“No.”
Why would he have left his own case file behind?
“Then I didn't tell you about what happened after the visit, either, did I?”
Why? Walt wondered. With the tip of his shoe, he tried unsuccessfully to flip the title page back, before what Teri had been saying to him gradually came home full force. He looked up.
“No. What's going on, Teri?”
“It's been crazy.” She went on to tell him what Childs had said in their first visit, and how they had run into Mitch and his friends outside the doctor's office when they were leaving. She told him about the accident and about hiding out in the mall and about showing up at the apartment and finding the mess there. Then she told him about how they had dropped by to see Dr. Childs a second time and how they had gone in the back way. All of that came out of her matter-of-factly, then suddenly she choked and the words had to fight their way free. “He says there's something wrong with him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dr. Childs—he seems to think there's something wrong with the boy.”
“What exactly did he have to say?”
“Apparently, Gabe's got this disease that's something like progeria. I think the medical term is Hutchinson-Gilford Syndrome. At least that's what the doctor says. And what it does, well, I'm not completely sure what it does. But what happens in the end is these children, their systems, they start aging much faster than they're supposed to.”
“They grow old?”
“I think it's fairly rare. At least that's the way I understand it.”
“And the boy has it?”
“That's what the doctor said.”
“He's certain?”
“Yeah. He seemed to be.”
“Oh Christ, Teri, I don't know what to say. I mean...” Walt closed his eyes, wishing there were something that would come to mind, something that could take away the sting she had to be feeling. He had never been any good at this kind of thing. And he had never felt any clumsier than he did at this moment. “Did the doctor say anything else? I mean anything about a cure or maybe a way they could delay the effects?”
“No. I didn't hear anything like that. He wanted to keep Gabe under observation, though. Just to be on the safe side.” Her voice fell to just above a whisper and Walt thought she was close to tears. “I'm scared, Walt. I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose him. I just got him back.”
“I know.”
“I want to do what's best for him.”
“You will, Teri.”
“I love him so much.”
“I know you do. And believe me, he knows it, too.” Walt sank to the floor, wishing they were face-to-face and not talking over the phone like this. “We need to get together, Teri.”
“Yeah, I'd like that.”
“Any place you'd like to meet?”
“Somewhere public. I'm feeling a little paranoid these days.”
“You've earned the right. How about the plaza outside City Hall, the west side, with the statue and the fountain? You know where that is?”
“I think so.”
“In an hour?” Walt asked. He glanced at his watch. It was already a little after three in the afternoon. That would give him enough time to finish straightening up the apartment and maybe stop off to get something for dinner tonight before he had to meet her. The apartment was still the safest place for them to stay until things settled down again.
“Yeah, that sounds fine.”
“Good, I'll see you then.”
“Thanks, Walt. I don't know who else I could have turned to.”
“See you around four.”
He dropped the receiver back in its cradle, and dug the rest of the phone out from beneath the pillow. He grabbed the lamp off the table next to the door in the same swoop, and placed them both back on the night-stand, where he had kept them in easy reach since the first day he had moved into the apartment. The bed sheets had been torn off the mattress and scattered around the room as if a tornado had picked them up and toyed with them before dropping them back to earth again. He tossed the blankets off to one side and gathered up the sheets and pillow cases for the laundry.
There were two things gnawing at him as he carried the sheets into the living room and dropped them at the foot of the entryway. First was Dr. Childs. He had never met the man, of course, but Walt didn't like the idea that Mitch and his friends had showed up right outside the good doctor's office. And he didn't like the sudden diagnosis, either. It just didn't feel right. So try as he may—knowing that Teri trusted in the man—Walt just couldn't seem to bring himself to feel the same way.
The other thing doing some gnawing was the case file Walt had found on the floor in the bedroom. Boyle's file. That hadn't been an accident. Boyle never would have left it behind unless he had wanted it found.
Walt made his way back into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway long enough to wonder how things had suddenly become so complicated. Because if life was anything, it was complicated. Anyone who believed different had to be sleepwalking. Just make do, he told himself. Things will settle down again. He stood the dresser up and maneuvered it back against the wall where it belonged, and wondered once again why Boyle had left his case file behind.
Some things just didn't make sense.
[57]
Teri hung up the phone and leaned against the side of the booth. She had used the middle booth in a line of five at the Sun Country Bus Depot. Through the glass, she watched a Greyhound bus pull out of the station, turn into the nearest lane of traffic and disappear down the avenue.
The boy was sitting on a bench across from the telephone booth, where she could keep a watchful eye on him. He hadn't been doing his best today. He was running a slight fever and feeling a little sluggish, and some of that sluggishness had come through loud and clear in his behavior. Having him sit in a bus station, inhaling noxious fumes while she made her phone call, wasn't going to help matters any.
Teri forced a smile and waved to him.
He waved back, halfheartedly.
Almost instantly at that moment, she realized something that had been brewing inside her for several days now. She was beginning to hate all of this. She hated being on the run and the loneliness it left her feeling. And she hated dragging the boy around from place to place as if they were homeless and had nowhere else to go. Above and beyond all that, she didn't like what they were doing to Walt.
You aren't doing anything to him.
Yes, they were.
They were dropping all their problems in his lap like a sack of hot potatoes. Here, I don't know what to do with this. See what you can do. It felt... slimy. Though maybe it only felt that way because she didn't like depending so heavily on anyone, much less someone she cared about. That was something Teri thought she had overcome after Michael had moved out. But here it was, back again, like a dirty little secret that just won't die.
No, she didn't like any of this.
And yet... what could she do about it?
[58]
Boyle climbed out of the car and crossed around the back of Sarah's Volvo to the driver's door. The bitch had already gotten out. She had glanced around, looking almost directly at him—in fact, right through him, it seemed—and then had crossed the parking lot and disappeared inside one of them beauty parlor places, this one called Jenny's.
Boyle pulled a knife out of his pocket, pressed a button, and the blade flipped open. He stuck it into the door lock, jiggled it a bit, without success, and realized she hadn't locked the car. That was just like her. Never took proper care of things. Never. Didn't have no appreciation for how expensive things were. He opened the door and climbed in, the scent of her strong and pleasing.
“Miss me, babe?” he said to her ghost. “Oh, I bet you did. Bet you missed me something awful.”
He checked the glove compartment, nosing around for the sake of nosing around. There wasn't much there. Registration. Proof of insurance. Some maps. A bottle of Mydol.
“Jesus, woman, you haven't changed much, have you? Thought you were supposed to be going through some sort of growth ex-per-i-ence.”
That was the line she had used the night she had asked him to move out. Something 'bout how she was growing and changing and a bunch of crap like that, and how he was still the same old Richard Boyle she had married, hadn't done no growing at all and probably wasn't ever going to do none. He'd beat the living daylights out of her that night, put the fear of the fist in her, and for a long time afterward things had settled back to the way they had always been. Then some damn lawyer got his hands on her, and before Boyle realized it, he'd been locked out of the house.
You don't lock a man out of his own house.
You just don't do that.
Not unless you want trouble.
Boyle stuck the working end of the knife into the passenger seat and ran the blade across the upholstery, first one way, and then the other. “How's that for an ex-per-ience, bitch? Huh? That good enough for you?”
He did the same thing to the back seats, then took a photograph out of his shirt pocket and set it up on the dashboard where it wouldn't be missed. The photo was of Garrett and Christy. It had been taken at the old place, in the living room, the night that Garrett had graduated from the sixth grade. The kids were sittin' in front of the fireplace, smiling like they'd just lifted a couple of candy bars from the corner market. Their mama was supposed to be sittin' next to them, but that part of the picture was lying in the trash where it belonged.
“They're mine now. Ain't it a kick how things come around?”
The kids... they were up in Oregon for the time being, staying with a friend of their grammy 'til he could move 'em out of state, maybe down to Arizona or New Mexico. Cops had been all over the place after he'd taken 'em, but it hadn't lasted long. They had what an old fisherman would say was the smarts of a large-mouth bass... if the bait ain't right in front of 'em, they ain't gonna notice it. Things had quieted down some since then. The kids would be okay where they was, as long as he didn't leave 'em there long. In the meantime, their mama had a little something to remember them by.
“An eye for an eye, woman. You took my life; I take yours.”
Boyle climbed out of the car, closed the door, and glanced across the parking lot at the big picture window across the front of the beauty parlor. In the glare of the sun, he couldn't see past the lettering that advertised a month-long perm special. It didn't matter none. He'd delivered the message. Next move was hers. She just better make sure it was a move she could live with.
[59]
Teri had never spent much time at the plaza outside City Hall, though she had passed by it on a number of occasions on her way to the police department. She had passed by it, but she had never really paid it much attention.
The plaza was open and airy and a step-down from the government buildings that surrounded it on all sides. The light-colored stone forming the outer walls and the walkway made for an uneven surface that was intriguing to the eye. Young junipers lined the east and west sides. In the middle, stood a huge fountain with water running over the edges in a clear, perfectly-formed sheet. A statue of one of the city's founding fathers stood at the edge of the fountain. The plaque at the base of the statue read: Dedicated to Horace Gunthurman. 1917. If a little knowledge is dangerous, where is the man who has so much as to be out of danger?
Maybe he wasn't a founding father after all, Teri thought as she read the inscription. Maybe he was the town librarian or someone like that.
She sat down at the edge of the fountain, just outside the afternoon shadow of the statue. Gabe sat down next to her. In her mind, he had finally crossed that invisible line from being “the boy” to being her son. This was Gabe, and she believed in him as much as she was ever going to believe in him. Blue-green eyes and all. He smiled, still feeling a bit sluggish. Teri held the back of her hand against his forehead, and thought it felt cooler out here in the cool air and the slight breeze.
“Mom...”
“Just checking.”
He squinted at her, and shaded his eyes from the sun. “When's Mr. Travis supposed to be here?”
“At four,” she said.
“What time is it now?”
She checked her watch. It was twenty-five minutes after three. If they had waited for the next bus, they would have arrived a little after four, and Teri had been worried that she might miss their connection with Walt. In that case, better late than never might actually have proven to be dangerous. She hadn't wanted to take that chance.
“We're a little early,” she said.
The plaza was deserted, except for two men in business suits who were sitting on a bench across the way. She glanced in their direction and made note of the fact that they didn't seem to be doing anything. They didn't seem to be sitting there for any other reason than to be sitting there.
(and maybe to be watching)
She did a slow check of their surroundings, feeling a sway of relief to find that no one appeared to be guarding the exits. Still, uneasiness had settled in around her and she didn't like it much. She stood up, stretched, and started to stroll around the edge of the fountain.
“Mom?”
“Just stretching.”
“How much longer?”
“It'll be awhile yet.”
Across the way, one of the men stood up, then sat down again. They looked like little soldiers, waiting for orders, waiting for the next move in a deadly game of cat and mouse. Teri didn't like it. She didn't like the feeling that was growing inside her, either.
“Gabe?”
He glanced up from the water, where he had begun to set ripples into motion with his hand, one after the other.
“What do you say we take a little walk? It'll make the time go faster.”
“Sure.” He pulled his hand out of the water, shook it off, and hopped down from the edge of the fountain. It was as lively as he had been all day and Teri silently prayed that he was finally feeling better. “Where do you wanna go?”
“I don't know. Where would you like to go?”
“How about...” He did a little spin, one-hundred and eighty degrees, his arm stretched out like a compass needle, and when he stopped, he was pointing directly at the men on the bench. Only they weren't sitting on the bench now. They had stood up, like two curious wolves, and were beginning to pace.
“... there,” Gabe said.
“How about if we try this way instead?” She took him by the arm, none too gently, and pushed him ahead of her around the fountain toward the opposite exit. It seemed as if she had been pushing him in one direction or another from the moment he had shown up on her doorstep, and she hoped he would indulge her awhile longer without too much of a fuss.
“Where are we going?”
“Let's make it an adventure.”
She glanced over her shoulder. There was no more pretending about who they were or why they were here. The two men had stopped their pacing and had watched for a moment, and now they were suddenly in a full sprint. They quickly closed half the distance between them and her, and she realized with a complete sense of terror that there was no way she was going to be able to out run them.
“Mrs. Knight!”
In a panic, Teri shoved Gabe to keep him in front of her.
“Who's that?” he asked.
“He's not a friend; I can tell you that.”
“Please, Mrs. Knight!”
They made it to the stone steps at the far end, where they had originally come down. Gabe grabbed onto the railing and pulled himself up, two steps at a time. Right behind him, Teri kept her hand in the small of his back. She thought she could hear herself whimpering, and silently cussed herself for not being stronger when it was most needed. Sometimes it seemed as if she only had so much strength left to draw upon.
“Mom?”
“Just keeping moving, Gabe. Please.”
“But, Mom...”
Hearing the disturbing tone in his voice, Teri lo
oked up and was surprised to discover two more men standing at the top of the stairs, the sun their backdrop. They were dressed in dark suits, white shirts, ties, and sunglasses, and they were standing side by side. The exit was completely blocked.
The man on the left took the first step down and pulled a badge out of his breast pocket. “FBI, Mrs. Knight.”
“What?”
“Your lives are in danger. We'd like you to come with us, if you would.”
[60]
Walt glanced up from Boyle's file at the clock on the night stand and was surprised to see it was already a quarter to four. He had picked the file up off the floor with the intent of putting it away, but then he had sat down on the bed and started thumbing through the pages.
It surprised him to discover that the initiating date on the file was May 27th of last year. That was the anniversary of his father's death. In all the turmoil, Walt had somehow never made that connection before. He supposed that was because he had still been dealing with the death at that time. Even though two years had passed by then, he still often found himself regretful of things never said, questions never asked. The third anniversary was coming up shortly. He made a mental note to visit his father's graveside. It was the least a son could do. No matter what the relationship they might have had together.
Sarah Boyle. She was Richard's ex-wife, the one who had made the initial inquiry about hiring Walt to find her children. The police, she had said, had been of little or no help. They hadn't seemed the least bit interested, she said, and Walt understood that better than most. He had been part of it in his own time.
Richard Boyle was a man she never should have married. She was young, she said, and not as wise as maybe she should have been. Perhaps even more telling was the fact that her parents had taken such an immediate dislike to Richard. That had been all Sarah needed to love him all the more.
What they said about love being blind, well, that was truer than most such sayings. At the ripe old age of twenty, Richard had already done his fair share of prison time. He had been convicted of auto theft on two separate occasions, and once for manslaughter when a fight broke out at a pool hall and he struck the man over the head with a cue.
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