by Ben Follows
O'Reilly smiled. "You got that from Marcus."
Baxter returned with the ball and dropped it onto the bench between them. He sat back on his haunches, tongue out, as though not wanting to interrupt the conversation.
"You heard that?" said Todd, smiling. "I didn't think you were in the basement yet."
She nodded. "I heard. It was confirmed a few weeks ago that the money Marcus raised ended up with the charities. Chief Dryden called to let me know."
"That's nice."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for a few moments.
Todd threw the ball for Baxter. The dog ran off.
O'Reilly stood and held out a hand. "It was nice seeing you, Todd. Stay safe."
He shook her hand. "You too."
O'Reilly turned and walked away.
Todd watched her go.
He took out his pack of cigarettes and tapped one into his hand. He lit it and inhaled.
Baxter returned with the ball. Todd took it from him and threw it as far across the park as he could.
The dog sprinted after it.
Todd smiled.
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Other Books by Ben Follows
Blind River
As a way to express my thanks, a free preview of “Blind River” is available on the following pages!
Preview of “Blind River”
Read the first chapter below!
“Someone better be dead,” Curtis Mackley whispered as he opened the door.
His partner, FBI Agent Frankie Lassiter, stood a few feet back from the door, dressed as though she’d had hours to prepare. She was tall enough to block Curtis’s view of the streetlights.
“That’s such a dark way to start a conversation,” she said. “I was worried your doorbell didn’t work. I tried calling you, but your phone is off.”
“Yeah, my sister kept calling me. Why are you here, Frankie? We don’t need to be keeping track of that banker until seven.”
Frankie shrugged. “Someone died.”
Curtis perked up. “Someone died? We have a new assignment? Thank God. Where?”
“I don’t know,” said Frankie. “Johnson called and said we needed to be in the FBI offices by six. He said we should plan to be gone for at least a few days.”
Curtis nodded. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
He shut the door. Inside, he brushed his teeth and climbed into the shower. It was only as the water ran over his body that he thought of the promise he'd made to Melanie. He cursed, then pushed it out of his head.
After his shower, he pulled on the only dry-cleaned suit he had and packed the others. He considered letting Melanie sleep, then thought better of it. He walked upstairs and shook her awake, breaking her out of a snore.
“Curtis?” She looked up at him. “What time is it?”
“Just before six," said Curtis. "Frankie is here. We have a case.”
Melanie blinked a few times to clear away the sleep. She leaned over and turned on the light, then sat up against the headboard. She repositioned herself to more comfortably fit her growing stomach. “I thought you had that case in Manhattan. I thought you’d be here.”
“This is a real case. We might be away for a few days. I’ll be back as soon as I can. For you and the baby.”
Melanie looked him in the eyes. “Come here.”
“What?”
“Come here.”
Curtis stepped closer. Melanie took his hand and moved it so it was resting on her stomach. “This is your child,” she said, holding his hand there. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
“This is different," said Curtis. "I never loved Amber like I loved you.”
“Promise me," said Melanie.
Curtis tried to remove his hand from Melanie’s stomach, but her grip held firm. She looked at him with a doubt that hurt his soul, but he knew it was justified. He thought of Amber, of the same moments with her. That child would be eight now. He didn’t want to think of that.
“Curtis,” said Melanie. “Promise me.”
He nodded, bringing his focus back to the present. “I promise.”
Melanie looked into his eyes for a few moments before letting go of his hand and forcing a smile. “Okay. Tell Frankie I said hi.”
She turned away from Curtis and pulled the blankets over her. “Turn off the light on your way out.”
Curtis did so, looking back at Melanie for a moment before leaving the room.
Within less than ten minutes he was outside, a travel mug of coffee held tight in his hand and his suitcase trailing him. He locked the door and checked it several times. He glanced around the house to make sure there were no open windows nor easy access points.
“It’s safe,” said Frankie. “We’ll be late if you keep locking stuff up.”
Curtis nodded, tried the door once more, and followed Frankie to the car. He threw his luggage into the trunk and sat in the passenger seat.
At FBI headquarters, Frankie and Curtis flashed their identifications to the gate agent and were waved inside. On the tenth floor, they walked through the bullpen of overworked FBI agents to Director Johnson’s office.
They knocked on the door and heard, “Come in.”
Director Johnson, a broad shouldered black man with just enough white hair to make him look experienced without being out of touch, was sitting behind his desk. Drawn blinds partially blocked the view of the Hudson River.
“Thanks for coming so early,” said Johnson. “Take a seat.”
“Someone better be dead,” said Curtis as he took his seat.
Johnson let out a single laugh.
“Don’t encourage him,” said Frankie, taking her seat. “What have you got?”
“Well,” said Johnson. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Curtis, but we don’t have a murder. At least, not for sure.”
“What have you got?” said Frankie.
“Four young girls between the ages of seventeen and nineteen have disappeared from the same town. We need you to go out there and help the local police investigate.”
“Good enough,” said Curtis. “Where are we going?”
“I’m surprised you don’t already know, Curtis," said Johnson. "I would have thought you’d heard about this.”
Curtis shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“You’re going to Blind River. Your hometown.”
“You’re kidding me.” Curtis looked back and forth between Frankie and Johnson, but neither gave any ground. “Are you fucking kidding me? Can we go back to monitoring the banker, please?”
“No, you can’t,” said Johnson. “We’ll give the banker job to some of the incompetents who just graduated the academy. This is your assignment. Deal with it. I’m shocked you hadn’t heard about it. The request came from a police detective in Blind River named Monica Mackley. A relation of yours?”
Curtis tensed up. “That’s my sister. She’s been calling me a lot the last week. I haven’t spoken to her in five years. I didn’t know it was anything like that.”
His hands clenched the thin metal arms of the chair. Frankie watched him, then turned to Johnson.
“Sir,” said Frankie, “isn’t this a conflict of interest? Curtis could be directly involved with suspects in the case.”
Johnson nodded. “Curtis is a professional. I have faith in him. Detective Mackley didn’t mention Curtis by name, but if she’s calling him, that’s probably who she was hoping for. We don’t have any other agents with your skill sets who aren’t on assignment. Besides, this is a small-town thing." Johnson checked his watch. "Your plane is scheduled to leave in about an hour. You should get going.”
; Frankie stood. After a moment Curtis did the same. They took the case files from Johnson and walked out of the office. Curtis paused in the door, trying to come up with a valid reason for dropping the case. He came up with nothing, and walked after Frankie.
As the elevator descended, Curtis said, “This sucks.”
Frankie looked at him. “What's so bad about Blind River? Why are you so nervous about going back there?”
Curtis didn’t answer as the elevator arrived at the ground floor.
On the street, he asked Frankie for to wait for him, then walked over to a mailbox. He took an unsealed envelope from his pocket. Inside was a wad of bills. He checked there was the right amount and that the address on the front was correct.
Once he was sure, he sealed the envelope and slipped it into the mailbox. He turned and walked away, wondering whether the intended recipient was getting the money.
He didn’t even know if Amber still lived at that address.
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About the Author
Ben Follows graduated from McGill University with a degree in history. He lives in the Greater Toronto Area. He loves books, running, guitar, and the Toronto Maple Leafs.
The Absence of Screams is his second published book.
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Copyright © 2017 by Ben Follows
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