Missing Child

by Patricia MacDonald

  She dragged herself all the way inside and scrambled to her feet in the dark room lined with almost empty shelves, and illuminated by gray light through a single dirty window at the far end.

  The place was absolutely silent. It was as if the building was empty. She began to cross the room to the door which led to the deli itself. Her arms were extended so that she did not bump into something and knock it on top of herself. She got to the door, reached out and pulled it open.

  In front of her was a counter and an empty cold case. She walked around the counter and into the vacant store, blinking as her eyes tried to adjust to the dark. At the front of the store, beneath each boarded up window, was a shelf on which yellowing shopper’s guides and free newspapers were still scattered. Facing the counter were several tables and chairs decorated with plastic flowers in little jelly jars, salt, pepper and napkin holders. She stepped further into the room. ‘Geordie?’ she whispered.

  There was no answer but she heard something. She stopped and listened. Labored breathing, and a muffled, high-pitched whine, was coming from one of the tables by the wall. Wishing she had a flashlight, she bent over to look.

  Under one of the tables Travis sat huddled, his pudgy face pale with fright. Crushed to his chest was Champ, Travis’s hand muzzling him, his leash attached to his collar and tied, at the other end, to the radiator along the wall.

  Caitlin stared. ‘Travis,’ she said. ‘What in the world . . .’

  Travis stared back at her, wide-eyed.

  ‘What are you doing under there? Is Geordie here?’ Caitlin demanded.

  Travis looked completely perplexed by her question. ‘Geordie?’ he said. ‘Geordie got kidnapped.’

  Caitlin had known, before she had even asked, that her wild conjectures were just that – hope against hope. Geordie was not here. She gazed around the legs of the table. There was a bowl of water on the floor and a bowl of dog food as well. And a little pallet made out of dish towels and newspapers. ‘Is this some kind of secret clubhouse?’ she asked.

  ‘None of your business,’ said Travis.

  ‘What is Champ doing here?’ Caitlin demanded. ‘I thought he ran away. Travis, come out from under that table and answer me.’

  Travis shook his head and squeezed Champ more tightly.

  Caitlin crouched down and looked closer and, to her surprise, saw tears rolling down Travis’s face. Instantly, she felt guilty for having alarmed him. For having discovered his hiding place. ‘Travis, what’s the matter?’

  Travis wiped his face with his hand, leaving filthy streaks on his cheeks. ‘Now where will I hide him?’ he wailed.

  Caitlin hesitated for a moment, and then she got all the way down on the filthy floor on her hands and knees. Slowly, she crawled under the table, joining Travis and his dog. Travis gripped Champ and pulled away from her when she tried to touch his shoulder. Caitlin watched him closely. Finally, she said, ‘Why do you need to hide him?’

  Travis shook his head angrily.

  ‘Travis? Did your Mom say you couldn’t keep him?’

  ‘NO, stupidhead,’ Travis shouted.

  Caitlin was a little more familiar with this Travis, the defiant one. But as soon as he had yelled at her he seemed to deflate like a punctured balloon. Caitlin chose her next question carefully.

  ‘Who are you hiding him from?’ Caitlin asked, as gently as possible.

  Travis shook his head.

  ‘Did someone say they’d steal him from you?’

  ‘Not steal him,’ said Travis.

  ‘Did someone say they were going to hurt Champ?’ Caitlin asked.

  Travis was silent, sniffling.

  ‘Was it a kid? Was it another kid who threatened to hurt him?’

  Travis shook his head.

  ‘Was it a grown-up?’ Caitlin asked.

  ‘Now that you know where he is, you’ll tell everyone,’ Travis said angrily.

  ‘I’m not going to tell anyone,’ said Caitlin.

  ‘Yes, you will. And then . . .’

  ‘Then what?’ Caitlin asked.

  ‘You know what,’ Travis cried. ‘They’ll kill him.’

  Caitlin drew in a sharp breath, shocked in spite of herself. ‘Kill Champ? Who said that?’ she cried indignantly.

  Travis did not reply.

  Caitlin slowly reached out her hand past Travis and patted the fur on Champ’s head. ‘You listen to me, Travis,’ Caitlin said. ‘And listen good. Nobody is going to hurt this dog. Do you hear me? Nobody. I promise you. No matter what.’

  Travis looked up at Caitlin with wary eyes. He wiped away tears with the back of his hand. Caitlin felt ashamed for how she had misjudged his motives. She gazed back at him somberly. ‘No matter what. Do you understand me? Do you believe me?’

  Travis shrugged.

  ‘No person who had any decency would say a thing like that,’ said Caitlin. ‘Anyone who would say that is a very, very bad person. Do you understand?’

  This time Travis’s response was unequivocal. ‘I know,’ he said.

  Caitlin continued to pet the dog with gentle, smooth strokes. ‘Why did this very bad person threaten to kill Champ?’ she asked carefully.

  ‘For telling the secret!’ Travis cried. ‘It’s your fault. I never told anybody. But then you said that I had to tell every secret so we could find Geordie. And I knew if I told the secret . . .’

  Caitlin’s pulse began to race but she kept her voice calm. ‘I understand,’ said Caitlin. ‘You were afraid of what would happen to Champ.’

  Travis nodded. ‘That’s why I hid him in here. I thought if he was hidden somewhere then I could tell the secret and still keep Champ safe.’

  Caitlin’s heart was pounding. She tried to keep her voice calm. ‘Travis, is your secret about Geordie?’ she asked quietly. ‘Do you know where he is?’

  Travis looked perplexed and shook his head. ‘No. No. I don’t know nothing about Geordie.’

  Caitlin could feel her own disappointment filling the room. Her boy was not here. Travis’s secret wasn’t about Geordie. She was no closer than she had been before to having him back in her arms. She wanted to cry out in frustration.

  ‘It’s about me,’ Travis said. ‘And the bad stuff . . . that happened. You said I had to tell it. And about Aunt Emily. All of it.’

  Caitlin stared at him. ‘Aunt Emily? What are you talking about, Travis?’

  ‘You won’t get mad at me?’

  ‘No,’ she said.

  Travis looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘You promise nothing will happen to Champ.’

  ‘Promise,’ said Caitlin, trying to keep her voice from shaking. ‘Now, tell me.’

  TWENTY-NINE

  Caitlin drove over the low rise and looked down at the peaceful surface of the lake. There were a couple of boats near the far shore, manned by fishermen patiently trying to catch dinner. Up the slope she could see Paula and Westy’s house, the afternoon sun glinting off the windows, flowers still blooming among the autumn leaves like a photo from a calendar, captioned, Can this really be in New Jersey?

  Oh yeah, Caitlin thought. She drove down toward Westy’s workshop and parked her car in a cul-de-sac so it would be out of sight. Then she got out and walked up to the tidy, free-standing building. The telescopes on the porch were pointing out over the water at crazy angles. Caitlin let herself inside.

  The interior was nothing fancy but it was neat and organized. The square building had a woodstove for heat. The woodstove was not fired up today, so the gloomy interior was chilly. The rows of windows were built high up under the eaves. There were two worktables, and an old cupboard filled with jars of hardware – nails, screws and washers – and rows of tools. Two birdhouses, in the process of being completed, sat on a wide table. Along one wall was a Danish-style sofa from the fifties and a couple of plastic chairs. There were charts on the walls with pictures of birds and their identifying characteristics. There was a birding map of the region, its endless marshes and waterways notable for which
birds were likely to be seen there.

  Caitlin looked around the tidy workshop with a feeling a revulsion. She almost wished she had a can of spray paint so she could deface these walls. So that the defiled appearance of the place would match its history.

  The door of the workshop opened and Caitlin turned around. Westy Bergen walked in and stared at her.

  ‘Surprised?’ she asked.

  Westy pulled himself up in a dignified manner. ‘Well, yes. I don’t usually find people in my workshop unless I invite them,’ he said.

  ‘I did the inviting today,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ he said, looking puzzled.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ she said. ‘Just . . . don’t bother. We both know why you’re here.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Caitlin,’ he said. ‘I came down here to get my slicker. I left it in the closet over there and those storm clouds look like . . .’

  Caitlin shook her head. ‘I knew you’d come when I left you that message. You had to find out how much I knew about what really happened to Emily.’

  Westy looked indignant. ‘As I recall,’ he said frostily, ‘my daughter was killed. By your brother. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .’

  ‘Travis told me everything,’ she said.

  Westy’s face paled and he seemed to sag for a moment. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said, but his tone was uncertain.

  ‘I have to admit, you did a bang-up job of scaring him into silence – threatening to kill his dog – but he finally broke down and told me everything.’

  Westy pretended to ignore her. He walked over to a narrow closet and opened it, rummaging around intently. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ said Westy.

  Caitlin watched him, consumed with disgust and hatred. ‘Yes, you do. Travis told me what really happened on the day that Emily died. Surely you haven’t forgotten that day?’

  Westy turned to her with all the dignity he could muster. ‘Frankly,’ said Westy calmly, ‘it’s amazing to me that you would breathe a word about Emily’s death. It was your brother who killed her.’

  ‘It was my brother who hit her,’ said Caitlin. ‘That’s true. And he paid the ultimate price for it. But you were the one to blame.’

  Westy’s eyes flashed. ‘I was to blame. That’s amusing. If it wasn’t so sick.’

  Caitlin shook her head. ‘I know what happened now. I know how it happened. Emily brought her baby over here, probably to surprise her parents. No one was at the house. Of course not. You made sure Paula would be at work. But Emily came looking for you in the workshop. She walked in on you and Travis. She saw her father molesting a six-year-old child,’ Caitlin said, her voice filled with loathing.

  Westy’s gaze was steady. ‘You’re out of your mind. That’s disgusting.’

  ‘Travis remembers Emily screaming at him to pull up his pants and rushing him out of here. She was crying hysterically when she put him in the car. Travis felt guilty. He thought it was his fault.’

  Westy raised his chin defiantly. ‘Quite an imagination on that child.’

  ‘Travis didn’t make this up,’ said Caitlin. ‘He wouldn’t know how.’

  ‘The only thing more preposterous than this story is that you would repeat it,’ said Westy. ‘Get out of here. Get off my property.’

  Caitlin shook her head. ‘No. I knew the truth the minute I heard it. This was your doing. You followed them back to Emily’s house. You and Emily were arguing in the driveway. Travis saw it all. He saw her running down the driveway, probably trying to escape from you and your pitiful excuses. He heard the crash.

  ‘You know, my brother said that she tried to commit suicide in front of his truck. He probably wasn’t too far wrong. She must have felt like dying, finding that out about her father.’

  ‘Stop trying to get your worthless brother off the hook. My daughter did not try to kill herself,’ Westy insisted.

  ‘No,’ said Catilin. ‘He was running away from you. You chased after her, and she ran out into the road and right in front of an oncoming truck.’

  Westy shook his head. ‘Travis is a disturbed child to make up a story like that. And the fact that you believe him . . . That is really troubling. Everybody knows that Emily was out at her mailbox, picking up the mail when your brother came around the bend like a bat out of hell and hit her,’ Westy said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Caitlin. ‘I was thinking about that, on my way over here. That mail scattered everywhere. It took me a while to figure that out.’

  Westy was staring at her contemptuously. ‘Figure what out?’

  ‘Once my brother fled the scene, instead of calling for help, you took the precaution of removing the mail from the mailbox and scattering it all around the spot where Emily’s body was lying. Staging the accident. And then you told Travis, before you put him in your car and dropped him off at home, that if he ever said anything about the events of that afternoon, you would kill his dog. Kill Champ.’

  ‘Ridiculous,’ Westy scoffed, but there was an undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice.

  ‘Ridiculous?’ Caitlin cried. ‘Monstrous is more like it. That kid hasn’t had a day when he wasn’t afraid in these last four years.’

  ‘Travis,’ Westy scoffed. ‘Who would believe that greedy little brute? He was always happy enough to take my money and the gifts. When I picked him up from school he was always ready to come with me.’

  Caitlin felt like she going to be sick to her stomach. ‘You paid him? A fatherless six-year-old boy? You offered him gifts? How long did this go on? How many times did you assault him?’

  ‘Assault.’ Westy shook his head. ‘This is what I get for my kindness to that kid? You call it assault?’

  Caitlin stared at him, trying to imagine how twisted a person would have to be to call a child’s rape ‘kindness.’ ‘I think the police will call it assault,’ she said. ‘I’m quite sure of that.’

  Westy’s eyes were cold. ‘Travis is a liar. As for you, you would do anything to try to blame someone else for what your brother did. I suggest you keep this ridiculous story to yourself.’

  Caitlin shook her head. ‘Or else what? Do you think you can scare me with your threats? I’m not a child. I’m not afraid of you. And in case you have ideas about silencing me, or Travis, before I even came over here I called the police. And I made sure that Travis and Champ were somewhere safe. You are not going to get away with this. I should have let the police come for you, but I just couldn’t resist seeing your face when you realized that you were caught in your lies.’

  Caitlin heard her phone ring in her jacket pocket. ‘That will be Detective Mathis now,’ she said. She reached down into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Before she could even register the name on the ID, Westy knocked the phone from her hands and it skittered across the room. She chased after it. As she bent to pick it up, she looked up and saw him looming over her, a hammer in his hand.

  ‘You should not have come here,’ he said.

  The door to Sam Mathis’s office opened and a heavyset, gray-haired man in torn jeans, a leather vest and a bandana headband came out. ‘Is that it?’ he said.

  ‘That’s it,’ said the detective.

  ‘Do I need to come back?’ the man asked.

  ‘Nope. I appreciate your taking the time to come here. As for you,’ said Sam, turning to Noah, who was sitting between his attorney, David Alvarez, and a uniformed officer, ‘you’re a lucky guy. This man just gave you an airtight alibi.’

  Noah stood up and reached out to shake the man’s hand. ‘Thanks, Jim. That’s the second time you saved my butt. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.’

  Jim shrugged. ‘Glad to help you out.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem fair that your good deed screwed up the convention for you. Are you headed back there?’ Noah asked.

  Jim shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. No, I think Detective Mathis here saved me from making a big mistake.’

  ‘Oh?’ Noah
asked.

  ‘I ran into my ex-wife there. She was getting the “Linda loves Jim” tattoo removed from her shoulder blade. We got to talking and before you know it she was telling the guy removing the tattoo that she’d changed her mind. I may have dodged a bullet.’

  The other men nodded knowingly.

  Jim waved and headed for the door. David Alvarez turned to Sam. ‘My client is free to go then?’

  Sam nodded. ‘We need to get back to finding his little boy.’

  ‘Thanks for the effort you put into this,’ said David. He shook hands with Sam, and then with Noah, and promised to be in touch. Then he picked up his briefcase and walked out.

  Noah sighed. ‘How is Dan doing anyway? Has he regained consciousness? You need to question him about Geordie as soon as he comes around.’

  ‘I’m aware,’ said Sam, holding his phone to his ear and frowning as he listened to his voicemail. He punched a number into his phone and waited. Then he looked at Noah. ‘Caitlin left me a voicemail saying it was important but she’s not answering.’ He led the way to the chief clerk’s desk where he signed a release for Noah’s belongings. He handed the manila envelope to Noah.

  ‘I’ll find out what it was,’ said Noah, emptying out the envelope on a nearby desktop. He put his watch back on, put his wallet in his pocket, and stuck his phone in his jacket pocket. ‘Are you on your way to see Dan?’