by James Newman
“Looking back, I knew Eddie was no good. I knew it, but I stayed with him anyway. I’ve always been like that. Ever since I reached that age when I started acting all boy-crazy, I always chased after the ones I knew were bad for me.
“When we first got together, Eddie told me he made his living doing a bunch of odd jobs around town. Painting houses, cleaning out gutters, crap like that. But I knew there had to be something else going on. His cellphone rang all hours of the night. And his wallet stayed so fat all the time! I always suspected it wasn’t legal, whatever he was into. I guess that’s why I never nagged him about it, ’cause I didn’t want to know the truth.
“One night not long after I moved in with him, Eddie stepped out to buy a pack of cigarettes. While he was gone I heard a knock at the door. There was this strung-out-looking skank standing on our front porch. She pulled a wad of cash out of her bra, asked me to tell Eddie how sorry she was for being late with it, promised it’d never happen again.
“Of course, I confronted him about it when he got home. Turned into this huge fight. But Eddie finally came clean about everything...
“He was a drug dealer. And a pimp. Smalltime stuff, mostly. Weed, pills, crystal meth. Sherrie was one of his whores, worked the truck stops off I-26 outside of town. That’s where he moved most of his crank, too—long-haul drivers call it ‘high speed chicken feed,’ use it to stay awake on the road.
“Even after I found out all that shit, I didn’t break it off with him. I rationalized my staying with Eddie by telling myself that he was good to me. Far as I knew, he didn’t screw around. Sure, he sold drugs, thought he was some kinda redneck mack-daddy with those sluts he had working for him, but he treated me right. It was like, once I got mixed up with him, I turned into that stupid teenager I used to be all over again.
“Earlier this summer, even though a little voice inside my head kept telling me it was a bad idea, I decided Sophie should come live with us. Of course, Aunt Patty was against it. We had a big falling-out the day I loaded up Sophie’s stuff in Eddie’s truck. She said I had never been responsible before, so what made me think I could start now. She begged Sophie not to go. Even threatened to take me to court, but nothing ever came of that.
“I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. I guess I hoped...I might be able to change Eddie. If I could get him to make an honest living, maybe we could be a happy family. I know it was stupid. But Sophie seemed to like Eddie a lot, and although a guy like Eddie could never be the ‘father figure’ type, he thought she was okay too. A few weeks before...what happened...he took her out for her birthday, got her a tattoo. Shoulda been illegal considering she’s a minor, but Eddie knew people. He always knew people. It was this tiny thing, a yin-yang symbol on her ankle, but we fought about that for days. Of course, any time I tried to talk to him about the other stuff, about the dealing and the pimping, he accused me of nagging. He asked me why couldn’t I be happy, when he took care of me and Sophie and we didn’t have to worry about a thing. He’d ball up his fists like he wanted to hit me. He never did lay a hand on me. But when we argued...Eddie always looked like he was so full of anger it was bubbling up inside of him just waiting to blow. Sometimes he reminded me of this frightened little boy, constantly looking over his shoulder like a monster was gonna come gobble him up.
“I guess whatever he was afraid of, whatever filled Eddie with that rage...it finally caught up with him.
“After Sophie moved in with us, I decided to go back to work. I didn’t want to rely on Eddie’s dirty money anymore. I got a job waiting tables at a bar just over the county line. It wasn’t the classiest job ever, didn’t bring in half the dough Eddie was carrying home night after night, but ya know what? At least I could look my daughter in the face and give her an honest answer when she asked me what I did for a living. In the meantime, I kept praying that I’d be a good influence on Eddie. That he would want to do the right thing, for Sophie and me. But he never got the chance...
“It happened three weeks ago. Another girl had called in sick and I was the only one working the floor that night. I didn’t get home till two in the morning.
“I knew something was wrong as soon as I pulled into the driveway. Eddie’s pickup was there, but it had jumped the curb. It was parked half in our yard, half in the road. Its driver-side door was hanging open. The front door of our house was wide open, too.
“The first thing I noticed when I stepped inside the house was the smell of blood. It was so strong I could taste it.
“I found Eddie in the hallway. Somebody had...blown his head off. With a shotgun. He was lying on his stomach and his...brains...were splashed all over the carpet.
“I ran to Sophie’s room, screaming her name. But she was gone. There weren’t any signs of a struggle. Her bedroom looked just like it always did, except some of her clothes were missing. Her closet door was open. Her dresser drawers had been pulled out. Like she’d packed her stuff in a hurry.
“We were getting along so well, finally building a life together. I never should’ve insisted that she come live with us. Aunt Patty was right. She was happy up there. Safe. Now I don’t know whether my daughter is alive or dead. And it’s all my fault.
“Oh, God, it’s all my fault...”
†
When she was done Melissa sank even further into her seat, and from the back of her throat came a moan of despair. Her hands splayed out before her on the tabletop, as if she feared she might fall off of this world if she didn’t hold on to something.
“I’ll be damned,” said Nick. “I’m a grandfather?”
“It’s true.”
“I can’t believe your mother never told me.”
“No one knew. We had the arrangement with Aunt Patty. By the time I got pregnant, you were barely calling more than once or twice a year. Mom thought it wouldn’t matter one way or the other if you did know.”
Nick had never felt so low.
“I didn’t say that to hurt you,” she assured him.
“No. If the shoe fits, right?”
In her distressed features Nick could see the little girl his daughter had once been. A child he had barely known, but whom he recognized, however vaguely.
He shifted in his seat, decided there would be time for apologies later. “What are the police saying about this? There must have been some kind of search party?”
Melissa picked up her battered pack of cigarettes, but then realized she had already smoked her last one. She cursed under her breath, let the empty pack drop back onto the tabletop.
“They made a big show of it at first,” she said. “A bunch of guys from the Rescue Squad dragged the river. That was the hardest thing I ever had to watch. Sheriff Mackey keeps telling me he hasn’t given up, but then in the same breath he says most missing teenagers are missing because they want to be. Thing is, to the cops Eddie was just a piece-of-shit drug dealer. They’re not in any hurry to arrest whoever killed him.”
“Wait,” said Nick. “You don’t mean—”
“They think Eddie...touched her. That maybe he’d been doing it for a while, and she finally had enough.”
Nick swallowed a sick taste in his mouth. “Melissa, forgive me. Could they be on to something?”
“No way. Eddie wasn’t a good guy, I know that. But he never would’ve laid a hand on Sophie.”
Nick nodded, though he refused to rule anything out for now. “She’s a suspect, then?”
“Not officially. But they keep calling her a ‘person of interest.’ Whatever that means. They even questioned Aunt Patty at one point. They thought she might be hiding Sophie away. Of course, we’re not on speaking terms anymore. Aunt Patty blames me for everything.”
“What do you think happened that night?” Nick asked her.
“I think Sophie witnessed Eddie’s murder. And whoever killed him kidnapped her ’cause she’d seen too much.”
“What about his truck? You said it was sitting up on the curb when you got home, with the d
oor open. Sounds to me like he might have been running from somebody.”
“That’s what I thought. Still do. But according to Sheriff Mackey, the autopsy showed Eddie’s blood-alcohol level was over twice the legal limit. Their theory is, he came home shitfaced, went after Sophie but she was waiting for him.”
Nick took a minute or two to let everything she had told him sink in.
“Any way you look at it, it doesn’t make a damn bit of sense,” he said. “She takes the time to go through her closet, pack a change of clothes, after she’s just witnessed your boyfriend’s murder? I don’t buy it. She would have been scared to death. She would have gotten out of that house as soon as possible. Hid in the woods till the killer took off, I don’t know. But she wouldn’t just hang around. Which means one of two things: either the cops are right, and she killed Eddie—you do need to prepare yourself for that possibility, Melissa—or his murderer allowed her to take some of her things along for a reason.”
“Oh, God.”
“Whoever killed Eddie, he didn’t want any witnesses, he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill her too. But if we’re onto something here, this person made her pack a change of clothes. That means your daughter is alive. And he planned to keep her that way.”
“But what did he want with her? What is he doing to my baby right now?” Melissa sobbed.
Nick shook his head, didn’t know how to answer that. He opted not to mention another possibility: that his granddaughter might have been in cahoots with the culprit even if she didn’t pull the trigger.
“She took her medicine with her too,” Melissa said. “Every time I think about that I want to break down again.”
“Medicine?”
“Lamictal. Sophie’s epileptic. It keeps her from having seizures.”
Nick’s heart ached worse than ever for this young lady—both of them—who shared his blood yet remained a mystery to him.
“She refused to go anywhere without her pills. Back when we were still talking, Aunt Patty told me Sophie had a seizure at school one time. Ever since, she’s been mortified at the thought of it happening again in public. She said a bunch of stuck-up cheerleader types recorded the whole thing on their iPhones so they could all laugh at it later.”
“How often does she have to take this—”
“Lamictal. Twice a day, every day.”
Melissa started sobbing again.
Around them, the sounds of the restaurant seemed a million miles away now: silverware clinking against dishes...the gurgle of a coffeemaker...the thwap of a spatula slapping meat patties on the grill.
Nick sighed, rubbed at the stubble beneath his misshapen chin. His five o’clock shadow started low, halfway down his neck, as his disfigured face was completely hairless, like a plot of scorched earth where not even a single weed could survive.
“I’m assuming I’m here ’cause you want to me to try to find her,” he said. “You think there’s something I can do that the law can’t?”
“I was hoping you could talk to some people who might not give the police the time of day,” Melissa said. “If the cops don’t intimidate them...maybe you can.”
“Maybe,” said Nick.
“It’s been three weeks since Sophie disappeared. The cops are clueless. But I know she’s alive. I can feel it. She’s just waiting for us to come save her.”
“Melissa...”
“Will you try? Please? That’s all I’m asking. Will you try to find my baby?”
Nick took a deep breath, let it out slowly.
“Please,” she said again.
“I’ll do what I can.”
Even as the words fell from his mouth he had no idea what they meant. And he feared he might regret them.
“You need to understand, though: I’m not the police. I’m not some private dick. These days I’m just a bouncer with a bum knee and a fucked-up face. Used to be a grappler, so I had a few moves once upon a time. I doubt I’ve got those anymore. The last thing I wanna do is get your hopes up, sweetheart. Promise me you won’t get your hopes up.”
“I won’t,” she said.
“Sounds like your boyfriend was mixed up in some bad business. I might look like something out of a horror flick, but I go pushing my weight around, trying to get answers from people who don’t wanna give them, somebody else could get hurt.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Tell me how to get to Eddie’s place.”
“You remember the old train depot just outside of Midnight?”
Nick remembered it well. Once, after a fight with his father when he was twelve, he had decided to run away from home. Packing a bag lunch and his life’s savings at the time (five dollars), he had set out to ride the nation’s rails like a hobo, embarking on nomadic adventures with no parents telling him what he could and couldn’t do. He got as far as the Polk County Train Depot before he chickened out, hightailing it back home into the arms of his distraught mother.
Melissa said, “Just past the depot, you’ll see Gorman Gap Road on your right. After about a mile you’ll pass an old church. There’s a cow pasture, then Eddie’s is the first house on the left. His name’s on the mailbox: Whiteside. You can’t miss it. There’s still police tape everywhere.”
“Got it.”
Nick slid out of the booth. He could feel everyone in the restaurant staring at him as he stood. Once again, he ignored them.
“You’re going out there right now?” Melissa asked him.
“Can’t think of a better place to start.”
†
Since the night Sophie disappeared, Melissa had been renting an apartment on the edge of town. She insisted Nick come stay with her, but he didn’t feel comfortable with the thought of moving in even temporarily with his adult daughter, the fact that they were practically strangers notwithstanding. After leaving Annie’s Country Diner, he drove to the Sunrise Motor Lodge off North Main, where he rented a room for a week. It wasn’t the fanciest joint in the world, but it would do in a bind.
Melissa gave him her phone number, a key to the house she had shared with Eddie, and a wallet-sized photo of her daughter.
She begged him to be careful. He promised her he could take care of himself.
As they left the diner, Nick noticed the flyers up and down the block: stapled to telephone poles, taped to storefronts. He hadn’t paid them any attention on his way into town but now they were impossible to miss. HAVE YOU SEEN ME? read the caption at the top, above a black-and-white reproduction of the photo Melissa had given him. Beneath that: SOPHIE LYNN SUTTLES/AGE 14/MISSING SINCE JUNE 26, followed by a contact number for the Polk County Sheriff’s Department.
Nick and his daughter embraced as the patrons of Annie’s Country Diner watched through the restaurant’s windows. Overhead, out front of the Sheriff’s Department, the U.S. and North Carolina-state flags flapped and clanked against their pole like the voice of the town itself warning Nick that he could do no good here.
Just before he climbed into his Bronco, and she into her green Camry parked on the opposite side of the street, Nick looked back to see Melissa glaring at their audience. If she’d been packing, he was quite sure she would have opened fire on every last one of them.
“Oh, take a fucking picture,” she said.
He told her, “Hang around me long enough, hon, you’re gonna have to get used to that.”
†
Nick popped his favorite album, a collection of old blues tunes, into the Bronco’s CD player. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood up as Lightnin’ Hopkins sang of going back home: “Well, you know this ain’t no place for me, and I don’t think po’ Lightnin’ wanna stay...”
As he drove out of Midnight’s town proper and into the countryside bordering Polk County, Nick passed a few of his old haunts, and he wondered what had become of others: places like Storch’s Rim, where he had lost his virginity at the age of fifteen...the graffiti bridge near Junction 108, beneath which he had sipped his first beer and toked on his
first joint...that secret spot in the Snake River Woods where he used to throw pennies into an old well, wishing he could one day be rich and famous just like his idol, Elvis. He nearly grew dizzy beneath the memories.
He followed Melissa’s directions without consciously thinking about them. His formative years had been spent here, and in many ways it felt as if he had left Midnight only yesterday. Before long, a crooked old one-room church zipped by in his peripheral vision, then a sprawling green pasture in which eight or nine fat black cows grazed behind a barbed-wire fence.
Nick maneuvered the Bronco around a deep curve, and his destination was upon him.
He turned down the music.
The house was small, beige with brown trim. Its gravel driveway was littered with the glistening green fragments of a broken beer bottle. A propane grill leaned against one side of the house. Ribbons of yellow crime-scene tape crisscrossed the front porch (“NO TRESPASSING BY ORDER OF POLK COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPT”). At some point a strip of it had come loose; it dangled from the spidery branches of a dead rosebush in the middle of the yard, snapping and popping in the afternoon breeze. A thick copse of trees lined the rear of the property like a crowd of curious bystanders hoping to catch a glimpse of something gruesome.
Nick stared down at the photo of his granddaughter that Melissa had given him. Before pulling out of his parking space back at the diner, he had placed the picture on his dashboard next to the Bronco’s speedometer.
The teenager’s eyes were a radiant blue. Like his own. Her round face showed a hint of the chubby child she must have been at one time. Her dark brown hair was trimmed in a pageboy style. She wore a maroon leather jacket over a gray T-shirt, a Celtic cross necklace. The corners of her mouth were turned up in a mischievous grin, as if Sophie knew a secret that could tear this town apart.
Nick wondered what she was like. If she was safe. If he would soon be blessed with the opportunity to get to know his granddaughter, or if it was already too late.