by Rick Mofina
* * *
Alone in the boardroom, Cal and Faith stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows taking in the breathtaking view of Chicago’s skyline and Lake Michigan.
“It’s surreal.” Faith touched a tissue to her eyes. “Don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“Standing here, not knowing where Gage is, police pushing us to take a lie-detector test.” She turned to him. “I’m so scared, Cal. What will they ask us? What if things go wrong?”
Cal searched her eyes, unsure of what they held. “We just have to tell the truth to keep them focused on searching for Gage and whoever took him.”
Tears rolled down her face.
“Why didn’t you let me hold his hand?”
“Faith. Please.”
“Why was it so important that I not hold his hand?”
“What the hell are you implying?”
“If I was holding his hand, he’d be with us right now.”
“Are you trying to blame me for this?”
She turned away.
Cal shook his head. “Jesus, I don’t believe you.”
A knock sounded at the door and a moment later Cal and Faith were back in Gina’s office.
“The FBI said no to a private polygraph,” she said. “They won’t accept the results. They want you back in River Ridge to undergo testing with their polygraph guy as soon as possible.”
“So what do we do now?” Faith asked.
“I’ll lay it out for you,” Gina said. “While the FBI may say the polygraph is routine, a tool to clear you, you must assume that for whatever reason, to them, you could remain suspects. Okay? The stakes are very high.”
She looked hard at Faith, then Cal, before continuing.
“Now, submitting to the test is voluntary. It’s your right to refuse. But there are pros and cons,” Gina said. “Agreeing to the FBI polygraph clearly shows that you’re working with them, that you’re willing to do whatever is needed to find Gage—you’re cooperating with the investigation.”
Cal and Faith nodded.
“However, as you know, the results are not admissible in court, but any statements you make while under testing can be used against you. Anything that arises from the test could drive their investigation in a new direction. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Cal said.
“The results, no matter if you pass or fail, will not guarantee that they will cease considering you a suspect, unless new evidence surfaces.”
“Yes, we get that,” Cal said.
“If you exercise your right to refuse a polygraph, there’s a good chance your refusal could be leaked to the press and the public would know. This will stigmatize you in the court of public opinion. It creates the impression you have something to hide, while any innocent concerned parent would take a polygraph in a heartbeat to find their child.”
After Gina allowed the Hudsons a moment to absorb what she’d presented, Faith spoke up. “I think we should do it.”
Gina looked at her, then at Cal.
“Do you agree?” Gina asked him.
He nodded. “Let’s do it and get it over with.”
“All right, then. I’ll call Agent Malko.”
27
River Ridge, Illinois
“All set?”
FBI Agent Larson Ward double-checked the contacts of the sensors connecting his polygraph system to Cal Hudson.
“Remember, I expect you to be nervous, that’s okay. Breathe normally and consider this a conversation where you only answer yes or no.”
Cal nodded and took in the small meeting room at River Ridge police headquarters from his comfortable chair facing a painting of a beach lined with palm trees Ward had put up to help him relax.
Earlier, Ward, a soft-spoken, bookish man with frameless glasses, had taken Cal privately through the phases of the exam: the pretest interview, when he’d asked about Cal’s physical and mental state, then the discussion of Gage’s disappearance. Afterward, he’d explained how the polygraph worked.
Ward said that the sensors he’d connected to Cal’s heart and fingertips would measure his respiratory activity, galvanic skin reflex, blood, pulse rate, breathing and perspiration; that his responses to his questions would be recorded on a moving chart on Ward’s large laptop.
The FBI polygraphist would later analyze the results and give the investigators one of three possible answers: Cal Hudson was truthful, Cal Hudson was untruthful or the results for Cal Hudson were inconclusive.
Cal was familiar with lie detectors. He’d taken a polygraph exam previously for a crime feature he’d written about the process.
Now, set to begin, he thought of Faith, isolated in another room waiting her turn as he struggled to harness his emotions and remain calm. Still, he couldn’t keep from thinking of all aspects of the process, how even confirmed liars are willing to take the test, how the only people who try to beat it are those who are untruthful. Cal knew the research showed that the technology was accurate about ninety percent of the time; that people tested tell the truth about sixty percent of the time and lie thirty percent of the time; and that test results were usually inconclusive ten percent of the time.
Yes, Cal knew more about the process than most people. But none of it mattered now.
No, not when I’m sitting here wired to a lie detector and the FBI’s read me my Miranda rights, and two detectives, two FBI agents and my lawyer are sitting behind me. Days ago we were a family at the fair. Now Gage is missing. The clock’s ticking on his life. And they suspect me.
“Here we go, Cal,” Ward said. “Are you relaxed?”
Cal took in a long, slow breath and nodded.
“Do you intend to answer my questions truthfully?”
“Yes.”
“Is your name Calvin Hudson?”
“Yes.”
“Are you married to Faith Hudson?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a son, Gage?”
“Yes.”
“Is Gage missing?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where Gage is now?”
Cal swallowed hard and hesitated.
Ward’s eyes were fixed on his laptop’s screen and the graphs.
“Cal, do you know where Gage is now?”
“No.”
“Do you know what happened to Gage?”
“No.”
“Do you know how Gage came to be missing?”
“No.”
“Did you conspire with anyone to cause Gage to disappear?”
“No.”
“Do you suspect anyone directly of taking Gage?”
“I think it was a midway worker, or maybe—”
“Cal, please answer yes or no.”
Cal nodded.
“Do you suspect a person or persons directly of taking Gage?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever abused Gage?”
“No.”
“Are you aware of any abuse of Gage in your home?”
“No.”
“Has Gage ever expressed or indicated he’d been abused by anyone?”
“No.”
“Are you employed at the Chicago Star-News newspaper?”
“Yes.”
“Are you employed as a reporter?”
“Yes.”
“Do you report on crime for the newspaper?”
“Yes.”
“Have you reported on child abductions?”
“Yes.”
“Do you possess above-average knowledge of police investigative procedures and tactics?”
“Yes.”
“Are you involved in Gage’s disappearance?”
Cal swallowed. “No.”
“Do you
know how your son’s shoe came to be in a Dumpster at Emerson Plaza?”
“No.”
“Have you had any dealings with the people or businesses at Emerson Plaza?”
“Yes.”
“Did you mislead police earlier when you denied having dealings with businesses at Emerson Plaza?”
“No, I didn’t remember, that’s all.”
“Yes or no, Cal.”
“No.”
“Did you purchase a chain and lock at Emerson Plaza several weeks before your son’s disappearance?”
“Yes.”
“Other than for locking up your son’s team’s baseball equipment at the ball park, was there any other intended use for the chain and lock?”
“No.”
“Did you know that investigation has determined that the chain and lock are not in use at the ball park?”
“No.”
“Do you know the location of the chain and lock now?”
“No.”
“Was Faith with you when you purchased the chain and lock?”
“Yes.”
“Was she in the store?”
“No.”
“Was she in the car?”
“Yes.”
“Was she aware of the intended purpose of the chain and lock?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know why she was crying in the car at the time you purchased the chain and lock?”
Cal hesitated. “Yes.”
“Was it because you were arguing?”
“Yes.”
“Were you arguing about the chain and lock?”
“No.”
“Were you arguing about Gage?”
“No.”
“Were you arguing about your relationship?”
“Yes.”
“Are you happy in your marriage?”
Cal took a moment. “It’s complicated.”
“Yes or no. Are you happy in your marriage?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“Have you ever lied to Faith?”
Cal blinked quickly and looked to the ceiling. “Yes.”
“Have you ever been unfaithful to Faith?”
“No.”
“Have you had sexual relations with another person who is not your wife while married to your wife?”
“No.”
“Do you trust Faith?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Faith has ever abused Gage?”
“No.”
“Do you think your wife has the potential to harm your son?”
“No.”
“Has your wife ever been unfaithful to you?”
“No.”
“Do you think your wife is honest?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think your wife is deceitful?”
Cal swallowed hard. “No.”
“Do you think your wife is involved in Gage’s disappearance?”
“No.”
“Do you know of anyone who may have reason or cause to take Gage?”
“No.”
“Is the name Beth Gibson familiar to you?”
“Yes.”
“Did she call you recently?”
“Yes.”
“Had she ever called you before?”
“No.”
“Did you meet her at a River Ridge community meeting?”
“Maybe, I don’t remember, I—”
“Yes or no.”
“Yes.”
“Do you know why she used an untraceable phone and called Jack Thompson to reach you?”
“No.”
“Did you know our investigation shows that no one named Beth Gibson is listed on tax records, voter registration or Illinois state driving records is residing in River Ridge, or any of the surrounding communities?”
“No.”
“Did Beth Gibson call to wish you well in the search for Gage?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ask to speak with Faith?”
“No.”
“Did Beth Gibson raise any other subjects in your conversation?”
Cal hesitated. “No.”
“Is Beth Gibson involved in Gage’s disappearance?”
“No.”
“Do you have reason to suspect Beth Gibson is involved in Gage’s disappearance?”
“No.”
“Have you provided investigators all the information they should have in order to pursue Gage’s whereabouts?”
Cal inhaled and licked his lips. “Yes.”
“Are you withholding any information from investigators about your life or activities, past or present, that may have a bearing on Gage’s disappearance?”
“No.”
“Are you being truthful, Cal?”
Cal froze.
Are you telling me the truth, son?
Time stood still and Cal was a kid again, a teenager going out on night calls with his dad, who operated his own towing business. It was his dad’s dream that he take over and Cal told him it was his dream, too. But over time, Cal realized he didn’t want that life, recalling his dad’s big callused hands, the dirt under his fingernails, his perpetual back problems and chasing after people to pay him. When they went to car wrecks, Cal would be fascinated with the reporters who sometimes arrived on scene. One night, on a long drive home from an accident, Cal’s father started talking about Cal’s future and the business. That’s when Cal told his father that he wanted to be a journalist.
“So all this time you lied to me, letting me think you were going to take over.”
“Dad, I’m sorry.”
“Are you sure you don’t want the business? Is that how you feel? Are you telling me the truth, son?”
“Yes, Dad.”
His old man gazed out the window for a long time without speaking. The next day he told Cal he understood, but Cal knew he’d broken his heart. He could see the hurt in his eyes. Six months after Cal started at the Chicago Star-News, his father died of a heart attack and Cal could never get past feeling that he’d died a disappointed man because his son never carried on the business he’d built. And as his coffin was lowered into the ground Cal thought, Can any of us be truly happy in this world?
Cal looked hard at the beach and palm trees in the painting and was pulled back to when he, Faith and Gage went to Florida. He could hear the ocean rolling up on the sand; he could see Gage silhouetted against the sun and diamond waves as he collected shells in a moment of perfect family bliss that was gone, gone, gone.
Now, as Ward hammered at him with question after question, tears rolled down his face because he realized all of his failures had brought him to this aching point and that he may never see his son again.
“Cal? Are you being truthful?”
“Yes.”
Ward leaned into the screen and scrutinized the readings on the graphs.
28
“Are you responsible for Gage’s disappearance?”
“No.” Faith’s voice quavered.
“Do you know who is responsible for Gage’s disappearance?”
“No.”
“Are you concealing the identity of the person who is responsible for Gage’s disappearance?”
“No.”
Faith blinked repeatedly, a sign of stress, as FBI Agent Larson Ward’s relentless questioning continued well into her polygraph exam. In her troubled, strained state of mind, for an instant scenes from her life shot through her thoughts.
Faith was fifteen when her father, an insurance broker, died of a heart attack. He was a workaholic. Watching his casket being lowered into the ground, she almost hated him for abandoning her and her mother, who was a high school math teacher. Faith’s mother, a quie
t, private woman, never grieved in public, even with relatives near. But at night, Faith would hear her crying in her room.
During the years that followed, Faith sought comfort in books. She was a voracious reader. She was smart, always scoring at the top of her class, and even though her dad’s insurance policy covered her college tuition, she worked at several jobs. She yearned to get away, to be out on her own.
She met Cal at college. Her boyfriend at the time had just broken her heart and Cal was there when she needed someone. They fell in love, got good jobs, got married and built a good life. When she had Gage she was the happiest woman on earth. That changed two years later when she lost her second baby; coming home and sitting in the room that was to be the nursery, staring at the rolls of new wallpaper she had planned to put up, the change table, the dresser and the empty crib—it had felled her.
Faith and Cal tried for over a year to have another baby but she never got pregnant and Cal was not interested in seeing fertility doctors or other options. It was as if he’d given up hope for a second child.
Faith had always blamed herself for losing the baby. Cal coped by disappearing into work at the paper, closing himself off to her. It hurt her knowing he was working long hours on intense stories, often with pretty reporters who looked up to him.
A part of Faith felt abandoned and utterly alone. And then a few years later, Cal had retreated even further, with no explanation.
Prior to her polygraph test, as Agent Ward took Faith through the process as he’d done with Cal, her stomach twisted. Her world was falling apart, she was losing another child and they were submitting her to a lie detector as if she were responsible.
Ward had seated her in the same chair before the same beachfront painting. FBI agents, River Ridge detectives and her lawyer were seated behind her. Now, the readings on Ward’s laptop showed that Faith’s heart rate was elevated.
“Faith?”
“Sorry?”
“Was it your idea to go to the fair?”
Fighting her tears, she remembered Gage’s pleas.
“Can we go to the fair, Mom, please? They’ve got this haunted house called the Chambers of Dread and it’s so scary! Colton and Marshall said it’s got this guy, the insane butcher, and he’s chopping a guy on his table. There’re bloody arms and legs hanging everywhere. And there’s this witch burning up. And they got this guy who chases you with a chain saw!”
“It sounds too scary, honey.”