“I would never say anything.” Cadie tried to imagine the wiry boy on the basketball court clinging to the undercarriage of a train. “Things would have to be pretty desperate for a kid to make that journey.”
“I shouldn’t have told you.” Sal started paddling again. “Do you think the drought here will get worse?”
“Maybe. I’m working on a project to try to head off forest fires related to the drought right now.”
“I know what you do. Internet, remember? It sounds pretty cool, the bugs and all. It’s important.”
“Right.” Cadie smiled. At least Sal and Garrett believed in her. If the ethics committee agreed, maybe they would forgive her for trespassing on federal lands. Cadie looked down at her watch, gripped her paddle tighter, and pulled harder through the water, as if quickening their pace might hasten the movement of time.
As they approached Garrett’s pier, Cadie dragged her paddle to slow down. The dock had the same gray-green mossy patina as the one at her own cottage, but Garrett had replaced several planks with new boards, giving the structure an unsettled, irregular appearance. New, yet still weighed down with the past.
The stone ledge, however, did not look the way she remembered. Taller, more severe. How had she scaled that wall as a girl? The foothold looked impossibly small. The house sat much closer to the ledge than she remembered. Maybe she had the wrong place.
But even from dozens of yards away, she could make out the white mineral vein arching through the granite. Her fingers curled tighter around her oar and her pulse sped up. The rush of her first kiss had become intertwined with the crack of the gunshot and smell of smoke. It had become impossible to revisit one memory without wading through the other.
“Why are you stopping?” Sal said.
“I need to drop something off at Garrett’s real quick.”
She pulled The Call of the Wild from her bag and sucked her cheeks in to suppress the schoolgirl flutter in her stomach. Sal cocked her head to one side and looked from the book to the pier to the rock wall and back to Cadie.
“This is Garrett’s house?” A slow grin spread across Sal’s face, and she pointed to the rock wall.
“What?”
“He’s that weird Summer Kid, isn’t he?” Sal’s eyes, which had looked so gloomy minutes earlier, sparkled in the sun.
“She told you about that?” Through Sal’s eyes, Cadie and Daniela were always the heroines of the story. Maybe Daniela had been trying to overwrite the truth, disentangle the terror from the moments of pure exhilaration.
“I wasn’t sure if that part was real either, but it’s him, isn’t it?” Sal stomped her feet on the bottom of the boat like a drum roll. “And you’re leaving him another book.”
“I will neither confirm nor deny that,” Cadie said, allowing the memory of adventure to flutter in.
“I knew it.” Sal squirmed like a child waiting to open a Christmas gift.
“Let’s drop this off on his pier.” Cadie tapped the cover of The Call of the Wild.
“Oh, no. There’s no way we are leaving the book on the pier,” Sal said. “It has to be on the rock ledge.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m too old to climb that wall,” Cadie said, although the surging adrenaline made her feel like she could scale a mountain without pausing.
“I’ll do it.” Sal guided the boat toward the rock wall.
Sweat soaked the back of Cadie’s shirt by the time they approached the shore. Thin white veins marred the granite face with jagged lines and deep fissures, simultaneously drawing Cadie close and pushing her away.
Sal jumped to her feet as they drifted into the shallows, causing the canoe to rock. She took The Call of the Wild from Cadie, tucked it into the waistband of her shorts, and splashed through the water. She grabbed at tree roots and found footholds with greater dexterity than young Cadie had.
The gentle arch in Sal’s back tugged on Cadie’s memory. “You’re just like her.”
Sal whipped her head around with a stern glare. “I am nothing like her.”
Cadie’s heart pounded in her throat, in her stomach, as Sal climbed higher, almost even with the white vein in the rock. Cadie saw her younger self scrambling up the rock wall with a wildness, a thirst, for something. An adventure. As she watched Sal, the sound of Cadie’s own heart grew so loud it seemed to come from outside her body, as if the heartbeat she heard belonged to someone else.
“Come down,” Cadie called to Sal. “I changed my mind. Please don’t go up there.”
“I’m fine.” Sal climbed higher.
“It’s not safe.” Please don’t go up there, Cadie begged her eleven-year-old self in a desperate hope that she could go back and undo it all. Please don’t go up there.
“Of course it’s safe.” Sal pulled the book from her shorts, left it on the ledge, and eased her way down backward, searching blindly for footholds.
Loose stones crunched and Sal slipped. Both feet lost their hold as she dangled from a tree root.
“Hold on. I’m coming.” Cadie stood up in the wobbly canoe.
“Geez, relax. I’m fine.” Sal clawed at the rock with her feet. She found a stable perch and eased herself back down.
“You’re bleeding,” Cadie said as Sal sloshed through the shallow water.
“It’s a scratch. Besides, lake water heals everything.” Sal splashed water on her knee and stood in the shallows with her feet apart, hands on her hips. “Now I’m in the story too.”
Cadie forced a smile. She did not want Sal to have any part in her nightmare.
“Can I read your research paper?” Cadie changed the subject after Sal got back in the boat.
“Maybe,” Sal said. “Let’s go to Blueberry Cove.”
As they approached the cove, Sal tilted her head back and breathed deeply through her open mouth with her tongue out.
“How does it taste?” Cadie said.
“Peach, maybe?”
“We should slow down a little.” Cadie looked for rocks lurking below the surface, but the sharp angle of the sun turned the water opaque.
“I’m right, you know,” Sal said.
“About what?”
“He likes you.”
Cadie dipped her hand into the water to splash Sal just as the boat lurched and tilted to one side. Cadie’s hip slammed into the wall of the boat. The bow, lodged on a submerged boulder that lifted it out of the water, wobbled and threatened to tip over.
“He watched you with googly eyes the whole dinner.”
“Are you going to help me?” Cadie pushed her paddle against the rock and the boat tilted precariously to one side.
“If you admit I’m right.” Sal tried to paddle backward, but the boat teetered.
“You should mind your own business.” Cadie inched toward the back of the boat to shift weight from the bow.
“God, you are so blushing.”
“I just met him yesterday.” Cadie wedged her oar against the rock and pushed hard. The boat broke free from the rock and Cadie fell backward on top of Sal.
“That’s not true. You’ve known him your whole life. It’s the most romantic story I’ve ever heard.” The rise and fall of Sal’s voice, her self-satisfied innuendos, sounded exactly like a young Daniela.
“But.” Sal’s voice turned sharp and she pulled away from Cadie. A cloud darkened the sky. “You better make sure he leaves my grandfather alone.”
21
PRESENT DAY
Sal remained silent as they paddled back to the Garcias’ house. More clouds amassed, but no rain would come of them.
“I told your mom I’d drive you to your tutoring thing at the rec center,” Cadie said as they pulled the canoe up onto the Garcias’ beach. “Do you need to change or anything?”
Sal looked down at her tank top and shorts. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Nothing,” Cadie stammered. “You look great. So, are you ready to go? Or do you want to eat firs
t?”
“I’ll eat later.” Sal walked past Cadie and up the stairs to the house.
“What are you getting tutored in? Math was always my worst subject,” Cadie said.
“I’m not getting tutored. I’m helping this kid who’s learning English as a second language. We have to do community service hours every semester.” Sal filled a water bottle in the kitchen and slipped on a pair of flip-flops. “But I’d do it even if I didn’t have to.”
Sal followed Cadie into the woods and down the path toward Cadie’s cottage. She hurried through the clearing, her skin prickling as she passed the flattened grass where she had ducked off-trail earlier that morning.
Sal slumped into the passenger seat and remained quiet as they drove toward town.
“I’ll walk you in,” Cadie said as she parked in front of the rec center.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I know. I’ll walk you in anyway.”
“Whatever.”
Inside the main room several men and women sat at tables working with teens and a few adults. Cadie ran toward a small boy, maybe nine years old, sitting alone at a table. He smiled when he saw Sal, who ruffled his hair and sat next to him.
“Cadie?” A woman’s voice startled her.
“Is that you, Claire?” Cadie gave Ryan’s younger sister an awkward wave.
Claire jogged a few steps with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Cadie Kessler, what on earth are you doing here?”
“Just visiting. I’m dropping Daniela’s daughter off for her.”
“Right. I forgot you two were friends. You never come home anymore.”
“What’s going on in here?”
“It’s an English as a second language program. We teach classes on weekends and the middle schoolers volunteer to practice reading with our students.”
“You run this?”
“No. A few families who used to work at Crittenden started this years ago. I just help.” Claire placed both hands on her hips and smiled broadly while she surveyed the room.
Last time Cadie had seen Claire she had been making out with some boy in the back of a pickup truck when they were teenagers. This Claire looked so together now, her hair in a neat ponytail, wearing a perfect pencil skirt and a tank top.
Cadie watched Sal, who smiled with animation as the boy read to her. A tall man with thinning hair stood behind Sal. A chill of familiarity shot up Cadie’s spine before she consciously recognized the figure.
Clyde.
The door to the rec center slammed and Cadie dropped her bag.
She looked around the room to see if anyone else noticed him there, to see if she could report him to anyone. But his presence didn’t seem to bother anyone. Surely Claire would notice him. Cadie looked back at Claire, who continued monitoring the room, unbothered that a murderer stood a few inches from Sal.
Clyde leaned over Sal’s shoulder and said something that made her laugh.
Cadie had always imagined Clyde lurking in shadows, hiding in dark alleys and empty parking lots. Not working a community center. How could he have stayed here? How could he get up each morning and walk down the streets of Cadie’s hometown? Arrogance. Lack of conscience. Maybe he was a sociopath. What other crimes had he committed while hiding in plain sight? The thought sent a chill up Cadie’s spine. If he had committed other crimes, Cadie was, in part, responsible. She could have turned him in years ago.
“Are your parents here too?” Claire said.
“What?” Cadie didn’t take her eyes off Clyde. “Excuse me for a minute.”
Clyde looked up and caught Cadie staring at him. His expression looked casual, and he nodded a greeting toward her, but within half a second, he recognized her and his demeanor changed. He froze. He didn’t blink. Even the muscles in his face didn’t twitch.
Cadie was clinging to the rock wall, falling, underwater, being pulled down. She couldn’t breathe. Or move. Her legs locked in place. Run toward him. Or run away. She couldn’t do either.
Sweat beaded up on Clyde’s forehead as he withdrew his hand from Sal’s chair and straightened his back.
As soon as he moved, Cadie’s legs unlocked and she walked, half running, toward Sal. Her footsteps on the linoleum echoed inside the metal-roofed building. Clyde moved quickly toward the back of the room. Cadie’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it might bruise her ribs.
“Cadie?” Sal called as she ran by.
She followed Clyde down a back hallway toward the bathrooms. The shadow in her dreams, the monster she feared most, stood in front of her. She felt outside of herself, as if this moment were part of a dream she would wake up from.
“You stay away from her,” she said to Clyde’s back as he moved toward the rear exit.
“I just work here. I don’t want any trouble,” he said.
The back door burst open and a middle-aged woman walked through. Clyde stepped to the side and nodded at her without making eye contact.
“Oh, Clyde.” The woman grabbed his elbow. “I’m so glad I caught you. You did such a great job with the landscaping out front. You spoil us.”
“Happy to help.” He looked down at his shoes.
The woman looked at Cadie, the anger and fear on Cadie’s face registering. The woman turned back to Clyde. “Everything okay here?”
Neither Cadie or Clyde answered.
“Holler if you need anything.” She patted his arm and looked sideways at Cadie.
“You’re a coward.” Cadie held her car key so it stuck out from between her fingers. The memory of Clyde pressing her up against the tree still dominated her nightmares. But in person, his scraggly hair and pasty skin gave him the appearance of someone she should pity, not fear.
Clyde nodded toward the key she clutched in a ready position and scowled at her.
The note she found in the tree, folded into a sharp square, pressed against her hip bone from her front pocket.
“Your threats don’t scare me anymore,” she said.
He shrugged as if her opinion of him did not matter in the slightest. His indifference seemed impossible. How could he change the course of her life, yet not fear the depth of her hate? The single overhead light in the otherwise dark hall cast shadows down Clyde’s face, darkening the pockmarks in his cheeks. Clyde coughed a wheezy hack, shuffled toward the exit, and let the door clang shut behind him.
Cadie’s hands shook as she powered up her phone to call Daniela. A stream of text messages, missed calls, and voicemails scrolled across the screen, but she didn’t look at any of them. She didn’t want to read any more about the grad students who had signed a petition in support of her access to public lands.
She dialed Daniela, but the call went straight to voicemail.
She walked back to Sal’s table with a fake smile. “Hey, something’s come up. I need to take you home early.”
“I’m not allowed to leave once I sign in. School rule. Plus, this is for community service credit. It’s not like I can just skip out.”
“I’ll talk to Claire. She knows me. It’ll be fine.”
“You don’t have the authority to sign me out, even if I wanted you to.” Sal turned to her reading partner and smiled. “Let’s do another chapter. We have plenty of time.”
Cadie called Daniela, but again went to voicemail. “Hey, call me. I’m at the rec center with Sal.” Cadie paused. “Clyde’s here. I’m not leaving Sal. Please call me. If you can’t get here, can you call to give Sal permission to leave with me?”
Cadie gnawed on her thumbnail, watching for Clyde, waiting for Daniela to call. She couldn’t be late to her committee review. If she left after dropping Sal off at home, she wouldn’t have time to meet with Thea before her presentation, but she could still make the hearing. Maybe.
Daniela texted a few minutes before Sal’s shift ended. I can’t leave the hospital. I emailed permission for you to pick her up when she’s done. Can you drive her home? Please don’t let her leave alone!
“You in town
long?” Claire walked over to Cadie.
“Just a couple of days. Do you know that man who was talking to Sal?”
“You know Fieldstone Landscaping? Best landscapers in town. He’s the owner. President of the Rotary too.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“He’s one of our biggest donors. He’s the only one who actually shows up in person. The rest just write checks. He’s kind of crusty on the outside. Not the greatest people skills, but he means well. And he speaks fluent Spanish, which is a help,” Claire said. “Are you looking for a landscaper? He did my parents’ place if you want a reference. They were real happy with the job.”
Clyde had a lot more at stake than she did. He must know why Cadie had returned to Maple Crest. He must know she wanted to expose him. And that made him dangerous.
“Hey, have you seen what’s happening in Hobson?” Claire said.
“Hobson? No, what?” Cadie didn’t have the mental energy for small talk. She kept her eye on Sal.
“A fire broke out last night. From what I hear it’s getting close to a housing development. They had to evacuate dozens of families.”
“Where’s the fire?” The news jolted thoughts of Clyde out of Cadie’s mind and filled her with a rush of hope that sprang from the soles of her feet straight to her chest. She predicted this. Her models. She had warned them.
“Over by the campground in the national forest. A campfire got out of control or something last night, and poof. What with this drought and all. It’s already partially contained, but still.” Claire made an exaggerated shudder. “That’s thirty miles from here. Way too close for comfort.”
Cadie swallowed the hope she felt stirring. Stop it, she chastised herself. But yet, there it was. Her chance.
“Wow, that’s too bad.” Cadie tried to sound concerned. The university couldn’t deny that Cadie had predicted this fire. The urgency of her findings had to outweigh the means by which she had acquired the data.
“I need to get back to work, but it was great seeing you. Tell your folks I said hi,” Claire said.
After Claire walked away, Cadie sifted through the barrage of texts and calls—all of them from Thea.
Waiting for the Night Song Page 17