Aric Davis - The Fort

“Where are you now?”

“At home, 229 Fernwood. Right where you saw me yesterday.”

“Are your friends with you?”

“Yes.”

“All right. You need to lock all the doors in the house and turn out the lights. I’m going to put this through to Emergency and get a squad car out there as soon as possible. Hang on.” Scott could hear Van Endel screaming something, but it was muffled, as though the mouthpiece on the other end had been palmed. Then Van Endel was talking to him again. “Do you know if you were seen?”

“No,” said Scott, then remembered the bullet in the man’s leg. He had to have known someone was out there with him and Molly. “Well, maybe. I don’t think he saw us leave the woods, though.”

“All right,” said Van Endel. Scott could hear stress in the man’s voice, and didn’t think that was a good thing. “Here’s what I want you to do. Have you locked those doors and turned out the lights?”

“No, not—”

“Have your buddies do it. Now.” When Scott had told Tim and Luke and they’d run off, Van Endel went on. “I’m going to hang up, and I want you to call 911. Let them know where you are, that you spoke to me, and that a car has already been dispatched and should be there any minute. They will verify that the officer is at your location when he gets there. Do not let anyone in the house until you are told by the 911 operator that an officer is on your porch. And stay away from the windows.”

“My friends here need to call their parents,” said Scott.

“That’s going to have to wait a few minutes. I’m going to hang up now so I can get ready to meet you when you come down here. Do you have any questions?”

“No.”

The phone clicked and turned to a dial tone. Scott pushed the button to hang up, and then slowly dialed 911. His friends were back with him and watched while he dialed. His hand was shaking as it worked the wheel, and he wondered why it had taken so long for him to realize that they could be in danger.

It was less than ten minutes later when the 911 operator named Carol said that it was OK to open the front door. Nothing had happened in the ten minutes since Scott had first dialed Van Endel until now, and he figured that was a good thing. By the tone of relief in Carol’s voice when she said that an officer was at his house, Scott could tell that she did too. He thanked her and hung up the phone, then walked to the door and slowly opened it.

A police officer was there, with his back to him. He was holding a shotgun. Without looking back, the officer said, “Go ahead and get it all the way open, son. I’m going to back in.”

Scott did as the man asked, pulling the door open as far as it would go, and then backing up as the cop methodically walked backward into his house, before slamming the door. Only then did the cop turn around. He was older, older than Carl; if he’d had to guess, Scott would have guessed he was fifty, maybe older. “Are you guys all OK?” he asked, and the boys nodded. “OK, good, really good.” He gestured with a wave to the kitchen. “Let’s go on and get away from the front door, all right?”

None of them said anything in response, they just walked where the officer told them to and he followed them into the kitchen. “I’m Officer Summers,” said the cop. “And we’ll have this thing stabilized soon. Right now we just need to hang tight until that happens. Sound good?”

“Sure,” said Tim, the first words he’d spoken since getting off of the floor. “Can we call our parents yet, though?”

Officer Summers silenced a suddenly squealing walkie-talkie, then responded, saying, “Let’s just wait for some more cops to get here, OK, guys?”

21

“Here’s what we got,” said Van Endel to Dr. Martinez. She’d come across town to the station in record time, and he owed her massively for rushing, not to mention whatever damage she might be doing to her private practice, but didn’t care at the moment. The age he’d been given for all three of the boys who had seen Molly with her abductor was twelve. Grilling suspects and adult victims and witnesses was one thing. He’d need Martinez there to help extract every little bit of information they could out of the kids.

Van Endel and Martinez were in a room with three telephones, all with separate lines, along a mirrored glass window. There were two other rooms like this in the station, all of them bordering the interrogation rooms. There was also a pair of televisions in the room, and they showed what was happening in the two rooms besides this; everything always recorded by cameras. For Van Endel, being in there felt almost like the locker room had before his knee chased him away from hockey for the last time. Getting a confession from a suspect meant a hell of a lot more than winning at some game did, though.

“Three twelve-year-olds were playing in a tree house,” Van Endel began, “when they saw two people walking in the woods. One of them was a girl matching the description of Molly, the other one was an adult male with a gun. As soon as the two were out of sight, the boys ran off and got to a phone, then called 911.”

“They got lucky,” said Dr. Martinez. “Whoever he is, I’m sure he’d have no problem killing to keep his secret safe.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” said Van Endel. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because you already think they might be lying,” said Dr. Martinez, “and that’s something you need to stop doing right now. These kids could be the first break in this thing that we’ve had. Hopefully they can provide us with some solid information, and we can get everything settled. The mere fact that she’s alive is great news all on its own.”

“She was still alive. According to three kids in a tree house. We’ll see what they can tell us, but don’t go getting your hopes up. They’re just kids, and what they think they saw could be very different from what they actually saw. In fact, I’d be willing to bet—”

“You can’t afford to think that way. We can’t afford to close our minds to—”

“I’m just telling you. How many dead ends—”

“And I’m telling you, you need to lighten up,” said Dr. Martinez. “Take some time off, go on some dates. Spread your wings and fly, Dick. Trust me, I know.”

“You got any prospects for me?” Van Endel asked with a weary smile. “Any nubile gym rats such as yourself that haven’t shunned men?”

“Detective, even if I did have any, I wouldn’t tell you. I meet somebody like that, she’s all mine.” She smiled. “Better.”

“What?”

“The look on your face. It’s a little better. Seriously, though, Dick, keep an open mind, and stay calm. These kids are probably scared out of their minds already; the last thing they’re going to react well to is a detective they perceive as badgering them. And believe me, their parents won’t like it any better. Keep cool, and if I start to lead a conversation, let me. You’re a good cop, but I know kids. Let me do my job, you do yours, and maybe this thing will have a happy ending after all.”

Van Endel spared a look at his watch. What in the hell is taking so long? He took a deep breath and let it out. He knew exactly what was taking so long: that whole area was getting secured by uniforms. For all they knew, there really was a man with a gun on the loose in the suburbs.

Van Endel and Dr. Martinez snapped their heads around as the door to the room opened. “They’re en route,” said Don, before shutting the door behind him.

22

“Pick up that bag,” said Hooper, pointing at the brown sack from the fuck store. She scurried over to it and Hooper followed, slowly. He locked the front door, and when he turned she’d swung the bag back over her shoulder like she was winding up to hit him with it. “What the fuck?” he said. “Just carry the damn thing down the stairs, now.” She sagged and walked in front of him and began to descend the steps.