Chevy Stevens - Still Missing

“Did you guys break into my house, too?”

“Yeah, your mom was going to come in right behind me and save you, but I got to your bedroom and you weren’t there, the alarm was going off, and I bailed out the window. Then when your mom stayed the night at your house, you told her when you ran in the mornings….” The night my mom brought me Annie Bear cookies and my photos. I sat back down.

For the longest time we just sat there looking at each other, not saying anything, understanding everything. At least I was. Finally I broke the silence.

“You know you’re going to have to turn yourself in, right?”

“I figured.”

We stared out at the playground. No children were in sight. The sun had disappeared behind a cloud and it was cool in the shade. A slight breeze moved the swings back and forth. The air was filled with the rhythmic squeaking of their chains and the scent of a storm coming.

“I really love your mom, you know?”

“I know.”

He took a deep breath, then put the deck of cards back in their box. I wanted to stop him, wanted to say, Let’s just play one last game . But it was too late. It was too late for everything.

“I’ll walk into the station with you.”

Gary had just gotten in from court and looked pissed off when he saw me with Wayne, but as soon as Wayne told him he wanted to make a confession, Gary pointed to me and said, “Don’t go anywhere,” then whisked Wayne away.

I spent the next couple of hours wandering around the station, flipping through magazines and staring at the walls—counting cracks, counting stains. The betrayal by my family had hurt more than anything The Freak ever did to me, and in a place he’d never been able to touch. I was running from that pain as fast as I could.

Finally Gary came out.

“You shouldn’t have talked to him, Annie. If that had back-fired—”

I handed him the tape. “But it didn’t.”

“We can’t use this—”

“You don’t need to, do you?” I said. No way was I apologizing.

He shook his head, then told me that Wayne, after speaking with a legal aide, had decided to give a full statement and testify against my mom in exchange for a lighter sentence. He was under arrest, charged with accessory to kidnapping, extortion, and criminal negligence. They’d be holding him until his bail hearing.

Gary said the bank records should come in later this afternoon or in the morning. They didn’t actually need them to arrest Mom now, but he wanted to verify Wayne’s statements before they interviewed her. They were also waiting to hear from the lab about the elastic hair bands but might not get that report until the morning. They didn’t consider Mom a flight risk—she didn’t even have a car—and she wasn’t a threat to society, so unless something changed they’d pick her up in the morning.

They had Wayne call Mom and tell her he was going to check out a hot lead on a business for sale up-island. If it got too late to drive home he was just going to crash at a buddy’s place. Then he mentioned running into me, in case somebody told her, and added that I was back in town but tired from driving and was heading home to get some rest. She bought it.

Afterward, Gary walked me out to my car.

He said, “Are you okay? It had to be hard to hear all that.”

“I don’t know what I am. It’s all just… I don’t know.” I shook my head. “Have you ever heard of a mother doing something like this?”

“People do terrible things to people they love all the time. Just about every crime you can think of has been done at least once.”

“Somehow I don’t feel better.”

“I’ll try to call you as soon as we pick her up. Want to watch the interview?”

“God, I don’t know if I’m up for that.”

“I know she’s your mom, and it must be really hard to understand what she’s done, but I need you to be tough here. You can’t talk to her until we do, okay?”

“I guess.”

“I’m serious, Annie. I want you to go straight home. I shouldn’t even be telling you everything I just did, but I didn’t like keeping you in the dark before. You might be tempted to warn your mom, but I trust you to do the right thing. Don’t prove me wrong. Just remember what she did to you.”

Like I needed a reminder.

Well, I obeyed part of Gary’s request—I did drive straight somewhere, but to your office, not home. I didn’t even care if anyone saw me. Against all reason, I just keep hoping that somehow it’s all a huge mistake.

You’ve probably seen the papers—I’m hot news again. All the way home after our last session I kept thinking about Mom. She could be a right bitch at times, she’s generally selfish, and sure she lives in the land of it’s-all-about-me, but capable of something like this ?

When I got home that night I had a message from Luke on my voice mail. Of course he’s too nice to outright say, “Where the hell are you?” Instead it was something about letting him know when I’m home. I didn’t call back—didn’t know what to say.

That night in my closet, I thought about Mom—Gary hadn’t called yet—and I imagined her sitting at home in front of the TV, smoking and drinking, with no idea the shit’s hit the fan and she’s standing downhill. As hurt and betrayed as I felt, I still hated knowing she had no clue what was going to happen.

Then I remembered her phoning me the day of the open house. She’d made me feel guilty about a cappuccino machine, knowing an ex-con was going to abduct me a few hours later. Not to mention how she’d taken care of me after the second abduction attempt—I felt loved , and she’d set the whole damn thing up. Right then I knew I had to watch the interview. Had to hear for myself why my mother did this to me.

Around ten the next day I got the call from Gary. They’d received all my mom’s bank records early that morning, which matched up with Wayne’s statement, and they’d confirmed the pink elastic bands were of the same dye lot. She’d been arrested—that must have sent the trailer park into a tizzy—and now they were letting her brew at the station until I got there. It didn’t take me long, even though I wanted to turn around the whole way.

I hadn’t realized I was shaking until I got to the cop shop and Gary offered me his coat. It was still warm and smelled like him. I wished I could cloak myself in it and disappear. In a small room off the one where they had my mom, I stared at her through a window I assumed was a mirror on the other side. A couple of cops were there with me, and when I made eye contact with one of them, he looked down at his shoes.

Mom was perched on the edge of the chair with her hands tucked under her thighs, her feet not quite touching the floor. Her makeup was faded and smeared, probably left over from yesterday, and her ponytail was crooked. Then I saw it. One eyelid drooped slightly lower than the other. She wasn’t totally wasted but she’d definitely had some vodka with her orange juice that morning. Gary came in the room and stood beside me.

“You holding up okay?” He rested his hand on my shoulder. The weight of it felt solid and warm.

“What’s the point of this? You have all the evidence.”

“There’s never enough evidence. I’ve seen a lot of cases we thought were a slam dunk go sideways down the road. It would be better if we can get her to admit some involvement.”

“Who’s going to interview her?”

“Me.” His eyes glittered. If he were a horse, he’d have been chomping at the bit.

Mom brightened right up when Gary walked into the room. My stomach churned.

He started off by telling her she was being audio-and videotaped, which got a smile for the camera, and then he asked her to say her name, address, and the date out loud. He had to tell her the date.