Bring Her Home

by David Bell

  Bill limped a little as he walked, already feeling the soreness and strain in his arm muscles from grabbing onto Doug Hammond. But he told Hawkins what had happened in the park.

  “Hold on,” Hawkins said. Bill heard him giving directions to someone nearby. He instructed them to have cars sent to the area of Dunlap Park because Doug Hammond was spotted there. “You shouldn’t have chased after him,” the detective said when he came back on the line. “He’s dangerous.”

  Bill went through the back door into the quiet house. He started unbuttoning his shirt, kicking his muddy shoes off before he ruined the carpet.

  “And that’s what you would have done, right?” Bill asked. “If you’d seen the man who might have harmed your daughter, you’d just let him run away?”

  “I’m a police officer, Bill.”

  “And even if you weren’t, you would have run after the guy. Come on.” He slid his pants off and walked to the bedroom, intending to shower. “How close have you guys come to catching him? Have you even seen him yet?”

  “We’ve had leads.”

  “Doesn’t this look bad?” Bill asked. “He showed up at the scene of the crime. He was creeping around there, watching it. Couldn’t that indicate guilt?”

  “Evidence indicates guilt.”

  “That’s such a cop answer. It’s been days. Days and days. Something has to happen. You have to find her.”

  “I thought you thought the kids from school were guilty,” Hawkins said.

  Hawkins’s question brought Bill up short for a moment. Then he said, “I’m just hoping for an answer. Of any kind. I want you to look into everybody until you have an answer.”

  “And you never saw Taylor Kress again? She just left?”

  “Hell, I don’t know where she went. I drove her out there. I already thought it might be some kind of setup, but for what? Why bring me out there and then just run away?”

  Hawkins let out a slow breath. “I don’t know. But his face is everywhere. We’re getting tips. We’ll find him.”

  “And Haley? Anything from her?”

  “It’s a fine line there. We want to hear from her as soon as possible, but I can’t exactly go in there and ride herd over a girl who was beaten within an inch of her life. I’ve checked in with them several times today. Believe me, I’d love to go in and know everything she knows, but her brain and body are healing. We don’t know what all happened to that girl. The trauma, emotional and physical.”

  Bill stood in his bedroom in just his boxers and a T-shirt. The house felt cool. “Taylor said something out there in the woods, something I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. She said she was rethinking Doug’s guilt, that maybe she’d jumped to a conclusion about him, and he’s not guilty of hurting this Emily girl.”

  Hawkins hesitated for a moment. “Taylor’s been . . . skittish. She hasn’t produced the dental records we need.”

  “Yeah. She told me about that. She’s scared she’ll learn the truth, that it really is Emily.”

  “We can subpoena them, and we will. I understand her dread of finding out. But we have to get moving on this. It’s no joke.”

  “I sometimes don’t want to know the truth either,” Bill said.

  “I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt. For now.”

  • • •

  The next morning, Bill showered and dressed in fresh clothes. He looked up a phone number. He knew the name of the church Haley’s family belonged to, and he called, unsure if he was likely to find Pastor Caleb around the church office.

  But the man came to the phone quickly, and after hearing Bill out, suggested they meet at the hospital in a little while.

  “I think that will be the best opportunity for what you require,” Caleb said, and he gave Bill a time.

  But when Bill showed up, he saw Rich standing outside the door of the room. He wore tight-fitting workout clothes, as if he’d just taken a run, and his bald head glistened with sweat.

  “Surprised to see me here?” he asked as Bill walked up.

  “I was looking for Caleb.”

  Rich nodded toward the room. “He’s inside already.” Rich clapped Bill on the shoulder. “Look, I’m on your side here, okay? I’m not thrilled about talking to Haley this way, but if it helps with Summer . . . and the girl we haven’t identified yet.”

  “Where is Candy?”

  “Breakfast. With her mother. She slept in a chair in Haley’s room all night.”

  Bill hesitated. When he’d first called Caleb, his plan seemed so reasonable, so practical. Just show up and talk to Haley when her mother was gone and the only thing resembling a cop was the security guard patrolling the hall. Maybe the calming presence of Caleb and the emotional appeal from Summer’s father would jar something free in the girl’s mind.

  But Rich’s presence made Bill uncomfortable. He worried about the man’s firmer hand and how that would affect Haley’s ability or willingness to speak about what she knew or remembered. Bill tried to think of a way to maneuver Rich out of the way but couldn’t come up with anything, so when he went through the door of Haley’s room, Rich followed right along behind him.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Inside the room, Caleb stood next to Haley’s bed. The girl looked much better. Her face was still bruised, and the rest of her skin looked pale and sallow, but her hair was clean and brushed. Her features seemed sharper. None of the slack-jawed bleariness showed.

  A tray of food, mostly untouched, sat on the table, and more flowers and plants than Bill could count decorated the windowsill and the floor. It was a different kind of tribute than the one he saw out in the park.

  “Hi, Haley,” Bill said as he moved closer. He tried to keep his voice low and calm, his gestures restrained. She was still a sick girl, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her in any way.

  The girl’s big eyes considered Bill, and then they filled with tears as he approached. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Bill felt a quiver in his own chin. He stopped next to the bed and gently ran his hand down her upper arm. He was struck by the fact that he’d spent days in close proximity to this girl—touching her, speaking to her. Loving her, as though she were his own. In some ways, he felt like she had become his daughter as well, that some transference had taken place during those days he sat vigil at her bedside.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Bill said. “You look better even than yesterday. It’s good to see.”

  Haley smiled through her tears, lifting her hand to wipe them away. “Is it true they don’t know anything yet? About Summer?”

  “Not yet,” Bill said. “But the police are trying. For a long time you weren’t in such great shape.”

  “I know. Pastor Caleb has been telling me how much time you spent here. When you thought I was Summer.” Some of the light went out of her face again. “I wish I was, Mr. Price. I wish I was Summer, and I was sitting here for you.”

  “No, no,” Bill said. “Don’t say that. We’ll find . . . We’ll figure things out with Summer when we can. You just take care and feel better.”

  “Actually, that’s what Mr. Price is here to talk to you about,” Rich said from behind Bill. “He wanted to ask you about something.”

  Haley’s face immediately grew more guarded. She studied Bill from the corners of her eyes, looking small beneath the covers of the hospital bed. “Okay,” she said, her voice as brittle as thin ice. “I still don’t remember very much.”

  Bill wasn’t sure what to say, so he looked to Caleb, who said, “Mr. Price just wants you to look at a photograph. A picture of a man.”

  Haley looked uneasy. “I’m still not seeing so well. Some things are blurry.”

  “Just do your best,” Caleb said.

  “Haley,” Rich said, “this is serious, okay? You know Summer’s in real danger. This isn’t kids’ stuff.”


  Some teenage defiance appeared. “I want to remember, Dad. I do. I want Summer to be found. When I woke up earlier, I’d kind of forgotten Summer was even gone. I thought it was a bad dream.”

  “Look at this picture, honey,” Rich said. “Look at it long and hard.”

  Rich nudged Bill in the side, his cue. Bill took out his phone and called up the picture of Doug Hammond that the police had been circulating. It was a mug shot, and the man looked pissed off as he stared at the camera. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and his greasy hair hung over his forehead like a curtain. Bill stared at the face for a moment, and it seemed to be a pretty accurate representation of the man he’d chased in the park. The hair now possessed a little more gray, the face a little more puffiness. But if Haley had seen him, she’d recognize him from the photo on Bill’s phone.

  “Okay,” Bill said, “just take your time.”

  He turned the phone around and held it in front of Haley’s face. She didn’t reach up to take the phone or move it any closer. Her lips parted slightly while she stared at the image on the small screen, her eyes squinting as though hit with a bright light.

  “Have you seen that man anywhere?” Caleb asked, his voice calm.

  It didn’t take Haley long to start shaking her head. “No, I haven’t,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

  “Don’t rush,” Rich said, his heavy voice landing like a hammerblow. “Really look at it.”

  Reluctantly Haley reached out and took the phone from Bill’s hands. She brought it closer to her face, her eyes narrowing as she studied it. She lifted her finger to her mouth and rested the tip there on her still-cracked lips. After a couple of moments, she started to slowly shake her head again.

  “I don’t know this man,” she said.

  “You’re sure?” Bill asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  Bill took the phone back. “It’s okay. Do you mean you don’t know him? Or you just don’t remember him, maybe because he hurt you?”

  Rich moved next to Bill, elbowing his way closer to the bed. He smelled like sweat. “That’s the pertinent question.”

  Haley said, the defiance returning to her voice, “I don’t know the man.”

  Bill sensed that everything hung in a precarious balance and that one good push could tip the moment into a place where none of them wanted it to go. Bill tucked the phone back into his pocket and gave Haley another reassuring pat on the arm.

  “Thank you,” he said, hoping to make a strategic exit. “Just take care of yourself.”

  But his path was blocked by Rich, who rather than getting out of the way, squeezed in closer to his daughter’s bed. “Haley, we’ve all been talking about this, okay? We think you’re hiding something from us. We know you went to Pastor Caleb to talk.”

  Haley looked around again, her eyes bouncing from one male face to another. “What does Mom think?”

  “Your mom . . . Well, the less said about her, the better. But we know you might have been involved in something you shouldn’t have been involved in. Or maybe Summer was. I’m not one of those guys who thinks a girl brings these things on herself, but sometimes people use poor judgment and get into a bad situation. Right?” Rich held his arms out, a gesture meant to say, Hey, we’re all being reasonable here. “Or maybe somebody led you astray.”

  Bill wanted to object but bit his tongue. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but if Rich’s methods worked, then so be it. He wanted to learn what Haley knew. If anything.

  Haley’s eyes bored in on her dad. Her chin quivered a bit, but she also thrust it out, stretching her neck. She looked like a fighter ready to step into the ring. When she spoke, her voice was calm but dripping with contempt. “I told you I don’t know him. And I don’t want to be harassed anymore by a man who is barely my father.”

  “Listen—,” Rich said.

  Both Bill and Caleb held their hands up, gesturing for silence. And then Haley burst into tears. They shot out of her eyes and cascaded down her face while the girl’s shoulders heaved beneath the blankets.

  Bill took a step closer. He wanted to reach out, but he was partly to blame. The whole thing had been his idea.

  “Easy now, Haley,” Caleb said. “We’ll go.”

  Haley let out a wet, heaving sob. She wiped at her face, sniffling, and then she said, “All I remember is the car. The car that picked us up. Don’t you think I want to remember more?”

  But the door of the room opened just then, and Candy walked in. She took in the three men and her daughter sobbing in the bed.

  “What happened?” she asked, rushing to embrace Haley. “What is this? Was there bad news?”

  Through her sobs and tears, Haley managed to collect herself enough to get a few words out. “They were asking me . . . That man . . . They wouldn’t stop. . . .”

  “She said something about a car,” Bill said. “Candy, let her—”

  Candy’s eyes flashed with anger. She looked at each one of them as if she wanted to spring from her daughter’s side and take care of them with her bare hands.

  “Get out,” she said. “She’s a child, and she needs to rest. Get out.”

  Rich started to object, and Bill stepped closer to the bed. “Please, Candy—”

  But Haley had collapsed against her mother, her body shaking with sobs. And when Bill saw the look on Candy’s face, he felt he had no choice in that moment. The three of them left the room like scolded children.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Bill felt it was best to wait down in the hospital lobby instead of anywhere in the vicinity of Candy Rodgers.

  While he waited for Hawkins to arrive, he replayed the events in the hospital room. Haley’s tears. Her father’s pushiness.

  His own complicity. His own cowardice for not stopping it when he saw where it was going.

  But if he’d stopped it, if none of them had pushed, would they have known about the car? The car Haley claimed picked the girls up on the day of the attack?

  He called Hawkins and told him that piece of information. It might have been the big break they were looking for, the one that could only come with Haley awake and functioning.

  Still, a burning sense of shame swept through his chest. He knew, firsthand, what it was like for that girl to sit in that hospital room. He’d seen the probes and cuts, the needles and sutures. It wasn’t the best thing to push and push her the way they had until she crumpled in tears.

  Bill wished he could erase it from his memory. But he knew from the way he’d ignored Julia’s calls that those things never really went away. Everyone carried a bag of regrets around inside—from hitting a little sister with a stick to bullying a frightened and injured girl. He wanted his bag to stop growing.

  Hawkins came through the door, a cell phone pressed to his ear. Bill stood up, dodged an elderly couple shuffling through the lobby, each using a cane, and approached the detective. He nodded, listening with lips pressed into a tight line as the person on the other end of the phone went on and on.

  Finally he said, “Okay, bye,” and hung up. He saw Bill. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sure you’re telling people about this car.”

  Hawkins looked confused for just a moment, and then he said, “Oh, no. That was my wife. I haven’t been home much lately.” The detective looked a little sad, his eyebrows lifted as though asking for sympathy. Bill had to admit he hadn’t thought much about the detective having a home life. A spouse, maybe kids or grandkids, a dog, and a yard. “I’m going to go up and see what kind of shape Haley is in. You say her mom is madder than a hornet?”

  “Yes. Not completely without reason.”

  “Then you’d better stay out of the way for a change.”

  “Why do you think I’m sitting down here on this uncomfortable seat?”

  Hawkins started for the elevator
, but Bill reached out and placed his hand on the detective’s arm. He wore an overcoat, cool to the touch from the late-winter air outside. “This is something, isn’t it?” Bill asked. “If you can find this car . . .”

  “Of course. We’ve canvassed every possible route those girls could have taken. Like I told you, a couple of people saw them walking—”

  “And someone saw Summer heading toward home. The old guy.”

  “Right. But no one saw them get into a car or talk to anybody. This might be the best we have.”

  He patted Bill on the shoulder and started away.

  “Detective?”

  Hawkins stopped again.

  “When we were up there, talking to Haley . . . we might have—we did—push kind of hard.”

  Hawkins’s brow creased, and his eyes clouded. “Yeah, you probably did.”

  “Could you tell her, tell them, I’m sorry?”

  He nodded and boarded the elevator.

  It struck Bill that he paced in the lobby like an expectant father in an old movie. The thought brought a twist of pain to his heart. He vividly remembered the day Summer was born—standing by Julia’s side, her hand in his, the doctor giving instructions in a voice so calm he might have been reading a bedtime story. And then the blood-covered, gelatinous baby arrived, sliding out into the doctor’s hands like a giant jelly bean.

  How relieved Bill felt in that moment. How much he loved the two of them—Julia and Summer. How bright and full of possibility everything seemed.

  He called Paige, just to hear a friendly voice. But the phone rang and rang, and then went to voice mail, Paige’s cheery voice telling him he knew what to do if he wanted her to call back.

  Bill hung up.

  He went into the gift shop and tried to find magazines or books to distract himself. The covers of the magazines featured smiling celebrities without a care in the world. The covers of the novels were dark, with jagged fonts and running heroines looking back over their shoulders, pursued by some vicious killer.