Rene Gutteridge: Listen

Jill’s cell phone sprang to life with a disco tune. “Text message from Nat.” She plucked it from her purse. “Oh, wow.”

“What?”

“Another post has been made on the Web site. Nat said I have to see it to believe it.”

Kay groaned. “Oh, brother. What is it this time? Someone dyed their hair the wrong color?”

“Can I use your computer?”

“Sure,” Kay said, pointing to the nearby office. She didn’t really want to look. She was so tired of this mess and all that it had brought to her town and her family.

She helped Jill log on and then headed to the garage for more trash bags.

“Oh!” Jill gasped.

Kay tried to hide her irritation and kept walking to the garage. She was done with that stupid Web site. She opened the door, hoping not to let too much cold air in. The garage was drafty and always had…

Kay stumbled backward, nearly tripping herself. She hit the door with her back, throwing herself off-balance. She toppled to the floor, jamming her elbow. A fiery pain shot up her arm. “Jill! Jill!”

Pattering footsteps rushed toward her. “What is it?”

Kay’s shaking hand pointed to Damien’s car. “His car is here!” She turned to Jill, sinking into her arms. “Where are they?”

Damien wasn’t sure how much time had passed. There was a digital clock high on a wall in the jail, but he could see only the hour, not the minutes. It was starting to give him a good sense of what jail was going to be like, where time becomes meaningless and precious all at once.

His hand stroked the day-old stubble that had sprouted from his skin. He hated the prickly feel of it and usually shaved every weekday. He wondered if he would shave in prison. He wondered if he would even serve in prison. He had no idea if what he was charged with carried jail time. Yeah, he should probably call a lawyer.

Maybe tomorrow.

He needed more time to think.

What he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around was telling Kay. He didn’t want her to see him like this. But it was inevitable. And what would Hunter say? Would he let Damien take the fall? Knowing his son, he doubted it. But it might be necessary. He wasn’t sure he could live with the idea of his kid in juvie with all sorts of messed-up teens. He didn’t want Hunter introduced to the dark side of life that way.

The reality of it wasn’t sitting well because so far he hadn’t nailed down exactly what that reality might be. Did he really think he could make up his own reality here? take the fall for his kid? Was that in Hunter’s best interest?

If he could just talk to Hunter, ask him what this was all about. But right now he knew Hunter was safe at home with Kay. She’d picked him up from his after-school stuff. That was where he wanted everyone. By late tonight, he was sure they would find out where he was. Maybe they already knew. Maybe Grayson paid them a visit. Maybe the neighbor came over and expressed concern.

It was weird having absolutely no control over anything. No matter what he wanted to do or what he thought he wanted to do, he could do nothing but sit. Unnerving yet strangely freeing.

A noise caught his attention. The jail had come alive with a small flurry of activity. People who’d been previously sitting were now on their feet. Small groups of three and four were huddled around computers, murmuring just out of earshot.

Someone in uniform passed by.

Damien jumped to his feet and clung to the bars. “Hey, what’s going on?”

He was ignored.

“I’m driving and that’s final,” Jill said, whisking Kay down the front steps of the home she didn’t bother to lock.

Kay ran to Jill’s car, tugging at the handle until Jill unlocked it. Kay noticed their neighbor across the street staring for no particular reason.

Jill started the car and slammed it into reverse, barely looking back as she skidded out the driveway. Kay tugged at her seat belt before it finally unlocked enough for her to get it around herself.

Jill’s attention was divided between the road and Kay. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll go file a missing person report. Reports.”

Kay nodded, swiping at tears, trying to calm herself down.

“But the likelihood is that they’re together,” Jill continued, floating through a neighborhood stop sign. “We have evidence of that. And that’s a good sign.”

“But where would they walk to? What would they be doing?”

Jill stared forward, her face frozen with what looked like an important thought.

“What is it?” Kay asked.

“Maybe…”

“What?”

“I told you there was a post on the Web site, right? A new one?”

“Yes?”

“It was a note from whoever is responsible for the Web site. He said he’d reveal himself. It’s going down in like fifteen minutes.” Jill concentrated on the clock. “Maybe that’s where they went.”

“Where?”

“Old Morgan Road. There’s nothing really out there.”

“An old abandoned dog-food factory.”

“Yeah. And a dump.” Jill glanced at her. “They could’ve gone there.”

“On what? A bike? It’s like five or six miles from our house.”

“Maybe they rode with someone.”

Kay tried to swallow that possibility. “Yeah. That’s true. Someone could’ve picked them up.” She grabbed Jill’s arm. “I’m totally overreacting, aren’t I?”

“There are a lot of possibilities here,” Jill said. “But I don’t think it’s bad that you alert the police. You can’t be too safe, especially with how nutty this town is getting.”

“I just feel in my gut… something. Something’s not right.” She pressed the side of her head against her window, gazing out at the evening traffic. “Hunter lied to me. I think. I might’ve misunderstood him, but I don’t think so. He told me he was doing some after-school activity, and the teacher said there’s nothing going on.”

Jill patted her leg. “Okay, then that’s possibly good news.”

“How?”

“He’s maybe up to something, but at least it means he’s not involved in some freak accident. He might be lying to you, but he’ll be coming through that front door, probably with some story he’ll try to sell. And you’ll never be so happy to have a story sold to you.”

“Yeah. You’re right. So maybe we shouldn’t panic.” Outside, leafless trees and yellow grass dimmed against the fading light. “I miss Frank. He would know what to do. He would tell me what to do.” Kay sank in her seat, watching the streetlights pop on one by one. “Maybe it’s foolish to go to the police.”

Jill’s expression solidified into determination. “No. We’re going to the police. Definitely going to the police.”

Damien continued to stand at the bars, wondering what the commotion was about, trying to get the attention of anybody who seemed willing to spill the beans to a guy they thought might be capable of posting it on the World Wide Web. A couple of times a few people who were hunched over the computer turned and looked at him. What? Was some indecent picture of him circulating now?

Weariness drew him back to the chair. He wanted to curl up on his cot and drift into unconsciousness. But the strong smell of urine kept him from doing anything but sitting straight up.

He noticed, though, that the attention of all the people in the middle of the room suddenly drifted to the front doors. Captain Grayson entered, trailed by two officers. He stopped and talked to someone, then focused his attention in the direction of Damien.

Damien stood, greeting him at the bars. “What’s going on?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m pretty observant. I can tell something big is going down.” He nodded toward the open floor of the police station.