by Barry Graham
Frank listened, and then he said, “Tell me how I can help you.”
When Frank saw Whitney, he just knew. Everything had changed, or nothing had changed at all. Everything was lost, or he’d never had anything at all.
TWELVE
Laura knew too. She made the connection faster than the cops did.
It was New Year’s Eve. She was sitting on the floor of her living room, playing with Tubby Franklin as she watched the evening news. When she heard there was a missing girl, she reached for the phone. After making a couple calls, she went to her computer, printed out a photograph.
She got in her car and headed West, to a motel on Van Buren. She talked to the desk clerk, then went and knocked on the door of the room that bore the number he gave her.
“Barbara Luffey?” she said to the woman who opened the door.
“Yeah.” The woman was so tired she could barely speak. “Are you a cop?”
“No, but I need to ask you something.” Laura handed her the picture she’d printed out. “Do you know this guy?”
Barbara looked at it. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s Frank. My God...”
“My God is right, you stupid bitch. Look at it. You see what it is?”
“Yeah. God help me.”
“I hope he helps your daughter. That picture is from the Department of Corrections website. You can look up any sex offender in this state.”
“God help me.”
“You let him be alone with your daughter?”
“He was nice to me.”
“See how nice he is to your daughter. You’re never going to see her again, I promise you. He’s going to kill her.”
“God help me. God help me.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you protect your daughter?” Laura imagined punching Barbara in the face, and realized that she was close to doing it. Her fists were clenched, and she consciously unclenched them.
“I didn’t know. How was I to know?”
Laura clenched her fists again, and almost swung at Barbara. Then it was herself she wanted to hit. Barbara was right. How could she know? Did anybody look up everybody they met to see if the person was a sex offender, even if they actually knew where to look online and how to do it?
“I’m so sorry,” Laura said. “I’m being an asshole.”
“Why?”
“Because he did it to me when I was a little girl.”
“I mean, why will he hurt my daughter?”
“I don’t know,” Laura said. “I hope he doesn’t.”
“You said he would.”
“I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m sorry.” Laura turned and walked away.
She had arranged to meet David at the Rhythm Room, where Big Pete Pearson was to perform at the New Year’s party. She called David’s cell phone, but he didn’t answer, so she guessed he was already there, and that the noise of the place was kept him from hearing it ring. She drove there, parked her car, went inside. It was busy, though the show hadn’t started yet. She found David sitting at the bar talking to Pat. They both waved at her. She motioned to David to follow her, and then walked outside.
At first, Whitney was having fun. Frank listened to her, and he told her stories about Phoenix. He told her the legend of La Llorona, a woman who drowned her babies, and has been searching for them since her own death. In the night, she searches for the sound of children crying, thinking they are her own children, so if you cry she will come for you. There are many children who, though unhappy, will never cry at night because they fear that she will hear them.
That scared Whitney, but it was the fun kind of fear, and she came close to Frank and let him put an arm around her.
She didn’t like it when he didn’t take his arm away. And then she wanted to go home, and he said no, and then she was crying, and Frank was crying with her.
Laura and David were sitting on the hood of his car in the parking lot of the Rhythm Room. Laura had talked and he had listened, and now they sat in silence, as David searched for something to say.
The parking lot was full. Some people were sitting in their cars toking up, and a man was selling barbecue by the door to the club. The door was open, and Big Pete’s voice floated out on the smoky air and drifted across the lot. David sat looking up at the sky. He thought about an astronomer he had once gotten drunk with in this club. The guy had told him that there may be fifty billion galaxies in this universe, and that in one of those galaxies we inhabit a small planet in orbit around a small star, and that this planet is only a tiny smudge, hardly more than a molecule floating in the dust of it all. He wanted to tell Laura that, as though it was vital for her to know that now, but he didn’t know how to say it.
“Are you sure?” he finally said.
“Am I sure about what?”
“That he definitely took her. That he’ll definitely hurt her?”
Laura laughed, and David didn’t think it sounded human.
“Are you sure he really killed a girl?” David said.
“Yeah. And he would have killed me. And he’ll kill this one. They’ll find her eventually. It’ll depend on what Frank knows about dumping bodies. He might do the clichéd thing, and dump her in a mine shaft. That’ll actually make her easier to find, because there’ll be vultures circling above it. But if he just does the sensible thing and leaves her to rot in the desert, we’ll probably never know anything until somebody goes hiking and trips over what’s left of her.”
“Laura, come on.”
“What?” When he didn’t say any more, she went on. “DNA should convict him this time. It would have put him on Death Row way back when, if they only knew about DNA. It’ll be too late for Whitney, though.”
“Laura, why are you doing this to yourself? How can you even know he ever killed anybody?”
She tried to answer him, but found no words that would make him understand. “I need to find him,” was all she said.
“Come on. Cases like this are solved by teams of homicide cops, not one former beat cop.”
“Whoever gets him, I’ll be there.”
“Yeah, that’ll do a lot of good.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Have you ever, once in your life, tried not just lashing out?”
“Here we go. Forgive everybody. Put it all behind you. You’re a fucking phony, David.”
“Why are you –”
“You can talk all the shit you like, you’re a fake. You think you’ve gotten over what your mom and dad did to you because you can forgive and not get angry about it. All you’re doing is turning a blind eye to everything. You’re just blowing off any responsibility. And you dare to say the lawyers I used to work with are hypocrites because their clients need to take responsibility. You’re a fucking joke.”
Slowly, David said, “I just think you need to be able to let things go, or you can’t be happy.”
“Yeah. Well, why don’t you just go and be happy, then.”
David stood up. “Okay,” he said. “If that’s what you think of me, I guess we don’t have what I thought we had.”
She sat there and looked at him and said nothing.
He wanted to say something about what the astronomer had told him, about smallness and vastness, and he still didn’t know how to. So he said, “Get off my car.”
Laura got off the hood as he got behind the wheel. She watched him drive away. Another car had taken his place before he was even out of the parking lot.
Laura stood there for a while. She looked at the sky, and at the building around her. She thought about how Frank was feeling the same desert air that she was feeling right now, unless he had gone somewhere else with the girl – but she somehow knew that he hadn’t.
She realized that men were noticing her standing outside by herself, and were checking her out, so she went inside the club. Pat asked her what was wrong, and she just said that she and David had fallen out and that she didn’t want to talk about it. Pat had a date, so he didn’t have the opportunity to pres
s her.
Laura sat at the bar, drank beer and listened to Big Pete play. A man tapped her shoulder. She turned around and looked at him blankly.
“Remember me?” he said.
“No,” she said, though he did look vaguely familiar.
“I met you at the Emerald Lounge back in the summer. I asked you for your number, and you didn’t give it to me, but you told me to give you mine.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember.”
He smiled. “I guess you decided not to call me. That’s cool. Just thought I’d say hi.”
“Sorry. I ended up dating somebody just after I met you.”
“Ah. That’s not so hard on my pride. Would you have called me otherwise?”
“I don’t know. Probably.”
“Tell me your name again.”
“Laura.”
“Bet you don’t remember mine.”
“Right.”
“Ben.”
“Hi.”
They made a show of shaking hands.
When midnight came, and the club erupted in cheers, Laura and Ben were still sitting together. They turned to each other, said “Happy New Year,” hugged and kissed. The first kiss was light, then they kissed again, more firmly, and their tongues touched. When Laura drove home, Ben was in the car with her.
He was smart and funny and he knew how to fuck, and he was a stranger and he only knew whatever she told him, so she should have been coming and coming, but she didn’t, not even when he did her favorite thing, stuck a finger in her ass as he licked her clit. She kept thinking she was going to, and knowing she should, and then knowing that she wasn’t, and finally she pretended to anyway.
She woke at seven in the morning. Ben was still asleep. The memory of what they had done made her wet, and she thought about waking him up for more. Instead, she slipped out of bed, went and fed Tubby Franklin, then brewed coffee. She put on jeans and a T-shirt, fixed her hair in a pony tail, then woke Ben and handed him a cup of coffee.
“I’m gonna have to give you a ride back to your car soon,” she said. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”
“Okay,” he said. “I think this is the earliest I’ve ever gotten up on New Year’s Day.”
“Sorry. I wish I could hang out, but I have stuff to do.”
“Mind if I ask what?”
“Not if you don’t mind me not wanting to talk about it.”
“Oh. Okay.” He drank some coffee.
“I’d offer you some breakfast, but I don’t really have anything.”
“That’s okay. I’m not really hungry.”
He got dressed while Laura put on sunscreen and a pair of sunglasses. As they drove back to the Rhythm Room, where he’d left his car, he said, “I’d like to hang out again soon.”
Laura didn’t say anything.
“I guess not, huh?” Ben said.
“Sorry,” Laura said.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, you were great.” She parked the car next to his, then touched his face. “I’m just not in good shape right now.” She kissed him.
“Thanks for being straight with me,” he said. “You’re really cool. I wish – ah, nothing.” He kissed her on the cheek, then got out of the car. She could see the sadness on his face as he unlocked his car door. He just wants what everybody wants, she thought – somebody to give a damn. You can’t blame anybody for that.
She drove to a Circle K and bought two granola bars and a bottle of water. She ate the granola, drank half of the water, and then drove to her old school.
She sat in the car and looked at it for a while. Then she got out and walked to the main door of the building. She tried the door, even though she knew it would be locked, and it was. She pictured Mr. Crossan’s car pulling up, him getting out, coming towards her.
She got back in her car and drove to Encanto Park. She walked around, sat under a certain tree, went and sat on a picnic bench at Kiddie Land, which was closed. Then she drove across town to where the drive-in had been. She didn’t go in, just drove around it a few times.
The Bad Boy Apartments were still there. She went there, parked, and walked around until she found Frank’s old apartment. She stood outside, looking at the window she had put her feet through. She stood there and looked until she saw somebody moving around inside, and realized that she was probably freaking them out by staring in their window. She raised an apologetic hand, turned and walked away.
Then she drove to David’s house.
She knocked on the door, then pounded on it. When there was no answer after a half-minute, she pounded again. His car was in the driveway, but maybe he had gotten a ride somewhere with somebody else. She started to walk to her car. From behind her, she heard David call, “Hey.”
She turned, and saw him standing in the doorway. He was dripping wet, and wearing only boxers. She stood there in the sun and looked at him.
“Hey,” he said again. She still didn’t reply. “I was in the shower. I looked out the window and saw it was you. Come on in.”
She shook her head, still didn’t say anything.
“So, we gonna just stand here and stare at each other? Let me put some clothes on and get you a drink or something.”
“No, listen,” she said as he turned to go back inside. He stopped. “I want to tell you something,” she said.
“Cool. Come on in and tell me.”
“No, listen. I just want to tell you now...”
“Okay.”
“I realized something. I don’t even know what it means, but I never felt for anybody like I feel for you.”
He started to say something, then didn’t.
“I’ve been thinking about you, but not like I’d be thinking about somebody I’d just broken up with. It’s been different.” She started to cry, held it back, and then felt the tears boil, overflow and spill. “I love you.”
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
“I know,” she said. “I know. But...” She was sobbing now. “I realized that even if you never talked to me again, I want you to be okay. I kept thinking about all the bad shit that goes down in this city, and just wanting none of it to happen to you. Oh, God. I just kept thinking about how I want your life to be good, and if you want nothing to do with me, okay, just as long as you’re okay, because –”
“Laura...”
“Because – I don’t even know –”
“Laura, shut the hell up for once in your life.” He came off the porch, came to her and put his arms around her. She held on to him and cried so hard it was like she was yelling. They stood there holding each other as the sun scorched his bare skin. Eventually, her crying faded away.
“I’m lonely,” she said.
“So am I.”
“I’m gonna go now.”
“Don’t. Come into the house.”
“No, not now. I have to go get my head around all this.”
He laughed. “Me too, I guess.” He took a step back and looked at her. “I assume it’s okay for me to call you?”
She wiped her face with her hands. “Yeah. Will you?”
“Yeah. Okay, get out of here. I’m gonna go inside before I get skin cancer.”
As she walked away, he called after her, “You know I love you, too.”
She looked around and smiled at him. He watched her get in her car and drive away.
THIRTEEN
In her apartment, Laura drank beer and made phone calls to cops. She didn’t find out anything she didn’t already know. The girl was missing, and Frank hadn’t shown up at the halfway house or at his job in a couple weeks. It wasn’t seen as a homicide investigation, because Frank had never been charged with a homicide, and it wasn’t even certain that the girl hadn’t run away with him voluntarily.
Frank was trying to make the girl eat, but she wouldn’t, and when he tried to force her she threw up. He thought about Casey.
There was nothing Laura could do. No government buildings would be open until tomorr
ow. The cops were searching for Frank, his image was on the T.V. news, and there was nothing left except for prayer.
Laura didn’t pray. She drank but didn’t get drunk. She kept the radio on in case there was anything in the news, and she thought about how much she loved her cat and how much she loved David.
The girl wouldn’t stop screaming. Frank held her hair and swung the hammer as hard as he could, and then it wasn’t as bad, it was okay, because now she wasn’t screaming, she wasn’t crying, now she wasn’t a girl, now she was just wet meat.
Laura didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, but she started to doze off as she sat at her dining table eating a grilled cheese sandwich and drinking a beer. She set the alarm clock for six in the morning and went to bed.
Frank wrapped the meat in plastic. He took a shower, scrubbed himself clean, put on clean clothes. He put the meat in his car and tried to take it to the place where he’d left Casey, but the city had grown and covered it up, and he had to drive and drive and drive before he found some desert.
When the alarm clock woke Laura, she didn’t feel hungry, but she knew she ought to eat breakfast. She fried bacon and eggs and ate them with toast and a pot of coffee. She took a shower, dried her hair, put on a white shirt and her best suit, which had a jacket that neatly covered the 44 she holstered to the belt of her pants. At eight o’clock, she was driving into town, and she used her cell phone to call into work and say she was sick and wouldn’t be coming in today.
All morning, and well into the afternoon, she went from government office to government office, looking at public records. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but the work she’d done for Bob Headman had taught her that if you look long and hard enough, you can find information that will lead you to whatever you want to know about anyone. She didn’t need to know what she was looking for, because she recognized it when she found it.
She thought about calling the police and giving them the information, but she didn’t want to. She told herself that she would be just as fast.