by Ben Follows
He walked out to the road and took a few deep breaths.
He took his phone out of his pocket, turned it on, and called Angela, his assistant.
She pulled up twenty minutes later. Angela was a petite woman in her late thirties. She had straight black hair with a fringe coming down to the middle of her forehead.
Marcus fastened his seatbelt and thanked her. She glared at him and pulled away.
"What's wrong with you?" said Angela.
"What do you mean?" said Marcus.
"Something's clearly wrong. I know you, Marcus. What is it?"
Marcus glanced at her and sighed. “I found Danielle.”
“What?” Angela jerked her head at him.
“Stop sign!” Marcus shouted.
Angela jerked her head back and stomped on the brakes. An SUV flew through the intersection in front of them.
“Watch where you’re going!” Marcus shouted.
Angela turned and looked at him. “You saw your fucking daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At a farm near where you picked me up.”
“You're sure?" said Angela. "You haven’t seen her in like ten years.”
“Eleven years.” He looked out the window. “I’m sure."
Angela tapped at the top of her steering wheel to the faint country music on the radio. “What happened?
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing?”
Marcus took a deep breath. "Earlier today, while we were out in town, I saw a woman who I thought was the blonde from that night. I followed her to a bar, then home. She saw me and ran."
"Maybe she's was just scared of some stranger following her. You can't prove it's the same person. It's been ten years."
“It's been eleven years," said Marcus. "It was her. I saw Danielle."
Someone honked behind them.
Angela shouted "Fuck you!" at the car behind them and pulled through the intersection.
The other car turned right behind them.
Angela pulled onto the shoulder of the highway.
“How do you know it was her?” she said.
“She spoke to me," said Marcus.
Angela’s eyes widened. She spoke slowly. “I need you to look at me, Marcus. What did you do?”
Marcus turned and looked out the window. “The fields are beautiful."
"What did you fucking do?”
"The peace is breathtaking."
“Marcus," said Angela sternly.
“I killed her.”
Angela didn't reply for a moment. “What?”
He turned back toward Angela. “I killed her. Danielle got away.”
Angela contorted her face. “Are you serious right now? I want to come over there and smash your brains in.”
Marcus shrugged. “They killed Cassandra. It's fair."
“Does anyone know?”
“I think so."
Angela frowned. “What do you mean ‘you think so’? I should have made you come back to the base with me."
“It was my decision," said Marcus.
“The police will figure it out. The base is the safest place for you right now. General Thompson will protect you. Your wheelchair's in the back.”
“Thanks.”
Angela scoffed. "What are you thanking me for? I have to clean up your fucking mess, like always."
Marcus leaned against the window. His breath fogged up a small section of the glass.
He kept glancing at Angela, trying to guess what she was thinking.
They drove down the highway until the lights of Harper's Mill receded into the distance.
The fields around them were empty, barren land. It was land designed for having the longest possible sightlines, not for agriculture. Among those fields were signs that threatened arrest by authority of the United States Military if unauthorized personnel went any further.
Marcus sighed. Once, this would have felt like a homecoming.
The towers of McKinley Military Base appeared on the horizon. Armed soldiers walked the perimeter. Barbed wire covered the tops of the fences.
Marcus folded one of his legs awkwardly underneath him in a position that would give most people major discomfort.
As they pulled up to the gate, two young soldiers holding assault rifles and flashlights came out of the booth to greet them. One stayed in front of the car while the other walked around to the driver’s side and looked inside.
Angela took out their visitor's passes and handed them to the guard. They were all-access passes which the General had had specifically made for them. They allowed he and Angela to come and go as they pleased and see every part of the base.
The soldier took them and grinned.
“Mr. Devereaux,” he said upon seeing Marcus in the passenger seat. Angela leaned back as the soldier leaned through the driver’s window. “I'm looking forward to seeing you speak tomorrow."
“Thanks."
“What you’ve been through is amazing." The soldier's smile widened. "You inspire me, man.”
“Thanks,” said Marcus. His ankles were aching, but he couldn't let on that he could feel it.
The soldier grinned and pulled back from the window.
“Let them through,” shouted the soldier, passing Angela back their passes. “It’s Devereaux.”
The other soldier nodded and they returned to the booth. The gate rolled opened.
Angela and Marcus drove inside and the gate closed behind them. As long as he was on the base under the protection of General Thompson, he was essentially untouchable.
However, if he wanted to save Danielle, he would have to take the risk of going back out.
It was a risk he was willing to take.
4
Todd blinked at the sudden onslaught of sunlight.
He blinked again. The sun was coming directly through the slats in his blinds and hitting his face.
Baxter whined and put his chin on Todd's knee.
Todd looked down at the fat golden retriever.
"It's morning already?" he muttered.
He rubbed his eyes and looked at the sunlight coming through the blinds on the patio door.
Baxter whined again.
"I heard you the first time."
Todd grunted as he stood from the couch.
Baxter whined again and walked to the door.
Todd looked around his small house. It had a small living room which branched off into two bedrooms and a small, windowless kitchen.
Baxter whined again. The dog pranced back and forth, about to relieve himself on the floor.
Todd walked over and opened the door. The dog sprinted out onto the thin grass of the small back yard.
After Baxter was done, he ran back inside and resumed his position in front of the television. The channel was the same one Todd had been watching when he fell asleep.
A noon news broadcast was playing. They were reporting something about a murder in Harper's Mill the previous night. Todd grabbed the remote and turned it off.
According to the clock above the doorway to the kitchen, it was 12:37. Todd had to be at the video store in less than an hour. He rubbed his eyes and checked his phone.
There was nothing new from Danielle. While texting the previous night, she'd been complaining about her visiting aunt, Jamie. Danielle saw Jamie as a bad influence on the twins. Todd couldn't help but think of the scars on Danielle's bac. She'd told him they'd come from an accident when she was five years old and had fallen off the back of Jamie's motorcycle.
The last text had been sent at 9:12. There was nothing since. Danielle had been acting strangely ever since Todd had asked her to move in with him a few days earlier.
Todd decided he would ask her about it at work. They were scheduled to be on the same shift, and Danielle had never been late to a shift. Until then, there was no use worrying.
He plugged his phone into his laptop to charge it. It was open to a dozen webpages at once
.
The first few tabs on his browser were open to job applications, followed by college applications and a couple apprenticeships. None jumped out as great options.
Danielle was going to college in the fall, and he'd be left behind. There would finally be some truth to Danielle's parents claims that he wasn't good enough for her.
He stared at the screen for a few moments then closed it.
The doorbell rang.
Baxter looked up and whined, becoming smaller and less intimidating as he did so.
"You aren't much of a guard dog, are you?" said Todd.
He placed the chips on the counter and walked to the door.
He opened the door a few inches, leaving the chain across.
A man and woman stood on the front porch. Both wore a jacket and tie. The woman's hair was pulled into a harsh bun. The man had a buzz cut and was at least twice as large.
“Todd Anderson?” said the woman.
Todd peered through the gap. “Who are you?”
They reached inside their jackets and revealed police badges.
Todd read both, although he had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for.
They were detectives. The badges identified them as Emily O’Reilly and Matthew Cockerton.
Todd felt a lump in his throat. He'd never spoken to a detective before. "What is this about?"
“It’s about Danielle," said Detective O'Reilly.
Todd wrenched the door open. “What?”
The door caught on the chain and snapped back. He slammed the door and took off the chain before opening it all the way.
“Did you say Danielle?” he said, a cold sweat breaking out over his forehead. “What happened to Danielle? Is she okay?”
“Todd,” said O’Reilly. “Do you mind coming down to the station with us? We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“About what?”
“Just some questions.”
“That's not an answer," said Todd. "Tell me what is going on with Danielle. I want to help, but I can't do that without knowing what is happening with my girlfriend."
O'Reilly glanced at her partner, who shrugged his immense shoulders.
“Tatiana Shembly was murdered last night," said O'Reilly, turning back to Todd and crossing her arms.
Todd stared at them. “Is that what they were talking about on the news? I didn't think it was anyone I knew. What the hell happened?”
“She was found in the fields around their house this morning by a neighbor," explained O'Reilly. "It appears she fled from a pursuer and was strangled to death.”
“Shit. Is Danielle okay? Who did it? Where is she?"
“That’s what we need your help with.”
“What do you mean?” Todd gripped the doorframe to steady himself. He was feeling lightheaded.
O'Reilly looked away for a moment. She said, “We can’t find her.”
"What do you mean?" said Todd. "She has a shift at the video store in like an hour."
"She's not home, and she isn't answering her phone."
"What about her dad and the twins?"
“They're at home. Charles is in shock. He hasn't told the boys yet. He claims to have no idea what happened to Tatiana or Danielle."
Todd nodded. He wondered why they hadn't mentioned Jamie.
“Do I need a lawyer?” he asked. Baxter made a groaning noise from inside in an embarrassing effort at ferocity.
O'Reilly glanced past Todd at the dog and, apparently deciding Baxter was no threat, said, “We just need to ask you a few questions."
Todd frowned. “I’m not in any trouble, am I?”
“We just need to talk to you," said O'Reilly. "You knew the Shembly's well.”
Todd nodded. “That makes sense, I guess.”
“Come with us, Todd,” said O’Reilly. “We’ll find Danielle together.”
Todd swallowed and nodded. “Can I change and feed my dog?" I'll meet you back out here in a few minutes.”
O’Reilly nodded. “Please do.”
Todd ducked inside. In the bathroom, he splashed his face and ran a hand through his hair. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the kitchen table and slid them into the front pocket of his hoodie.
He dumped food into Baxter’s bowl and made sure the back door was open so the dog could let himself out.
Baxter jumped off the couch and began chowing down on the food. Todd glanced at the dog and smiled before walking out to the cops.
They were waiting with their hands in their pockets. O'Reilly smiled at him and Cockerton gave him the same neutral expression he seemed to give everything.
Todd locked the door and followed them to the detective car.
“Thanks for coming,” said O’Reilly. She opened the back door for Todd.
As the car pulled away, Todd said, “Is Mrs. Shembly dead?”
Somehow it hadn't hit him until that moment that Mrs. Shembly was dead and Danielle was missing.
It also occurred to him that the video store would have no staff. He considered calling the manager, but it didn't seem to matter.
Cockerton drove away from Todd's house. O'Reilly leaned over the back of the passenger seat and looked through the grate at Todd.
"I'm sorry this happened," she said.
Todd stared out the window and nodded, wondering how this could have happened.
5
Ten minutes later, they pulled into the police station. The detectives led Todd through the station.
A muted television over the front desk was playing the same news story Todd had turned off. A reporter stood in front of yellow tape surrounding the Shembly farm, gesturing at the farm behind him. The headline read, “Violent murder at local farm.”
They showed a family picture of the Shembly's.
Todd knew the picture. It was from the Shembly family room. It was from just after Danielle's high school graduation. They were standing under a tree in front of the high school, pulled close to one another.
O'Reilly led Todd to an interview room and asked him if he wanted anything to drink. He asked for a glass of orange juice.
A few minutes later the detectives returned and took their seats across the table. O’Reilly handed him a paper cup of orange juice and he took a sip.
“So, Todd,” said O’Reilly, "how are you?”
Todd sipped the orange juice and wiped his lips.
“I don’t think it’s sunk in yet," he said. "Do you have any idea where Danielle is?”
“The moment we know anything, you’ll be the first to know.” O’Reilly smiled at him. “I’d like to ask a few questions.”
“I’ll help out any way I can.”
O’Reilly took out a notepad and placed it on the table. “Where were you last night?”
“I was at home, watching a movie. Why?”
“Were you talking with Danielle at all?”
Todd shrugged. “A few texts. We were going to go out for lunch today then she stopped texting me. Why?”
“Was there anyone with you?”
“No, I was alone.”
"No one saw you in your home?”
Todd frowned as the implication dawned on him. “Am I a suspect?"
O'Reilly shrugged. “You can get a lawyer if you want, but that would only delay finding Danielle.”
Todd thought for a moment then motioned for her to continue. He wanted to save Danielle and get justice for Mrs. Shembly.
O'Reilly cleared her throat and made a note. “How was your relationship with Danielle’s parents?”
“It was fine.”
O’Reilly raised an eyebrow.
Todd sighed. “They didn’t like me.”
“Why not?”
Todd looked down. “They thought Danielle could do better.”
O’Reilly glanced over at Cockerton, who was leaning back in the small metal chair with his arms crossed, then back to Todd.
“What do you mean?" she said.
“They thought she deserved to be w
ith some extreme success," said Todd. "I love Danielle, but she's far from flawless. Just like me."
O'Reilly made a note. “When was the last time you saw Tatiana Shembly?”
Todd frowned. "Are you sure I don't need a lawyer?"
O'Reilly shrugged again. “You can leave anytime you want. Of course, who knows when we’ll find Danielle?”
Todd swallowed and motioned for her to continue.
“When was the last time you saw Tatiana Shembly?” said O'Reilly.
“I saw Mrs. Shembly last week," said Todd. "They had a family dinner.”
O’Reilly made a note. “Did you speak with her about anything?”
“It was mostly just about the farm. She doesn’t like it. Didn't like it, I guess.”
“In what way?”
Todd shrugged. “She said she felt tied down, that she couldn’t live the life she wanted to live. It was kind of cryptic, but she said something about a mistake in her past that had defined everything since.”
“Why was she telling you?"
“Well, I shouldn't say that she told me like it was a normal thing." He trailed off.
“Why is that, Todd?” said O'Reilly.
"It isn't my place to say."
"This is about saving Danielle, remember."
Todd sighed and nodded. He could feel Cockerton's serious stare boring into him. "Mrs. Shembly had been drinking. She was far from sober.”
O’Reilly nodded and made another note. "Tell me more about this conversation."
“I don't see how this is related to Danielle.”
“We're just gathering information."
Todd was about to speak when the door to the interview room burst open. A short man in an ill-fitting suit entered. Thick glasses were perched on his large nose.
“This interview is over,” he said. “I’m Kenneth Jameson, and I will be serving as attorney for Mr. Anderson. You two need to leave the room so I can speak with my client.”
O'Reilly and Jameson stared at one another.
"Kenneth," said O'Reilly flatly.
"Emily," replied Jameson.
O'Reilly didn't take her eyes off Jameson as she and Cockerton left the room. The tension between them was palpable.
The moment the door closed, Jameson sat across from Todd, where O'Reilly had been sitting a moment earlier.