“Like normal people do,” Sharon said, lifting the binoculars to her eyes. “Depending on if you’re getting dressed or want more light in the room or whatever.” She peered through the binoculars, not sure what she was looking at. The upstairs was dark, while the first floor had a few windows showing the glow of light behind the blinds.
Niki said, “I’ve never seen Jacob, so his bedroom must be in the front of the house, but the parents’ room and their bathroom faces in our direction. There’s another room, too, this side of the house off on the right. I think it’s a home office. I’ve seen the dad, sometimes walking around in his boxers. He hasn’t been around for a few days, at least not that I’ve seen.”
“He walks around in just his boxers?”
“Just his boxers.” She shook her head and laughed. “But he’s nothing special, believe me. In case you were wondering.”
“I really wasn’t.”
“And every night around eight o’clock, the lights go on in the basement, but only for a few minutes. Then they go off, but something else happens. Can you see what’s happening with the basement window in the corner all the way on the left?”
Sharon moved her gaze to follow Niki’s direction. “I can’t really see it.”
“Keep looking. It’s hard to make out, but there’s one part of the basement, one corner, where after the lights go out, I see a flickering of light. It’s that way nearly every night.”
Sharon kept her eyes on that side of the house, frustrated at not seeing anything. It was like that time in high school biology where all she could see were her eyelashes while the rest of the class was exclaiming over their view of paramecia. “I’m sorry, but I can’t—” And suddenly, she could. Right in the lower corner of the house, she spotted a slight flickering of light. “I see it now. What is that? A candle?”
Niki said, “I think it’s more likely to be someone looking at a laptop or watching TV in the dark.”
“So they have a rec room in the basement?” She handed the binoculars back to Niki. “Do you think it’s Jacob?”
“I don’t know, but I have a theory. If you were keeping someone secret, where would you have them sleep?”
“In the basement,” Sharon said, realization dawning.
“And say this little girl is being kept down there. It would make sense that she’d go to bed around eight, right? But tonight it’s earlier. Why would that be? What happened today that’s different from the past few days?”
Sharon’s heart sank. “She got in trouble for opening the door when I was talking to Mrs. Fleming. Oh no, I hope I didn’t make things worse.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it. We’re talking about a kid being held prisoner,” Niki said. “I don’t think it could get much worse.”
They continued watching the house, even though not much happened. “What if one of us climbed the fence and looked through that window?” Sharon asked.
“I’m not against the idea,” Niki said. “How high is the fence?”
“Six feet. I was appalled when they built it. It’s hard not to take it personally when a neighbor builds a huge wall along the lot line. There aren’t even any spaces in between the boards. It’s just a solid mass.”
“So, wait,” Niki said. “How long ago did they move in?”
“Five years ago or so? There was a lovely older couple who lived there before them. The Stoibers, Joyce and Bill. They’d raised their family there, and once the kids grew up it became too much to maintain. They retired to a condo in Florida.”
“So the Flemings moved in and immediately built a wall?”
“Not immediately. They’d lived there maybe six months or so at that point. I stopped over once to introduce myself, but they weren’t home and I never went back.”
When Niki’s phone rang, Sharon set down the binoculars while Niki went to answer it. Glancing at the screen, she said, “It’s Amy.” She put it on speakerphone.
Sharon was always amazed at how adept young people were with their cell phones. In the dark, hearing Amy’s voice ring out, it was like she was in the room with them.
“Hey, Amy,” Niki said. “Guess what your mom and I are doing right now?”
Amy generally hated when Sharon did this kind of thing, saying she had no time for guessing games, but apparently she was far more tolerant of Niki, because she chuckled and said, “Do tell.”
“We’re upstairs in your old bedroom, sitting in the dark, spying on the neighbors in back.”
“The fence people?”
“The very same.”
Sharon interjected. “The Flemings. Do you remember them?”
“Not really. I remember you talking about them building a fence, but I only knew the Stoibers.”
Of course. The Flemings moved in long after Amy had moved out and created her own life apart from her mother and the family home.
Amy asked, “So why are you spying on them?”
Sharon let Niki fill her in, starting with the photo Sharon had taken the night of the super blood moon lunar eclipse and ending with how Sharon had gone up the driveway to ask Mrs. Fleming point-blank if she had any young children. After she was done laying it all out, Niki said, “So do you think we should call the police?”
“Hmm.” Amy mulled it over, but only for a few seconds. “You haven’t seen evidence of a crime, so it would be a tough call for the police. They’d probably investigate because they have to, but they might think of it as a nuisance complaint. A beef between neighbors. And the Flemings wouldn’t have to let them search the house, so they wouldn’t have anything concrete to go on.”
“So we shouldn’t call the police?” Sharon asked.
“I think you’d be better off contacting CPS—child protective services—and telling them what you just told me. This is really their area.”
Niki said, “Do you think they’d take us seriously?”
“They have to—that’s their job.” Amy spoke to someone in the background, telling them it would be just a minute, and Sharon realized she was still at the office. “Tell you what,” Amy said when she came back to the conversation. “Why don’t you email me everything you know about the family and I’ll see what I can dig up.”
“We don’t know much besides their names and where they live,” Niki said.
“That’s a good start,” Amy said. “Send it and I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next morning after Niki had left for work, Sharon had her phone in hand, finger poised above the screen ready to call child protective services, when the thing rang, startling her. Looking at the name on the screen, she was glad to see it was Amy.
“Amy!” she said. “It’s so good to hear from you.” She tapped the button to put it on speakerphone, the way Niki had taught her, and set it on the table in front of her. Niki was right—it was easier to talk this way.
“Hey, Mom, I only have a few minutes, but I wanted to let you know what I found out about the Flemings.”
In the background Sharon heard faint noises, indicating Amy was once again calling from the office. No wonder she only had a few minutes. “Go ahead.”
“Suzette Marie Fleming, maiden name Doucette, age forty-six. Born and raised in Minnesota, she graduated with honors from Loyola University, which is where I would guess she met her husband, Matthew John Fleming, age forty-seven. He got his undergrad at Loyola and then went to medical school at Northwestern.”
“So he’s a doctor?”
“Was a doctor. He was part of a practice in the Chicago area, then about six years ago he gave up practicing medicine and moved to Wisconsin, buying the house right behind yours, and got a job working for a company that sells medical equipment. He’s a training specialist, travels around teaching staff how to use MRI machines, that kind of thing.”
“Why would he give up being a doctor?” Sharon mused. “Too stressful?”
“Maybe,” Amy said. “Or maybe he did something wrong or illegal and was caught
. Sometimes if that happens the offender is given the option of quitting voluntarily rather than being charged with a crime. The house they had in Illinois was a mansion. Moving to your neighborhood was a definite step down for them. I find it hard to believe someone would give up a high-status job that required so many years of training unless something drastic happened.”
“Wrong or illegal? Like what?”
“It could be anything. Sexually harassing staff, writing bad scripts, fraudulent insurance claims. You know, the usual.” Amy, who had the killer instincts of an attorney, sounded downright cheerful.
“Oh.” The idea of quitting a profession to avoid prosecution was foreign to Sharon’s way of thinking, but it was just the kind of thing her daughter would pick up on. “What does his wife do for a living?”
“She worked in HR until their son was born and hasn’t been employed since. Instead, she keeps busy being on the boards of several charitable organizations, most of them affiliated with big corporations.”
“And their son?”
“Jacob Matthew Fleming, a senior in high school. He got his driver’s license a year ago, but he hasn’t had any moving violations as far as I can tell. His parents have had a few parking tickets, and his mom got one for going too slowly on the interstate. Otherwise, the family is clean. No complaints, no signs that they’ve broken any laws. Just your average middle-class Wisconsin family.”
“With a very tall fence.”
“Which they got a permit for,” Amy reminded her. “Some people say good fences make good neighbors.”
“So I’ve heard.” Sharon tapped her fingernails against the table. “Anything else?”
“Nope, that’s all I found.”
If there were more out there, Amy would have found it. Sharon was sure of that. “Okay, thank you.”
“Did you call CPS yet?”
“No, I was just about to when you called.”
“So much for their clean record,” Amy said, a grin in her voice. “Now that the neighbors are complaining.”
“Do you think this is a bad idea?”
“No, not at all. If there is a child in danger, you’re a hero. If you’re mistaken, it’s not a big deal. It’s always better to err on the side of caution in a case like this.”
Sharon knew Amy was right, but moments later, dialing the number for child protective services, she still felt like she was tattling on a neighbor with little evidence to back up her suspicions. It helped to be connected with Kenny, a thoughtful man who listened intently.
“Do you still have the photo you took that night?” Kenny asked.
“Yes, it’s on my phone. It’s not very clear, though, I’m sorry to say. It was dark, and I took it over the top of the fence.”
“I’m sure you did the best you could.” Kenny’s tone was soothing. “Are you going to be home the rest of the morning?”
“I can be. Are you going to come out to my house?”
“Not me, but one of the staff members here. I’ll tell you what—why don’t you give me an hour or so, and I’ll call you back to let you know when someone can come out and take a look at all the things you’re telling me about.”
Sharon exhaled in relief. “So you’re for sure going to investigate?”
“We take every complaint seriously,” Kenny assured her.
By the time Sharon hung up, a dark worry had lifted from her heart. Such a relief. She’d done all she could do for that little girl in the window. The authorities were involved now and would take care of everything.
Chapter Twenty-Four
At the end of the school day Jacob left the building and got on the bus, but instead of taking it all the way home, he exited at an earlier stop and began walking straight to the Village Mart. His mother had done a good job terrorizing poor Mia the previous evening, but what she hadn’t known when she sent them off to their rooms without dinner was that they’d already eaten. At that point, little Mia had already polished off one and a half hot dogs, and Jacob had eaten two hot dogs, plus the half she hadn’t eaten. Added to that were the chips and soda they’d had earlier, and both of them were stuffed full. Neither of them minded going to their bedrooms for the night either. Jacob would have been there anyway, and it was a reprieve for Mia, who could settle in and watch TV undisturbed.
His mom prided herself on being so clever, when in fact she was a total idiot.
After his mother had ordered them both to their rooms, he’d taken Mia downstairs, and when they’d gotten out of earshot they’d shared a smile, knowing they’d pulled one over on her. Before his mother had arrived home and after they’d eaten, Mia had cleared the table and wiped it down, and Jacob had washed the dishes by hand and put them back in the cabinet. The hot dogs and buns that they hadn’t eaten went back in the freezer, buried below the frozen vegetables and chicken nuggets. They had been careful not to leave a mess, and in the process, they’d left no evidence that they’d eaten dinner.
Mia’s mood was only spoiled by her worry about being locked in. “I drank a lot of Coke,” she said, although she really hadn’t. “What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
Jacob knew what it was like to lie awake in bed and stress. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll close it, but I won’t lock it. If you have to go to the bathroom, be really quiet and make sure to pull the door shut when you go back to your room afterward. And make sure you don’t run the water or flush.” His mother had nearly supernatural hearing at times.
“But in the morning . . . ,” Mia said, her face mapped with worry, and Jacob knew she was imagining his mother coming across the unlocked door the next day. Then they’d both be in trouble.
“I’ll make sure I’m the one who comes down in the morning,” he promised.
“Will you?” The fear in her eyes melted away.
“I will. She’ll never know.”
“Thank you, Jacob.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Jacob?” she said, sitting down on her cot. “Are you like my brother?”
What to say to that? She was as close to a sister as he’d ever had, and when he heard other kids talk about their siblings, they had the same kind of mixed feelings he had for Mia. She could be annoying, so much so that he found himself snapping at her, taking out the frustrations of the day by lashing out in her direction. Other times, the way she looked up to him warmed his heart. And of course, they both were in his mother’s sights, so they shared a silent partnership in keeping her off their backs. “I guess so,” he finally said. “Sort of like a brother.”
“I thought so.” She smiled, and his heart broke a little bit. Mia was so grateful for nothing, and it struck him once again how wrong it was for her to be here, closed up in their house. If it was up to his mother, Mia would never go outside, but his father said she needed the sunshine and fresh air. That human beings weren’t made to be closed up all the time. So once in a great while Mia was allowed in the backyard during the day, but only when his mother was sure none of the neighbors were around, and even then it made her nervous. Jacob was pretty sure a six-foot-high fence provided the coverage they needed. His mom was paranoid by nature.
Mia occupied a very small world, and her days were filled with chores and more chores.
But if not with Jacob’s family, where would she be? It could be far worse, according to his mother, and he’d seen it himself, so he knew it was true. When they’d first laid eyes on Mia, his mother had been driving on back roads on the way home from his grandfather’s funeral. His mom was lost, having shut off the GPS because the voice annoyed her and she thought she knew better. His mother was a terrible driver to begin with, but she became a complete maniac when she was lost, pounding the steering wheel with her fist and swearing because she couldn’t find any street signs. As if street signs would help on Wisconsin’s endless country roads where everything looked the same.
Jacob had just been about to turn on the GPS and hit the “Home” setting when he’d glanced up to see som
ething tiny moving right in the middle of the road. He’d screamed, “Mom, stop!” and grabbed the steering wheel, something that would have infuriated her under normal circumstances, but because she’d noticed the same thing he had, she was too busy slamming on the brakes to react to what he was doing. They stopped short of hitting the toddler girl, who was dressed only in sagging underpants, filthy socks, and stained pink pajamas patterned with cartoon cats. His mother threw the car into park and put on the four-way flashers, and then both of them got out and walked over to the little girl. Mia just stood there with her thumb in her mouth, regarding them with wide eyes. She didn’t flinch or react at all, really. Her hair was thick and down to her shoulders, matted and greasy. Except for her big brown eyes, there was nothing cute about her.
His mother crouched down in front of her, examining her like a specimen. “Hi there,” she said, actually sounding nice. “What’s your name, sweetie?” Besides being dirty and smelling like pee, the little girl was silent and seemingly unfazed by how close she’d come to becoming roadkill. “Do you live around here?”
“Should we call 911?” Jacob asked, and when his mom nodded affirmatively, he got out his phone. But when he tried to make the call, he found out that there was no cell service. Not unexpected, since his mother had opted for the cheapest cell phone plan.
“It’s because we’re in the middle of nowhere,” his mom said bitterly. “Like trying to call from the moon. It’s impossible. Can’t be done.”
In his world history class, Jacob’s teacher had actually played very clear recordings of audio transmissions from the moon for the class, but Jacob didn’t think his mother would appreciate being contradicted at that moment. Or ever, really. He said, “Now what?”
His mom sighed. “Pick her up, and the two of you can sit in the back seat. We’ll drive down the road and find out where she belongs.”
The Moonlight Child Page 15