Discretion (6 page)

Then he says, “Two other kids went missing today and both were found. This sort of thing happens and the deputies know what to do.” He pauses a moment and exhales like he’s composing himself. “Maybe it was a good idea Marc called them.”

A good idea? Nausea comes on, and I feel the need to lie on the floor for a while. To be on dry land. Because I know, and suspect my father does, too, that Natalie is gone for good. For the first time in years, I am deeply afraid of the future.

W
ith my father for company, the sheriff and his deputy, the right-hand man, Reed, question me about Natalie. Her father feels the need to be included, believing he has special clout as a politician.

The sheriff denies the request and Marc takes it personally. My father and I become his immediate targets.

“She’s been gone now…for what…five hours?” Marc Merian asks the deputy, who stands by to keep the peace.

“Four hours and thirty-seven minutes,” Deputy Reed says.

All two hundred pounds of Marc sits, slouched forward on a bench; his hands hold the sides of his scruffy face. He sighs loudly, close to how I feel. The seating outside the sheriff’s office is tight for Marc and Allison Merian, Natalie’s bewildered parents, and my father and I. Allison has a composed look about her; her face is expressionless and her hands are folded in her lap. She makes little movement. She is a cheerful person, a treat to be around—this is a somber contrast, but she’s not apoplectic, as I prepared for. Natalie is all she has—an only child.

“I feel helpless and…can’t imagine how Natalie is,” Marc says.

“She’s probably passed out on a friend’s boat somewhere, unaware that anyone is looking for her,” my father offers. “She took off with friends and forgot about us and didn’t think about it.”

Marc glares back. I’m happy there’s distance between them and the deputy stands by.

“Are you still insisting that Natalie is irresponsible? My daughter wouldn’t do that. She would’ve informed you if she were leaving,” Marc says. The anger in his voice shows his feelings better than words.

“She’s sixteen…”

“Enough, both of you. This isn’t helping,” the deputy says, taking charge.

Marc’s disdain for my father is clear. No doubt he wishes he hadn’t allowed his only daughter go on the lake today. He probably wishes Natalie never met me.

The Merians are special people, like Jamal’s parents. The strain of Natalie missing drives a rusty nail into the relationship—one that will be painful to remove and leave a scar.

“What are we waiting for?” Marc asks no one in particular.

The deputy says, “We’re waiting to hear back from several contacts. It’s a holiday. No telling how long it will take. The lake, camping grounds, and the surrounding area are being searched as we speak. We’ll find her.”

Allan Wyle rubs his face and paces on the scuffed tile floor with an edginess I’ve not seen in him. I can only blame myself for this event.

“Colin, where could she be? You two are always together. You’d know better than anybody where she’d go, and who she’d want to be around,” Marc asks me.

I swallow hard and fight back emotions. No sympathy is coming. They see this event as my fault. I’m to blame. I caused this.

I need Christel more than ever.

“When was the last time you checked messages at home?” I ask.

The Merians glance at each other, and then at me. “My cell lets me know when I have messages, same as anyone else,” Marc says.

“No, no. The home number. Like sheriff said. Did you check messages at home? The one she would most likely call.”

“She would call the cell. She must have yours memorized. She certainly knows mine.”

“She may not think of the cell number. She may just call the home number and if she left with friends, without a word to me, she may have reason—”

“Yes, that we can agree on. She’s avoiding you. Now, what happened between you two? Level with me. She wouldn’t run away for no reason. Natalie is responsible,” Marc says.

“Yes, of course she is,” my father says.

Marc rolls his eyes. “Quit thinking this is an easy fix, Wyle. My daughter is not partying somewhere, as you’re implying.”

Allan sneers. “Marc, she’s a teenager. She has friends who were at the lake today who she’d want to be around and it slipped her mind in a spur-of-the-moment decision to leave.”

Marc stands and steps toward my father, and the deputy, Reed, places himself between the two feuding parents. He holds a hand up and tells Marc to sit down. Reed suggests my father take a walk outside.

Silence lingers but a moment before Marc speaks up. “Colin, I checked the home messages twenty minutes ago, as a precaution. But if she’s going to reach me, she’d call my cell. Always the case.”

“It was a thought. The waiting is torture.”

He manages a nod. “Now…what happened to drive her away?”

Allison Merian rubs his leg. “Dear, Natalie always said Colin respected her boundaries.”

“Let him answer the question,” Marc says, his eyes remaining on me.

There is no escape. There is no place to go. I can’t run to my room and lock the door. I can’t even hide in a closet like when I was five.

“Nothing that I can think of. Nothing abnormal at least. We talked, we swam…”

“Don’t dodge the question. What happened sexually?”

“A kiss. I rubbed her feet. Happened many times before.”

His gaze shows disbelief. He doesn’t budge. Seconds tick by and I think he stops breathing a moment. Does this man want to kill me? Quite possibly. I glance at the deputy, standing close by. He’s armed. He’d protect me, right?

My gaze returns to Marc and his eyes are frozen on my neck, a quiver to his lips—either sadness or rage and I can’t tell the difference.

Yes, it’s possible.

Christel, where are you? I need you now.

“Was she comfortable with that?” Marc asks his wife, and the tension eases a hair between him and me.

She nods. “She and I talked about it before many times and I know she was comfortable with how Colin treated her and respected her boundaries. It wasn’t a problem, I assure you.”

Marc is unconvinced, or perhaps that grimace is how a man feels when his beloved daughter is missing. It’s hard to accept, but all we can do is wait and blame one another. Until she is found, all the weight of her disappearance falls on my shoulders.

My cell vibrates in my pocket, startling me from the seat. My hand trembles with the device. I flip it open and recognize the number on display.

Please bring answers.

“J
amal. Tell me good news. I need it,” I say. To hold the phone still is a struggle. My father urns to my side and pats me on the shoulder. The Merians watch with anticipation. They crave news like a wanderer in the desert yearns for water.

“What’s going on, Colin? The sheriff called. We just got back from a barbecue.”

“Natalie is missing.”

“What?”

“She’s gone. No word to me. No call. We’re hoping that you know where she is.”

Jamal groans loud. “Man—that’s tough. We’ve been gone all day, so I’m out of touch. Can’t see her leaving without letting you know, though. Weren’t you all together?”

I take a minute to bring Jamal up to speed on the events of the evening and the multitude of eyes on me burn with anticipation.

“Oh…man. So, she just…left?” Jamal says.

“Apparently.” I can’t admit the alternative, as it’s painful and would only start a fight among the listening audience.

“Oh…man, that’s rough dude.” Jamal says.

“Think for a minute.”

He sighs. “I’m thinking…where would she go?”

“I’m hoping you have an idea. A guess would be better than nothing.”

“She leave anything behind?”

“She left her dress. It was on the seat, back of the boat.”

Silence for a few passing seconds. “So she left…in a hurry?”

“Maybe. We were out on the water, so—”

“She would need a ride and…someplace else to go. Problem is, anyone would take Natalie for a ride.”

“I know, but thanks for reminding me.” Silence lingers on the line. Every second ticking by is a hammer in my head—a painful clock working against the odds that Natalie is found.

Jamal says with a surge of emotion, “She could be with Mike Larison. He and Mayra are at the lake. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it first. That’s weird. They’re camping. But wait…you said you were at Apache?”

“Yeah, Apache.”

“I think they were going to Roosevelt…but that’s close. They could’ve made their way to Apache. I wanted to go with them.”

“Mike Larison call back yet?” I ask Deputy Reed, who is staring at me with the rest of the adults.

Reed shakes his head. “We have not heard back from Michael Larison. Him and Mayra being at the lake is news to me. You said he camps up here?”

“Yeah,” I say to Reed. “Mike will be up here a day or two at least with Mayra.”

The deputy jots down a note on a small spiral pad, followed with several short calls on the radio to begin the search for Mike’s boat.

Jamal chimes in, “I know Natalie’s great friends with Mayra, but still…she wouldn’t just leave without saying bye.”

I agree and lament that the situation makes no sense. It’s not like Natalie to be irresponsible.

“I can see her running off with Mayra, but not leaving you hanging for a long time. She’s got curfew, same as me. Natalie wouldn’t want to be out late,” Jamal says.

“So if you’re Natalie—out late—where would you be?”

“If I were out late like this and no one knew where I was hiding…the only reason I can come up with is she’s running from home and that’s not like her. She’s smart and a real fighter.”

“I know.” I laugh, thinking about Natalie in tights, her right foot striking a punching bag at the gym. The alternative is to cry. “What does your gut tell you?”

He pauses a few moments. “Man…that she’s in trouble.”

I close the phone and acknowledge the beady eyes on me. The stares are palpable.

“Maybe Mike and Mayra. They’re on the lake and she’s great friends with Mayra. Natalie would want to hang with them if they came by, for sure. She could have left with them and lost track of time.”

Marc sniffs and changes posture, fidgets. Allison’s expression brightens a little. My father looks relieved.

Maybe I won’t get lynched for this mess.

Christel? I need help.

Hours pass and not a word of hope comes. I walk around the station and look out the windows, seeking a distraction. My father is distant. Marc and Allison sit on the same bench, staring at the wall. They must be contemplating what life will be like without Natalie—that is where my mind is going. Life without her perfect hazel eyes staring back at me and the companionship she brings.

I must find her at all costs.

It’s a few minutes after midnight when my father stands and walks to the doors of the sheriff’s office. I follow him, as if on instinct, and stop when he exits the building. A few moments pass, and then I ease out the door to avoid detection.

My father must have an idea he doesn’t want to divulge. He stops about twenty paces away from the building, in the shadow of a two-story tree; bright moonlight streams through the branches. His cell phone is pressed to his ear, his gaze at the quiet street, which curves sharp to the right and has a single, fading streetlight.

“I’ll have to find her on my own then, Viktor…what do you suggest?” my father says on the phone.

He mumbles a little, sounding as though he agrees under protest. Minutes pass with only the incessant chirping of crickets. My father listening instead of talking is significant; it means he’s taking advice.

Viktor Kneifl had become my father’s attorney and confidant before I was born. The circumstances have remained hidden from me, but the understanding I got about two years ago is that Viktor is my father’s go-to person. If that’s who he’s talking to, then he must be worried.

“Fine, fine. Hire him….hire him now…Is he with some private security outfit?…I don’t fucking care what he costs. I need the girl found. She’s been gone too long and I’m tired of the finger pointing. God knows where she is…good…good…call this guy and get him on the trail. If the cops get mad, so be it. I need someone working for me.”

Silence resumes for a few moments.

“Good, Viktor, good…What’s this guy’s name again…Jackson?…Jackson Mattocks. Got it. Thanks, Viktor.”

He closes the phone and sighs heavily; his hands rub his face and he looks to the sky. He holds his phone over his head, as if considering hurling it to the street, but decides against it and grunts in angst instead. His hand pulls at his hair.

Then he turns around and stops at the sight of me. He pauses a moment, as if collecting his thoughts, then waves me over.

“We have to keep this quiet, Colin. Jackson, the investigator, might need you and if he does, he’ll call your cell. Should that happen, act like a friend is calling to sympathize and get outside, away from anyone else, to handle the call, then take the car and go.”

My father does not like me driving his car, as the last time I did damage of more than five grand and he maintains they didn’t do the paint job right. This situation is much worse than he let on before.

“Okay. I’ll be ready. I need some coffee,” I say.

He nods. “I need some too.”

We sit at a small desk, down the hall and around the corner from where the Merians are stationed. I sip coffee across from my father and my mind is like a hive of pissed-off bees. I imagine my father is in the same place or worse.

Light makes way through the blinds. I walk outside and watch the soft light take form over the mountains in the distance. The stairs provide a seat and the feel of hopelessness takes charge, but I do my best to fight it. I find that if I anticipate the vibration of my phone, with news of Natalie’s location, I have some glimmer of hope to cling to. Hope is what I need. Dawn comes; with the morning sun comes a daunting reality—she really is gone. She wouldn’t be gone this long without an answer—a call to her parents, at least.

I have one choice—Christel. Come back to me. I know you are there, so why don’t I hear you? I won’t be able to take this. Bring Natalie back…or end my life. Please.