The Long Sleep

by Caroline Crane

  He looked up from his computer, annoyed at the interruption. “Yeah?” he said, not even pretending interest.

  “Do you know what this means?” I said.

  “No. What does it mean?”

  Darned if I knew. I fumbled. “It means—we’re all connected.”

  “The whole universe is connected,” he said. “Aren’t we all in it together?”

  How I wished I could talk to Hank. He didn’t know Evan but he would be fascinated that I knew him. Maybe Hank could put it all together and make it mean something.

  In a fit of pique at Glynis, I pressed the number again and left two words on her voicemail. “Never. Mind. ” Glyn would know who it was.

  I felt like visiting the hospital, but it was late in the day, and dark. The ICU might be closed to all visitors, even family. They might be feeding Hank through a tube. I didn’t want to see that. Did they do it at the same time as regular hospital meals? Or was it a constant thing like an IV drip?

  I took out the photocopies Keller had made and tried to study them. I found I’d lost some of my enthusiasm for Paula now that I knew Evan was related, if only by parental remarriage. I knew that was irrational, but couldn’t help how I felt.

  Who could I talk to? I didn’t know any of the Tiger staff well and none of them knew about my troubles with Evan. Nor would they care. Only Hank would be interested. If Evan turned out to be the one who shot Hank, I would kill him. A slow death by butter knife.

  “Hank,” I moaned aloud, and looked up to find Ben in my doorway. He leaned in, holding the upper part of the doorframe. He was tall enough to reach it without straining.

  “Who’s Hank?” he asked. Ben didn’t care enough to remember.

  “My editor. The guy who’s in a coma. I wish I could talk to him. I need his input.”

  “Why can’t you? Sometimes just talking helps straighten things out in your own mind.”

  “I can’t get anywhere near him. They won’t let me in because I’m not family. Did you want something?”

  “I wanted to know what you were groaning about.” He swung back and then forward again.

  “Do you really care?” I asked.

  “Nope.” He let go of the doorframe.

  I spoke quickly, before he could escape. “Did you know the person who was with Paula that night just left her on the doorstep, unconscious? Unless she somehow got herself home and passed out there.”

  “No, I didn’t know. Who’s Paula?”

  “The Lakeside girl who was in a coma for eight years and then died.”

  He wandered into my room. “I thought it was three years she was in a coma.”

  “Eight years altogether. She was on a breathing machine for three, and then they took her off it. She lived for five more years and died of pneumonia. It’s easy to get sick in hospitals. But can you imagine just leaving her on the doorstep? They could have at least dumped her at the emergency room. I wonder who it was.”

  “You said she might have gotten home herself.”

  “She might. I just have a sort of feeling other people were involved.”

  Ben shrugged and walked away. I called after him, “There must be some way I can find out.”

  He kept walking. Probably afraid I would ask him to hack into something. I might, if I knew what could work. It all happened so long ago. Somebody must have tried to find answers at the time.

  Maybe they found answers but didn’t publicize them.

  Rhoda called me to come and help with dinner. I wasn’t interested in dinner, but went anyway and unburdened myself to her.

  “You don’t know that someone left her there,” Rhoda said. “She could have gotten home somehow and then the door was locked and she couldn’t get in.”

  “How did she get home unless somebody took her? She didn’t have a car and she couldn’t have walked.” Although I had no idea where the party had taken place.

  “I see your point,” Rhoda agreed. “Whoever it was must have been as drunk as she was.”

  “Couldn’t make it to the hospital?” I had pictured just one person, but several seemed more likely.

  “They probably panicked,” Rhoda said.

  “Then they should have done the right thing.”

  “Do people always do the right thing? Especially if they don’t want to be found out.”

  “They might have saved her if they’d gotten help,” I said, before remembering that Paula was Evan’s stepsister. That part wasn’t Paula’s fault.

  However, it was her fault that she drank and took Valium. And paid for it with the rest of her life.

  “I rest my case,” Rhoda said. I tried to remember what the case was. Oh yes, people panicking and being stupid and making things worse. Well, wasn’t that human nature?

  “I still want to know who it was,” I said. “If there’s a statute of limitations for dumping an unconscious person on a doorstep, it must have run out by now.”

  At least they didn’t dump her in the woods where no one would find her. That showed a sliver of responsibility. And it would have to be someone who knew where she lived. Wouldn’t most of her friends and classmates know that? Was it a friend or someone she just met? I found myself back with a single person. Even at this late date I had to find out who it was. Evan wouldn’t know, if I felt like asking him, which I most certainly did not. He’d have been a mere infant at the time.

  That got me thinking, unwillingly, about Evan. Falco said his mom had vehemently insisted that Evan was still at Garson Academy. Evidently he was steering clear of her, or she was such a great actress that she had Rick fooled.

  So, if Evan wasn’t at home, where was he staying? Heck, it was November. He’d need some kind of shelter. Did he have close friends in the Lakeside crowd? The football team, I supposed. Probably the cheerleaders. Maybe some of the band, especially now that I wasn’t there anymore. I couldn’t help wondering how many of them saw Evan as some kind of romantic cut-up, as besotted as Glyn thought he was, for breaking into my house that time.

  I turned on my phone and checked the voicemail, but realized how unnecessary that was. If someone had called in the last half hour and left a message, I’d have heard it ring. Glynis hadn’t called. Something was going on with her.

  What if that was where Evan was staying?

  Now I was really getting crazy. Glyn wouldn’t do that, at least not without saying anything. She was my buddy and I was hers.

  Maybe not anymore. Even though at Perrino’s it had been like old times.

  I couldn’t help recalling that the Goodes had a heated garage with an upstairs apartment. It was outfitted as a guesthouse, but it wouldn’t be used much in November. Only in summer, when the Goodes had pool parties.

  It was already dark and we were about to eat dinner. Tomorrow I would drive by and see if Evan’s car was there. Would he leave it in plain sight? It wouldn’t be in the garage because the Goodes needed that. Behind the garage? It could be seen there if a person thought of looking. That yellow monstrosity and its bloated tires wouldn’t be so easy to hide.

  She’d always been on my side when it came to Evan. But yesterday she’d seemed defensive. She said she wasn’t, but to me it came off otherwise. Unless it was just me being bitchy.

  If she really was drifting over to the enemy camp, she’d had plenty of warning as to what he was like. He must have turned on the charm. That was part of what he was like and she should know. Somehow he must have convinced her it would be different with her. Girls could fall for that line.

  * * * *

  I tried emailing Cree but it wasn’t till homeroom that we had a chance to talk. I told her everything.

  “Are you sure?” Cree whispered.

  “I’m not sure of anything but I’m going to find out. Want to help?”

  Cree hesitated for only a second, and decided yes. “What if he’s there and he catches you?”

  “We’ll have a witness, namely you, and I’ll have some pepper spray. Maybe he won’t be there. Eve
n if his car is, we might not see it. But I have to try.”

  “This is so exciting—” We had to cut it short when Mrs. Tarasco rapped for attention.

  * * * *

  “How are we doing this?” Cree asked as we reached the top of the steep hill and the road made a T. Instead of taking the right onto Lake Road, I went left onto Fremont toward Glyn’s house.

  I hadn’t really thought about how to do it. I’d just imagined actually being there.

  “We’re playing it by ear,” I said. “We might not find out anything. I brought along some binoculars. They have this apartment over the garage. Or we might see his car. It’s yellow.”

  “Or he could be shacking up somewhere else,” she said.

  “Cree, I’m not sure of anything. It’s just that she acted kind of weird and I have to start somewhere.” I turned onto a smaller road that meandered through woods. We passed two houses before the road ended at Glynis Goode’s place. With its huge lawn, its three-story house, the two-story garage, a couple of sheds and a swimming pool, it seemed almost like a settlement in itself.

  “Nice place,” said Cree. I took out my binoculars and focused them on the garage apartment. Its windows were dark. I couldn’t see a thing. I panned around the garage and house. There was no yellow car.

  “Stay,” I told Cree, who was reaching for a door handle.

  “We’re not getting out?”

  “What for?” I knew this whole venture was stupid and pointless. All I wanted now was to get away before anyone spotted us. I lowered the binoculars, too late. Glyn came out from the house, shrugging into her jacket. I had no choice but to open the door.

  “I thought it was you,” Glyn said, and added “Hi,” to Cree. They’d met that time at CVS.

  I said, “I just wanted to see if you were alive.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  This was awkward. “I thought something must have happened. Or else your voicemail broke down.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I was going to . . . well, see . . .”

  “It’s okay, Glyn.” I got back in the car and turned on its engine.

  Then turned it off. “By the way. You haven’t heard from Evan, have you?”

  Glyn turned scarlet. “Why would I hear from Evan?”

  “That’s what I thought. I know he’s around here someplace. Even if his mother says he isn’t.” Glyn’s coloring answered my question, but it wasn’t the answer I wanted.

  “You saw his mother?” she asked in surprise.

  “No. My friendly neighborhood cop saw her.”

  “How come?”

  “He had a few questions about a cut in somebody’s brake line. It could have been fatal. That makes it police business.” I turned my key and backed.

  Glyn stood rooted. Confused. As if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

  “She used to be my friend,” I told Cree as we drove away.

  “You think she’s harboring Evan?

  “I think at least she knows where he is.”

  “And she wouldn’t tell you?”

  “That’s why she used to be my friend.”

  “Who is now? Me?”

  “Always. You wouldn’t hide Evan from me, would you?”

  “Not after what I’ve heard about him. Are you going to tell the cops?”

  “I don’t know. There’s nothing really to tell. All I know is she turned as red as a chili pepper. But that doesn’t actually prove anything.”

  “I think you should report him. It’s not safe, him being on the loose. He did try to kill you.”

  “What could they charge him with?” I asked.

  “Attempted homicide?”

  I pulled up at my own house and then thought better of it. “Would you rather go home?”

  Cree shook her head and smiled as Ben came out to meet us.

  I stayed in the car and ran the possibilities through my mind. What if the police did manage to find Evan? What if they charged him with attempted homicide and put him on trial? I would have to testify. That would give me great pleasure. What if the jury acquitted him? I would have no choice but to enter the Witness Protection Program.

  I had just gone into the house when my cell phone rang. There was no ID. I took a chance and answered it.

  An almost voiceless voice hissed in my ear. “I’ll get you for this.”

  Chapter Eleven

  On Friday night I went to bed looking forward to the weekend. Like most people, I treasured my weekends. Even if I didn’t have big plans, it was a couple of days when I could do as I pleased.

  Except for homework, but I’d learned to get that out of the way fast. I used to put it off until Sunday night but I didn’t like it looming over me. Spoiled the whole weekend.

  I was almost asleep when the dogs erupted.

  A car door slammed. Or maybe it was a hood. I did lock the car, didn’t I?

  The window next to my bed looked out on the back yard. I peeked, but couldn’t see anything moving there. I knew that slam came from the front.

  I opened my bedroom door and listened. My parents were awake, I could hear them talking. I almost knocked but that would get into a whole big discussion. It could wait until morning. I had locked the car.

  What if Evan had a skeleton key? Or one of those things they use to pry open a window. What if the car exploded when I started it? Or even if I just opened a door?

  I really wanted to visit the hospital that day. It would have to wait until Ben went over the car, looking for bombs, damaged brake lines, or any other sabotage.

  Worry kept me awake most of the night. Toward morning, I drifted off for about half an hour. This must have been what he meant by “getting” me. It was a war on my nerves.

  * * * *

  Ben slept late. I wished I could, too. Evan’s war would end up giving me a breakdown. It wasn’t as easy as Glynis thought just to “get over” it.

  My parents hadn’t seen anything last night, they’d only heard it. Evan must have gone running after he slammed that hood. It might have been his own hood, just to make a noise and keep me awake all night.

  “I’m scared to get in the car,” I told my father. “I was hoping Ben could inspect it first. He’d know what to look for.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Daddy said. It was not reassuring. Ben was the one who knew about cars and would be more observant.

  I watched carefully while Daddy poked through the engine, and hoped he knew what he was doing. “What about underneath?” I asked, thinking of bombs. He scanned the undercarriage with a flashlight. That wasn’t good enough. I wondered if the dogs could sniff out a bomb. Didn’t they have to be trained for that?

  “All clear,” Daddy announced. I gave him a watery smile, not quite trusting his know-how.

  Finally Ben was up, showered, and breakfasted. Keeping my voice low, I asked him if he would go over the car again. “I don’t think Dad even knows what a bomb looks like.”

  “There are different kinds,” Ben said.

  “The kind they’d put in a car.” I knew Ben would know. It was the sort of thing he looked up on the Internet. Not to build one, but because he wanted to know. When he was younger, he went through a phase of being totally fascinated by explosives and how they worked. He never actually exploded anything. Although he probably would have liked to, and could have.

  I stood far back to watch as he examined the car inside and out. He thought of the undercarriage all by himself. The gas tank. The gas line and braking system. Daddy came out with his coffee mug and watched, too.

  My dad was a sweet guy, with prematurely white hair and a wide, pleasant smile. “Don’t trust me, huh?” he said, turning the smile on me.

  I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “It’s just a double check. This is my life at stake. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

  “We can’t have that,” said Daddy, as Ben slid under the car. On his back. Wearing a new winter parka.

  I said, “We need one of those hoist things
they have in garages.”

  My dad took a sip of coffee. “What we need is not to have to worry all the time.”

  My fault. My fault.

  “I didn’t know. You guys kind of liked him, too, at first.” I saw Ben detach something and shove it into his pocket. I could see only part of his arm.

  “Don’t put a bomb in your pocket!” I screeched.

  “It’s not a bomb.” He eased himself out from under the car. “It’s a tracking device.”

  I blew out the breath I was holding. Then caught it again and said, “I wonder how long it’s been there.”

  “It couldn’t be long.” Ben brushed himself off. “You had the car at Barger’s just a few days ago.”

  I tried to get the grime off his back, but he eluded me. He never liked people’s hands all over him.

  “How do you know it’s a tracking device?” I asked.

  “I know what they look like.”

  Ben knew everything. Whenever he got interested in something, he would look it up and study it until he got to be an expert.

  “Where does he track it from?” I wondered.

  “His car.”

  The Yellow Monster. “Now that you’ve got it, he’s going to track you.”

  Ben glared.

  I said, “I am definitely telling Rick about this.”

  Ben took the device from his pocket and held it out to me. I backed away.

  “It won’t explode,” he said.

  “How can you be sure it’s not a bomb disguised as a tracking device?” At his look of exasperation, I took the thing and set it down on my hood.

  Daddy, standing by with his coffee, took a sip and said, “All life is a gamble. But this is unnecessary.”

  I didn’t enjoy having someone gamble with my life. I put in a call to Rick and left a message. It was short and cryptic. How could I be sure Evan didn’t have something tuned into my cell phone? He was still making me paranoid.

  Paranoia is a delusion that you’re being persecuted. What do they call it if the persecution is real?

  It was almost noon before Rick called me back. All I could think of was Hank in the hospital and how I wanted to get to him. Evan’s warfare had me in jitters as I sobbed out my story.