David Morrell - Long lost

"How are you doing, Brad?"

Kate had once told me that no matter how shitty either of us felt, we should always answer "Never better."

Phil's shoulders moved up and down as if from a bitter chuckle. "Yeah, I can see that. You've been raking that same pile of leaves for about an hour."

"Neatness counts."

Phil looked down at his hands. "I don't know if I should tell you this."

"Oh?" I felt a cold breeze.

"Marge says I shouldn't upset you, but I figure you've got enough trouble without getting more trouble from the people who are supposed to be helping you."

The breeze got colder. "What are you talking about?"

"An FBI agent came to see me at work yesterday."

"John Gader?"

"Yeah, that was his name. He asked me if you and Kate got along. If there were a lot of family arguments. If you ever hit your son."

"What?"

"He wanted to know if you lost your temper when you drank. If you had a girlfriend."

"The FBI suspects me?"

"You son of a bitch."

Gader faltered when I stepped in front of his car in the parking garage of Denver's Federal Building. "Calm down."

"You think I killed my wife and son!"

"I gather that some of your friends told you I'd been asking them questions about you."

"Destroying my reputation is more like it!" Fists clenched, I stepped toward him.

"Take it easy," Gader said.

Its engine echoing, a car drove past in the garage, the driver frowning at us.

"This area has security cameras. It's patrolled," Gader said. "You don't even want to think about assaulting a federal agent on federal property."

"It'd be worth it!"

Gader held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not going to fight you. If you'll calm down and listen…"

Behind him, a door banged open. A guard stepped into the garage's harsh lights. His hand was on his holstered gun. "Is everything all right, Mr. Gader?"

"I'm not sure." Gader's lean face was stern. "Is everything all right, Mr. Denning?"

I squeezed my fists so tightly that my knuckles ached.

"If you go to prison, how's that going to help your wife and son?" Gader asked.

I trembled, feeling anger burn my face.

"Think about what your family needs," Gader said.

I relaxed my fists.

"It's going to be fine, Joe," Gader told the guard. "You can leave us now."

"I'll watch the monitor," the guard said.

"Good idea." Gader waited until the door rumbled shut.

"How could you possibly think I killed my wife and son?"

"It's a standard part of an investigation. When a family member's missing or killed, a lot of times the person responsible is another family member."

"Jesus, how could I have driven the Volvo to Wyoming, then stolen a car and abandoned it in Montana, and somehow have gotten back here to maroon myself in the mountains?"

"You could have if this guy Dant had been working for you."

The depth of Gader's suspicion shocked me. " Why would I have asked Petey to do that?"

"Dant. If you had money troubles and needed the payout from a life-insurance policy, or if you had a girlfriend who made your wife an inconvenience."

I clenched my fists again.

"But there weren't any unusual withdrawals from your bank accounts or your stock portfolio, and there wasn't a hint of scandal about your relations with your family. Besides, I couldn't figure out how you'd have crossed paths with Dant after he got out of jail in Butte and… Quit staring at me like that. The investigation wasn't going anywhere. I had to try a different approach."

"You son of a bitch, you made my friends think I'm responsible for my family's disappearance."

"It wasn't personal. I told you, I was following standard procedure. The point is, you came through the investigation perfectly. You're in the clear."

"Thanks. Thanks a fucking lot."

"You seem determined to avoid using Lester Dant's name," the psychiatrist said.

I didn't answer.

"The FBI did a thorough background check," the psychiatrist continued. "They proved that he's not your brother."

My chest was so tight that I could hardly get the words out. "They think Dant crossed paths with my brother and learned what had happened to him as a child. He decided to switch places with Petey, possibly killed him."

I stared out a window toward a pine tree.

"But you don't believe it," the psychiatrist said.

"I can't."

" 'Can't'?" The psychiatrist evaluated the word.

The tightness spread to my throat. "If I accepted that Dant kidnapped my wife and son, I'd have to admit that, given his profile, he'd have done whatever he wanted to them and…" I couldn't bring myself to say "killed them." I kept staring through the window toward the pine tree. "But if Petey was using Dant as an alias…" My voice broke. "If Petey took them, there's a good chance they're still alive."

The psychiatrist sat forward. "Why do you think that?"

"I've tried to put myself in his place." The tree became a blur. "I've done my best to imagine what Petey must have felt when he came into my house. My loving family, my comfortable surroundings. Petey wouldn't have wanted merely to kill me for destroying his life. He'd have wanted my life, the one I'd made for myself."

I forced myself to continue. "I've analyzed the moment when Petey pushed me into the gorge. I've relived it again and again. I think Petey's plan was to wait until Jason wasn't around and then kill me, making it look like an accident. Then he intended to sympathize with Kate and Jason, to make himself indispensable, and eventually to take my place. The only problem was, Jason saw him push me."

I took a deep breath. "So the plan was ruined. What was Petey going to do? Kill Jason? Make that death look like an accident also? Try to take my place with Kate? No. Jason was an essential part of what Petey wanted. Not just my wife but my family. Obviously, he couldn't live in my house then, not without Jason telling the police what he'd seen. But Petey could steal my family. He could hide them someplace and screw my wife whenever he wanted. He could force my son to treat him like a father." I squeezed the words out. "At least they'd be alive. If Petey and Dant are the same person. If Petey took them. But if Dant's who the FBI claims he is, if he isn't Petey, he probably killed Jason right away and hid his body in the mountains. Then he made the best of a failed plan by looting the house and forcing Kate to go someplace with him, probably the Montana mountains, where he could rape her as much as he wanted before he got bored with her and-" I stopped, unable to admit Kate might be dead.

The psychiatrist narrowed her eyes as if I'd just described hell. But whether it was the hell that Kate and Jason suffered or whether it was the hell of what she considered my delusional mind, I couldn't know.

As I swallowed another antidepression pill, I heard the doorbell ring. The FBI with news, I hoped.

But when I opened the door, I frowned at children in costumes on my porch. Trick-or-treaters. It was Halloween, but I hadn't been aware. I didn't have candy. Not that they cared. They stumbled back as if I was the one in a scary costume. When I tried to explain, they ran from the porch.

I closed the door and shut off the light. Peering out a darkened window, I saw other costumed children, and as I hoped, they passed the house. I couldn't help remembering that Halloween was one of Jason's favorite holidays. How he'd loved to dress up as a space monster or a mad scientist. How I had loved to go out with him. But that wasn't going to happen now. It made me angry that I'd frightened the children. Was my face that twisted with loss? Were my eyes that dark with insanity?