David Silva - The Disappeared

Michael had always been a man who liked to keep himself under control, a think-before-you-act kind of man. If you hand someone a piece of paper, ninety-nine out of a hundred people will reach out and take it, sight unseen, contents unknown. Michael, though, would catch himself and pause to think about it first. That was his caution, and if she were honest, Teri would have to admit that at times she found herself envious of it.

“What if I came out to see him? I mean… that would be all right with you, wouldn’t it?”

“Well… things are a little crazy right now,” she said.

“No, I understand. They’re a little crazy out here, too. I was thinking maybe in a week or two, after things settle down a bit.”

“Let me think about it, Michael.”

“Sure.” He paused, and finally added, “You always kept the faith, didn’t you?”

Not always, she thought. The shower in the bathroom went on, and though she didn’t recognize the tune, she heard the boy begin to sing. There was happiness in his voice that she had once thought she might never hear again.

“I did my best,” she said.

“Wish I could have been as strong.”

“We both did the best we could under the circumstances.”

“I don’t know,” Michael said regretfully. There was an unmistakable tone of guilt coming through. No doubt there had been enough guilt for the both of them.

The conversation lay dormant for a moment. He took a breath that was clearly audible, and said, “You know this isn’t possible. I mean, Gabe coming home after all this time and not being any older or anything.”

“I don’t know what’s possible and what isn’t anymore.”

“It just seems so bizarre.”

“Would it make it any less bizarre for you if aliens had brought him back?”

Michael chuckled. “I see you haven’t lost your taste for sarcasm.”

“Missed it?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Sorry. It keeps me from going insane when things start getting crazy.” She switched the phone from one ear to the other, feeling strangely disconnected and uncertain. There was a part of her that didn’t want to end the conversation, a part of her that wondered if maybe there was a chance they could be a whole family again, the way it used to be. But another part didn’t like that idea at all. That part of her didn’t think she would ever be able to forgive him for walking out on her when she had needed him most.

“Teri… what else has been going on out there? Anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I think someone’s been watching the house.” His voice fell into something just above a whisper, and she remembered that voice. It was the voice of a man who was frightened. It was the voice of a man who wasn’t sure what was going on or how to deal with it. It was a voice she had heard often after Gabe had disappeared.

“How long?” she asked.

“Just the last day or two, I think. At least that’s when I first noticed it. I woke up late last night, not feeling quite right, and I noticed this van parked across the street. There were two men sitting in it, just sitting there, doing nothing. And then this morning, they were still sitting there, like they were waiting for something to happen.”

“Call the cops, Michael.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Tell them that out in California your wife and son had someone stalking them the last couple of days and now there’s someone watching your house.” Teri rubbed her eyes, suddenly reminded of how complicated everything had become lately. “Christ, that won’t do any good. Not if they check it out.”

“What the hell’s going on, Teri?”

“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, I think it’s dangerous.” She let out a breath that seemed to take away some of the pressure, at least momentarily. “Can you sneak out through a back door?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Then do it.”

“Jesus, Teri, is it that bad?”

“Stay in a motel for a few days. Move around. Call in sick at work.”

“What are you saying? What the hell’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, Michael. I think it has something to do with the boy, but right now I’m not sure of anything. Just play it safe for awhile, okay? Will you do that?”

“Sure,” he said. There was a touch of unease in his voice now, and she was glad to hear it, because that meant he was going to take her seriously. “Where can I reach you? At the house?”

“No, I think they’re watching the house.”

“Are you sure you and Gabe are all right?”

“We’re fine.”

“I can take a flight out and be there tonight.”

“No, that’ll only make things worse.” In the background, the boy’s singing fell silent. She heard the shower go off in the bathroom and the curtain drawn back. He would be toweled off and ready to go in a matter of minutes. “Look, leave a message with Uncle Henry and let me know where you’re staying. I’ll do the same, and maybe we can get back together over the phone in another day or two.”

“You sure you don’t want me out there?”

“Not right now, Michael.” Absently, she had wound the telephone cord several times around her index finger, and like Chinese handcuffs, the cord began to tighten as she struggled to free herself. In some ways, she thought she hadn’t been free in a good many years now. Not from her nightmares. Not from her loneliness. And surprisingly, not even from Michael. “Uncle Henry’s, all right?”

“Sure.”

“Gotta go, Michael. You be careful.”

“You, too.”

“Any luck?”

“Don’t know yet.”

The man, who was tapping a pencil against the edge of the countertop, sat back in his chair and waited. They had been waiting for three days now, two men crammed into the back of a van, listening, watching, coming up empty until Mrs. Knight had finally made the mistake of calling her estranged husband.

“How long does it take, man?”

“It takes as long as it takes. Just hold your water.”

Fifteen seconds ticked by.

“They didn’t get it, did they?”

Twenty seconds.

“I don’t know.”

Twenty-five seconds.

“Jesus.”

“At least we have a lead to the uncle.”

Thirty seconds.

Finally, the phone rang. Gene, the man with the nervous pencil, sat up in his chair, and grabbed the receiver. “Did you get it?”

“We got it.”

“Great!” He copied down the phone number, hung up, and immediately dialed the CNA operator. “I need one on 916-555-3743.”

“Just a moment.” The operator disappeared momentarily, then came back on the line. “That number is listed to the Royalty Motel.”

“The billing address?”

“Yes… it’s 2399 Cypress Avenue.”

“Thanks.”

Michael Knight hung up the phone in the kitchen, crossed to the dining room and peered out through the window. The van across the street had not moved in three days. It was parked in the Halloman driveway and Michael knew that Mr. Halloman, a retired Army colonel, was in Florida visiting his sister. He wasn’t expected back for another two weeks. Michael also knew that Mrs. Bradley, who lived two doors down, had reported the suspicious vehicle the first day it had arrived in the neighborhood. The police had come to check it that same day. Afterward, they had stopped by to assure Mrs. Bradley that she had nothing to worry herself about. The van, they had told her, was there on official business.

“Just what kind of official business?” she had wanted to know when relaying the story to Michael.

It was a question still in need of an answer, but the picture was becoming clearer. It was official business having to do with him.