David Silva - The Disappeared

“No.”

Why would he have left his own case file behind?

“Then I didn’t tell you about what happened after the visit, either, did I?”

Why? Walt wondered. With the tip of his shoe, he tried unsuccessfully to flip the title page back, before what Teri had been saying to him gradually came home full force. He looked up.

“No. What’s going on, Teri?”

“It’s been crazy.” She went on to tell him what Childs had said in their first visit, and how they had run into Mitch and his friends outside the doctor’s office when they were leaving. She told him about the accident and about hiding out in the mall and about showing up at the apartment and finding the mess there. Then she told him about how they had dropped by to see Dr. Childs a second time and how they had gone in the back way. All of that came out of her matter-of-factly, then suddenly she choked and the words had to fight their way free. “He says there’s something wrong with him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dr. Childs—he seems to think there’s something wrong with the boy.”

“What exactly did he have to say?”

“Apparently, Gabe’s got this disease that’s something like progeria. I think the medical term is Hutchinson-Gilford Syndrome. At least that’s what the doctor says. And what it does, well, I’m not completely sure what it does. But what happens in the end is these children, their systems, they start aging much faster than they’re supposed to.”

“They grow old?”

“I think it’s fairly rare. At least that’s the way I understand it.”

“And the boy has it?”

“That’s what the doctor said.”

“He’s certain?”

“Yeah. He seemed to be.”

“Oh Christ, Teri, I don’t know what to say. I mean…” Walt closed his eyes, wishing there were something that would come to mind, something that could take away the sting she had to be feeling. He had never been any good at this kind of thing. And he had never felt any clumsier than he did at this moment. “Did the doctor say anything else? I mean anything about a cure or maybe a way they could delay the effects?”

“No. I didn’t hear anything like that. He wanted to keep Gabe under observation, though. Just to be on the safe side.” Her voice fell to just above a whisper and Walt thought she was close to tears. “I’m scared, Walt. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose him. I just got him back.”

“I know.”

“I want to do what’s best for him.”

“You will, Teri.”

“I love him so much.”

“I know you do. And believe me, he knows it, too.” Walt sank to the floor, wishing they were face-to-face and not talking over the phone like this. “We need to get together, Teri.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Any place you’d like to meet?”

“Somewhere public. I’m feeling a little paranoid these days.”

“You’ve earned the right. How about the plaza outside City Hall, the west side, with the statue and the fountain? You know where that is?”

“I think so.”

“In an hour?” Walt asked. He glanced at his watch. It was already a little after three in the afternoon. That would give him enough time to finish straightening up the apartment and maybe stop off to get something for dinner tonight before he had to meet her. The apartment was still the safest place for them to stay until things settled down again.

“Yeah, that sounds fine.”

“Good, I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks, Walt. I don’t know who else I could have turned to.”

“See you around four.”

He dropped the receiver back in its cradle, and dug the rest of the phone out from beneath the pillow. He grabbed the lamp off the table next to the door in the same swoop, and placed them both back on the night-stand, where he had kept them in easy reach since the first day he had moved into the apartment. The bed sheets had been torn off the mattress and scattered around the room as if a tornado had picked them up and toyed with them before dropping them back to earth again. He tossed the blankets off to one side and gathered up the sheets and pillow cases for the laundry.

There were two things gnawing at him as he carried the sheets into the living room and dropped them at the foot of the entryway. First was Dr. Childs. He had never met the man, of course, but Walt didn’t like the idea that Mitch and his friends had showed up right outside the good doctor’s office. And he didn’t like the sudden diagnosis, either. It just didn’t feel right. So try as he may—knowing that Teri trusted in the man—Walt just couldn’t seem to bring himself to feel the same way.

The other thing doing some gnawing was the case file Walt had found on the floor in the bedroom. Boyle’s file. That hadn’t been an accident. Boyle never would have left it behind unless he had wanted it found.

Walt made his way back into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway long enough to wonder how things had suddenly become so complicated. Because if life was anything, it was complicated. Anyone who believed different had to be sleepwalking. Just make do, he told himself. Things will settle down again. He stood the dresser up and maneuvered it back against the wall where it belonged, and wondered once again why Boyle had left his case file behind.

Some things just didn’t make sense.

Teri hung up the phone and leaned against the side of the booth. She had used the middle booth in a line of five at the Sun Country Bus Depot. Through the glass, she watched a Greyhound bus pull out of the station, turn into the nearest lane of traffic and disappear down the avenue.

The boy was sitting on a bench across from the telephone booth, where she could keep a watchful eye on him. He hadn’t been doing his best today. He was running a slight fever and feeling a little sluggish, and some of that sluggishness had come through loud and clear in his behavior. Having him sit in a bus station, inhaling noxious fumes while she made her phone call, wasn’t going to help matters any.

Teri forced a smile and waved to him.

He waved back, halfheartedly.

Almost instantly at that moment, she realized something that had been brewing inside her for several days now. She was beginning to hate all of this. She hated being on the run and the loneliness it left her feeling. And she hated dragging the boy around from place to place as if they were homeless and had nowhere else to go. Above and beyond all that, she didn’t like what they were doing to Walt.

You aren’t doing anything to him .

Yes, they were.

They were dropping all their problems in his lap like a sack of hot potatoes. Here, I don’t know what to do with this. See what you can do. It felt… slimy. Though maybe it only felt that way because she didn’t like depending so heavily on anyone, much less someone she cared about. That was something Teri thought she had overcome after Michael had moved out. But here it was, back again, like a dirty little secret that just won’t die.

No, she didn’t like any of this.

And yet… what could she do about it?

Boyle climbed out of the car and crossed around the back of Sarah’s Volvo to the driver’s door. The bitch had already gotten out. She had glanced around, looking almost directly at him—in fact, right through him, it seemed—and then had crossed the parking lot and disappeared inside one of them beauty parlor places, this one called Jenny’s.

Boyle pulled a knife out of his pocket, pressed a button, and the blade flipped open. He stuck it into the door lock, jiggled it a bit, without success, and realized she hadn’t locked the car. That was just like her. Never took proper care of things. Never. Didn’t have no appreciation for how expensive things were. He opened the door and climbed in, the scent of her strong and pleasing.