The Children (12 page)

“Okay, Sal. I get it. Can we—”

“And he notices that when the sun hits him a certain way, he makes this outline. This outline looks like him, but it's not him. It's a shadow. It's all an illusion. That's when the guy realizes that he's spent his whole life looking at shadows!”

“Jesus,” said Everett. “When is this gonna end?”

“I know, right? The poor fucking guy,” Sally said. “So then he goes back to the cave. And now he can't see when he's
inside
the cave, but eventually his eyes get used to the cave again, and he sees all his friends and his family there, and he's like, ‘Wake the fuck up, people.' He realizes those aren't real animals on that wall, they're just—”

“Great story,” I said. “Let's have breakfast. Everett? Hungry?”

“Okay, here's my point,” Sally said. “Whit thought he was the guy who left the cave. I see that now. He thought the cave was that whole prep school, Upper East Side, corporate, Wall Street, socially conforming place that his family came from. He thought when he moved up here to Connecticut, he was finally seeing things as they really are, and Joan, you guys—all of us—we were real. Everything else was fake. When Perry and Spin came to visit, he tried to get them to feel as if they had left the cave, too. But you know, now I think
we
were the ones living in the cave. I think Lakeside is the cave. I think Whit made all these shadows. Not on purpose, but I think we were the ones living in the cave all along.”

She turned away from the books and smiled at Everett and me. “Isn't it funny how everything can suddenly be so clear?”

“Let's all go back to sleep,” Everett said, stretching out next to me. “You should sleep, Sal.”

“Oh hey, by the way, Everett, you got an e-mail from Russ Wheldon and another from somebody named Lisa,” Sally said. I felt Everett freeze up.

“What the hell? How do you know that, Sally?”

“I used your computer to send Charlotte an e-mail.”

“But how did you get into my computer? I have that thing password-protected,” he said.

“Please,” Sally said.

“What?”

“It took me three guesses. TheChiefs. The name of your old band. Switch it to something random, like just some word with a hashtag and a number. And by the way, does my mom know you're using her Wi-Fi?”

“Let's eat,” I said. “Maybe if you have something to eat, Sally, you'll be able to have a little rest.”

I was checking out the cereal collection in his kitchen when I saw a car pull into our driveway.

“Hey, who do we know with a silver car?” I called out.

Sally and Everett were behind me almost instantly. Now a man was getting out of the car. Sally and I followed Everett out the door.

“Looks like a trooper,” Everett said.

He wasn't a tall man, nor was he terribly short. He might have been in his early thirties. I thought he was handsome.

He watched us approach from Joan's front porch.

“Hey,” Sally said as she reached the steps. We were right behind her. I was still in my nightgown. Everett was pulling a T-shirt over his head as we walked.

“Can I help you with something?” Sally demanded, but before the man could reply, Joan had opened the door and greeted him with a smile.

“Hello, I'm Joan Whitman. Come in, come in.”

“Wait, Joan, just wait. I don't know this guy. Who are you?” Sally asked, pressing herself into the doorway, inserting herself between the man and our mother.

“I'm Washington Fuentes, local state trooper. We're looking into the series of home invasions.”

“Yes, yes,” said Joan. “Do come in.”

“Just wait, Joan,” Sally said. “What is it you want to ask my mother about?”

“Sally, honey, please. This man just wants to ask us if we saw anything, I'm sure.”

“Are you mother and daughter?” Fuentes asked Sally. He tilted his head a little as he looked at her. He might have been trying to see what was going on with her eyes. They were still quite red.

“Sorry, we don't answer questions,” Sally said.

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Sally,” said Joan.

Fuentes smiled and said to Sally, “You won't answer a question about whether you're mother and daughter?”

“That's right.”

“Are you an attorney?”

“No,” my mother said, answering for Sally. “She's a musician, the first violin in the New York Symphony Orchestra.”

“What do you want?” Sally demanded.

“I just have a few questions for your mother.”

“Are you detaining her as a witness?”

“As I was starting to say, we're asking people who live in the neighborhood—”

“So are you detaining her as a witness?”

“No.”

“Okay, then can you step back a little so we can close the door? Then will you please remove your vehicle from this property?”

“Okay, now that's just enough,” said Joan. She pulled Sally into the house and glared at her. “Sally, this officer is investigating the break-ins, and I want to help him. It's my obligation as a citizen to help,” Joan said.

“No, it's not,” said Sally. “It's not your obligation.”

The man turned to Everett and smiled. I had a feeling that Everett wasn't smiling.

“You must be the caretaker of the property?” Fuentes looked at his notebook, then said, “Mr. Hastings?”

Everett was silent. He just stood there with his arms crossed.

“Wait,” Fuentes said, “Everett Hastings? I know you. You were a year behind me at Harwich High. We played baseball together.”

I felt Everett relax. He took a step closer, paused, and then laughed in disbelief. “HOLY SHIT! Washington? Washington Fuentes!”

They actually gave each other a hug. “You guys remember Washington, right? From high school? Washington, these are the Maynard girls—Charlotte and Sally.”

“Aren't you Ramón Hernández's son?” I asked. Now I did remember him. Ramón has a very lucrative landscaping business and knows everybody in this and all the surrounding towns.

“His nephew. My mom shipped me here for the last two years of high school,” said Washington. “She thought it would be good for me to live up here with my uncle, instead of down in the Bronx.”

“I don't remember you,” Sally said.

“I remember you,” Fuentes said.

“What kind of name is Washington Fuentes?” Sally demanded.

“What kind of name is Fuentes?”

“No, what kind of name is Washington? Is it a family name?”

“No … my dad just liked the name. You know, it's American.”

“So is it George Washington Fuentes?”

He smiled. “Nope, just Washington. Washington Fuentes. Like it says right there.” He pointed to his badge. “Can I ask a few quick questions and get it over with? I have to do the entire area, I have to talk to all your neighbors.”

Sally answered him with a short, disparaging laugh. Then she turned to our mother and said, “Joan, if you allow him in, you're consenting to a search without a warrant.”

“I'm a
Law and Order
fan, too!” Washington said to Sally.

“What? I don't even know what that is,” Sally said. (Not true—she actually spent a summer binge-watching the show and now she thinks she's a legal expert.)

“Oh, for goodness sake, Sally. I have nothing to hide. Come in,” Joan said.

“Thank you, ma'am. I won't take up much of your time,” Fuentes said.

“Come in, come in.
Mi casa es su casa!
” Joan said.

“
Muchas gracias, señora!
” said Washington, following our mother into the house.

“Coffee, Mr. Volentes?”

“Yes please to the coffee. Oh, and it's Fuentes, ma'am.”

“Oh, I am sorry. And I'm usually so good with names. I have a splendid memory.”

“Nice kitchen,” Fuentes said once we were inside. “I like old places. It's very quaint.”

“That's what everybody says about this kitchen,” said Sally.

“Rustic, too,” I offered. “Sometimes people call it rustic.”

“Looks like you got something in your eyes, Sally.”

“Yes, unfortunately, Sally did get something in her eyes, Officer,” replied Joan. “And if there's anybody who needs questioning about a crime, it's me, for almost blinding my poor daughter last night.”

“Joan,” Sally said. “It was an accident.”

“Nonetheless … you see, Officer, last night—oh, this is actually related to your investigation, because I have never felt unsafe in this town until yesterday and I've lived here almost all my life. Half the time, I don't even lock the door, but last night, after what we heard about poor Mildred—”

“So did you notice any unusual cars in the neighborhood yesterday?” Fuentes asked.

“No, and I ran by there early in the morning. I run five miles a day, rain or shine—”

The five-mile brag had begun.

When Joan was finished with all the details about her heart rate and her many activities that provide the oxygen that fuels her enormous brain, she managed to answer the few questions Fuentes had. And she was absolutely no help.

“I guess that's all I have for now,” said Fuentes. He thanked Joan for her information and the coffee and then Sally led him to the front door. I followed.

“Well, I hope you find your cleaner, Washington Fuentes,” Sally said. “Do you still live in town?”

“Actually, I've just moved back. I was assigned to Bridgeport when I first joined the state police. I've been living there for a few years. Heard that a spot opened up here in Litchfield County and thought I'd try for it. Just got stationed here last month. I'm staying at my uncle's until I find my own place. It's nice to be back here, away from the city. Pretty quiet except for these B and E's. Anyway, it's been great seeing you. You really haven't changed, Sally.”

“You must have changed a lot, because I still have no recollection of you whatsoever, Officer Fuentes.”

“Hey, you know, please don't call me Fuentes. My friends call me Washington.”

“Well, I'm not your friend,” said Sally.

 

TEN

A very unbalanced troll who calls herself Tricksortreats had returned to my blog and was cluttering up my comments section with her nastiness. My readers are loyal and they can't wait to take down anyone who flames me, but I don't moderate comments. It's another gimmick that has gotten me attention in the blog community. I don't block—I actually like to engage—but there are a handful of readers who want the blog to be a “safe place” and they see Tricksortreats as “hostile” and “threatening to the community.” Some of my readers told me they worry that I have enough on my plate as it is, given that Wyatt needs to see a specialist about his abnormal bone growth. I've tried to ignore it (I guess I was in denial), but he's developing a sort of hunch in his back. Curvature of the spine isn't terribly uncommon for children with his disorder. He might need some painful and possibly dangerous surgery and, at the very least, a lot of physical therapy. Otherwise, he'll be a hunchback when he's an adult.

So far, about fifty comments had been posted in response to Tricks's nastiness. I posted that I was inclined to ignore her, that she obviously has some serious psychiatric problems and if we ignore her, she'll likely return to Trollville and leave us all alone. Then I drew a stick-figure drawing of Topher and me in our bedroom. I'm wrapped up like a mummy in the sheets and he's humping the curtains like a dog because I'm too exhausted for sex. The “too exhausted for sex” theme is one of the most popular. I'm always guaranteed three hundred comments at least after a post like that.

I heard Sally playing her violin when I started work that morning, but when I finished a couple of hours later, the house was quiet. I wandered downstairs to her room. The door was ajar and I was pleased to see that she was asleep on her bed. She really can get out of control when she doesn't sleep for a while.

I went outside to join Joan in the front garden.

“Sally's asleep,” I said.

“I know,” said Joan. She was hosing a tangle of weeds.

“I was worried, but if she was able to just go off to sleep like that, I'm sure she's fine.”

“I put something in her coffee,” Joan said. “Sweetie, move back now. I need to get the irises; they're starting to come in there near the steps. I don't want to get you all wet.”

“What do you mean, you put something in her coffee?”

“Oh, what's it called. Chompsapan? Clomazapan? Something like that. I called Jim Alter and he told me to check what meds she had packed. I found them. He told me to give her the clompsapan. Said she could take a double dose.”

“Clonazepam? He told you to give her clonazepam without her knowing?”

“Well, I didn't ask him, but I'm sure he would have agreed.”

“Agreed with drugging Sally against her will? Joan, that's so unbelievably sick. Sally's paranoid enough. She has delusions that people do stuff like this to her. What if she found out you really did that? What if she had gotten in her car and started driving?”

“I have her keys, Charlotte. I did the right thing. She wouldn't have taken the medication. She loves it when she's all high-strung. I just can't take it. Not now. I mean, think of Spin. Laurel's just arrived; we don't want to overwhelm her, especially now that they're going to be staying here.”

“Staying here?” This was news.

“Just for a couple of weeks. They're having all the dorms and faculty housing painted at Holden. Everybody has to leave campus for the rest of the month.”

“When did you find this out? When were you going to tell me?”

“I just found out this morning. Spin called and told me, and I invited them to stay here. They're moving in tomorrow.”