David Gates - Preston Falls

"Well, I would hardly hold Erin to blame," says Mrs. Keene. "She told me she didn't think Melanie would really go through with it, until she was absent this morning. You know, I put myself in Erin's shoes, and—"

PRESTON FALLS

"I don't care about Erin Miller," says Jean. "What have you done? What are you doing?"

"Well, we thought the first thing should be to contact you or your husband, in the event that she was simply home sick. We do have a bug going around."

"God, what time is it? It's after eleven o'clock. She could be— anything could've happened; she's twelve years old." The phone trills and the light for 5322 begins blinking. "Crap. Can you hold?" Jean hits Hold, then 5322. "Jean Karnes."

"Tony Petrosky, Mrs. Willis. I left a message before, but I thought I better keep trying. We have your daughter in custody up in Burlington — now don't worry, she's fine. She was on an airplane this morning from New York City, and we thought we better get in touch with you to know how to proceed."

"Oh thank God" says Jean. "Is she all right?"

"Yes, she's fine. Though I gather she's not too happy about being detained."

"She's not iny^z7?"

"No-no-no. They've got a — not a lounge, you wouldn't say, but sort of a waiting room area. At the barracks up there. Couch, couple chairs. Where they can keep an eye on her."

"But what on earth was she — wait, could you hold? Let me get rid of this other — it's her school."

"I'll hold."

She hits Hold, then 5321. "Mrs. Keene? She's all right. I'm talking to the police right now. Apparently they picked her up in Burlington."

"I thought it was Burlington."

"Can I call you back?" Jean says.

"Of course. Well, you must be—"

"I'll call you back." She hits 5322. "Hello?"

"I'm here," says Petrosky.

Jean lets out a long breath. "How did you find her?"

"Well, my understanding," he says, "the airline people called ahead while they were en route. She had quite a bit of makeup on, from what I gather, but one of the stewardesses noticed she seemed a little young. So I guess they figured, you know, better check it out."

"Is she there? Can I talk to her?"

"Well, no — see, I'm still down in Rutland. I can give you the number up there. What happened, they called me from — okay, let me back

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up here. What she told them at the airport, she was on her way to see her father. So they started asking her, you know, where does he live? Preston Falls. How was she getting there? Little vague on that. I guess they called your house in Preston Falls and couldn't raise anybody, so one thing and another they put her in the computer, and the name Willis set the bells off. Anyhow, the upshot was, they called down here because I was up to speed on the other matter, and I told them I'd get in touch with you and we'd sort of take it from there."

"So you haven't actually seen her."

"No, ma'am. But if they say she's fine, I wouldn't worry. Got a pencil? I'll give you that number. You want to ask for Sergeant Mallon,"

She writes the number on the pink slip underneath his, putting a ditto mark under the 802.

"Tell me something," he says. "Maybe I'm off on a tangent here. But do you have any reason to think your daughter knows anything you might not know about your husband's whereabouts? Or do you think she was just on a lark?"

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"Or whatever. Do you think he and she had been in contact?"

"No. No, definitely not. That would shock me more than anything."

"And I guess you weren't sending her to hook up with him."

"Do you think I'd put a twelve-year-old — wait, what are you saying? You think this is some weird scam or something? That we're all in on? What possible—"

"All right, slow down," he says. "Look, this is my job. Okay? Now, while I have you, did you have any luck reaching any of your husband's friends?"

"No. I mean, I did reach them. Some of them. I didn't have any luck."

"Right," he says. "Let me ask you. Were you thinking of coming up to get your daughter? "

"Yes — I mean, can I?"

"Sure. But let me just run something by you. I remember you were saying you needed to come up and close your house? So I was thinking, what if I arranged to meet you — or better yet, what if we did this} I pick your daughter up in Burlington, or maybe have them bring her partway, and she and I could hook up with you in Preston Falls."

Jean has a terrible flash that this isn't a state policeman at all but some serial killer who somehow knows their whole story. Maybe he got

PRESTON FALLS

Willis: he's just this voice on the telephone. She tries to think back about what actual proof she has, except she can't really think.

"I don't know," she says. "How would that work?"

"Just bring her to the house, I guess. Try to get there while it's still light enough to look around. And get some heat going. Probably chilly in there."

This must be all right. She could always call Information for the Vermont State Police, then call that number and ask for Captain Petrosky. She lets out a long breath. "Okay," she says.

"Good. So when would you be getting there, about?"

"What is it — eleven-thirty? I have to take the train up to get my car, so probably twelve-thivly. . Let's see, one-thirty, two-thirty, three-thirty, four-thirty. . Okay, so probably five o'clock? If all goes well?" She looks at the picture of Mel and Roger. "That sounds bizarre, doesn't it? If all goes well.''

"This isn't the easiest thing," he says. "You're holding up fine. So five o'clock. We'll be there."

"Wait, you need directions."

"Ragged Hill Road, isn't it?" he says. "I assume it's that old farmhouse on the left-hand side, just before you get over into Wakefield. Sits sort of up on a rise?"

"You know our house?"

"We get over in there from time to time," he says. "Fact, we're pretty well acquainted with one of your neighbors. You said your husband knows Mr. Castleman?"

"Right. He lives just down the road." Wait: did she say that?

"He's quite a character, Mr. Castleman."

Jean says, "I'm surprised that you know the house."

"Oh sure. Like I say, we get over that way. So we'll look for you about five."

Jean keeps the receiver at her ear and calls the Burlington number; she's relieved when the person answers "State Police." Sergeant Mallon takes his sweet time picking up; he puts the phone down with a clunk when she asks to speak to Mel, then gets back on. "She says she don't want to talk to you."

"Is she all right?"

"Oh, she's fine. There's some magazines in there. She's been looking at them when she thinks nobody's watching."

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"Well, could you just tell her that I'm on my way and I'll see her soon and that I love her?"

"Sure, will do."

"Captain Petrosky's going to pick her up. Or actually he might have you bring her somewhere."

"Well, that's more than I know," he says. "But we'll keep her safe until we hear."

"Thank you. Please.''

Jean hangs up and looks at Mel's face again. So much like her father. Nothing to give you a clue what's going on.

How will she even get up from this chair? Let alone catch a train and then drive to Preston Falls. It's like if you can do that much — just get to your feet — you can do all the rest of it, thing after thing after thing. She's shouldering her bag when the telephone rings. Jennifer, returning her call: Hey, it's been so long, how are you?

The whole way up, she goes over it and over it. If she could just wholeheartedly tell herself that marrying Willis had simply been an insane decision, a way of doing herself in — even that would be something. But.

He was a friend of Jeff and Jennifer's. Jeff's college roommate, actually, or maybe he'd lived across the hall; Jean could never keep the histories straight. He'd just broken up with a woman named Cynthia. Who now lives in Madison, Wisconsin, and runs a place for battered women. Lately Jean's thought about calling her up out of the blue, the way people with some rare disease will network. She could never get much of an answer from Willis as to what had gone wrong: People change was about the extent of it. Of course, what People change means is Men get tired of you, but Jean stupidly didn't process that. Even though Carol's marriage had fallen apart for that exact same reason, just about the time Jean was deciding whether or not to marry Willis. She was arrogant enough to think. Well, crazy Carol and her had choices.