Like Kim’s dad, she was a mystery to J.P. He knew only Kim’s view of her—nerdy and immature, the snotty kid sister. She was slim and plain, and her ponytail made her look younger than she was. For the middle of July she was strikingly pale, as if she never left the house. She was quiet but attacked each job with the same intense concentration, and when she had nothing to do she folded her arms and watched people across the room, her head panning like a camera, lingering then moving off again to find new subjects. He thought it must be hard on her, not having her friends there. She’d mentioned once that they weren’t old enough—not to complain, just to explain why she was by herself, as if she was afraid he’d think she didn’t have any.
They were both slowing down.
“How many’s that?” she asked.
“This’ll be eight.” He picked up a bag, dropped it and squatted there, thinking this might be his best chance. Once they broke into teams she’d go off with her dad. He waited until she scraped the cooler across the floor to him, then froze. He’d never studied her so closely, and was surprised to find her eyes were the same gray green as Kim’s.
“What?” she said.
“I was going to ask if you heard anything new.”
“Good luck. They don’t tell me anything.”
“Maybe there’s nothing to tell.” Could he open his mouth without lying?
“That’s even better,” she said. “Thanks for cheering me up.”
“No problem.”
They finished the coolers and got the big coffee urn going, setting out the cups and stirrers and baskets of sugar packets and individually sealed creamers on the counter. The kitchen was cramped, and they juked to avoid each other, twisted sideways to brush by. On the surface it felt like work, but the hall and the empty tables wouldn’t let him forget why they were there.
Kim’s dad returned with Father John, who waved to them. J.P. waved back with Lindsay as if he were a regular member of the congregation.
The early birds were already drinking their coffees when Nina arrived with an armload of doughnut boxes. There were a few more in the car, she said—a cue for J.P. to come outside and help her.
“Where’s Hinch?” he asked in the stairwell.
“He has to work lunch. His boss is being a dick.”
“What about Marnie?”
“She said she’d come by later.”
Outside, the day was bright and cloudless, the lake a deep blue, the horizon a sharp dividing line.
A car was turning into the lot. Compared to the weekend it was empty. In the far corner the buses and vans waited in the shade.
Nina lifted the hatchback. There were only four more boxes. They’d slid around while she was driving and wrecked against the seats. They both leaned in, reaching.
“Hear anything else?” he asked.
“No.”
“Did Hinch try calling him?” Because he should be warned, at least. Not that it would save them.
“Probably not the smartest idea right now.”
“Right.”
They’d given up any pretense of working and stood hunched over the boxes, looking at each other. She’d kissed him once at a party and he’d kissed her back, leaving him confused and guilty. This was another secret bond he didn’t want.
“Forget all the little shit, okay?” she said. “Think about Kim.”
“I am,” he said defensively, because she was right. He’d spent his whole life thinking of himself. No matter what happened, that had to change. He just didn’t see how.
Back inside he manned the sign-in desk with Lindsay, checking driver’s licenses and making nametags for people like Mr. Hedrick who’d been searching beside them all weekend. During a lull they played tic-tac-toe until they acknowledged the other wasn’t going to make a mistake. Lindsay sniffed her Sharpie, crossed her eyes and pretended to fall over. She made him show her his license before she signed him in, then did his nametag, blowing on the wet ink. She peeled the sticker from the backing and held it out to him on a fingertip.
Slowly the volunteers rolled in. There was no line. “Mornin’,” they said, and handed over their IDs like it was normal. He understood that organization was important, but so much of it was redundant. By now the regulars were familiar. It was silly to take pictures of the teams before they went out, as if someone might disappear and not be missed.
It would be hard to lose anyone from today’s group. By eight forty only the first three tables were filled, and most of them were seniors—a problem, since Kim’s dad and Mr. Hedrick had targeted the hills on the far side of the interstate. They held off starting the briefing, highlighting a different set of maps. J.P. couldn’t see what part of the county they’d shaded. He figured they’d keep sweeping south along 7, filling in the grid block by block, hopscotching their way to Wooze’s place.
Around nine Elise finally showed up, lamely apologizing for Sam. “Where is everybody?”
“I don’t know,” J.P. said. “Maybe they’re out looking for Sam.”
The total turnout was thirty-seven. Kim’s dad rolled over the dry-erase board with the master map and split them into three teams, hand-picking one so all the younger volunteers would be together.
Teams One and Two would concentrate on the farms along the westbound lanes of the interstate. The land was private, and while the owners had granted them permission to search, they still needed to be careful. If they ran into any trouble they should immediately advise their team leaders, who should immediately advise the command center. He held up one walkie-talkie and gave it to Mr. Hedrick, held up another and gave it to Mr. Riggio.
Team Three, which included J.P., Nina, Elise and Lindsay, would do the hills by Route 7 as planned. The same guidelines applied. They might want to search these areas again, so if there was a problem, play it safe and call. He held up the last walkie-talkie and came over to their table as if to take charge, and then, before J.P. could protest, slid the walkie-talkie across the map so he had to catch it.
He’d been there every day, and knew the routine. Kim’s dad stood beside him while he checked off the roster, assigning everyone their numbers. He passed a flyer around and reminded them not to touch or move any evidence. The terrain was moderate to difficult, the high would be in the mid-eighties, so they needed to stay hydrated. Lunch was at one, sandwiches, chips and cookies from Subway. They’d search until sunset. Dinner would be available here afterward. Any questions?
No, they were all veterans. They stood so Kim’s dad could take their picture.
Before they left to get on the buses, Father John led them in prayer. Holding hands with Kim’s dad on one side and Lindsay on the other, J.P. wondered why he’d been surprised. From the beginning he’d been trying to make himself indispensable—something he’d failed to do with Kim. Now that he’d succeeded, he thought it was a mistake, and too late to take back. While his pride told him this responsibility was an honor, he was afraid the more they relied on him, the more, eventually, they would hate him, whether any of it was his fault or not.
“Amen,” they all said.
Stop, Look & Listen
At night the trains came through. The woods behind her house ran unbroken, crisscrossed with creeks and ATV trails before backing up to the Conrail tracks. A half mile inland the Norfolk Southern’s lines shadowed them like rivals. All day the trains barreled east- and westbound, blaring their horns before every crossing, but after dark, when the clamor of work died down and the moon hung low over the trees, they filled the deepening sky with sound, their mournful warnings growing louder as they approached, peaking in a furious thrumming of diesels and clatter of trucks as if they were passing right behind her mother’s fenced-off compost heap, then fading again, long-drawn chords calling ever softer, moving away through town and into the distance until there was nothing but the sawing of locusts surrounding the house.
Like everyone in their subdivision, Nina knew the schedule intimately. As a girl she stayed up to hear the ten o’clo
ck freight before giving herself to sleep, and was disappointed when she missed it. Since eighth grade she no longer considered catching the one o’clock an achievement. This last week she’d become reacquainted with the three-oh-five and the four thirty—trains she might hear once a month while drowsily using the bathroom.
Now when she padded to the toilet she was perfectly, frustratingly awake. Her feet were tender and her legs were jumpy from walking all day, and through a combination of exhaustion and being around too many people, she’d picked up a summer cold, which the central air that kept the house bearable made worse. Her mother suggested Nyquil, and while it knocked her out it also gave her terrible nightmares and made it harder to wake up. She decided to go without, with the predictable result that for hours while the rest of the house slept she lay chilly and alert and ready for tomorrow to start, picturing Kim and her at work, Kim in her bikini that last day, and then, when she’d resigned herself to counting the trains, fell unknowingly into a dreamless void that was over before she could appreciate it.
At breakfast her mother listened to the news. The war in Iraq had knocked Kim from the top spot. The search continues for a local woman, the anchorman read, professionally detached. It had been five days since she’d called the tipline. Every morning Nina waited to hear that the police were questioning a suspect, but there was nothing. She finished her orange juice and dressed for the woods, rubbing Skin So Soft into her neck and arms, pocketing a travel pack of tissues.
Hinch was being a dick. He only came when he didn’t have to work. He said he’d tried to switch shifts, but she questioned his effort. She didn’t see why he couldn’t quit. It was just the fucking Dairy Queen.
“I would if I thought it would do any good,” he said, meaning it had been eight days. The second weekend was coming up. They’d posted new flyers around town to rally support.
“So you’re just going to give up.”
“I’m not giving up, I just can’t do it 24-7 like you.”
“What if it was me?” Nina asked.
“Come on, Ni-ni.”
“No. How long would you look for me?”
“Forever.”
“Bullshit. You can’t even take one day off for Kim.”
“I already took three. I’ve been out every day except Monday and yesterday.”
“You’re not getting it,” she said.
What made her angrier was that he was just being realistic. Friday the turnout was barely enough for three teams, and though they were getting nothing done she was still pissed when he had to leave early.
“I’ll see you later,” he said.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I’m going to try and get some sleep tonight.”
“Are you guys all right?” Elise asked on the way home, and Nina shrugged like she didn’t care.
She didn’t, she decided sometime between the one o’clock and the three-oh-five. If Hinch didn’t understand how important Kim was to her, he didn’t understand anything. J.P. and Elise knew they weren’t going to find anything out there. That wasn’t the point.
Saturday he had to work. She was too busy to miss him. The flyers brought in a flood of volunteers, and they covered more ground than they had all week. It was only on the bus back to church that she turned on her phone and saw she had three messages.
He’d left two, in the middle of the afternoon, during the long lull between lunch and dinner, probably on break. She could see him smoking in the shade by the cemetery fence, rethinking his decision. As always, too late, he would try to apologize, saying they both knew he was a jerk. As always, she would confirm that fact and forgive him, but only after exacting serious concessions. The idea of the world returning to normal appealed to her. Outside, dusk was falling, softening the hills. The scale of today’s search had been gratifying, and she was too tired to fight. She would say she wasn’t angry with him, just frustrated, clearing the way for them to make up. It was Saturday night. Maybe they could go to the movies or down to the harbor. It had been too long since they’d been together. She suspected that was one reason why she couldn’t sleep.
The first message said he was at the sheriff’s department and needed a ride.
The second, a minute later, said to forget it, Marnie was going to pick him up.
He knew she couldn’t stop searching and come get him. They were warnings, but what was she supposed to do with them?
Her mother had left the other one. The police stopped by and said they wanted to talk to her. “I told them you were out searching for Kim.”
Neither of them sounded upset. Nina had to remind herself that this step was inevitable, and necessary. She was surprised it had taken this long.
She called Hinch but couldn’t really talk, with people all around and the racket of the engine blowing through the windows in stereo. He was paranoid about his phone being tapped. In the background, drawers rolled open and thumped shut.
“Are you okay?”
“My mom’s the one who’s going nuts. There’s clothes and shit all over the place. They said they could arrest me for having a scale. That was their excuse.”
“What did you say?”
“I just told them the truth.”
How she interpreted this would determine her strategy. She spent several questions nailing down what happened, and realized she needn’t have. She could count on Hinch to stick with the plan. His allegiances were simple.
“So I guess I won’t be seeing you later,” she said.
“Oh yeah.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“I seriously doubt it.”
By the time she got off they were on the bridge, the river invisible beneath them. Across the aisle, J.P. and Lindsay were curled over the Sudoku from today’s paper. Nina reached out and tapped him on the arm, crooking a finger so he leaned closer.
“It’s happening,” she whispered. “What I said.”
He pulled away and appraised her, then nodded. She thought he would dig out his phone, but he just went back to watching Lindsay fill in the squares.
She wanted to be that calm. From the minute she decided to call the tipline, she knew what would happen, yet now she felt the urge to run. Her chance was coming up. The bus had to stop for the Norfolk Southern tracks. She could ask the driver to drop her off and walk a mile along the ties, then cut through the woods—impossible in this light, and where could she go but home? She was overreacting. If they hadn’t arrested Hinch she had to believe she’d be okay.
The driver slowed and came to an exaggerated stop. Far up the line a single headlamp shone, but it was impossible to tell if it was moving. Foolishly she was rooting for anything that might postpone their arrival. The driver waited a full three seconds before inching them over the hump. He did the same at the Conrail tracks, the bus lurching when he let out the clutch. Nina held on to the seatback in front of her as they lumbered across, swaying. He found second gear and the first streetlights of town floated by, the dark houses and parked cars. They made the light at Main and Harbor, dashing her last hope.
The facade of the church was floodlit, the belltower rising into the night. As they turned into the lot she could see a pair of news vans and an unmarked car in front, and standing on the curb as if to greet them, the detective and his deputy. Behind them a door opened and a figure with a clipboard descended the stairs, favoring one leg—Kim’s dad.
J.P. and Lindsay were watching him too. As the bus swung through the circle, braking, he hobbled straight for them, the cops falling in behind him, all three converging on the door as it folded open.
Kim’s dad pulled himself up the steps. Nina and J.P. were sitting near the front, and she imagined him striding down the aisle and dragging them off. Instead, he stood beside the driver and held up his arms for quiet. For a sickening instant she was certain he was going to tell them Kim was dead.
The detective watched from the top step, taking note of her and J.P. She stayed still, afraid of betraying herself.
&nbs
p; “Lindsay,” Kim’s dad said, holding out a hand, and J.P. got up to let her by.
Kim’s dad hugged her with the clipboard and kept that arm over her shoulder as he addressed them.
“I just wanted to thank you all for coming out today, and to let you know that starting tomorrow we’ll be working out of Firehouse Number Four.” He was subdued, as if he didn’t agree with the move. Nina wanted him to look at her, but he was focused somewhere above her head. “That’s the one on Erie right across from the park. So don’t show up here, because we’re going to be over there. And please tell anyone you know who couldn’t make it today. Thank you.” He gave the front row a batch of flyers to pass back, waved and ducked down the stairs with Lindsay.
Nina watched them go. Instead of heading for the doors they walked arm-in-arm toward their station wagon, Lindsay propping him up on one side.
“Thanks for your patience,” the detective said. “I won’t keep you long.” He had a a single sheet of paper, and paused, looking over the rows as if he might read a list of names. Outside, first one and then another silvery spotlight popped on, blinding them, etching the interior with shadows. “The reason for shifting the command center is that the state police are taking over the case. Earlier today they found Kim’s car outside of Sandusky.”
As the bus erupted Nina turned to J.P., who was just as confused as she was.
All she knew about Sandusky was that Cedar Point was there.
“That doesn’t mean we stop looking here,” the detective said loudly, to quiet them.
It was good news, but now she doubted everything they’d done so far. The flyers, the searches. They’d wasted ten days looking in the wrong place. She’d snitched on Wooze for nothing.
“We’ve got some media people who are going to want to talk to you, so please, think before you speak, okay? Remember that what you say could have an effect on Kim. Finding the car is definitely a positive, but it’s not the end of anything, it’s just a starting point.”
Songs for the Missing Page 10