do everything we can to help. I can’t imagine what Jamie must be going through. We just had Kylie over last weekend,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll get Cole. She said her stomach hurt, so I kept her home today. I think she’s just worried about Kylie. You never know how kids will process these things.”

  She left, up a carpeted staircase. Cap looked around, at the straight stack of hardback books on the glass coffee table, the throw pillows angled in the same way in the corners of the couch, not a thread out of place on anything.

  “Cozy,” said Cap.

  Vega nodded, examining a glass deer centerpiece on a table behind her.

  Mrs. Linsom came down the stairs with Cole, a slight girl with white-blond hair and pink lips. She stood in front of them, wide-eyed, uneasy.

  “Cole, this is Mr. Caplan and Miss Vega.”

  Cole stared at them and took a step closer to her mother.

  “Hi Cole,” said Cap, as gentle as he could.

  He’d actually forgotten how small ten-year-olds were. He had come to see Nell as an unstoppable force of development, since she had gotten out of the baby stage and started outgrowing clothes and shoes every other month. Cap’s reaction to her was still, I can’t believe how big she is. He would look at her on the soccer field and be awed, watching her slide tackle the ball with her long legs, her arms coming out like pea shoots from the sleeves of her uniform.

  But this girl wasn’t like that; she seemed younger than ten, smelling faintly of baby powder. Kylie is this age too, he thought, but she seemed older somehow. He couldn’t put his finger on it, so he stopped, focused on this pale girl in front of him.

  “How old are you now?” he said, like he was any family friend.

  “Ten,” said Cole, soft and airy.

  “Ten’s big. When will you be eleven?”

  “August sixteenth.”

  “It’ll be here before you know it. When my daughter was ten, she had about twenty of those Webkinz—you have any of those?”

  “Yeah,” said Cole, her face splitting into a smile. “I have the cocker spaniel because we can’t have a real one.”

  Cap laughed.

  “Well, that’s the next best thing. A lot easier to take care of,” he said.

  He looked up to Mrs. Linsom,
who laughed with some relief.

  “Can I ask you a question about Kylie?” he said then. “You’re friends with her, is that right?”

  Cole nodded.

  “You know her mom’s working really hard to find her and her sister, right? And that we’re helping her?”

  Nod.

  “You can do a lot to help us, Cole. All you have to do is tell the truth, okay?”

  Nod.

  “Good. Okay, did you guys have any games you liked to play together?”

  Cole scrunched up her face.

  “Like video games?”

  “Sure. Or other kinds of games, like pretending to be in a club.”

  Cole looked up at the ceiling.

  “A club,” she said.

  Mrs. Linsom leaned forward in her chair.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Caplan, what do you mean?”

  “I think Cole knows what I mean,” said Cap. “Cole, did you have a club with Kylie? Just the two of you?”

  “Um,” said Cole, now looking at the floor.

  “Cole?” said Mrs. Linsom, facing her. “Answer Mr. Caplan. This is very important.”

  “It’s a secret, though,” said Cole.

  “Cole, this is to help Kylie. I promise she won’t be mad if you tell,” said Cap.

  Cole let out a small breath.

  “We had a Secret Journal Club. We wrote down our secrets in journals and put them in a hiding place.” Then she turned to her mother and said urgently, “We didn’t even tell each other what was in them. We were supposed to keep it secret till we died or got married.”

  “Cole, where are they? The journals. We need to see Kylie’s,” said Cap.

  Cole turned to him with heavy eyes and pointed out the picture window.

  They all followed her through the kitchen gleaming with appliances and clean countertops, through the back door, across a small paved patio, and into a backyard with short green grass and a cluster of four trees at the rear of the property, overlooking a thin creek.

  Cole started running then, toward the trees, her mother behind her. Cap and Vega stayed on the patio, next to the grill island made of stucco and stainless steel.

  “It’s in the tree,” said Vega.

  “Huh,” said Cap.

  They watched as Cole kneeled, reached into a hollow in the second tree from the left, and pulled two spiral notebooks out. Mrs. Linsom said something to her that Cap couldn’t make out. Cole’s face dropped, and Mrs. Linsom pulled her back to where Cap and Vega stood.

  “Go ahead,” said Mrs. Linsom.

  “This is Kylie’s,” she said, and she handed Cap the notebook with the baby-blue cover. It had three heart-shaped stickers at the top and frayed edges.

  “And what else?” said Mrs. Linsom.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell sooner,” she said, and her lips started to turn down.

  Cap squatted a bit so he could look her in the eye.

  “Don’t be sorry. You just helped Kylie a lot. Thank you.”

  “Do you need mine too?” Cole said, holding out the other notebook, with a pink cover.

  “You can keep that one secret, what do you say?”

  Cole smiled, held the notebook to her chest, and left, walked toward the house.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Mrs. Linsom, looking at both of them. “I had no idea. The police just asked general things—if Kylie had said anything to her about running away, things like that.”

  “She didn’t do anything wrong, Mrs. Linsom. She didn’t know we would want to know. And there might not be anything in here, but we have to take a look.”

  Mrs. Linsom nodded and then something caught her attention from the front of the house, and her smile dissipated.

  “Daddy’s home for lunch!” Cole yelled from inside, more alarmed than happy.

  “Oh,” said Mrs. Linsom. “My husband. Excuse me.”

  She hurried inside. Cap turned to look at Vega, raised his eyebrows. She gave a small shrug, nodded toward the house. They went.

  Cap saw Mrs. Linsom talking in a hushed voice to a tall man in a white shirt and tie, suit jacket over his arm, laptop bag in the other. His face was tense, turning red under blond eyebrows and thinning straw-colored hair.

  Mr. Linsom turned and saw Cap, put on a businessman smile, and went to meet him, hand extended.

  “Press Linsom,” he said, confident.

  “Max Caplan,” said Cap. “This is my partner, Alice Vega.”

  They all shook hands, and Press Linsom stood back and put his hands on his hips. Mrs. Linsom stood behind him, shrinking before Cap’s eyes.

  “You want to tell me what this is about?” he said.

  “We, Ms. Vega and I, we’ve been hired by the Brandt family to find Jamie’s daughters. Cole and Mrs. Linsom just helped us a great deal by helping us find this.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Press, skeptical.

  I know this guy, Cap thought. Met him a hundred times. These little pissing contests are the highlight of his day.

  “So you’re not with the police?”

  “No, sir. We’re private investigators.”

  “And what makes you think I’ll just let you take an item from my property?” he said, stepping forward.

  “Press, Jamie Brandt called me herself. She sent them here,” said Mrs. Linsom quietly.

  Linsom turned his head to the side and held his hand up to her. She stepped back. Cap had a feeling she was familiar with that side of his hand.

  Cap smiled, scratched his chin, and turned around to Vega. She kept a straight face.

  “I’d think you’d want to assist in finding these two girls, being a father yourself and all,” said Cap.

  Small parts of Linsom’s face reacted—the corner of the mouth, the tip of the nose twitching as if he were smelling something.

  “Max Caplan,” he said. “Why is that name familiar to me?”

  Cap glanced away, felt caught and couldn’t help it.

  “Have we met before?”

  “I don’t believe so,” Cap said. “I used to be with the police.”

  Now Linsom smiled, victorious.

  “I know who you are. I’ve done business with Kit Samuels. You’re the one who let his boy die.”

  Cap shut his eyes for only a second, forced himself to open them, and wished a lot of things: for a beer, to be at his kitchen table with Nell, to go back in time and go to law school, to have supervised Em that goddamn night to make sure he was doing his job, to have checked that junkie kid’s pulse himself.

  “Why’d you let them in?” Linsom said, turning to his wife. “The police fired this guy for incompetence.”

  “He resigned, actually,” said Vega.

  Everyone looked at her.

  “Splitting hairs, sweetie,” said Linsom. “I want you both out of my house now, and I want that book. I’m sure the police would be interested in its contents. Qualified professionals.”

  “You heard your wife, sir,” said Cap. “Jamie Brandt asked us to come here and talk to Cole. We’re bringing this book to her.”

  Linsom tossed his suit jacket on a counter and held his hands out.

  “You’re not bringing it anywhere, Caplan. Caplan, right? What kind of name is that anyway, Jewish?”

  And a Jew-hater too, thought Cap. This guy is a winner across the board.

  “Yes, it is,” said Cap.

  Linsom took another step. He had a good six inches on Cap. He could smell the coffee on Linsom’s breath.

  “True what they say, about sex through the sheet and everything?” Linsom said, smirking.

  “All true,” said Cap. “It’s surprisingly effective.”

  They were locked there for a moment, and then Cap could sense, not really hear, but feel Vega stirring behind him. Then she was next to him, both of them facing up to Linsom.

  “Look, we don’t want any trouble,” she said.

  Her voice was high suddenly, youthful.

  “Oh yeah?” said Linsom. “Then you shouldn’t have co
me here.”

  “We’re working with the police. Captain Hollows knows all about it,” she said. Then she looked back and forth to Mrs. Linsom and Cap nervously. “Do you really think Jamie Brandt would trust us otherwise? If we bring this to them…”

  She stepped closer to Linsom, gazed up at him. Cap tried not to smile.

  “Well, it’ll look really good for us.” She shook her head, humble. “You can, uh, check out my credentials, I have a business card somewhere.”

  She patted herself down, fingers going in and out of pockets. She turned around to Cap.

  “You don’t have them, do you?”

  She looked so earnest Cap almost believed maybe this had been the real Vega all along and the whole tough girl thing was the act. He put his hands in his pockets.

  “Why would I have them?” he said, annoyed.

  “Press,” said Lindsay, pulling gently at his arm.

  Linsom kept his eyes on Cap and Vega and let his wife tug him away for just a second. She spoke quietly and rapidly, and Cap could only imagine how many times she’d had to do this before—talk her husband off the angry bridge. Linsom spread his feet apart, seemed to relax a bit. There you go, Tiger, thought Cap.

  “So if I let you walk out of here, and I call the police captain in a couple of hours, he’ll know exactly who you two are and he’ll have that notebook as evidence?” said Linsom.

  He sounded like a high school principal, and Cap could tell he enjoyed it; the smirk had reappeared.

  “Absolutely,” Vega gasped. “You have my word.”

  Linsom thought about it for another full minute, making the fake Vega squirm.

  “Get out of here before I change my mind,” he said.

  “Thank you, thank you so much. I’m so sorry, we’re so sorry to have bothered you.”

  She pumped his hand and rushed out.

  “Mrs. Linsom, I’m so sorry,” she said.

  Cap followed her. He smiled sheepishly at Linsom, and said, “Yeah…sorry.”

  Out they went, through the front door. Cap ran to catch up with her as she crossed the street.

  “Give me your phone and yell at me in a second,” she said, eyes straight ahead.

  Cap handed over his phone. Vega bounced it on her fingertips like a volleyball and dropped it to the pavement.

  “Goddammit, Alice!” Cap shouted.