Fade to the Edge

by Kathryn J Bain

  Tracy dropped onto the last step of the staircase. Daniel marched from the office, catching her off guard.

  “What were you doing up there so long?” He raised an eyebrow, his tone accusatory.

  “I called the police.” She jutted her chin out. A flash of light bounced into her eyes.

  Daniel looked out the large picture window as a Pinebrook County Sheriff’s car pulled up. “You idiot. DJ’s off with a friend.”

  “Don’t call me an idiot.”

  “You set this up to hurt me in the papers.” He sure didn’t appear as worried about DJ as she was.

  “You’re not important enough for me to care any longer. I can’t help but wonder why you don’t want the police involved.” She pretended to remove a piece of lint from her shirt. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you and your little friend had him and don’t want the press to know the games you play.”

  Daniel stepped toward her. She stepped back. It was a common dance they’d played before. Only one time had she ever held her ground—when she discovered the last affair and tossed him out of her house.

  She needed to be just as strong today, for her son.

  “Why do you act like you’re such a good mother,” Daniel said through gritted teeth. “You couldn’t even take care of your child when he was born.”

  Her hand flew to her throat. He knew how to hit the bulls-eye.

  A knock on the door caused them both to jump. Daniel let out a loud puff of air and opened the door all smiles.

  A tall man in a tan uniform stood on the other side. His hat made it hard to see his hair, but his eyes matched the deep brown of his trouser.

  “Officer, thank you for coming so quickly.” Daniel held his hand out to the deputy. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but these days you have to be sure.”

  It took all of Tracy’s power not to scream.

  Thirty minutes later several officers drifted in and out of the house. Tracy willed her hands to stop shaking. While she sat around doing nothing, the police searched inside and out, including the garage. A murmur of excitement drifted from the men when they discovered both walls of the garage opened.

  “Sweet,” one of them said.

  Why were they not focused on her missing child?

  Whirr. Clunk. Clunk. Whirr.

  Why were they opening that back door? It wasn’t likely DJ left that way without her being aware of it.

  Inside the house, deputies searched one room then another opening and closing closet doors, probably hoping someone had been too blind to spot DJ hiding inside one. Every few seconds a radio crackled on one of their shoulders, and they whispered into it, their voices clipped and unemotional.

  Her middle finger flicked against the thumb of her left hand, a habit she’d had since high school. Flick, flick, flick. Her right leg bounced under the table. Bounce, bounce. Flick, flick. And all the while, across the dining room table sat Detective Andrea Swenson who lobbed a question every once in a while in Tracy’s direction.

  Detective Swenson wore a blue blazer that stretched across her shoulders—she was what Grams used to call big-boned. A half-moon scar across her right cheek bounced from the wad of cinnamon gum the detective chomped like an alligator with a large piece of meat. The aroma did little to hide the stale odor of cigarettes.

  Every smack of gum grated further on Tracy’s fraying nerves. Should she call her sister? Being married to a state representative should have some pull to get things moving. But when she’d tried to reach Jenny earlier, her sister hadn’t answered.

  Tracy glanced at the clock on the stove. Seemed like they’d been sitting there for hours, but it’d been less than fifteen minutes. After another minute, she bounced up. “I can’t stand this waiting,” she said. “I need to find DJ.”

  “We’re canvassing the neighborhood right now. If he’s in the area, we’ll locate him.” Detective Swenson looked Tracy in the eye. “Please, sit.” Her voice stern.

  Tracy lowered back into the chair.

  Swenson flipped through several pages of her notebook.

  “Has anyone gone over to make sure DJ is not at Daniel’s?” Tracy leaned her elbows on the table. “We’ve got a hearing on Tuesday, and this is something he’d pull in order to get a foot up on custody.”

  “How would he get a foot up?” Swenson asked. “I would think if he took DJ, and allowed the police to be called, he’d end up looking bad. Especially once DJ was found at his place.”

  “That’s just it, he’d been adamant about not calling you.” Tracy purposely kept her voice down. “I ended up sneaking into my bathroom upstairs to make the call.” Her finger and thumb started their dance again. Flick, flick, flick.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You need to check his apartment.” She combed her fingers through her hair to calm her hand. She’d come to terms with Daniel no longer wanting her in his life. He could move on if he wanted. Just not with DJ.

  “We do have a unit on its way over, in case. And he’s given us his key to search. Also, Kimi Frazier’s place where he spent last night.”

  Tracy leaned back stunned.

  “Tell me about last night,” Swenson said.

  Tracy racked her brain to remember, her mind drowned in a cloak of thick mud. What had they done? She stared at the back window trying to recall.

  “Tracy.” Swenson reached over and tapped the back of Tracy’s hand with her cold fingers. “Last night.”

  “I’m sorry. I took a sleeping pill, and it still has me loopy.” She got up and poured some strawberry smoothie she’d made the day before. Although the texture wasn’t the same, it still tasted good. “I worked on the sink. It wasn’t draining properly.” She shoved back a swig of her drink. The smoothie had an unusually bitter taste to it.

  “Anything out of the ordinary occur?”

  She leaned against the counter and forced another sip down to quell her tears. “I yelled at him,” she whispered.

  The detective raised her eyebrows.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Tracy quickly added. “I can’t afford a plumber.”

  Swenson gave a quick glance around the kitchen at the stainless steel appliances and granite countertop.

  “It looks like I live high but Daniel took all the money when he left.” Tracy hoped her confession didn’t make her look petty.

  “What happened?” Swenson asked.

  “DJ kept bugging me to watch a movie. At about eight, I snapped at him to go to his room.” Tracy’s heart sank. Between her harsh words and Daniel’s actions lately, she wouldn’t blame DJ for taking off. She returned to her chair and stared down at the red MOM printed on the side of the mug DJ had decorated during summer camp. “I wish he was under my feet right now.”

  Swenson took notes in a small notebook. “Did you see him before you went to bed?”

  “Yeah, to say goodnight.”

  “And this morning, when did you see him last?”

  Tracy took another sip of her drink. She glanced over her shoulder. “To be honest,” she leaned forward and lowered her voice, “I wasn’t up. I woke a few minutes before Daniel arrived.”

  Swenson’s eyes widened, but she recovered in the next blink. “I see.”

  “Like I said, I took that sleeping pill. It normally doesn’t affect me that way, but I’ve been under a lot of stress.” Who was she trying to convince?

  “Has anyone you don’t know been hanging around?”

  Swenson’s flip of the subject jarred Tracy.

  “The only stranger is the man I was once married to.” She immediately wanted to swallow back her words. Some days it was hard not to be angry, but right now wasn’t the time. “But, no, no one.”

  “If he wandered off, where would he go?”

  “He wouldn’t have gone anywhere. He’d have stayed here until his dad came.” Tracy was almost sure of that no matter how things had been. She exhaled a loud aggravated breath. “Besides, he wouldn’t have gone outside until his breakfast was finished unless some
one came to get him. He’s a good boy.”

  Swenson snapped her gum like a prepubescent teenager. “Would DJ have gone to a friend’s house while he waited?”

  Why wouldn’t she listen? “He would’ve stayed close until his dad arrived.” Tracy smacked the table with her palm. A red ring jumped onto the table from the unfinished cereal in front of her.

  “Mind if I search his bedroom?” Swenson ignored her outburst.

  “I’ve already looked for him there. So did the other officers.”

  “They looked to see if he was in there. I’d like to dig a bit deeper. Might find a hint as to where he went.”

  “Anything.” Tracy’s voice rose an octave. “Just find him.”

  She led the way up the staircase then down the hall to DJ’s bedroom. Her son’s eyes from the framed photographs on the wall seemed to follow her, accusing her of wrongdoing. Swenson took hold of Tracy’s arm and stopped her in the doorway to the bedroom. From her pockets, the detective pulled out a pair of latex gloves and slapped them on. She shoved around toys that lined the shelves along with a baseball bat engraved with the Atlanta Braves logo. A window on the opposite wall was the only natural light. The detective flung open the blue curtain and allowed the early morning sun in. Dust dots floated through the air.

  She opened and scanned the notebook beside DJ’s bed, placing it back when done.

  Tracy’s stomach churned as she watched this stranger search through DJ’s toys, drawers, and books. Once finished with his personal items, Swenson rolled back the blankets on the bed. She even pulled his pillow out of the case, flipping it over several times though Tracy had no idea what the detective hoped to find. Swenson next lifted the full-sized mattress on the frame.

  Flick, flick, flick. Tracy’s middle finger and thumb started up again. Seconds felt like hours. What could she do to make these people move faster?

  The officer who’d first arrived ran up the staircase, skipping a step at a time. He rapped on DJ’s door.

  Swenson looked up. “Yes, Thomas?”

  “Can I have a second?”

  “Excuse me.” Swenson walked passed Tracy to the top of the stairwell where she and Thomas whispered back and forth. The only words Tracy made out were, “woods out back.”

  Swenson nodded a couple of times, her expression gave nothing away.

  “What is it?” Tracy asked. “Have you found DJ?”

  “Stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, the two officers disappeared down the staircase and out the front door.

  Tracy had a clear view of Daniel in the living room, his back to her as he messed with his phone. When their gaze met, he shoved the cell into his pocket. His forehead wrinkled, his concern appeared real. The anger in his dark eyes definitely was.

  Why even suggest that he had DJ? Sure he’d been obnoxious since they separated, wanting the house, wanting DJ. He’d even accused her of being addicted to prescription medication. But that was divorce. People who once loved each other lying to feel they’d won in some game where there were no winners.

  Might this be another one of his games?

  She wanted to scream at him and fall into his arms at the same time.

  Movement caught her peripheral vision. She peered past the side window to the lawn where several deputies had gathered together, their faces solemn. She inched downstairs. In the center of them all, a blue suitcase lay open in the grass.

  Tracy rushed through the front door.

  Swenson stood in a semi-circle with the others. “I’ll ask again, who’s the idiot who removed it from the woods?” When she got no answer, she added, “Let me guess, the same one who opened it.”

  Tracy’s eyes remained on the suitcase. She plodded toward the group, each step heavier than the last.

  “Stand back.” Deputy Thomas grabbed her by the arm.

  “No, God. Please, no.” Tracy snatched her arm away. Hysteria grew through her soul. On top of the neatly folded clothing lay a bloody paring knife.

  Chapter 5

  Tommy Millhouse rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His palm felt for Kimi Frazier’s backside. Nothing but a blanket. He listened for sounds in the bathroom. When she came back to bed, he’d get her to take care of his early morning issue. He grunted a laugh.

  After a moment of waiting, he glanced at the digital clock. Eight-sixteen. Too early for her to be up after working until three.

  “Babe, I need you,” he sang. Receiving only silence, he called out again, this time louder. Still nothing. Heat filled his chest. “Get in here!”

  He finally tossed the covers aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his need for sex replaced with irritation. She’d been getting a bit too high and mighty. Time to knock her down a peg or two.

  He wandered into the living room. Her cell phone and purse were both gone. He drew the drapes back and glanced at her parking space. Empty. Probably hanging with one of her rich boyfriends. Fine as long as she brought the money back.

  He returned to the bedroom where he grabbed his cell. No messages. Before he had time to dial Kimi’s number, the phone rang in his hand.

  “Great,” he muttered at the screen. He considered not answering but thought better of it. The last thing he needed was Filmore’s goons coming over to give him a once over. Tommy slid his finger over the screen. “Good morning.”

  “So far.”

  No doubt Sid Filmore was sitting at a large table staring down a plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. Weighing at least three hundred pounds, the guy panted walking from one room to the other. Specializing in group and gay porn, he’d risen to the top quickly. He’d chosen Kimi to star in his next movie Anchors Away, about one girl on a submarine with thirty men. Tommy could almost count the money rolling in.

  “I called to make sure everything’s all set for tomorrow,” Filmore said.

  “It is on my end. Kimi can’t wait to become a star.”

  “Funny, she didn’t seem that enthusiastic when we met.”

  Tommy wasn’t about to tell him she hated going down on the fat man, not that it thrilled her doing the movie either, but she’d get over it. Not like she was some virgin or something. She would do what he said or pay for it.

  “Don’t worry about Kimi,” he said. “She’ll be ready.”

  “And without bruises. Some fool beat up one of my stars. Put her in the hospital for weeks. Might not be any good once she gets out. Don’t like it when someone screws up my plans.” After a few seconds of silence, Filmore let out a loud laugh. “But you and your doll would never do that, would you?”

  “No, sir.” Tommy swallowed a lump in his throat. “By the way, if this star of yours can’t come back, you might want to consider Kimi to take her place.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, kid. We’ll see how she does in front of the camera first. Just ’cause she’s pretty doesn’t mean she has what it takes.” The sound of a door closing interrupted their conversation. “Hollywood’s full of pretty girls who think they can act. That’s how the porn industry got started.”

  “You don’t say.” Tommy wasn’t exactly in the mood for a history lesson, but it didn’t hurt to kiss up to the man.

  “I don’t usually pay that large an advance, but Kimi’s looks will ensure I at least come out even. I’ll make a lot more if she works out.”

  “She will. Trust me.”

  “I expect you both at nine sharp. And Tommy, if she doesn’t show, you’d better be there to take her place. There’s a big market for good looking virgin males getting poked.”

  Filmore’s laughter died out when he hung up the phone.

  Tommy shuddered at the thought. He paced the living room before trying Kimi’s number. Voicemail. He flipped open the lid to his box of Winston cigarettes. Only a couple left.

  He dressed and grabbed his keys. Before he reached the doorknob, a knock sounded. Tommy crept to the window and pulled back the drapes to see out. A large guy in a police uniform looked at him.

  Tomm
y’s pulse rate ratcheted up a notch. Be his luck Kimi got killed in some car accident.

  Chapter 6

  Tracy’s pale reflection stared back at her from the mirror on the wall in the small room. There was black ink under her fingernails from where the police had taken her fingerprints for elimination purposes. The lady who’d done the prints pulled her hand around to get it in place, even twisting so hard at one point, Tracy jerked away.

  Where was everyone? Had they found DJ? He had to be fine. Probably at Kimi’s house.

  Kimi Frazier, her husband’s new plaything, and Tracy’s current stress troll. Since the tramp hadn’t been located yet, it was more proof she had DJ. And all this was Daniel’s way of trying to prove Tracy an unfit mother and making her look the part.

  What about the blood?

  It wasn’t blood. It had to be ketchup or something like that. If DJ were hurt, she’d know.

  A yawn escaped her. If she’d only been awake. She scrubbed her hands down her face. Wake up. Keep focused DJ. Now was not the time to be sleepy.

  The memory of her snapping at DJ the night before haunted her. She’d spent most of the night under the sink trying to tighten a pipe once she’d gotten the drain cleared. When she finally finished and headed upstairs to see if he still wanted to watch something, he declined, saying he was too tired.

  He’d placed his notebook on the bedside table and crawled under his covers. So she went to her room to shower. How he must have hated her—them both—not wanting to go with his father after Daniel had slapped her, and then her yelling at him last night.

  Could he have run away? Or been taken? Was he hurt? Too many questions without any answers.

  If she’d been up, she’d have the answers.

  Why hadn’t she been up? Why? Why? Why? After a second, she calmed.

  How far would she spiral into this pit of blackness before she hit bottom?

  She combed a hand through her hair. She’d only been this tired one other time in her life. When DJ was born. Postpartum depression her doctor called it. She and DJ hadn’t bonded that first year due to her illness; instead, he appeared to connect with Jenny. Laughing and smiling when she entered the room.