Aric Davis - The Fort

“I am,” said Tim. He felt sick, and wondered if they could tell. It wasn’t like he’d felt in Scott’s house right after it had happened, but it was almost as bad. If I puke, will they let me go? He knew they wouldn’t, though; that might just lead to more questions. Finally, trying to get them off his back, and with his eyes squarely on the tape recorder, Tim said, “She wasn’t wearing anything that stuck out to me. Maybe it was just a shirt and shorts. I really don’t know.”

Van Endel made a notepad appear in his hand from his pocket, then started flipping through it. Finally he stopped, tapping a finger on a page of the notebook. He smiled at Tim, an “aha” look in his eyes. “I’ve got it right here, from my conversation with Mrs. Peterson, Molly’s mom. She said that when she left the house at around six o’clock p.m. two nights ago, Molly was heavily made up in the face and was wearing a neon-pink pencil skirt, along with a shirt that hung off of one shoulder and said RATT. Does that sound like the regular clothes she was wearing this morning to you?”

“No,” said Tim. “It doesn’t sound like what she was wearing at all.”

“My notes with Mrs. Peterson also tell us a little bit about Molly’s hair,” said Van Endel. “I know that it was poufed up like some of the girls do these days. Did it look like that, or maybe like a hairdo like that might look after a couple days with no attention paid to it? Matted, maybe, or wild?”

“I know it was Molly,” said Tim. “But not because of her hair or her clothes—I knew it was her because of her face.”

“Can you describe the face of the man she was with?”

“Detective,” said Tammy. “My son is clearly terrified. He saw a kidnapped girl this morning, and now he’s being made to feel as though he’s done something wrong. I would really appreciate if you’d back off on the tone a little bit. This is a twelve-year-old boy you’re talking to.”

“Ma’am, I apologize if my tone seems harsh,” said Van Endel. “But there is a missing girl out there, and your son and his friends were the last people to see her. Any bit of information I can get from them could wind up being the piece of this puzzle that sees Molly go home to her family. Your daughter, I know I have her name in my notes—”

“Rebecca,” said Stan.

“Yes, Rebecca. If she was the one missing and some boys claimed to have seen her being forcibly transported with a gun in her back, would you feel badly if my tone offended one of those boys? We’re going to take a break, and the doc and I are going to talk to one of the other boys. If you could, please impress on your son how important it is that he recall, in great detail if possible, the events of this morning.”

Van Endel stood with Dr. Martinez, and he paused the tape recorder. He ejected the tape and tucked it in his pocket, and they opened the door and left.

“They’re acting like he’s some criminal,” hissed Tammy. “Tim didn’t do anything wrong, nothing, and they’re acting like he’s the one breaking the law. We need to get him out of here and then call a lawyer. They can’t treat us like this!”

“Tammy, you need to calm down,” said Stan, his voiced muted and dull. “And, Tim, you need to try harder. These people are just trying to do their jobs.” Tammy raised a hand to her mouth. She looked like she might get sick. Dad doesn’t believe me either. I sure hope Scott and Luke do a better job than I did.

24

Scott sat next to his mom. Carl had offered to come, but Beth told him that she didn’t think Carl needed to miss his first day of training for his new position. When the detective and doctor came into the room and introduced themselves to Scott’s mom, Scott realized that he hadn’t even had the chance to tell her what had happened. Van Endel set a tape recorder on the desk, said something about the date, along with their names, then cleared his throat.

“How are you doing, Scott?” Van Endel asked.

“I’m doing OK. Still a little freaked out, but OK, I guess,” Scott said, trying to feel confident, but each word slipped from his mouth as though it were steeped in syrup.

“I want you to tell me everything you remember,” said Van Endel. Behind him, Dr. Martinez was smiling thinly and nodding. “Just go over all of it, all right? Let’s start with an easy one: How was she dressed? Try and make us feel like we’re right there with you.”

“All right. I guess I’d say she was wearing normal clothes for a hot day.” As soon as the words escaped his lips, Scott knew somehow, something was wrong. Dr. Martinez had immediately looked at Van Endel, the sort of glance he wasn’t supposed to notice but had anyway.

“Could you clarify for us, son?” Van Endel said it with a smile on his face, but already, Scott didn’t trust the detective he’d been so excited to have met just a short time ago. “We really need a more definitive idea of how she looked. Was she hurt?”

“No, I don’t think she was hurt. She looked really, really scared, though.”

“I’m sure she did,” said Van Endel. “But what I want to know is what she was wearing, Scott.”

“She was wearing…” Scott stumbled over the words, his face reddening instantly. “I don’t know, I don’t want to be wrong. I didn’t really notice her clothes. They were just clothes, hot-day stuff.”

“I’d rather you be wrong, and still hear a definitive guess,” said Van Endel. “Hearing you say ‘just clothes,’ that doesn’t tell me anything. I want something I can get my teeth in, do you understand?”

Dr. Martinez leaned forward. “Scott, let’s just relax. A lot of times, we see more than we really think we do. Try taking a deep breath, maybe closing your eyes, and—”

“Can I ask what the problem is?” Scott’s mom asked in an annoyed tone, the one Carl called her uptown voice. “You called me in from work for this, and my son has tried to answer this silly question. It matters what she was wearing? You’re in trouble if it does. A twelve-year-old boy is going to notice a girl’s clothes? These boys are lucky if their socks match. Scott said he saw a man holding a gun on a kidnapped girl, isn’t that more important than what the girl looked like? What am I missing here?”

Van Endel and Dr. Martinez shared a look, and Van Endel said, “Ma’am,” when a knock on the door interrupted him. “Excuse me,” he continued, barely missing a beat. “Why don’t you come too, Doc? This will give Scott a chance to think and talk to his mom.”

“What is it?” Van Endel said as he opened the door. “We’re in there trying to figure out where—” Then it was shut behind him and Dr. Martinez and his voice was gone.

“Why don’t they believe me?” Scott asked his mom, once he was sure the door was all the way closed. “All they’re doing is asking me about her stupid clothes, and I’m telling the truth, but they still don’t believe me.”

“Calm down,” she said. “I think they’re just trying to verify that you aren’t making any of this up. It’s their job to be distrustful; it might be the reason they wound up working here in the first place.” She sighed. “Either way, just keep your chin up. Hey, wasn’t Carl’s news the best? I can’t wait to cash out my last table.”

“You could just quit, Mom. You don’t owe them anything.”

She shook her head. “No way. That would totally mess up the schedule and make everyone else have to pick up other shifts. I kind of feel bad about quitting as it is. Isn’t that weird? All I’ve done is complain for years about that place, and now I don’t want to leave, in this really weird way.”

25

Van Endel was furious. He was in there trying to figure this shit out, which was bad enough, and now Summers was pulling him out of an interrogation. Walt knew better. This was beyond unprofessional—it could ruin the minor progress that he and Dr. Martinez had made. Van Endel was ready to scream, thought maybe he was already screaming, when he saw Chief Sanborn standing next to a wounded-looking Walt.