She spoke directly to Yeager. “Let me remind you that you may be up against the Americans with Disabilities Act. Ben has a formal diagnosis. Whether you call it Asperger’s or a social disability, it is a disability.”
She was on shaky ground there. She should have asked her father if it would apply in a case like this, but she couldn’t let her doubt show through. Her family refused to think of Ben as disabled. It was simply a different way of being and people with Asperger’s had some remarkable traits as well. The only problem came from that clash of outlooks between the world of Asperger’s and the neurotypical world, and the lack of understanding on both sides.
The wall clock advanced another minute. That poor horse, if it was still there. She moved toward the door. Jeanette was at her desk, listening in fascination.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Payton. Mr. Yeager.” Maddie went out before they could speak.
Chapter Twenty-four
Damn, that was good. She was almost as good as Cree at thinking on her feet. Law school, here I come. After that? Maybe a run for Congress.
She pushed open the outside door, half-expecting to find the horse gone. It was there, surrounded by the football team, minus Evan.
The horse had done its best to fertilize the grass. Poor Henry. She ought to clean it up but that called for a shovel and bucket, which she didn’t have.
The team was full of questions. “That your horse? How long you had it? It looks like the one Kelsey rides.”
“Does it? I never noticed.” Maddie invented a formidable owner. “It belongs to my cousin Zak. He’s on tour with his college wrestling team.”
She needed a boost onto the horse but darned if she would ask these guys. She looked for something to climb on. A large boulder or a fallen tree. Leading the horse, she started for home. It wasn’t far.
By now Cree must have turned up somewhere. Especially with that nearly black sky up there.
Ben’s truck was still at home. Ben must be, too, and maybe Cree with him. Rhoda had just arrived and was keeping the garage door open for Dad. She gaped at the sight of Maddie leading a horse.
“It’s a long story,” Maddie said. “I have to take him back. Could you bring me home?”
Ben came out from the kitchen, munching a stalk of celery filled with peanut butter.
Maddie asked, “Is Cree here?”
He swallowed. “Why would Cree be here? She was with you.”
“We got separated. She disappeared after we—” Maddie couldn’t say it even though he knew perfectly well where they had been.
“I looked for her,” she said. “She must have looked for me, too, and maybe started walking but I didn’t see her anywhere along the road. I was sure she’d come here. She wouldn’t try to walk all the way home.”
Rhoda said, “What’s all this about? Where were you and what’s with the horse?”
“I’ll tell you later. Right now I’m really worried. I have to find her.”
Ben went off on a tangent of his own. “You do realize, whatever you’re trying to pull, you’re going to get me in a pile of—sorry, Rhoda—and yourself, too. I told you that and you still don’t get it.”
“I get it, but right now I have to find Cree. I know she wouldn’t hitchhike.” Maddie reached for her cell and remembered it was dead. It was the only place where she had Cree’s number.
“Curses.” She handed the horse to her mother and went into the kitchen. The phone book listed a Penny, M on Rvw. That had to be it.
Cree’s grandmother answered. “If you see the kid, tell her to get in touch or I’m calling the cops.”
Ben stood by, listening. “Are you sure she got out of there alive?”
Of course he knew where they’d been. “We came out together. I went to look at the horses and I thought she was with me.”
He eyed the horse. “Seems to me you did more than look.”
“That was later. I needed transportation in a hurry.” If she’d had the sense to take her own car, Ben wouldn’t need to know any of this. “Rhoda, I hate to bother you, but could you—”
Ben said, “I’ll take you.”
So he could have it out with her. It would happen anyway, sooner or later.
He helped her onto the horse and drove slowly behind her. She hoped his truck wouldn’t spook the creature. What if Kelsey came along in search of her horse? She couldn’t bear to think about that.
“Good boy. Good horse.” She fed it a carrot from the bag she had grabbed at home.
As they neared Kelsey’s house, she felt choked with misgiving. She really hoped she could sneak the horse back unnoticed, but had a story all ready. She would say she found it wandering out on Fremont. She didn’t know how it got there but did know where it belonged. By the time Fall Break was over, with luck the football team would have forgotten they saw her. Not that Kelsey would ever talk to them. If they talked to her, it would throw her into such a panic, she wouldn’t hear a word they said.
The house looked dark and silent. Maddie hoped Kelsey was asleep and her parents not yet home. She dismounted before starting up the driveway and walked the horse as quietly as she could.
So far, there was no sign of Kelsey. Maddie looked back to be sure Ben was still there. He would have plenty to say, but she knew he would never betray her.
It seemed a long way to the paddock. Through the trees she caught glimpses of the shabby white trailer. Would Cree really have gone there? Without a word? If so, where was she?
The other horse was still in the paddock. She gave them both the rest of the carrots, then crept back to Fremont through the trees and scratchy bushes.
Ben had parked in a grove of lilacs near the road in front of the trailer. Good thinking. Kelsey would certainly recognize his truck. He got out when he saw her coming. “Where’s Cree?”
“I don’t know,” Maddie said. “She wasn’t home when I called before. My cell is dead and I don’t know her number.”
She should have written it down. Ben would have remembered after seeing it only once. He was smart that way. She turned on her phone and tried to retrieve the number from its memory. It was too dead even for that.
“What about over there?” He nodded toward the trailer. “She said she knows the person who lives there.”
“I thought of it, too,” Maddie said. “But she wouldn’t still be there. That was ages ago.”
The black car had gone. In its place was a black pickup truck. Lights were on inside the trailer.
Ben said, “I’m going to check that stone wall back there. She knows the place.”
“It’s almost dark. Why would she go there?”
“She wouldn’t, but I’m checking it anyway.” He set off through the strip of woods. Better Ben than herself. His sneakers and bigger feet were made for that rough ground. It surprised her to find him so concerned about Cree.
She thought she could wait in the truck, but he had locked it. With Ben, that was reflex. She rested against it and thought of all the things she said to Payton. And all the things she wished she had said. If they had to verify her story with Kelsey, Maddie hoped they would leave her out of it. At least Kelsey didn’t know who Cree was.
Ben came back alone. “Are you sure she didn’t say anything?”
“If she did, I didn’t hear her. Could you please open your truck? I really need to sit down. I’ve had it.”
“Then sit. Who’s stopping you?”
“On the ground? Why can’t you just unlock it?”
He studied the trailer as if it could tell him something.
“Ben, really, she can’t still be there.”
“Then where?”
“You’re the smart one.” She knew that was unreasonable. She was the one who had been with Cree. Something must have happened.
She tried her own smarts. “That black car is gone. I’m sure it was there earlier. It belongs to a friend of her neighbor, so maybe it’s taking her home.”
If so, it was taking a very long
time taking her home. Maddie said, “Her mom’s in the phone book. We could go home and try calling again.”
Ben refused to leave. Maddie said it once more. “She can’t still be there.”
A car came along Fremont and slowed. She could see it through the bushes. It was dark, maybe black. In the dusk, everything looked black. It turned in at the trailer.
She hurried toward it, stumbling in her pumps. A round face looked out at her and drove on.
Ben loped after it. As Maddie ran to catch up, a very large woman climbed out. Maddie reached them in time to hear the woman say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Leaving Ben frustrated, she opened her trunk.
Maddie whispered to Ben, “Did you see that?”
“See what?”
It didn’t surprise her that he missed it. That was Ben.
“A sort of glint. She did know what you were talking about.”
“A glint?”
“Oh, Ben.”
He must have heard that “Oh, Ben” a dozen times a day. She didn’t mean to be mean. It was only that she felt so helpless.
Ben kept his head. “She just got here. Maybe she doesn’t know.”
“Just got here doesn’t prove anything. We don’t know how long she was out.”
The woman unloaded three grocery bags. Ben said, “Let me help you with that.”
She held out an arm, fending him off. “I don’t need any help, thank you.”
He hesitated. Maddie said softly, “Help her anyway.”
Ben stood rooted in confusion. The woman could manage only two bags. They looked heavy. She set the third one on the ground and closed her trunk. With no further prompting, Ben picked up the extra bag.
“Just forget it,” said the woman as she shuffled toward the trailer’s steps.
Its door opened. A hairy arm reached out and pulled her inside. Ben followed with the third bag and knocked on the door.
A male voice shouted. “Get outa here!”
“Your groceries,” said Ben.
“Leave it.”
He looked inside the bag. “A gallon of milk. It’ll get sour.”
“You hear me?”
“If that’s the way you like it.” He set the bag on the top step. “One question. Have you seen a young girl with long, reddish hair? She had on a purple—”
The door opened barely a crack. The unmistakable muzzle of a rifle poked through it.
Chapter Twenty-five
Voices.
Cree heard them through a dark fog. They were somewhere nearby, but far away. She felt as if she were floating up from the bottom of the ocean.
One voice belonged to a woman. “ … got me all rattled. I didn’t have time to be nice. But you, with that gun … be surprised … call the cops.”
“So?” That was a man.
“Better not point the gun at any cops.” The woman laughed.
“ … almost over. Then we’ll … ”
The voices faded. Whose were they? Not Mom or Grandma. Cree thought she must be in her own room but it didn’t feel right. And she wasn’t in bed.
The woman spoke again, sounding agitated. “I don’t care if he’s yours, I’m sick of this whole thing. I’m sick of being that nicey nice cousin ... ”
“ … gonna have money,” said the man. “But you—you better keep your head. Now we’re stuck with her. You know how hard it is to get rid of a body?”
What body? What were they talking about? Were they real?
The woman said, “She saw it.”
“Saw what? Whadaya mean?”
The voice grew fainter. “That thing he always … mouth … the pacifier … right there, by the phone. I know she … ” Again the voices disappeared.
None of it made sense. Her head ached. All of her ached. She floated in space and time and tried to get a handle on where she was.
Slowly she began to feel her surroundings. As if she were thawing out. She thought she must be in a dream but everything around her felt real. The floor. The smell.
That didn’t prove anything. A dream could seem real at the time. Only later, when she thought about it, she would realize her senses weren’t all that acute. At times she would dream of a big, gooey dessert like those she saw once in a diner window. When she finally got to eat one in her dream, it tasted like the inside of her mouth.
All around her was nothing but blackness. Her room was never this dark. It always had some glow from the village lights, from the street lamp on Riverview. Maybe the power was out.
She lay on something hard and cold. Must have fallen out of bed. She tried to move.
Whatever it was, it held her tightly and all twisted.
Then she remembered. The boulder. She saw it coming down at her. She tried to call for help. Her mouth wouldn’t open. All she knew was, she had to get out of the road.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel her bicycle. It wasn’t there. And that blackness. She knew the rock had fallen in daytime.
Her thawing continued, little by little. She grew more aware. She discovered she was lying on her arm and couldn’t get off it. That was what hurt. Her hands were stuck in back of her.
The arm was turning numb. She tried to rearrange herself. For that she needed her hands and they were stuck in back. She pushed and twisted and finally managed to sit up.
Up where? She was still in darkness and it didn’t feel like a road. It was some sort of tight place. She felt the smallness around her. She rested against something that was not a wall, not flat. Her hands were useless, but her fingers probed. They felt a cold, slippery surface. She tried to escape it but couldn’t move.
Her feet, too, were stuck. Why was it so dark?
She thought she might be dead. In a coffin, but then she wouldn’t be sitting up. Whatever she sat on, it couldn’t be a road. It was smooth, and colder than a wood floor. She felt the cold against her legs.
Bare legs. Was she wearing a skirt? She never wore skirts, except maybe a sundress in hot weather. It didn’t feel hot. She had on something thick and rough, with long sleeves, and what was that smell? Ammonia, like a soggy diaper. She smelled it sometimes at Olive’s house when Olive forgot to change him. Was she really there, or still dreaming? Why was she on a cold floor, in the dark, with her hands and feet stuck together?
The voices came back, muffled, as though through a wall.
“And another thing.” That was a woman. “What if I need to use the john?”
“So use it,” said the man.
“You know I can’t do that! I’m not like you. Get them out of there.”
Get them out of … the john? Cree’s fingers groped further. The thing she rested against was a toilet.
Emerson Santiago and his voices! Was that what she heard? Emerson’s voices? They seemed to come from outside the room.
The man spoke again. “Hang in there, baby. They’ll be here soon. Musta landed by now with a suitcase full. I told them bring cash. You better get the kid cleaned up and make sure he’s not too out of it.”
He couldn’t be talking about her. He said “he.” She heard footsteps and lay down quickly.
The door opened. Light flooded in, showing red through her closed eyelids.
“Dammit, Jake, get her out of here.”
Jake.
A skinny face with a beard.
A skinny house.
She opened her eyes just a slit and peeked through her lashes. The voice was familiar. The smell, too. Olive’s house and sweat. All she saw was a large shape bending over what looked like a bathtub. It picked up something with feet that dangled. A doll.
Not a doll. Her head swirled and odd pieces clicked into focus.
Kip was here! Alive!
And they were selling him.
What could she do? She was helpless.
They talked about a body. Her body. They were going to kill her. Kip would be taken someplace far enough to fly from. Olive would go on blaming Davy forever and Cree would be dead. What could she do?
Nothing. She couldn’t shake the lethargy and she was all stuck together. In a little while they would kill her. Why didn’t they just get it over with?
The door closed. It was dark again. The smell remained, though fainter.
Olive, he’s alive! But he’s lost to you.
She struggled against the bonds. They smelled of duct tape. On her mouth, too.
But why? How did she come to this?
She had a vague idea that Maddie had been with her. She remembered a row of windows. And somebody crying. Was there a dog?
She tried to focus her mind, to force it. You couldn’t force a memory. That only made it stubborn. And nothing explained why she hurt so much and couldn’t move.
A bump on the head. Maybe a drug. Like a date rape drug that knocked you out and made you forget.
She rolled again to a sitting position. She could barely feel her legs. They were curled under her and had something on them. Like pantyhose. And tape on her ankles.
Was Olive in on this? She couldn’t be. Her grief was too real. It was Lina, the “nicey nice cousin.” All a pretense, from the way she spoke. Olive was too trusting to question it. And Uncle Jake.
Maybe not an uncle. He said something. Or Lina did. She couldn’t remember what it was. Something that made her think … could he be … Kip’s father?
Yes, Grandma, she is a tart. And if it’s his kid, he feels entitled to do what he’s doing. People like him can always find some way to justify themselves.
A screech came from beyond the door. “Jake! The kid’s got diaper rash. What’ll I do?”
Of course he has diaper rash, you dumbhead. You left him in wet pee.
“He won’t wake up!”
You killed him.
Jake said, “Give him coffee.”
He couldn’t be serious.
“Put it in a bottle and give it to him.”
He was serious. Kip would gag and spit it out and they would punish him.
“Speed it up, will you?” Jake’s voice had a nervous edge. “There’s lights coming. They’re—oh shit, it’s a cop car. What did you do, call the cops?”
Twenty Minutes Late Page 19