Waiting for the Night Song

by Julie Carrick Dalton

  The officer bumped his head on the desk.

  Daniela prodded at the truth, she tugged on it, but froze. She pinched the bridge of her nose as if her head ached unbearably. Like the splinter in Cadie’s finger, the truth needed to come out, no matter how painful the extraction.

  “We were there,” Cadie said. The words tore at her throat, although her voice barely rose above a whisper. “We know what happened, where it happened, and who did it.”

  The officer sat upright and looked at Cadie. He leaned forward. Sweat glistened on his upper lip. The air conditioner cycled off, filling the room with a sudden silence, but for the tick, tick, tick of the wall clock.

  “You were there.” He spoke so quietly, he could have been talking to himself. “Cadie.”

  “You know each other?” Daniela said.

  Cadie looked at his face, searching for the porcelain cheekbones under the scruff, the slight asymmetry of his face. His eyes gripped her, just as they had decades earlier.

  “Garrett.”

  The clock on the wall cranked out long seconds.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Daniela broke the silence. “Why are you interrogating my father if you already know what happened? You know damn well my dad didn’t do it.”

  “Raúl’s your father?”

  “Yeah, he’s my father.” Daniela crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “This is bullshit. I want to talk to the real chief. Not you.”

  “Wait. I can help you,” he said. “I can make sure your dad won’t get in any trouble.”

  “Of course he won’t, because we’re going to tell the truth,” Daniela said.

  Cadie’s knees felt like rubber. She lowered herself into the chair. He survived. The Summer Kid. Garrett. All the nights Cadie had sat up worrying about him living with that monster crashed together in her mind.

  Tierney—Garrett—stood up.

  “You’re okay.” Cadie squeezed the armrests on her chair.

  “No way. You are not doing this again.” Daniela looked at Cadie.

  Cadie could feel the accusation in Daniela’s eyes, but she couldn’t look away from Garrett.

  “Of course he’s fine,” Daniela said. “He’s got this comfy office and spends his time investigating innocent people so he doesn’t get his asshole uncle in trouble.”

  “It’s not like that,” Garrett said.

  “Really? I think people would be interested to know their deputy police chief covered up a murder,” Daniela said.

  “Your father has not been accused of anything. Chief Schmidt talked to him a few times for background info. The record from back then indicates he was the last person seen talking to a person matching this victim’s basic description. We had to interview him. It’s protocol.” Garrett gripped the front edge of his desk. “The body hasn’t been officially identified yet. Coming forward now—it would destroy everything. For all of us.”

  “I’m not too worried about my reputation.” Daniela’s nostrils flared. “I’m worried about my father.”

  Cadie imagined having to explain to Thea and her research team that she had covered up a murder. How would she tell her parents?

  “There isn’t any evidence against Raúl.”

  “Then stop it now. We know your uncle killed him, then dragged him into the woods, and buried him. You probably helped him bury the body, didn’t you?” Daniela said.

  Garrett looked at Cadie with a confused expression. He started to say something, then stopped.

  Cadie’s heart pounded in her throat, boomed in her ears.

  Daniela drummed her fingernails on the arm of her chair.

  “Give me a few days to convince the chief to back off.”

  “What about your uncle?” Cadie forced herself to look up. Garrett’s eyes were the same exact color she remembered. She fought the urge to press down the ringlets on her temples. “He just gets away with it?”

  Garrett stood up again. His once-scrawny frame had filled out to a lanky lean. Broad shoulders pulled on his plaid button-down shirt. He moved with a familiar awkwardness, as if he felt unsure of the space around him. Images of the day he jumped up, moving his arms through the air as if pushing them away from his pier, flashed through Cadie’s mind.

  He had moved the wind for her.

  As a child, Cadie had thought sending Garrett back to abusive foster care was the most imminent threat. But as an adult she wondered if helping Garrett had condemned him. She had lain awake countless nights wondering if he was alive.

  “The argument got out of control and the gun just went off,” Garrett said. “It was an accident. You couldn’t see what happened.”

  “I heard everything,” Cadie said, the gunshot echoing, yet again, in her mind.

  “Your uncle protected himself,” Daniela said. “And I sure as hell don’t owe him—or you—anything.”

  “He knew if he went to jail, I’d go back in the system. He took care of me the best he could.” Garrett squeezed two handfuls of his hair, still long and shaggy, but a few shades darker.

  “By killing someone? And letting my dad take the blame?” Daniela’s face reddened.

  A firm rapping on the door startled Cadie. The receptionist stuck her head inside. “You don’t want to be late. I can help these ladies with any paperwork.” She looked at Cadie and Daniela as if they were being a nuisance.

  “Thanks. Can you call the school and tell them I’ll be a few minutes late? They can start without me.”

  “I’m sure you can finish this business later.” Her smug smile made Cadie want to slap her. “You don’t want to make the kids wait.”

  “Call the school and tell them I’ll be late.”

  The receptionist gave Cadie a disapproving look and left.

  “The medical examiner’s report will come back in three days. I expect we’ll get a positive ID. That’s when we need to worry. I mean, people are already speculating about the identity, but until there’s a positive ID, it would be impossible to bring any charges,” Garrett said. “In the meantime, I can intervene with the chief and convince him to back off Raúl. Nothing’s going to happen to your dad.”

  “People are already talking, and we don’t need people in our business,” Daniela said.

  “Look, I know what you’re worried about. I don’t give a shit about whether your dad’s illegal.”

  Daniela’s lips turned white as she pressed them together.

  “I don’t care. No one cares. He’s been running a business here in town as long as I can remember. Your family’s safe as long as we stay quiet.”

  “Is that supposed to be a threat?” Daniela leaned closer to Garrett.

  “Geez, no. I’m just saying that I already know, and I don’t care. I mean, not that I don’t care. I care.” Garrett closed his eyes for a second and started again. “I just mean there’s no way he’s getting in any trouble about, well, what happened, as long as we’re smart.”

  “Are you for real?” Daniela uncrossed and recrossed her arms, then looked from Cadie to Garrett. “You don’t think a bunch of bored hicks will turn on my dad when those rumors start up again?”

  “I’m not the enemy here,” he said. “There would be consequences for coming forward now. We covered up a murder, for God’s sake.”

  “We were kids. Scared kids, stupid kids,” Cadie said. “They can’t charge us with anything.”

  “But any adults involved could still be charged. There’s no statute of limitations on murder,” he said, staring at Cadie. “Or on being an accessory to murder after the fact.”

  Cadie focused her eyes on the linoleum squares on the floor. Fourteen across, twelve deep. Don’t look up. Do not make eye contact. She could feel Garrett’s eyes bearing down on her.

  “I don’t give a shit that your uncle could get charged,” Daniela said. “He deserves to be charged.”

  Garrett ignored Daniela and continued staring at Cadie. “Do you understand that being an adult accessory to murder after the fact can carry the same s
entence as the murder itself?” He paused. “No statute of limitations. Any adult who helped cover up a murder.”

  Sweat dripped down Cadie’s neck.

  “Great trivia question, but it’s irrelevant,” Daniela said. “Maybe we were accessories, but we were kids. We can’t be charged.”

  “Three days,” Cadie said.

  “This is not your call.” Daniela glared at Cadie.

  “Give him three days. If this doesn’t go away, we tell everything.”

  “I love how both of you want to gamble with my family’s safety,” Daniela said.

  “Will you promise to call if anything comes up, or if you are worried about anything in the meantime?” Garrett said.

  Cadie turned to Daniela, who nodded grudgingly.

  “I need to know how to contact you.” Garrett handed them each a blank paper and they wrote down their numbers. “Maybe someday, later I mean, we can talk. There’s a lot I’d like to know about that summer, the books, the boat.”

  “I don’t think so,” Daniela said.

  Garrett stood awkwardly in his office doorway as Cadie and Daniela walked down the corridor to the lobby.

  “I need to stop at the post office,” Cadie said as they walked out. A blast of steamy air greeted them as they opened the door. “Call me after work?”

  “I’m working late.” Daniela didn’t look at Cadie as she spoke.

  “I’m not caving in to him,” Cadie said. “Maybe it will work out better this way. And it will be less risky for all of us.”

  “Risky? Are you kidding me? Cadie, you mean well, but you’ve never had one damn thing to lose.”

  9

  THAT SUMMER

  The sun peeked in and out of the clouds as Cadie pedaled up her long, steep driveway. She thrust all her weight into each rotation. Pine needles and gravel churned under her tires.

  “This is the day, Cadie Brady,” Daniela shouted as they approached the incline.

  Cadie squeezed the rubber handlebar grips and pedaled harder. Daniela’s nickname for her, with its nerdy Brady Bunch connotations, chafed, despite the flutter of pride that Daniela had bothered to give her a nickname at all.

  Daniela, with her sleek ten-speed, always made it to the top. Cadie, with her secondhand banana-seat bike, usually sputtered out at the two-thirds mark.

  She thought of Garrett. Of his eyes. The kiss. She licked her dry lips and panted in a steady rhythm to propel herself forward. Her thighs ached. Sweat gathered on her brow. Had Daniela ever kissed a boy? Cadie wondered as she watched her friend’s ponytail swing from side to side ahead of her.

  They pedaled nearly a mile up the dirt lane from Cadie’s house, over the rickety wooden bridge spanning Silas Creek, and passed by the road that led to Daniela’s house. Several long driveways branched off in both directions as they approached the base of the peninsula and turned onto the main road toward town. Fifteen homes, mostly vacation cottages, were situated on the peninsula, but in Cadie’s mind the entire peninsula belonged to her and Daniela. Cadie was pretty sure her house was the only one accessible by road on her side of Silas Creek, where bogs and wetlands fortified the natural moat. The homes on Daniela’s side of the Hook were year-round homes and much closer together than on Cadie’s side of the creek.

  Cadie approached the stone wall, the farthest she had ever made it up the hill. Had anyone ever written Daniela secret love notes? She stood up to bear down on the pedals.

  “Go, Cadie Brady, go!” Daniela screamed.

  Cadie passed the stone wall. Her lungs burned. She passed the downed pine that had fallen the previous winter. She could barely feel her legs by the time she reached Daniela, who waited for her at the top of the hill, straddling her bike.

  “I knew you could do it.” Daniela beamed as if Cadie had won Olympic gold.

  Cadie folded her arms across her handlebars and put her head down. She turned sideways to see Daniela smiling so broadly Cadie could count every tooth in her mouth. Tufts of pollen hung in slices of sunlight breaking through the trees.

  If only this summer could last forever.

  Cadie whooped as they soared downhill and powered up the inclines on the dirt road. On an average day, it took them forty-five minutes to get to Angie’s by bike, but on this day, they flew. Sweat poured down Cadie’s face and neck as they entered the town center, made up of a spattering of municipal buildings, restaurants, and shops. On one side of the street sat the 7-Eleven, a Five n Dime, Angie’s Diner, and the fire station, with the hardware store, pharmacy, and a pizza place on the opposite side. Beyond the firehouse, at the only intersection in town with a stop sign, sat the rec center, the middle school, the post office, police station, the library, a few small shops, and the art studio Cadie’s parents owned.

  Cadie estimated she had read at least one hundred books while sitting on the studio porch during the endless summer vacations of her youth. From the rocker on the porch, Cadie placed bets with herself every August on which day she would see the first flicker of red in the changing maple leaves on Crier Hill, which rose up behind the police station. But not this year. She didn’t want to wish away a single day.

  Cadie and Daniela parked their bikes in front of Angie’s Diner and unloaded their blueberries. The sun cast elongated shadows, morphing Cadie’s banana seat and ape-hanger handlebars into a distorted cartoon on the brand-new concrete sidewalk. Flyers advertising a car wash, babysitters, and dog walkers covered the wall outside the diner. Wedged between a notice for a math tutor and housekeeper, a pale blue flyer caught Cadie’s eye.

  Missing: Yellow rowboat with two oars. Last seen drifting near Anchor Harbor. 555–3002. Reward.

  Cadie grabbed Daniela’s elbow and nodded toward the sign.

  Daniela read the handwritten note, shrugged, and continued walking toward their usual seats at the breakfast bar.

  “It must be some other boat,” Daniela whispered with such conviction that Cadie allowed herself to almost believe it.

  Cadie squeezed the cracked leather bar stool with her knees as she spun in circles, sweeping her hand across Angie’s lunch counter every other rotation to maintain her speed. On the stool next to her, Daniela spun in the opposite direction. Their timing had to be perfect. If either of them miscalculated, even by a fraction of a second, their knees would collide.

  Cadie kept her eyes focused on a rusty tractor seat hanging on the wall behind the counter. She whipped her head around like a pirouetting ballerina so she wouldn’t get dizzy.

  “I wish we could have watched his face while he read Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret,” Daniela said.

  “I still think that was kind of mean. He probably had no idea what he was reading about.” Cadie took her eye off the tractor seat to catch Daniela’s smirk.

  “I’m picking out the books from now on.” Cadie pushed off so fast she had to drag her hand on the aluminum counter to avoid a crash.

  “Can I borrow The Outsiders?” Daniela said.

  “You can read any of my books you want.” Cadie sucked her cheeks in to hold back a smile.

  A group of guys in their late teens and twenties talked in Spanish at a booth in the corner. Workers from the farms outside town, Cadie guessed. Angie pushed the swinging kitchen door open with her hip and carried plates of blueberry pie over to the young men.

  “It’s on the house today.” Angie placed a slice of pie in front of each of them.

  Angie skipped over to Cadie and Daniela. Cadie didn’t know any other adults who skipped. Angie also played cat’s cradle with the girls on slow days.

  “Hello, ladies. Looky over there.” She pointed to the men. “Your blueberries at work.”

  “Why’d you give them free pie?” Daniela stopped spinning. Cadie crashed into her.

  “Why not? I give you free soda.” Angie placed two glasses on the counter. She squeezed the trigger on a soda gun to fill the glasses almost to the point of bubbling above the rim.

  “But we bring you blueberries,” Daniela s
aid.

  Angie leaned toward the girls and lowered her voice. “They come in here, and sometimes they don’t order anything. Sometimes they get a soda. But that’s it. See the blond guy with them, Clyde something or other. He’s a manager or something out at Crittenden Farm. He and his dad used to live on the property. His dad died, but he still works there, I think.”

  The group laughed as they shoved forkfuls of berries—Cadie and Daniela’s berries—into their mouths.

  “The local kids always gave Clyde a hard time. I used to hear them in here making fun of him for hanging out with the farm workers. I don’t think he had many local friends back in high school.” Angie piled her curly brown hair on her head in a loose bun with a pen sticking out of it. She glanced over at the table and bit her lower lip.

  “I know him.” Daniela wrinkled her nose. “He works for my dad on weekends. I don’t know why my parents are nice to him.”

  “Why shouldn’t they be nice?” Angie said.

  “He’s super creepy,” Daniela said.

  “He doesn’t always know how to act around folks,” Angie said. “Anyways, sometimes it’s just nice to give people free pie. They love your berries, look.”

  Cadie and Daniela swiveled around on their stools. Four empty plates, stained purple with blueberry ink, sat on the table.

  “I’m always extra nice to folks who eat my pies. We are bound together forever because I put a lot of love into those pies. And it keeps them coming back. It’s the same for you girls, you know. If someone eats my blueberry pie, they’re bound to you, too. So always be extra nice to them.”

  “Be kind to anyone who eats our berries,” Cadie repeated. She would add it to her list of rules.

  “Speaking of pies, I’ve got three in the oven. Enjoy your sodas.” Angie disappeared into the kitchen.

  Cadie watched Clyde, the older blond one, lick blueberries off his fingers. He laughed with his friends and collected the plates, scraped the remnants onto a single plate, and stacked them at the edge of the table for Angie. Cadie’s parents would have been proud of her for doing that in a restaurant without even being asked.

  He caught Cadie’s eye, stopped laughing, and narrowed his eyes at her. His skin, pocked with acne scars, looked rough like sandpaper as he wrinkled his brow.