32
Are we really going to do this?
Do you not want to?
No. I do. I’m just scared.
If you’re not ready, we can wait.
I’m ready. Are you?
Yes.
We really leaving everything behind? Even my critters?
It’s the only way. We’ll have our own nature center one day with all kinds of critters to care for.
You think anyone suspects?
Don’t think so. Not sure. Your mom is who we have to worry about. She’s got the money to track us down unless we’re very very careful. I can’t wait to be Mrs. Julian Flax. You make me so happy.
That’s what I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing.
Me too. For you. Do I make you happy?
You know you do! I tell you all the time. The happiest.
I’m about to copy this over then erase everything. See you in the morning love. Can’t wait. Can’t wait to continue writing our story. I’m so excited. No way I’ll be able to sleep tonight.
* * *
—I think they were running away together.
Taylor stops pacing and steps over to him.
—Who?
—Shelby and Julian. To get married.
She lets out an exasperated sigh and shakes her head.
—Silly little girl. They’re just children.
—It’d be wrong to dismiss their relationship or—
—Relationship? Are you serious? They’re children.
—Actually, they’re not. You were having Shelby when you were her age.
—And look how well that turned out. We’ve got to let the sheriff know she’s with him.
—He’s gonna want this, he says, nodding toward the screen. Don’t think we should give it to him.
—But what if it’ll help them find—
—I’ll keep going through it. If I find anything else, I’ll let him know.
—Okay. So how do I tell him I know?
—It’s probably just a matter of time ’til they come and search her room. I’m gonna put the file on my computer. That okay?
—I guess. Just don’t lose it.
—I won’t. That’ll give us a backup. I’ll print out this exchange between them and you can give it to Keith. It’s not dated and there’s no way to know when it was written. Could be from way back and for whatever reason they decided not to.
—Keep reading. I’m gonna call Keith.
She starts to leave, then stops.
—And, Marc?
—Yeah.
—Thank you so much. You’re the most amazing, sweetest, best boy ever. I love you.
—I love you.
—And I owe you.
—When she’s back safe and sound, you know how you can repay me.
She smiles.
—I already owe you so much. I’ll be making pussy payments for the rest of my life.
—There are far worse debtors’ prisons, he says.
—Oh, with you, baby, it’s strictly briar patch. It’s like I’m the one being paid.
—Sweet.
—True.
She begins to leave again.
—If she’s running away with Julian, she probably packed, he says. Why don’t you check to see if her suitcase is missing and what all she took?
She nods.
—I will. But if they’re eloping, why leave her car? And why at Steve’s?
33
—We know, Keith says.
Julian doesn’t respond.
—Know what? Julia asks. What is there to know?
When Keith doesn’t respond, just continues to keep his glare locked on Julian, she turns to her son.
—What is there to know? she asks again. Julian.
—Obstruction of justice is a very serious crime, Keith says. Maybe you didn’t know, but if you lie to a law enforcement officer you can go to jail.
—Lie about what? Julia says. Julian. Julian. Did you lie about something?
—We wouldn’t be back in here if he didn’t, Keith says.
They are seated in the small interview room again—just like before, only without Will.
—How about the truth this time—the whole truth. Once and for all. Get it out. Don’t carry it around anymore. It’s gonna come out anyway. All of it. Be so much better to tell us now. Let me hear your side. I know we’ll understand. We will. Things happen. Things you don’t plan. Things you don’t even mean to happen. We’ve all been there. All had that happen. You want to take it back—everybody knows that—but you can’t. Can’t undo it, but you can make it right by helping us, by telling us where Shelby is and what happened. Let us hear your side. You can explain it better than anyone. If you wait, if you don’t tell us, then forensic investigators and reporters are going to do the telling, and they will make you out to be a monster. You’re no monster. I know that. Your mom knows it. Talk to me so we can let everyone know.
—Keith, Julia says. Look at me.
For the first time, Keith shifts his gaze off of Julian.
—Stop being sheriff for ten seconds and answer me as a friend, as a parent. Do we need a lawyer?
34
In a gray-green 16-foot aluminum bateau with a 30hp Evinrude motor, Will, Keisha, and Duke leave the landing.
Before them, the eastern horizon grows darker by the moment, its bleak bruisedness hinting at the approaching storm. Behind them, rising up from beneath the rim of earth along the western horizon, the vertical, tubular clouds resemble the Eagle Nebula, bright salmon at the bottom from the unseen sun becoming plum, fading into blue, elongating into white tips in the aura of backlit sky.
Will is in the back, his hand on the throttle, Keisha in the center, the lead wrapped around her arm, Duke, in the bow of the slow-moving boat, sniffing, seeking, searching for scent.
As they venture downriver, the boat bounces on the wake of other crafts returning to the landing, driven in by descending dark.
—Where to? Will asks.
She points across the river to the side opposite the landing.
—Let’s start across from the house where her car is.
He nods and eases the boat across the wide water to a spot on the bank where the soil has washed away from the root systems of cypress trees.
On either side, the bank is a solid green blanket of verdant vegetation. Intimidating. Impenetrable.
—You get in there? he asks. Not a lot of options.
She smiles.
—Get in anywhere, she says. Can’t we Duke?
When the bow of the boat glides into the twisted thicket of gnarled roots, Duke lurches out and clambers up the bank, trying to find traction in the wet sand, Keisha right behind him.
Soon, the two disappear, and Will is left to wait.
35
—You encouraged her to lawyer up? Sam asks.
—No, Keith says. Not exactly.
—Sounds like you—
—What would you have done?
—Wasn’t in the room, Sam says, her voice softening a bit. Don’t know the context or circumstances, but if finding Shelby matters more than anything else, stall, delay, hedge, lie your ass off if you have to.
The two of them are standing in the brightly lit courthouse hallway near the vending machines waiting for Julian Flax’s attorney to arrive, with Sam Michaels, FDLE’s contribution to CART, having just arrived herself.
—Keith, Sam continues after a beat, we’ve got a young girl missing and a big bastard of a hurricane gettin’ ready to beat the fuck out of us.
—I’d forgotten, Keith says with a smile. You’re kinda pushy.
Keith speaks in a certain, deliberate drawl—the rhythm and pace of which she has to acclimate to again.
—Well, thank you, Sheriff, she says, her words coming out more slowly than before. I try. Not easy being a girl in this world.
He’s a good guy, she reminds herself. Good enough cop.
Don’t push so hard you piss ’im off.
>
—Is it in any world? he says.
—None I’ve found so far.
—Poor little special agent with a gun and a badge.
Sam smiles.
—And an attitude, he adds.
—Those things do make it a little easier. Help mitigate all the macho horse shit.
—Oh, he says, and I know there’s a young girl missin’ and a storm on the way. Know it like a son of a bitch.
—I know you do, she says, then adds with a smile, I’s just bein’ pushy.
The tile floor is blindingly bright beneath the fluorescent lamps, its gold-flecked white tiles polished to glossy perfection by inmate trustees from the jail in back with too much time and not enough work. From around the corner and down the hall, Sam can hear the click of heels—one of which has a worn-down tip.
—So, Sam says, you’re working on the theory that boy and girl are running away together? Girl changes her mind or says or does something boy doesn’t like. Boy hurts or kills girl?
—More or less, he says.
—Based on what?
He tells her.
—Taylor and . . . what’s his—who’s the man in her life at the moment?
—Marc.
—Found a diary or something in which Shelby says that’s what they’re doing?
—Yeah, he says. And her suitcase and clothes and stuff are missing.
—But they won’t give it to you?
—Right. Printed some pages out.
—And you didn’t make them? she says.
—We can’t just— Keith begins, then stops himself. We figured you could do that.
—Because I don’t have to run for re-election here?
—Because you’re kinda pushy.
—A trait that makes me good at interviewing suspects, she says. Sure you don’t want me to take a turn at the kid?
36
—There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about Savannah, Sam says.
Just words, she thinks. No less inadequate because they’re true.
Taylor nods.
—I appreciate that, she says. And all you did.
—I’m so sorry it wasn’t enough. That I failed her. Failed you. I won’t do it again.
Sam isn’t quite sure what Taylor’s next expression is intended to communicate, but figures it’s some form of futility wrapped in the restraint of courtesy.
The two women consider each other a moment. Sam wonders what she sees. Have I changed as much as she has? A beautiful, slightly exotic-looking woman, Taylor is aging gracefully—much of her insecurity and unsteadiness from years ago now gone. Is it time, the settledness years can bring? Is it Marc?
Does he do for her what Daniel does for me?
When Sam glances over at Marc, he gives her a quick, small smile. In it, she senses genuine warmth and kindness. From the moment she arrived, he’s been courteous, but so attentive to Taylor, he’s barely looked at Sam. Had Taylor, like Sam herself, finally found a good man? Seems so, but how often are things what they seem? She’s unfamiliar with his books, but bets Daniel isn’t. She’d have to remember to ask him. It’s interesting. Marc reminds her of Daniel. She has no higher compliment to offer a man.
The two of them make such a striking couple, look as though they were created to fit together, but Sam can’t go on how things appear. Either one of them or both could be responsible for what’s happened to Shelby—and she can’t forget that. Not for a second.
They are seated in the Florida room of Lithonia Lodge—a large rectangular room on the back of the house that looks to have been a screened-in porch at one time—now enclosed in glass.
—Have you thought of anything else since you spoke with the sheriff or Will?
—You know . . . Taylor says. This seems so farfetched it’s ridiculous, but I keep coming back to it, so thought I should mention it.
—Nothing’s ridiculous. Nothing’s too farfetched.
—Well, Shelby’s my little hippie chick—nature girl, animal rescuer, and hardcore environmentalist.
—That’s cool. I didn’t know.
—It is. She’s a bit . . . extreme at times. I think it comes with being a teenager, you know, but . . . But yeah, she’s very committed and does a lot of good. As you can imagine, she’s made a lot of enemies. Just last week at a tri-state water management meeting, she stood up and embarrassed a general in the Corps of Engineers.
—How?
—He was saying how he had to weigh the concerns, wants, and needs of all the people sharing the same river system in Georgia, Florida, and Alabama. And she stood up and was like, you can’t think that someone who built a second or third vacation house on Lake Lanier and is concerned about their fuckin’ property values can compare to the Apalachicola River system and Bay, which is one of the most diverse and important estuaries in the world.
—Wow.
—Yeah.
—Caused quite a stir, Marc says. We were very proud of her. Made a lot of people mad.
—But not enough to kidnap her, Taylor says.
—You’d be surprised what motivates people—especially someone who’d do something like this. It’s often shocking how small and seemingly inconsequential their motives are.
They nod.
Beyond the glass enclosure, night falls fast, and Sam tries not to think about how long Shelby’s been missing, how much time has been wasted, how remote the possibility for a safe return is now.
Security lights illuminate the fortress-like backyard all the way down past the pens and cages of Shelby’s critters to the river’s edge. Sometimes you can take every precaution and still be unable to keep them safe.
—That was just one example, Taylor says. The person I was really thinking of is Brock Connelly.
—Who?
37
—A developer. She fought him—and so far has won—to stop a development worth millions because of wetlands, endangered species, and storm water runoff issues. I’m not saying he’d do this—or it’d even help his cause if he did—but he’s used to getting his way. No one else is even fighting it. And it’s worth the kind of money that makes people do crazy things.
—I’ll look into it. I’m glad you told me. That’s just the kind of thing we need to know. Okay? Everything. Just tell me everything. You never know what pieces of information come together to solve a case, so we need to know everything. It’s why I need to see her journal or whatever it is.
They both start shaking their heads before she is finished.
—I know it’s difficult to think of a stranger pouring over her most intimate thoughts and confessions, but it really is the best chance we have of finding her.
—Marc’s reading it, Taylor says. He’ll give you anything relevant.
—That’s just what I mean. Only someone involved in the investigation, someone with access to all the information, will be able to make connections. There’s no way for you to know what’s relevant.
—If there’s anything that could even be remotely relevant, Marc says, I’ll turn it in. In fact, I’ve got something for you now.
He crosses the room and retrieves a couple of printer paper pages.
—We can get a court order, Sam says, but I know you want her found more than anyone. You wouldn’t want to do anything that you’ll regret later because you could’ve helped us find her sooner.
Marc returns with the pages and hands them to Sam. She reads.
You’re jealous of Kerry?
No.
You’re acting like it.
Well, I’m not. But he’s got a thing for you.
We just share a similar goal. We’re like the only two green people in the area.
Are you attracted to him?
He’s got a girlfriend.
That’s not an answer.
He’s a lot older.
That’s not either.
What do you want me to say?
I wanted you to answer the question, and you did.
I fi
nd him attractive, yeah.
And he wants you, so what are you waiting for?
What? You’re being silly. Nothing’s going on between us.
But you want there to be.
No.
And he does.
No.
If you want to be with him, be with him, but tell me.
I’m with you. I want to be with you.
But if you could be with him . . .
You’re saying I could have him if I want. And I’m still with you. Still want to be with you. Or I did until you became such a jealous spaz.
—Who’s Kerry?
—Science teacher, Marc says. Environmentalist. He’s helped Shelby with several of her causes.
—We’re not saying we suspect him, Taylor says. But they do spend a lot of time together and he’s still relatively young. And he’s single. And he stays in town alone during the school week.
—Taylor’s very protective of Shelby, Marc says. If she had any reservations about Kerry, Shelby wouldn’t’ve been within a million miles of him.
—But, I’ve been wrong about people before. And it’s not like I know where Shelby is every second of every day.
—Well, yeah, you pretty much do.
—Or that she really is where she’s supposed to be—doing what she’s supposed to be doing.
—Actually, Marc says, I was thinking this might be most relevant as it relates to Julian’s jealousy.
38
—We know you and Shelby were going to elope, Keith says.
—You know this how? John Lee George, Julian’s attorney, asks.
Keith is surprised the man didn’t air quote the word.
John Lee George, Tupelo’s sole lawyer, is an aging hippie with longish, graying curly hair that starts at about the halfway point of the top of his head. He’s honest, poor, does mostly pro bono and environmental work, and has, at one time or another, represented nearly everyone involved in litigation in the town—including Keith.
They are back in the small interview room, Keith on one side of the table, Julia, Julian, and John Lee on the other—the teenager in the center, flanked on either side by a protective adult.
The Remington James Box Set Page 48