Ghost Light (36 page)

He heaved a heavy sigh, hoping to hell he looked and sounded utterly shattered and miserable. Realizing that—for whatever reasons—he wasn’t going to get a damned thing out of this woman, he stood up, forced a smile onto his face, and then started for the door.

“Thanks. Thank you for your time,” he said as mildly as he could as he opened the office door and stepped outside. He had to resist the sudden, violent urge to slam the door shut behind him and shatter the glass. He glared at the owlish woman who watched him from behind the counter, but he didn’t say a word to her as he walked out of the office and left the school by the front door.

It’s okay, it’s okay
, he told himself as he crossed the schoolyard to the street where he had parked the van.
It’s no big deal! I didn’t get what I wanted, but so what? So fucking what?

Already, he was formulating another plan in his mind. All he had to do was wait for school to get out before he could begin to implement it.

2

T
he next morning, after unloading the car, Cindy drove with the kids into downtown Gray to find a phone booth so she could call the electric company to ask them to turn on the power at the camp. The woman she spoke with said they could get a repairman out there within the next five business days, but when Cindy told her that she and two children were living there now, having lost their house, the woman promised to have everything taken care of before the end of the day. When she asked Cindy who she was, Cindy lied, saying that she was Dick Toland’s daughter. She knew that her husband’s Uncle Dick had a daughter who lived somewhere in Oregon, and Cindy had decided, for her own and the kids’ protection, to adopt this as her cover. She just hoped to hell no one locally knew Harry’s cousin well enough to recognize her on sight.

They did a bit of grocery shopping, mostly for fresh milk and produce and a few cleaning supplies. Then she and the kids got back into Alice’s car and headed back to the camp with plans to start making the place at least semi-habitable. On the way, they saw a farm stand on Route 202, advertising apples and fresh pressed cider. At Billy’s urging, they stopped, but no matter how hard Cindy tried to coax Krissy, she insisted on waiting in the car while she and Billy got out and looked over the bags of Macintosh apples and gallons of cider.

It was a beautiful October morning, with a chilled, clean-smelling crispness in the air and bright sunlight flickering like fire through the bright orange and red leaves, but Cindy couldn’t begin to feel even a small measure of contentment. Above her own twisting fears and worries, she was concerned about the kids. Once again, she had uprooted them, torn them away from the little bit of stability and security they had known. Already, Krissy was starting to act withdrawn and detached. She’d sit for long periods of time, not saying a word as she stared into some middle distance and sawed her teeth back and forth across her lower lip. It was at times like this, in particular, that Cindy could see how frighteningly much Krissy looked like her mother; at times, it seemed almost as if a transparent image of her dead mother had been superimposed over the little girl’s features.

Billy, on the other hand, seemed to be seething with hostility and, contrary to how he had responded during their cross country drive last August, he now seemed much less shy about expressing exactly what was on his mind. Cindy thought it might just be the differences in their ages that made them react in such different ways; or maybe it was the differences in their personalities. She found it unnerving at times how much Billy reminded her of Alex. Whatever it was, it seemed as though every few minutes or so, Billy would start angrily complaining how she had ruined what little life he had by taking him away from the only two friends he had made since she had stolen him away from Omaha. A few times, but—thankfully—not often, he would even say something about how he might rather be living with his father back in Omaha. To make life all the more miserable, he complained incessantly about how there wasn’t even any electricity at the camp so he could watch TV or play Nintendo—and once they got it, they wouldn’t have cable TV!

When they turned onto the rutted dirt road leading to the camp, Billy suddenly brightened. “Hey, maybe I can try driving the car now?” he said in a pleading voice as he leaned both arms over the back seat.

Cindy considered his request for a moment, then shook her head firmly as she glanced at his eager, wide-eyed reflection in the rearview mirror.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “This road’s much too bumpy and narrow. What would you do if there was another car coming towards us?”

“Don’t be stupid. I’d pull over as close as I could to the side of the road, of course,” he said, sounding almost insulted.

“Watch who you’re calling stupid,” Cindy said. She shook her head again, then glanced at Krissy, who was sitting in the front seat beside her, staring straight ahead at the road and not saying a word.

“Aww, come on, Aunt Cindy. I didn’t mean it,” Billy said, bouncing up and down like a kid anxious for Christmas to come. “I already told you how my father used to let me steer the car all the time. Honest to God, I’m a
great
driver. You’ll see.”

“But this isn’t even our car. It’s Alice’s.”

“So what? She won’t mind. I promise I’ll be careful.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Cindy said, shaking her head more firmly. “Besides, we’ve got a lot of work to do back at the camp, and I—”

“Come on. Just a little bit,” Billy said. The high whine was back in his voice as he pointed ahead to where the road disappeared over a small crest. “Just down to there.”

“You
really
want to give it a try?” Cindy asked. Something was telling her this could be a mistake, but a louder voice in her mind was telling her—
What the hell? Loosen up a bit. At least let the kid have a little bit of fun.

“Umm, yeah… okay,” she said. “Let’s see what you can do.”

She pulled to a stop, shifted into park, and slid over beside Krissy as Billy, whooping with joy, scrambled over into the front seat. A look of grim determination set across his face as he snapped on the seat belt and then gripped the steering wheel with both hands. He pumped the gas pedal several times so the engine roared. The car jerked forward like it was a restrained beast, anxious to run free.

“Hey, easy there, hot shot,” Cindy cautioned him with a laugh. “You’re not Mario Andretti
yet.
” She slid her left foot-close to his so she could hit the brake pedal if she had to.

“Now, keep your foot down hard on the brake as you slide the shift down to the ‘D’,” she said. She couldn’t resist placing her hand lightly on the steering wheel, but Billy was staring so intently at the road ahead he seemed not to notice or care.

“I know what to—” he said, but he was cut off sharply when he stepped on the gas, and the car suddenly leaped forward with a rough, tearing sound of tires spinning in the dirt. A yellow cloud of dust swirled up like smoke behind them. Rocks rattled against the underside of the chassis like hail on a metal roof as the car darted forward. Billy eased up too much on the gas, and everyone was thrown forward.

“Easy, there,” Cindy said, feeling a slight rush of apprehension. She glanced behind them but could see nothing through the swirl of dust.

“Don’t worry. I can handle it,” Billy said.

The car moved forward in fits and starts for about fifty feet until Billy got the feel of the accelerator; then his driving smoothed out. Cindy was actually surprised that he navigated the curves in the road so easily. She didn’t say a word when he drove over the crest where he said he would stop and continued on his way down the road. Sunlight shining through the pine trees rippled like a strobe light over the windshield, but it didn’t seem to distract Billy. He was sitting way forward in the seat so his foot could reach the gas pedal. The steering wheel rubbed against his chest and legs as he navigated the curves in the road.

“Hey, you know, once you get going, you do a pretty good job,” Cindy said. She glanced over at Krissy and nudged her. “Doesn’t your brother drive great?”

Krissy didn’t say a word or even bother to look at her.

“Slow down and stop now. I think that’s the turn for the camp coming up,” Cindy said when, up ahead, she saw a white arrow-shaped sign that was nailed to one of the pine trees. As they got closer, she saw the black-painted name “Toland.” Billy slid forward as he pressed his foot down hard on the brake pedal. For a scary instant, the tires skidded, and the car started to shift around to one side, but then, in a swirl of dust, it skidded to a halt.

“Whew!” Cindy said, wiping her brow with exaggerated relief.

“Hey, that was fun! Can I do it again?”

“Not right now,” Cindy said, sniffing with laughter. “You’ve got to get better at starting up, but once you got it going, you did just fine. You have to ease down on the gas pedal, not stomp it down to the floor.”

“Come on, can I try it again? Please!” Billy said, looking at her with a bright excitement lighting his eyes. “Why can’t we just go up and down the road one more time?”

Cindy was relieved to hear a happy, excited tone back in his voice, but she shook her head and said, “Not right now. We’ve got a lot of work to do back at the camp.”

Begrudgingly, Billy climbed back over the seat, and Cindy slid behind the steering wheel. “But you did real well,” she said as she eased the car into gear and started down the steep, narrow driveway. “We’ll make a Mario Andretti out of you yet.”

3

“H
ey there.”

The boy was walking alone. He seemed either not to hear or else to be ignoring the greeting as he strode along the sidewalk, his backpack bouncing between his shoulders with every step.

“Hey! Wait a second! I have to talk to you!”

Alex had the window on the passenger’s side rolled down, and was leaning across the seat as he called out to the boy. He had been parked here along the curb on Prospect Street for nearly two hours, waiting to see those two boys he had seen outside the apartment this morning. He was pleasantly surprised to see only one of them, walking alone. The other one had probably been picked up from school for a dentist appointment or something or, more likely, had to stay after school for fooling around. Alex started up the van and drove slowly up the street, trying to keep pace with the boy.

“I recognize you. You’re Billy’s friend, right?” he called out.

For an instant, the boy’s step faltered, and out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw him shift his glance over at the slow-moving van. He recognized the kid’s street-smart caution and was frantically trying to think of some way to get him to lower his guard so he could get him into the van. He didn’t want to talk to him out on the street where someone might see—and remember seeing—the white van.

“Uh, look,” he said, playing the steering wheel back and forth, trying to keep the van going straight. “I know your parents probably told you never to talk to strangers or anything, but I’m Billy’s father, and I need your help.”

The boy continued to walk, not even looking at him.

“Honest. Will you please just stop a second and talk to me? Billy’s in trouble, and I need your help!”

The boy—he was definitely one of the two Alex had seen this morning outside Cindy’s apartment—stopped short in his tracks. He glanced nervously up and down the street as though looking for a place to run the second things got scary; then, leaning forward, he peered into the van and silently nodded.

“What’s your name?” Alex said, forcing a pleasant cheeriness into his voice.

“What’s yours?” the boy snapped. His eyes were dark with suspicion. He had his jaw set like he was a prize fighter, measuring up his opponent. Alex had to admire the kid’s gumption, but he didn’t have time for any bullshit cat-and-mouse games.

“Look, kid, my name’s Alex Porter, and I’m Billy’s father,” he said. He tried to get a fix on the boy’s reaction, but so far the boy’s face remained absolutely impassive.

“I’ve already been to the school today looking for Billy, and I know he wasn’t there today. He wasn’t, was he?”

Biting his lower lip, the boy shook his head quickly.

“Look, I don’t know what name his… his mother’s using for him now, but his
real
name is Billy Porter. He lives in the second floor apartment on Coyne Street. I don’t want to scare you or anything, but I think Billy’s in trouble.”

The suspicion never left the boy’s eyes, and he seemed to tense up even more as he said, “Oh, yeah? What kind of trouble?”

“Real
bad
trouble,” Alex replied. “Just give me a minute to explain, okay?”

The boy folded his arms across his chest, cocked his head to one side and said, “Okay. Go ahead … Explain.”

A rush of anger filled Alex, and for a flickering instant, he wanted nothing more than to grab this wise little asshole by the scruff of the neck and beat the shit out of him. He had that same cocky pre-teen attitude that Billy had been getting lately. Feeling hot with frustration, Alex closed his eyes a moment, rubbed his forehead, and took a deep breath.

“Look, his mother… she’s kidnapped Billy, taken him and his sister away from me. Come on, hop into the van. I need to ask you a few questions. I’m not gonna hurt you. I need you to help me.”