Бентли Литтл - The Disappearance

“They made it look worse than it was,” he said.

His dad took the phone back, got on the line again. “I know how you feel, Gary. She’s your first real girlfriend, and you think you’re in love with her—”

“I am in love with her!” he blurted out. He cringed even as he said the words, embarrassed to be talking to his dad that way, but he stood his ground.

“Maybe you are,” his dad conceded. “Maybe you are. But hear me out. You’re too young to be tied down right now. And something like this can only make it more difficult. There is national media attention focused on this girl. And she was kidnapped and held captive at some cult compound in Texas. She’s going through things you can’t possibly understand.”

Right then, he almost told his dad everything.

Almost .

But he didn’t. This was one of those pivotal moments, an end-of-childhood moment, and though he wanted more than anything to have his dad speed out here to California and rescue him, he knew it would be wrong to involve his parents. He couldn’t endanger them like that, and he realized that this was the first time he was making an important decision that affected all three of them; he was deciding what should be done for the good of the whole family. “Most of that stuff is made up,” he lied. “You know how the media sensationalizes everything.”

His dad sounded skeptical. “It seemed pretty well documented. And they were talking to law enforcement officers who were involved in the case, who were there .”

“Dad, I can handle it. And she needs me right now.” His voice almost broke on that last sentence. He was saying it for strategic reasons, for dramatic effect, but it was true, and though he hadn’t known Joan that long, he realized yet again how much he loved her. No matter how long he lived, he would never feel this way about anyone else, and going through something like this together could only make their relationship stronger. That was something he didn’t know how to describe.

But, miraculously, his dad seemed to understand. “Okay, Gary.”

“What?” He could hear his mom screaming in the background. The sound was suddenly muffled as his dad put his hand over the mouthpiece and said something to her that he didn’t want Gary to listen in on. “I’ve got to go,” his dad said a few seconds later, coming back on the line.

“ Over my dead body! ” his mom screamed.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” Gary said. There was a short beat. “Thanks, Dad.”

“No problem. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He returned to class, shooting the instructor an apologetic smile, hoping the expression on his face conveyed the importance and seriousness of the call. A half hour later, after the session ended, he found Reyn waiting for him outside the classroom. Reyn had had a free period, and he’d called a friend of his, who had a friend who was out of town. If they took over house-sitting duties, the friend said, they could stay at this guy’s place for the next week. It was a two-bedroom duplex in Van Nuys, just off the 405 freeway, ten minutes from campus if there was no traffic. All they had to do was feed the fish and water the ficus.

“We can all stay there,” Reyn said. “Even Brian, if he doesn’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

“That sounds great.” Gary felt surprisingly relieved, as though getting away from UCLA would offer them some sort of protection. “I’ll call Joan and Brian, tell them.”

“I already called Stacy. It’s fine with her, although she has a late class today until six. My last class is at three, but I’ll stay with her.”

“Should we—”

“I’m going to meet Ernesto for lunch so he can give me the key to the place. Wait for me at three on that bench outside the library, and I’ll give it to you. You and Joan can go over there first, and we’ll meet you there after Stacy’s class.” He grinned. “If you two wanted to provide a hot dinner to show your appreciation, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Consider it done.”

The crowd around them was thinning out. “I’d better get going,” Reyn said. “See you later.”

“Later.”

Reyn met his friend at an El Pollo Loco in Encino to pick up the key and stopped by an Ace Hardware on the way back to make four extra copies. “There’s no garage,” he explained when he met Gary and Joan outside the library, “so you have to park on the street— if you can find a spot. The stove and oven are broken. They’re both gas, but the gas has been shut off so the place won’t blow up.”

“We’ll make do,” Joan told him.

Brian was with them. They’d already asked him to stay in the duplex, but he’d declined. “I like to be where the action is,” he said. “Besides, Dror’s got my back.” He had agreed to drive over with them, however, just to see where the place was, and he took out a pen, writing down Reyn’s directions on his hand.

“I have some paper,” Joan offered.

“That’s all right. This is easier.”

Reyn gave each of them keys, Brian included, then looked up at the clock in the tower. “I’ve gotta get going. Stacy’s out in ten minutes and it’s all the way across campus. See you between six thirty and seven.”

“Dinner will be waiting,” Joan promised.

Reyn was already starting to hurry away.

“Did you try these keys yet?” Gary called after him.

“No! Let me know if they work!”

And he was lost in the crowd.

The three of them stood there for a few moments more, pretending to talk but in reality scoping out the surrounding area, looking to see if they were being watched. There was no sign of oddly dressed Homesteaders, and none of them noticed anyone loitering suspiciously nearby or taking any interest in their presence.

“I’ll follow a couple of car lengths behind you,” Brian said as they started making their way toward the east parking lot. “See if you’re being followed.”

“Are we paranoid or what?” Gary tried to joke.

“No,” Joan said soberly. “We’re realistic.”

And that, he realized, was the truth.

Brian stayed for only a few minutes, to make sure they got into the duplex and to check it out. There was a medium-sized living room, a small, narrow kitchen, a single bathroom with a shower-tub, and two bedrooms, both with full-sized beds. It was connected to a bigger unit in the front, but while it was modest, it felt homey, and Gary liked it immediately. He was reminded of Sheriff Stewart’s house in Bitterweed, for some reason, and that connection cemented his positive impression of the place.

“Even if I wanted to stay, there’s no room,” Brian noted.

“The couch,” Gary said. “The floor.”

“That’s all right. I’ll stick with my bed.”

Joan carried her suitcase into one of the bedrooms, and Brian motioned for Gary to follow him outside. He’d managed to find a parking spot in front of the duplex, and he headed over to his vehicle. “Brought you a knife,” he said. He opened the trunk and withdrew a long blade encased in a leather sheath.

Gary was hesitant. It was much bigger than the one he’d carried into the Home and looked almost like a small sword. “I don’t know. We have the bat… .”

“If Father and his hemp-shirted goons come crashing through that door in the middle of the night to kill you and rape Joan, you’re going to thank your lucky stars you’re sleeping next to this.”

He was right, and Gary picked up the weapon, hefting it in his hand, surprised by how heavy it was and at the same time reassured. “Thanks,” he said.

“No problemo.”

Joan appeared in the doorway behind them. She saw the sheathed knife but said nothing about it. More than anything else, that brought home to him how seriously she took their predicament.