David Silva - The Disappeared

“Okay. What about the birthday present?” he finally asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said, appreciating the effortless change of subject. “It sounds like something she’d do. His grandmother hated shopping for gifts, especially once Gabe started to get a little older. I remember she sent him a check for Easter that year, because she made it out to me and asked that I buy him some new clothes with it. But that Christmas – I can’t remember if she sent money or not.”

“She did,” the boy said.

Walt frowned. “I’m not sure we’re making any starling breakthroughs here, Teri. I hope you realize that. I mean, it sounds convincing, I’ll grant you that much. But for anyone close to the family most of this stuff is common knowledge, right?”

“Like who?”

“Like Michael, for instance.”

“Jeeze, Walt, you aren’t—”

“Don’t get your dander up. I’m not accusing anyone of anything. I’m just trying to make sure you aren’t wearing your blinders. People can do some pretty cruel things to each another.”

“Michael could never do something like this. Never. You know that.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort, Teri.”

“You’re grasping at straws.”

“You guys never got divorced, did you?”

“Divorced?” the boy said, suddenly alert and sitting up. “Why would you get divorced?

“We haven’t,” Teri said.

“Maybe he’s come into some money? Maybe he’s worried about losing it?”

“Mom…”

“It’s all right. Your father and I are just living apart right now. It’s nothing to worry about.” Teri pulled him back into the fold of her arms, reassuringly, and felt a warmth sweep through her like a hot August wind. It stunned her. She looked down at the boy, suddenly recognizing a truth within her. She desperately wanted it to be true. No matter how farfetched, no matter how unlikely it might be, she wanted this boy to be hers.

Walt watched the exchange. “You need to be aware of the possibilities; that’s all I’m saying. All right?”

“Sure. But not Michael.”

“I’ve put it out there; you do what you want with it.”

“I already have.”

“Fair enough.” He took a sip of water, as if he were looking for a way to swallow back his caution and move on. “What else can you give me?”

“I don’t know,” Teri said. “What else do you want?”

“How about something just between you and Gabe. Something no one else knew about. Maybe a song you used to sing, or a secret you made him keep.”

“I don’t know. Any secrets between us?” She glanced down at the boy, who shook his head and seemed suddenly quiet again, almost pouty. He was getting tired, she thought. Not unlike the little boy who could barely keep his eyes open when he stayed up late on Friday nights to watch Tales From The Darkside . God, how she wished she knew what was going on inside his head. “You all right?”

“Uh-huh.”

There was a song she used to sing to him. This had been years ago, when he had been a little tike, maybe four or five. She’d tuck him in bed at night and sing him the “ Pajama Song .” Teri had heard the song from her mother, who had heard it from her mother, and it had been passed all the way down to Gabe. But it had been a long time since he had been that little. She didn’t imagine there was much of a chance that he’d still remember the words.

“I remember something,” he said softly. His eyes widened a bit. “That time I knocked over Dad’s model boat. The one he was always working on in the garage. The schooner. Remember?”

“Some sort of a sailboat, right?”

He nodded. “I knocked it off the bench and broke it, and you said you wouldn’t tell Dad because he’d be madder than hell. You made me promise that I’d never go near his workbench again. And then when Dad came home, you told him Marcus had gotten into the garage and knocked it over and it was your fault because you were busy bringing in the groceries and weren’t paying any attention.”

“Marcus?” Walt asked.

“The family dog,” Teri said.

The boy looked away. “We had to put him to sleep.”

“You remember why?”

“Because he started limping and the doctor said he had cancer.”

Walt glanced at her for confirmation.

She nodded. “Bone cancer.”

The boy nestled deeper into the fold of her arms. For a moment, they shared the same small space, the same long ago memories. Marcus had been their only dog. And that sailboat had turned out to be the only boat Michael had ever tried to build. He hadn’t been as angry as Teri had expected. Instead, he had said something about not being cut out for modeling anyway, that it took more patience than he thought he might have. That night, he tossed the boat into the garbage, tossed it out and walked away and never looked back. Walking away was something Michael had always been good at.

“Michael never knew any of this?” Walt asked.

“Not about the sailboat.”

“Interesting.” He sat back in the booth, gazing off through the window into the night, fighting some sort of internal, invisible battle. Then he looked at her, his eyes dark with reservation. “It’s gotta be a scam, Teri. There’s no other logical way to look at it.”

“Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t. I don’t know. But I do want to believe him.”

“I know you do.” He shifted uncomfortably. “But what about the truth?”

“The truth? We aren’t hiding anything.”

“ You might not be hiding anything. The kid, he’s a different story. You don’t know what he’s hiding, now do you? He shows up at your door and claims to be your son, and you know in your head that that just can’t be, because Gabe’s got different eyes, and Gabe’s got be in his twenties by now. But you don’t want to listen to your head, Teri. You only want to listen to your heart.”

“There’s more,” she said solemnly.

“Meaning what?”

“Some men showed up at the house tonight.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I already think you’re crazy.”

“Good. Then I guess I’ve got nothing to lose.” She smiled, wishing she knew exactly where to start, and then she took in a deep breath, and did her best to tell him everything that had happened.

Walt had no trouble at all believing men had broken into her house. That surprised Teri. Though later, giving it more thought, it probably shouldn’t have. She should have known that kind of thing would be easier for him to understand given his line of work. But it surprised her just the same. And when she was finished, Walt surprised her again by nodding, as if everything made perfect sense now.

“And what do you think they wanted?” he asked.

“The boy.”

“Sure sounds like it, doesn’t it?”

“To you, too, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded, mulling it over in his head. “Did you call the police?”

“No,” she admitted guiltily. They both knew it wouldn’t have served any purpose anyway. Before she had given up altogether—given up on ever finding Gabe again, and given up on herself—she had made a pest of herself down at the department. Walt had borne the brunt of it, of course, though every once in awhile things had spilled over to other sections of the department. And on one occasion, she had taken her complaints all the way to the Chief of Police. Then there had been the episode at McDonald’s when she had tried to prevent a Gabe-look-alike from leaving the restaurant before she could talk to him. Someone had called the police. And once they had determined the boy was not Gabe, Teri had found herself down at the station. After that, she had won herself a reputation. And toward the end, when she would call about a lead or a sighting, they had quit listening altogether.