Last Seen

by Rick Mofina

  “There’s Faith and Tate’s affair,” Malko said.

  “Both admitted to it,” Boyle said. “That’s not an offense.”

  “But Faith lied to us about it earlier,” Malko said.

  “Yes,” Boyle said. “That alone is a small piece. You need much more.”

  “You report finding a ball cap similar to Gage Hudson’s in Tate’s possession. Where does that stand?” Luckett asked.

  “We’re still awaiting the DNA analysis.”

  “So you haven’t confirmed the cap is Gage’s?” Luckett asked.

  “Correct.”

  “I don’t know about what you have so far,” Luckett said.

  “I’m telling you everything points to Faith Hudson and Tate. He was helping her make a preemptive strike against Cal.”

  “But they both claim they broke it off,” Boyle said. “If so, you then look at Tate making an act of retribution against her. Your theories bounce around.”

  “The breakup could be a cover story,” Malko said.

  “Look,” Luckett said. “Tate’s cooperated, even with his lawyer, and he’s agreed to a polygraph. Do you have his results?”

  “Not yet, we’re in the process of setting it up.”

  “Your case is not strong enough to sustain charges,” Boyle said.

  “I agree with Ben,” Luckett said. “We sure as hell couldn’t go to a grand jury with this. You’ve got some building blocks but you have not yet removed all reasonable doubt.”

  “You report that both Faith and Cal Hudson failed polygraphs. Have you ruled out other suspects? Someone from the midway? A stranger? Have you ruled out Cal?” Boyle asked.

  “Almost.”

  “Almost?”

  “Everything’s pointing to Faith and Tate.”

  “So he could still be considered a suspect, or anyone else for that matter?” Luckett said.

  “If I may,” Detective Rachel Price said. “I understand the FBI is still analyzing Cal Hudson’s news stories for possible acts of retribution.”

  “Yes, that’s in progress,” Malko said.

  “As are interviews with fairgrounds and midway workers, along with chasing down a number of tips.”

  “That’s correct. All of those aspects of the investigation are ongoing.”

  “Well, given the situation I think we should adhere to the advice you gave us all at the outset, Tibor,” Price said. “We shouldn’t fall victim to tunnel vision. We have to keep an open mind on all theories and, no matter how unlikely, they must all be considered and exhaustively pursued.”

  “Agreed,” Luckett said. “If you’re holding anybody I suggest you release them. You don’t have a case yet, Tibor. You’ve got a lot of loose ends but at this stage they really don’t add up to much. You need to bring us something solid. This thing is still wide open.”

  50

  Setting flour, eggs and sugar on the counter alongside the other ingredients, April Kohl kept an anxious eye on the time and her thirteen-year-old daughter, Breeana.

  When she wasn’t on her phone texting, she was staring out the window of their big kitchen on Willow Breeze Lane in River Ridge.

  “What’s bothering you, honey? I thought you wanted to help me with these cupcakes for my book club. It’s getting late and I’ve got to get going on them.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Sure, I’ll help.”

  “Really? Because for the last few days you’ve been pretty quiet. Do you not like going to summer theater class?”

  “I’m fine,” she said to her phone.

  “Because you begged us to enroll you and you know how much it cost. We can still get a partial refund if you don’t want to go. But your class is going to perform Cats onstage at the end of the summer and your dad and I—”

  “Mom, stop! I like theater class! I don’t want to drop out! Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  April wiped her hands on her towel and unmuted the TV above the counter, anticipating the end of the commercials.

  “Do you want to break the eggs into the bowl, Bree?”

  Face in her phone, Breeana approached the counter like a robot devoid of emotion or interest. Something’s going on with her, April thought.

  “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

  Breeana offered a weak shrug, which April took as an opening to take things slow, just as the news resumed with a story on Gage Hudson, the boy who’d vanished at the River Ridge Summer Carnival.

  “Oh.” April increased the volume.

  “Do we have to watch that, Mom?”

  “Honey, I’ve been following this story. I’m just praying they find that little boy safe. He looks like a little sweetheart. My God, it’s so sad—his poor parents.”

  The report showed footage of Gage’s picture, then the fair, which was still going on, then the Dumpster where his shoe was found.

  “Two eggs, Bree, break two into the bowl.”

  April sensed her daughter hadn’t responded and turned to find her riveted to the news report, then texting and glancing at the TV, as if she was conveying information about the report as it continued.

  “Two eggs, honey. I’ll get the milk.”

  Breeana put her phone down and picked up the first egg as the report showed Cal and Faith Hudson talking to reporters. Then there was footage of police asking for people with information to help.

  Breeana’s hands shook while tapping the egg on the edge of the glass mixing bowl as the reporter, who was standing in front of the Hudson home, was saying, “And sources close to the investigation tell us that earlier today the FBI conducted polygraph exams on Cal and Faith Hudson, fueling speculation that they’ve not been ruled out as suspects in the mysterious disappearance of their son from the attraction known as the Chambers of Dread. We’ll show that number for the tip line again on your screen.”

  “Bree! Careful, you’re missing the bowl.”

  April paused the TV report, then tore paper towels from the roll, deftly catching the yolk and white before it slimed over the counter along the drawers to the floor.

  “Goodness,” she said. “Pay attention! Seriously, what’s up with you?”

  Breeana froze and was on the verge of tears when she reached for her phone but a second later it was seized from her hand. April slapped it to the counter.

  “Talk to me, Bree, your mother. Not your friends. I’m right here.”

  Looking as if she were about to shatter, Breeana backed away from April until she was stopped by a wall. Defeated, she slid down, her top bunching up behind her. She pulled her knees to her chest, tightening into an emotion-charged ball. Sobbing, she choked out the words, “I’m sorry, so sorry!”

  “Honey.” April lowered herself to the floor. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

  “It’s something bad, Mom! So bad and it’s my fault and I don’t know what to do. I want to die, Mom.”

  “Honey, what is it?”

  “Something horrible happened to me and it has to do with that little boy on TV.”

  51

  “Bree, listen to me. Take a deep breath.”

  April stroked her daughter’s hair. Breeana kept her face down, nodding while sobbing.

  “Now, honey, take your time and explain everything to me.”

  April’s mind raced with worry at what could be troubling her daughter. And how in God’s name could it be related to the missing boy? Breeana could be as dramatic as any teen, but April had never seen her like this. There was a sudden dark, underlying current that frightened her.

  Several seconds passed before Breeana raised her head, allowing her mother to dry her tears with the dish towel.

  Breeana swallowed hard, her voice quavering as she began.

  “On the day that boy went missing...”

  “Yes?”

 
“I didn’t go to theater class.”

  April absorbed the seriousness of the offence—tuition for the class had stretched their budget—but she said nothing.

  “Hannah and I skipped it.”

  “This is Hannah Dawkins, the girl whose parents take drugs?”

  “Mom, please! That’s just a stupid rumor because her dad used to be in a rock band.”

  “Okay, sorry. So you and Hannah cut class. What happened?”

  “They were painting sets and we didn’t want to, so Hannah got them to believe that there was a family emergency, that we had to go but would be right back, and one of the teachers, who I think is only eighteen, believed us. She didn’t make us sign out or make any calls or anything.”

  April bit back on her anger at the school and Hannah. She never liked Hannah, never trusted that girl. She was always looking for trouble.

  “Our plan was to go to the fair. It was only a few blocks away.”

  “The fair?”

  “Yes. Hannah had money from her birthday, so we went. We played games, we went on rides. Got food. It was fun. Then we saw the Chambers of Dread and Hannah was, like, ‘Oh, I bet it’s not that scary. Are you too scared to go inside, Bree?’ I was a little scared. I’d heard things about it. But I lied and told her I wasn’t scared, so we decided to go.”

  “And Hannah was paying for everything?”

  “Yes, so we got in line and, well, you know how Hannah has boobs now, and she likes to show them.”

  “Yes.”

  “She was wearing this little top and, well, there’s this fat guy on a stool who takes your ticket before you go in. He’s got these bushy sideburns, and missing front teeth and ugly tattoos—he’s real creepy—and we’re waiting in line and he looks at me and says, ‘You look scared there, sunshine.’ ‘Not really,’ I told him. Then he looks at Hannah, right at her shirt and her cleavage, and says, ‘What about you, sexy? This is the scariest attraction in America, gives people heart attacks! Are you scared?’ Hannah tells him, ‘Do I look like a baby to you, asshole?’ Then he starts laughing, this kind of creepy laugh. ‘No,’ he says, looking right at her shirt. ‘My, my but I can tell you two are scared. Don’t worry, I’ll escort you.’ Hannah and I didn’t know what he was talking about. We told him we didn’t need an escort but he goes, ‘It’s our policy,’ and calls on a radio for another worker guy to take his place and then goes in with us into the haunted house.”

  April could feel her stomach begin to churn as Breeana continued.

  “Well, we just ignored him. Hannah kept telling him to go away but he laughed, said this was part of his job, and he hung around us all the way through. The place was so dark and full of noise, flashing lights and people screaming, we sort of forgot about him. The actors were really good but there were lots of surprises and we got scared a few times. Even though it looked real, we knew it was all fake. It was all fine, nothing really happened with the creepy guy. Until near the end.”

  “What happened?”

  Breeana hugged herself and stared at her kneecaps.

  “What happened near the end, Bree?”

  “There’s a guy with a chain saw who chases you from the graveyard into this big room with a spinning floor that has these curtains that are the exits, which let you out onto these kind of slides. The music is superloud and there’s flashing lights and the chain saw guy and it’s really confusing and Hannah and I ran the wrong way, right into the creepy guy, then he—”

  Breeana drove her palms into her face to wipe her tears.

  “Then he what? What did he do, Bree?”

  “He ran his hands all over me, Mom! He rubbed and squeezed at my chest and grabbed my privates. I screamed but it was so loud in there—everyone was screaming. I knew it was him because in the flashing lights I saw his sideburns and tattoos and he’s laughing and saying, ‘You’re going the wrong way.’”

  April felt her flesh crawl and anger erupt.

  “He did the same thing with Hannah, grabbing and rubbing. She screamed and told him to F-off and we ran from him, jumped through the curtains and got away.”

  April’s hands were shaking as she patted Breeana’s face with the towel.

  “We were so scared and so disgusted and ashamed.”

  “No! Don’t be ashamed! This was not your fault.”

  “We didn’t know what to do and we saw this couple asking people about their boy. They couldn’t find their son. Then Hannah said to me she thinks she saw the creepy guy go toward them in the spinning room but she’s not sure. But we were so scared we left and ran back to class.”

  “Did you or Hannah tell anybody about this?”

  “No. Mom, I was so scared and ashamed and confused because we skipped class and I kinda thought it was my fault and then it’s all over the news that boy is missing and Hannah thinks that creepy guy went for him after us and now...now...they found the boy’s shoe in a Dumpster and if we told maybe that creepy guy would come for Hannah and me next! Mom, I’m so scared!”

  “Shh—take it easy, Bree. It’ll be okay, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  As April held her distraught daughter in her arms she glanced at the TV. The screen was frozen with the tip line number for anyone with information on Gage Hudson to call.

  As April soothed Breeana she eyed her phone.

  52

  Faith is resplendent in her wedding gown, her smile gloriously brilliant.

  And here she is honeymooning in a bikini on the beach at Paradise Island, Bahamas. A few years later she’s holding Gage in her arms minutes after his birth, her face radiating joy.

  As night fell, Cal bit back on his emotions sitting in the dark, watching home videos on their big flat-screen in the living room. His memories bouncing from their blissful times to Faith’s words in a police video.

  “I was having an affair with Roy Tate... I felt invisible until Roy came along. He was alone. I was alone...we found each other and things just fit for both of us. It felt good and it helped for a while. Roy was like medicine I needed...”

  Her words, her admission, compounded by the FBI’s suspicions that she was actually behind Gage’s disappearance with her lover, had stabbed Cal in the heart, leaving him unsure of anything in his life.

  “Cal?” Faith was behind him in the darkness, at the kitchen counter, the light of the TV flickering on her tearstained face. “Cal, I am so sorry.” He didn’t respond or even look at her.

  “I know it’s pathetic to say, but—” her voice broke “—God, I am so sorry.”

  He never moved.

  “Cal, we have to talk.”

  He was frozen with pain while his mind swirled with a million cliché questions: Why? How could you? You vowed to be faithful, remember? Do you love him? But his questions orbited the greater, monolithic wound.

  “The FBI says that you and Tate took my son. Is that true, Faith?”

  “No.”

  “Because if it is, I swear, somehow, some way, I’ll make sure you both burn in hell.”

  “Cal, it’s not true!”

  “Why should I believe you? You’re a lying cheating, deceitful whore. You’re not fit to be the mother of my son.”

  “Our son, Cal. He’ll always be our son!”

  “Always be? What the hell’re you talking about? Is he dead?”

  “Cal! Stop it!”

  Cal continued staring at the TV, shaking his head.

  “I don’t know you, Faith. You’re a stranger to me. I’ll sleep in the spare room from now on until we, or I, get Gage back, then we’ll deal with all this.”

  He heard her break down with great gasping sobs but did not move or say anything. Minutes passed before she spoke again.

  “I didn’t take Gage! You have to believe me. I admit what I did and I know I hurt you. I know the pain I caused but I refuse to take
all the blame for what happened to us.”

  Cal leaned forward and with his elbows on his knees cupped his face with his hands, bracing to accept his role in the fracturing of his marriage.

  “You’re not so innocent in all of this,” she said. “You were never around. Yes, there are pressures at the newspaper. Your industry’s under siege with budget tightening and layoffs. I get that, but something happened to you.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “Something fundamental happened a couple of years ago or so, and you changed. I would ask you if anything was going on but you would never talk to me. You’d stay out till all hours. I think it had to do with a story you were working on.”

  “What story?”

  “One of the big murder stories. I can’t remember which one—the Teddie Turco case, the Oakley case, Faustino Avila, Ezili—there were so many. But something happened with one of them and somewhere along the line you withdrew from me, from Gage, from us.”

  “I was working to save my job.”

  “It’s more than that. You grew distant and you were never home. I was doing everything. I felt alone, discarded. You made me feel like I no longer mattered to you!”

  Cal turned to face her.

  “And—” Faith was searching for something on her phone “—there’s your thing with Chelsey Blake.”

  “What thing? We talked about this—there is no thing.”

  Faith marched to him and thrust her phone in his face. “Don’t you lie to me. I took this at the staff and police party. Remember, I said I wasn’t sure I could make it. But I did make it. I was late and I wanted to surprise you. But when I arrived I saw you and Chelsey. I took this video.”

  The video showed Cal and Chelsey talking in a circle of friends. Their backs were to the camera. Chelsey’s hand went slowly, gently, up and down Cal’s back and shoulders.

  “Faith, there’s nothing going on. I can explain that,” Cal said.

  “Oh, sure you can,” Faith snapped. “But you tell me what I’m supposed to think. I see you two at the picnic, then at this party. God, it’s so obvious, Cal!”

  “Nothing’s going on. People were drinking. Someone made a joke that we were like a football team in a huddle. She could’ve just as easily given me a high five. Faith, Chelsey is, well, she’s affectionate. She’d gone through some hard times and we’d worked closely together. Besides, I told you, she left for a job with a news service in Kuwait months ago.”