Aric Davis - The Fort

“We need to reopen the Molly Peterson investigation. We need to talk to old witnesses. I have a very strong feeling that the girl who was found behind the movie theater isn’t Molly. After talking to some sources downtown, I’ve got a hunch that Molly was one of two girls taken that night, most likely by our man who keeps dumping bodies at Riverside. I want to get your permission to apply for material-witness warrants for every teenager she was with that night, and I want to talk to those three boys they saw her as well.”

There was silence from the other end of the phone, and finally, Jefferson spoke.

“Dick, have you been drinking tonight? No offense, but this sounds like you had some sauce and got your noodle a little overdone. Not the end of the world if that’s the case, but if—”

“Chief, I’m serious,” said Van Endel. “I really want to grill Molly’s pals and get them to break. I know they will. As for the boys, I need to hear what they saw. It could be vital to this case. It could mean the difference between that girl living or dying.”

“Dick, I think we can have a talk about this on Monday, after the holiday weekend is over, but right now, it’s Saturday and my wife’s giving me a stink-eye. As for today, I’m going to stick with the assumption you gave me a couple of days ago. If you recall, both you and the coroner agreed that the girl was almost definitely Molly. Also, we do have an inquiry out on that situation, to try and figure out that whole mess with her teeth. As for bothering those kids and stirring up that sort of hornets’ nest? Are you out of your mind? We knew those boys were lying, and we still know it.

“Let me guess how this all started. You and the doctor were out talking to that pack of whores-cum-witnesses, and after you either threatened them with arrest or rewarded them with money, they gave you information. Dick, you’re a good detective, but your cop-sense needs calibration. Get the ship righted, and we’ll talk about this in a couple of days, OK?”

After a long moment of silence, Van Endel sighed. Jefferson was an ass-hat. “All right.”

“There you go. I can hear it in your voice, Dick. You need to either start drinking if were dry or stop if you were already wetting your beak. Christ, we’ve already got the body; leave those people alone. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” said Van Endel, and hung up the phone.

“What did he say?” Dr. Martinez asked, though it was obvious from her eyes that she knew.

“He said that I need to let sleeping dogs lie.” He clapped his hand together and stood. “That means no material-witness warrants, and those teenagers are not going to break without them.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“We are going to go get a beer. I’m buying. After that, I’m going home, and first thing in the morning I’m going to find those boys and see if they feel like talking to someone who is ready to believe them.”

“And apologize,” said Dr. Martinez. “You are someone willing to apologize and listen. Where are you buying me a beer? I’d prefer not the Shipwreck.”

“Oakway it is.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Shipwreck, then. But the fact that you had the name of an even worse bar so handy is not a good thing, Detective.”

47

Luke was alone in the fort. The Fourth of July fireworks had finally ground to a stop, and now all that was left to do was to wait for his friends to show up.

Hooper. The name from the mailbox was stuck in his head like a piece of stringy beef between two molars. He was almost sure that he was familiar with the name in some local way, but he couldn’t come up with anything, and so the name stayed just a name, rather than a solution. The house seemed a likely enough place for Molly to have been kept, or was possibly even the place she was still being kept, but Luke was no detective, and he knew it. The truth was, their criteria for discovering which house it was had no sort of scientific method. They had decided what they thought the house would be like, but that was based on stupid kid stuff, not on reality.

It was all going to come down to Tim. Luke had decided hours ago that no matter what he came up with, none of it would matter if Tim didn’t have info on the car. And even then, if Tim discovered the make or model of the car and it was just a normal car, like a brown sedan or something, even that wouldn’t matter.

Not for the first time, Luke wished they had just been believed in the first place. It would have made everything that they’d had to do unnecessary, and they could have just had a normal summer.

He was surprised to find that he missed being at home. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was that made him feel that way, because when he thought about all the separate elements of home, none of them made him miss it at all. Still, the thought of his bedroom, and particularly his bed, seemed almost magical compared with the fort. Not that a few days away from it wouldn’t make him miss their secret space in the woods, but as for sleeping in it, he’d had enough.

He looked as his watch: they’d be here any minute. As if in answer to the thought, Luke could hear the sounds of feet on the boards of the ladder. He smiled. Finally.

Tim came up first, followed immediately by Scott. Both of them wore the smile of the guilty, something Luke had felt on his face a lot lately too. It still sucked not to be trusted, but it was pretty cool to be doing something about it.

He let them get settled, then sat Indian-style in the fort with his friends. “Well?” Luke said. “Don’t leave me hanging, I’ve been bored for like six hours.”

“My sister got us some info,” said Tim. “Apparently, the guy who took Molly was driving a green Dodge Dart.”

“Kind of a boring car for a kidnapper,” said Scott. “I expected something cooler. A Dart’s like something one of our parents would drive. I guess if that’s the car, then that’s the car. But it still seems sort of lame.” Then Scott perked up and began digging in his left pocket, his hand finally emerging with a nickel-plated revolver. “It’s a .38,” he said. “Carl says it doesn’t kick too bad, or at least that’s what he told my mom when he was trying to get her to keep it in her purse.”

“Is it loaded?” asked Tim, sounding nervous.

“Of course it is,” said Scott. “It holds six bullets. Do either of you want to hold it?”

Tim waved his hand no, but Luke took it from him. It felt cold and a little bit evil to Luke. A rifle could be used for lots of things, but as far as he knew, a pistol like this was used for killing people, and not much else. He handed it back to Scott, handle first.

“I didn’t do as well as you guys,” said Luke. “Looking for weird houses was way harder than I thought it would be. They pretty much all look a little weird if you don’t know the people who live inside of them. There was one that stuck out, though. It had a name on the mailbox. ‘Hooper.’”

“Nope, that can’t be the one,” said Scott, irritated. “That’s one of Carl’s Vietnam buddies. He’s a little weird, but not like that kind of weird.”

“What kind of car does he drive?” Luke asked quietly, feeling like he already knew the answer.

When Scott replied, his voice was weak. “I’m pretty sure it’s a green Dart, you guys.” Luke saw him swallow, or try to. Luke’s own mouth had just filled with cotton. “Holy fucking shit,” Scott said. “Do you really think it could be him? It just doesn’t seem possible that I would know the guy. He’s been over like a million times.” He put his hand on top of his head and clamped down on it. “You know what, though? He was supposed to come over and help Carl with Mom’s car, but he got sick or something.”