THE LAST BOY (23 page)

“Let's say an hour.”

“That's too long,” said Danny. There was now not a hint of humor in his voice.

Mrs. Barrie laughed good-naturedly.

“A half hour,” he said. He kept staring at the mirror.

“Okay. A half hour,” she agreed.“That sounds fair.”

Danny wanted to know exactly what time it was and precisely what time this meeting would be over.

“Do you know what a half hour is?”

“Yes. Thirty minutes.”

“Good!” said Mrs. Barrie. “Come, sit down,” she urged, patting a neighboring cushion. “Please.”

Danny finally slumped down next to her.

“Well, now that we’re alone like this, just the two of us, I thought it would be nice if we could talk. Talk honestly. Openly.”

“But we’re not alone,” said Danny, looking her hard in the eye.

“Why do you say that?” inquired the woman.

“Because my mother and her policeman friend, Mr. Trip, are behind that mirror,” he said, pointing directly at them.“And so's that man with the machine.”

The woman spun around to face the mirror. All she could make out were the reflections of herself and the boy.

Molly could see that she was flabbergasted. She kept staring at them through the mirror, her face flushed. Molly wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment at being caught or just plain shock.

Tripoli said not a word, just sat nodding to himself, his hands folded in his lap.

“Why do you think that?” asked Mrs. Barrie, finally regaining her composure.

“I can see them,” Danny said with a shrug.“Please, can I go out? I don’t like it in here. There’re no windows and…and it's smelly!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Like chemicals.”

“Chemicals?” she echoed.

“Yes!”

“So you would rather be outdoors?”

“Yes,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Like where?”

“Like in the air,” said Danny.

“Do you mean just out in the street or in the country?”

“Yes,” he answered smiling with his faint lisp. “The country. I like that.”

“You were living on a farm, then?”

“In the forest,” he corrected.

“Where in the forest?”

He shrugged.

“With a man?”

Danny nodded. He stared at the mirror and seemed to be looking right through it.

“What did the man look like? Was he old? Young?”

Danny didn’t respond.

“Did he maybe have a mustache?”

“He had a beard. A big one. It was all white.” He answered, still staring at the mirror.

“Oh, that's very interesting. And what did you do with him— the man?”

“Nothing special. Just talked a lot. And things.”

“And did he touch you?”

Danny looked annoyed. He glanced at the naked dolls, then looked straight back at her.“Not the way you think.” His unwavering stare unnerved the woman.

“And did you live in a house?”

“Sort of,” he said, getting more and more restless.

“Come over here, Danny,” She led him to the small table, opened a box of crayons and spread them out. Then she gave Danny a big sheet of paper.

“Can you draw for me a picture of the man and his house?” she asked.

“I suppose.”

“I think that would be very, very interesting,” she said, and held out a bunch of crayons.“Now what color should we start with?”

Danny looked at her somewhat incredulously.“I can do this,” he said, then went to work. He drew intently, picking crayons of different colors.

Molly and Tripoli stood up to get a better look.

Danny was drawing what appeared to be some kind of hut. It was made with sticks and branches, its roof thatched. Not a bad job for a five-year-old, thought Tripoli. There were animals around it, what looked like goats and sheep, and there were trees and steep hills
in the background. The scene was flooded with long, golden rays from a somewhat out-sized sun. A man stood near the hut, holding hands with what was clearly a little boy. He held a walking staff in his free hand, and his hair and beard and mustache were silver. The boy's hair was the same yellow as the sun.

“Okay,” said Danny, handing Joan Barrie the picture and getting to his feet.“Can I please get out of this place now?”

“I just wanted to ask you a few more—”

“The time is up. You promised. And I don’t want to talk anymore,” said Danny.“I need to get out.
Please!
”

The psychiatrist slowly got up, turned to the mirror with a shrug, and led Danny back to his mother.

“How about a few straight answers, huh?” said Tripoli when they got back to his car. He had placed Danny in the front seat next to him with Molly in the back. The radio was turned down, crackling in the background.

“Sweetie,” Molly implored, leaning forward, “Couldn’t you just tell Trip and me where you’ve been?”

“I did. I made the picture for you.” Danny turned to Tripoli.

“I know you didn’t like that lady.”

“No, she was okay. Just a little silly is all.” He grinned.

“Listen, Smiley,”Tripoli warned, “I like you a lot. You’re a swell kid. The picture was beautiful. But you’re not going to squirm out of this. Not that easily.”

“We don’t want to nag you,” said Molly. Tripoli and his dogged insistence was making her edgy.“But—”

“I want to get out of this car! I hate these smelly machines!” Without warning, Danny suddenly lunged for the door handle.

Moving fast, Tripoli caught his hand before he could pop open the door.

“Owww!”

“Trip!” shouted Molly.

“Hey, you want him to run out into traffic?” he turned and looked harshly at her, then back at Danny.“Okay, what do you say we cut the baloney, and you start telling me and your mother the truth?” Tripoli hung onto the boy's thin wrist. “I think your mother especially deserves some honest answers. For half a year she's been so worried about you she hasn’t been able to get a decent night's sleep.”

“Come on, take it easy, Trip,” warned Molly, nervously.

Tripoli silenced her with a raised eyebrow.“We’re doing this my way now,” he said.“No more pampering. Now we get some straight answers.”The people from the State Police lab had taken fibers from the carpet in Kute Kids and would be over at Molly's in the afternoon pulling samples from the trailer. Forensics in Albany would subtract them out from what they found on Danny's clothes, and then they’d have something substantive. Old man. A hut. The boy was opening up. But he seemed to do it only when pushed.

“You promised me, Mother,” said Danny, struggling to turn around and catch sight of her above the high back.“that we’d go for a hike, and—”

“You can go for the biggest hike in the world,” said Tripoli.“You can go all the way to Katmandu. But first you’re going to help me a little, okay?”

“No!” Danny banged his fist against the door.

“The sooner you help me, the sooner we can all be outside having fun.”

“I don’t want
fun
,” Danny spat back. “I just want to be out of this
thing
.”

“Same difference,” said Tripoli.

Molly moved again to intervene.“Trip, you—”

“
Please
,” said Tripoli with an abrupt insistence that left no room. “My department has spent seven whole months on this—a lot of manpower and a lot of dough. We’ve had every agency in the state
looking for Danny. We’ve turned this county upside down.”Tripoli could feel his face burning and knew he was losing it, but couldn’t help himself.“I think we all deserve an explanation.” He turned to look straight at Danny, then released the boy's arm.“You understand what I’m talking about, don’t you?” he said harshly.

Danny looked cowed.

“I don’t like you when you’re like this!” His lower lip was jutting out and he looked like he was going to cry.

“Well, that's the breaks,”Tripoli said, curtly.

Danny started to cry quietly.

Tripoli started the engine and began to roll. He kept glancing at the boy as they moved down Court Street. They took a left on Cayuga and got caught at the light. A line of children from the elementary school crossed the street in front of them holding hands in pairs. The kids were not much older than Danny, but he didn’t seem to take notice of them. He was staring at the dashboard, his eyes wet.

Tripoli took a series of long breaths and slow exhalations.“Look,” he said finally.“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump on you like that, son.”

“I know,” said Danny in a tight voice. With the back of his hand he wiped the tears from his eyes.

“I’m only a stupid grownup,” he said deliberately, though still a little gruffly. “We lose our patience sometimes.” He caught the reflection of Molly in the back seat. Her eyes were wet and she was biting her lip. “You understand that, right?”

Danny didn’t answer.

“Come on, let's try to work together on this. Okay?”

Danny bit his lip, just like Molly. Two peas in a pod. Same body language. Same way of tilting their heads when they were curious, fluttering their eyelids when they were tense.

It was a risk. A gamble. Taking the kid back to Kute Kids. Who knew
what he had really been through?

The building stood vacant, its windows boarded up with sheets of delaminating plywood, closed down by the state after finding it rife with violations. Tripoli dug through the keys he had gotten from the landlord. Across the street, Sonny Makarainen was supervising a delivery man rolling silver kegs into his bar.

Tripoli turned the key and the door swung open, creaking on hinges that hadn’t been used since Mrs. Oltz had been ordered to shut down the daycare center. Inside it was dark and dank. Cold. Tripoli switched on the lights. The fluorescents came on with a loud sparking snap then settled into a hum. A couple of weak bulbs continued blinking.

The place was precisely as it had been left the day state officials had marched in and padlocked Mrs. Oltz's facility. A little pair of rubber boots lay abandoned in the hall closet that stood ajar; a single mitten lay forgotten on the floor. A half-dozen plastic cups caked with the dried residue of what looked to be cocoa sat on a tray near the entryway.

“Come on,” said Tripoli gently, shepherding Danny into the room. Molly closed the door behind them, muting the street sounds. Inside, except for the buzz of the lights, it was deathly quiet. A shiver passed through her as she took in the once familiar surroundings. The open basement door.

Tripoli got down on a knee, bringing himself face-to-face with Danny.“You remember this place?”

Danny shrugged.

“Of course you remember,” Molly said plaintively, and softly squeezed his shoulder. “You used to go here every day. With Stevie Lifsey and the twins and…You remember? It's Kute Kids.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Danny said, unconvincingly.

Crayons and paper cluttered the little tables. The matching chairs stood askew as if they had been hurriedly deserted. Blocks and toys
littered the floor. How could I ever have put him in this dump? thought Molly.

Danny's eyes slowly swept the room, fastening for a moment on a model hanging down from a string. The plane rotated slowly, stirred into life by their presence. Danny kept looking around the playroom.

Outside, a heavy truck rolled by, then stopped at the corner. When it started again, the whole building shook. Then, again, the place was relatively quiet, just the swish of traffic.

“Maybe you want to sit down?” Molly suggested, hoping to jog Danny's memory. If only he would talk, they could end all this. Why all the secrecy?

“Yeah,”Tripoli agreed.“Where did you usually sit?”

Danny shrugged. Molly pointed, and they took him over to one of the tables and got him to sit down.

He sat there looking up at Tripoli questioningly.

“Hey, look, here's a crayon. A nice big red one. Maybe you’d like to draw something,” urged Tripoli.“You know, like you used to?

Danny took the crayon.

They waited.

“Hey, look at all these,” Danny said, suddenly fascinated by the spider webs strung between the neighboring chairs.

“Come on, Danny,” she said, bending over him. “Tell us. How did you get out? Did someone take you out?”

He just looked up at her.

“Maybe you snuck out? I know about Cheryl locking you in the basement. I’m so sorry about that.” Molly waited. “Honey, tell us,” she said,“
Please.
”

Danny reached up, put his fingers on her lips to quiet her.

“Come on, let's get out of here already,” Molly said.“This place gives me the creeps.”

Turning away from her, Tripoli tried to hide his frustration.

“Come on, we’re not getting anywhere like this.”

Wordlessly, he picked up the keys and headed for the door.

Once they were back out on the street, Danny refused to get back into Tripoli's car.

Tripoli coaxed and Molly pleaded.

“We can walk,” Danny suggested.“I don’t mind walking.”

“You, maybe,” Tripoli said trying to make light of it, “but I’m getting old.”

Danny didn’t smile.

Finally, they got him into the car. Tripoli fastened Danny's seat belt, locked the doors, and started the engine.

“You used to go here. To daycare. You know that, Danny, as well as I do.”

“Well…maybe,” he conceded.

“Not maybe. You
did!
” Tripoli was nearing the end of his patience, and knew it.

“Trip, please,” Molly said.“Go easy.”

He ignored her and went on.“And you somehow snuck out of here, right?”

“Apparently.”

“Apparently, nothing!”

“If you’re not nice to me, I won’t even talk to you,” Danny warned.

“Geez,”Tripoli said scratching his head in irritation.“Come on, Danny, cut me some slack, huh? I’m your friend, not your enemy.”

“Then why do you keep bothering me?”

“Well, then I’m acting like a policeman now. Okay, you said you went to the woods, right? And you were in this little house-like thing—a hut? And there was this hermit.”

“
Hermit?
” repeated Danny, wrinkling his brow. For the first time, he was showing interest.

“Honey, a hermit,” explained Molly, “is a guy who lives all by
himself in the woods.”

“Hermit,” repeated Danny thoughtfully.“Yes.”