Blind River: A Thriller

by Ben Follows

  “Anyway, lad,” said Robert, turning back to Curtis as he took a seat. “What’ll you have?”

  “A glass of whatever you’ve got on tap.”

  “You got it.” Robert got him glass of amber beer. He placed it on the bar in front of Curtis.

  Curtis took a sip. “You remember you used to slip us beers when we were teenagers? First beer I ever drank came from that fridge right over there.”

  “Oh, I remember, lad. Kids loved me.”

  “You still do that?" said Curtis. "You know any of the girls who disappeared?”

  “Nah, lad. Police wised up to what I was doing about eight years back. Got slapped with an enormous fine for serving alcohol to minors. Almost put me out of business. I'm not making that mistake again.”

  “That’s a shame," said Curtis.

  “I agree. I always figured it was better they get beers here than drugs somewhere else. How is the investigation to find those girls going? I really wish I could be more help.”

  “I’m not able to speak about that with people outside the investigation.”

  “Oh, that’s fine.” Robert seemed to have deflated, and Curtis felt guilty about his lack of information.

  “How’s Debra?” said Curtis.

  That seemed to deflate Robert ever more. “Oh, she passed a few years back, lad. Cancer is a rough thing. I’ve got my son to take care of the bar with me, otherwise I'd be at a loss.” Robert let out a weak, forced laugh, then sighed. “I’ve got to check on the other customers. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Robert retreated to the other side of the bar and started talking with one of the other patrons.

  Curtis sipped his beer and looked up at the screens, not absorbing anything. Somewhere in the background a door opened and closed.

  A figure blocked Curtis's view of the screen. It took him a second to focus on the man standing behind the bar.

  The man was in his mid-twenties. He had scars crisscrossing his forehead and underneath his tight shirt. He had both hands on the bar in front of him, and was staring at Curtis.

  “Hi, Bobby,” said Curtis, recognizing Robert’s son, “What’s up?”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” said Bobby. “Come with me.”

  Curtis sipped at the beer then followed Bobby to the end of the bar. Bobby led Curtis to a corner table out of earshot of the other patrons.

  Curtis took a seat opposite Bobby, making sure he had a few different avenues of escape if he needed it.

  Curtis said, “What do you want to talk to me about?”

  “Marino knows it was you," said Bobby.

  Curtis felt his heart skip a beat. “What?”

  “Marino knows it was you who ratted him out to the cops.”

  "How?”

  Bobby leaned in. “I was in that prison for a few months," he said. "DUI, robbery, stuff piled up. Everyone in there knows Marino has it out for an FBI agent who fucked him over. Thinking about one day killing you is what keeps Marino going. When he finds out you’re back in town, I wouldn’t want to be you.”

  Curtis tried to remain calm. “Why does he think I did it?”

  Bobby leaned back. “From what I hear, the moment he found out you were an FBI agent he put it together. Something about you being a paper boy and wearing a wire. I didn’t get all the details, but I'm sure Marino knows.”

  Curtis nodded and sipped at his beer. “Thanks for telling me. I appreciate it.”

  “Just remember this if I ever need anything,” said Bobby with a smirk. He stood and walked back to the bar.

  Curtis wondered what he was going to do about Marino. Marino still had connections in Blind River outside the prison, far more than Curtis had.

  Sam Marino had once tortured and killed a man who had threatened his growing empire.

  Curtis had destroyed that same empire.

  11

  Frankie arrived at the bar twenty minutes later and sat opposite Curtis.

  “We can safely assume Kelly Oberman isn’t a suspect,” she said.

  “Why?” said Curtis, looking at the empty glass in front of him.

  “She’s got an alibi, and I can’t see her doing it. She’s a mother, and she’s fought tooth and nail for those kids. She’s got quite a story. She opened up to me once you left. Might have been a woman thing. She got pregnant in her first year of University, and lived with her grandmother while she finished school. When her grandmother died, Kelly was given the house in her will. She raised Matt and Darcy there. They have different fathers, in case you were wondering."

  Curtis nodded. “She has an alibi?”

  “She was at volleyball practice the night Darcy disappeared. We’ll check but it’s probably bullet proof.”

  “What about the fathers?”

  “I sent their info to the FBI to check them out, but Kelly doesn’t suspect them. Neither has any connection with their child.”

  “Any suspects?” Curtis said as he waved down Robert and held his glass in the air.

  Robert pointed at Frankie and gave her a questioning glance. She shook her head.

  “No suspects yet,” said Frankie, turning back to Curtis. “We need to start looking through the list of suspects Monica and Trevor put together. The butterfly hairclip is the only physical evidence. We might need to wait for another kidnapping.”

  Robert brought Curtis’s beer and asked Frankie again if she wanted anything.

  “A glass of water would be great,” she said.

  “Coming right up.”

  Robert returned with Frankie’s water. Curtis waited for him to be out of earshot before continuing the conversation.

  “The kidnapper must know that the FBI is here," he said.

  “If this guy could stop, he’d have stopped after Ashley Hagerty," said Frankie. "How long would it have taken before people realized she hadn’t run away from home? Weeks? Months? That’s enough time to completely uproot a life and start somewhere else. Someone else is going to get kidnapped. This guy isn’t done yet. That’s why we need to speak at the school.”

  Curtis nodded. “There’s no other way?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “If the girls are still alive," said Curtis, "we need to be doing everything in our power to find them.”

  “We’ll find them," said Frankie, "one way or another.”

  Curtis nodded, although he didn’t share Frankie’s optimism. There were too many cases where they hadn’t found the victims, where the perpetrator was never caught, and where the families never got closure.

  “So, tell me about this sibling of yours who disappeared,” said Frankie.

  Curtis looked away. With Bobby’s declaration about Marino, he had forgotten what happened at the Obermans' house.

  “His name was Josh,” said Curtis. “He disappeared twenty-five years ago, without a trace. He went to bed one night, and the next morning he wasn’t there. The window wasn’t open, there was nothing to indicate force had been used. He left of his own free will, and never came back. I was ten at the time. Josh was sixteen. I always assumed it was Marino’s fault, that Josh had been working for him without us knowing and something had gone south.”

  Frankie nodded. “Is that why you--?”

  “Why I joined the FBI or why I wore the wire to catch Marino?”

  Frankie shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

  Curtis shrugged. “Yeah."

  “The police never found anything to suggest what happened to Josh?”

  “No.”

  “So he could have run away? He could still be alive?”

  Curtis nodded. “I haven’t heard anything from him. Twenty-five years, Frankie. We weren’t close, but we were brothers. It’s easier to assume he’s dead.”

  Frankie looked at him for a moment, then checked her watch. “We need to get to dinner. Thank you for telling me this.”

  “Are you going to tell Johnson? He doesn’t know that part of it.”

  Frankie stood and dropped a few bills on the t
able. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Let me know when you do.”

  “I will.”

  Curtis waved to Robert as they exited the bar and walked out to their new car. Frankie explained she had dropped off Matt and Joe at the station and taken the new car Chief Tucker had supplied to them so they wouldn't have to use his car anymore.

  As they left the downtown area, Curtis muttered, “I should never have come back.”

  “You can leave anytime,” said Frankie. “I’m sure Johnson would understand.”

  Curtis looked out the window at the houses passing by. They were headed to his fathers for dinner, the first such dinner in almost two decades.

  “No, let’s finish this," he said. "The house on the right here.”

  12

  The house was modest with a small yard. Monica’s car was already in the driveway.

  Curtis knocked on the door of his childhood home. It occurred to him as they stood on the porch that his primary reason for coming to this dinner, to find out if his father knew about his involvement in Marino's arrest, had become irrelevant since his conversation with Bobby Randall.

  He reached down and slipped his wedding ring off his finger. It wasn’t a topic he wanted to cover tonight. There were too many questions. He wondered momentarily if Monica had already noticed the ring.

  Monica opened the door and they stepped inside.

  “Dad’s in the living room,” said Monica. “He wants to see you.”

  Trevor was sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper. He nodded to Curtis when he saw him.

  Curtis returned the nod and walked into the living room. Gordon Mackley was sitting on the couch, watching a baseball game. He looked well for a man nearing seventy-five. He had had his children late in life, after he had already established himself as a force to be reckoned with in the Blind River Police Department. Only Josh had been born before he became chief.

  “Hey, Dad,” said Curtis.

  There was no reply.

  “Dad?”

  “He doesn’t respond too well anymore,” said Monica, stepping up beside him. She had a somber expression. “Here, I’ll get him to talk to you.”

  Monica walked in front of the television, blocking their father's view of the game. “Dad? Curtis is here to see you.”

  “Curtis?” said Gordon.

  “Your son.”

  “Josh?”

  “No, Curtis.”

  Curtis stepped beside her. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Yes, of course I remember Curtis," said Gordon. "How are you doing?”

  Curtis stepped forward and hugged his father. The returned hug was hesitant and uncertain, as though he wasn’t sure Curtis was real.

  “You look good, Dad,” said Curtis.

  “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself," said Gordon. "How’s your brother?”

  Curtis looked at Monica, who shook her head. He turned back and said, “he’s doing fine.”

  “Good, very good. Good to see you.”

  Curtis nodded and left him to watch the game.

  He walked with Monica to the kitchen, where Frankie and Trevor were having a conversation about the kidnappings. Trevor was explaining their list of suspects, and about how they had too many. It was currently 200 people long, and none of the suspects stood out.

  “So, what’s up with him?” said Curtis as he took his seat, nodding to his father.

  “Age-induced Dementia and Alzheimer’s,” said Monica, taking her seat. “Nothing particularly unusual, according to the doctors. He’s just old.”

  “Are they still taking care of him?”

  Monica sighed. “I’m paying for a nurse to visit a few times a day most of the week. I’m here on the weekends. He’s still able to take care of himself. His habits are fine. It’s the details he can’t remember. The gaps in his memory are random and inconsistent. Some days he remembers Josh, sometimes he doesn’t.”

  Curtis nodded, unsure what to say.

  “Don’t say anything, Curtis,” said Monica. “You’ve done enough damage already just by not being here.”

  Monica stood and walked to the stove, where dinner, steak and potatoes, was cooking.

  Curtis sighed. “Do you know where we’re staying tonight?”

  “For tonight,” said Trevor, breaking into the conversation, “you’re staying at Monica’s. We’ll try to get something set up for tomorrow night, but the motels are booked and my house is too small.”

  “No problem,” said Curtis.

  Dinner was served.

  Monica led Gordon into the kitchen to his seat. They spoke about the case, throwing ideas back and forth only to have Monica and Trevor shoot them down, saying they’d already thought of that.

  Almost every criminal within a fifty-mile radius had no motive, and the few who might had alibis. They kept coming back to the simple fact that the culprit probably had no motive. Rather, he was doing it out of some sick urge.

  Frankie to use the bathroom and stopped by the kitchen on the way back. “Anyone want a drink?”

  “I’ll have a beer,” said Curtis. Monica held up 2 fingers to indicate she wanted one as well.

  “Trevor?” said Frankie.

  He shook his head. “Just water. I quit drinking.”

  Frankie nodded. “Good for you.”

  “Where’s Barb?” said Gordon as Frankie sat down and handed out the drinks. After almost half an hour of silence and playing with the food on his plate, Gordon Mackley was looking for the woman who had died three decades prior. “Barb?”

  Monica laid a hand on his arm. “She’s gone, Dad. remember?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Gordon, looking around, “I thought she was here. Never mind.” He continued to look around, as though unsure if it was all a big joke. “How’s Nate?” he said after a moment.

  “He’s fine,” said Monica.

  “Why isn’t he here?”

  “We broke up, Dad.”

  “Who’s Nate?” said Curtis.

  “Her ex-husband,” said Trevor.

  Curtis frowned. “You were married?”

  Monica pinched the bridge of her nose and let out an exasperated breath. “Nate Williams. You remember him?”

  “Yeah, he was a football player. I remember him.”

  Trevor glared at Curtis.

  “We got married after two months of dating," said Monica. "He works at the prison, and I happened to be there a lot. It was a mistake. We got divorced after six months. That’s all there is to it.”

  “If you say so,” said Trevor, making eye contact with Curtis.

  Monica turned to her brother. “Curtis, is there anyone in your life?”

  Curtis picked up some steak with his fork. He put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Yeah, we’ve been together for a while. Her name is Melanie.”

  “Is it serious?”

  Curtis put his right hand into his pocket, playing with the wedding ring there. The detectives must have noticed it earlier in the day. He could feel Frankie watching him. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. “Maybe.”

  Frankie exhaled and looked at him, but said nothing.

  “I liked Nate!” said Gordon loudly, as though making sure he would be heard.

  13

  Frankie Lassiter had missed her morning workout due to their flight and was feeling antsy. When dinner finished, she stood and offered to clear the plates off the table as an excuse to move a bit. She'd never understood why people enjoyed sitting.

  She did a few dishes until Monica came up behind her and kicked her back to the table.

  On her way back through the house, she walked through the hallway adjacent to the bathroom. Pictures hung on both sides of the hall dating back decades.

  Frankie found herself moving backwards through time as she walked through the hall. The most recent picture depicted Curtis graduating from the police academy with Gordon and Monica in tow.

  As she moved down the wall she went through high school, where
they’d played multiple sports. Monica played for Kelly Oberman's soccer team one year.

  About halfway through the hall, another person joined the family, seemingly out of nowhere. The picture depicted a summer camping trip, with the Mackleys sitting around a fire pit. Curtis was about ten and Monica was a few years younger. Gordon, clear-eyed and smiling, stood nearby.

  Josh Mackley looked to be around twenty. He had long brown hair and tattoos running down his arms. He looked happy and unbothered, yet this was the last picture of him before he disappeared into thin air.

  She continued moving down the wall, into the past, where Josh was present in every photo and at every major life event which the Mackleys had experienced. When Curtis was around five, a woman--Frankie assumed this must be Barbara--joined the group, then it ended when Monica was being held in her mother’s arms.

  Frankie wondered what had happened to Barbara. Curtis had never mentioned his mother; then again, he hadn’t mentioned his family at all until they had arrived in Blind River.

  “Frankie?”

  She turned. Trevor was standing at the end of the hallway.

  “We’re going to get going,” said Trevor. “I just wanted to let you know in case you needed directions. Curtis knows where he's going.” He looked at the wall, then walked up to her. “It’s strange, isn’t it? I always found it a little odd they kept all these pictures on the wall, like they’re clinging to the past.”

  “What do you think happened to Josh?” said Frankie. “You’ve lived here your entire life. you must have known him.”

  Trevor looked up at the wall. “Not personally. The first I heard of him was when he disappeared. Chief’s son disappeared and the town was helpless to do anything about it. It was the first time people understood how powerful Marino had become. As to what happened, my guess is no better than anyone else’s. Monica doesn’t talk about it and I’ve never gone through the old files.”

  “Curtis seems concerned about Marino. Is there any credence to that?”