THE LAST BOY (27 page)

“Yes,” he murmured with his faint hint of a lisp. “Much better. I’m sorry,” he uttered and looked like he was going to cry.

“Sorry for what? Don’t be silly. It's my fault.”

Slowly the color began returning to his face, but Molly now felt herself sickened. “It was those smells,” he tried to explain. “And all that noise. They gave me a bad headache. And then. Then…”

“Yes. Yes. I understand,” she said.“Your mother just wasn’t thinking…I’m so terribly sorry, Honey. I just didn’t realize…” The sun was broiling and her clothes were damp with sweat.“You think you can make it to the car on your own?”

“Maybe things aren’t quite the way we think they are,” whispered Tripoli into the darkness after Molly told him about Danny anticipating that shooting star.

It was close to midnight and the trailer was quiet, as quiet as it ever got. They lay on the living room floor, clothes twisted about them, their half-naked bodies still entwined. Their heat had
dissipated and the perspiration from their passion now lay chilling on Molly's body.

“Whatta you mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ve been looking at this thing the wrong way.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t think I do either.” He laughed at himself, shook his head.

“What happened today at the mall was frightening,” she said, beginning to shiver.“You should have seen him.” Molly reached out and pulled the blanket over them. She glanced over at the bedroom door and listened for an instant. When they were still she could make out Danny's breathing. Exhausted, he’d gone to sleep directly after dinner. Hadn’t even insisted on sleeping outside again—thank God.“He used to love it there at the mall,” she said turning back to Tripoli.“He’d be bugging me every day that he wanted to go to the game room. And he was really excited whenever I bought him new clothes.”

“Something extraordinary happened,” he said, thinking aloud, and Molly regretted now having told him about the meteor.

Tripoli sat up and Molly draped part of the blanket over him, her hand lingering on his shoulder.

“It's like he's been totally programmed. My baby!” she uttered angrily.“I want Danny back. Like he was. I just want a normal little kid. I don’t want to have to keep worrying that someone is going to come and snatch him again. A
visit?
Oh, God, Trip!”

He took her in his arms and held her quietly.

“I keep going over the same things,” he said later after she had calmed.“Old Edna spotted Danny. Alone. I’m sure of it now. Which means he must have somehow gotten out of Kute Kids—on his own. He was headed up towards South Hill. I’m somehow sure of that, too. You know,” he turned to look at her in the streaks of faint
light sifting in through the blinds, “I think Danny knew where he was going right from the start.”

“What do you mean?” Her hand slipped away from him, then the blanket fell loose and he was sitting up alone.“How could he?”

“I don’t know. I’m just speculating,” he said into the darkness. “Supposing he was somehow drawn to the kidnapper, the old man, the Hermit, whatever he is.”

“That's ridiculous,” she said and thought about the meteor.

“Hey, did Danny spend any time around South Hill? Or Danby?”

“No. Never. We never had any occasion to go out there. Whenever we went out for trips and stuff it was usually towards Lansing or Freeville. Sometimes the lake.”

“Maybe you knew somebody who…?”

“No. I’m telling you.
Never
,” she said peevishly.

“Okay. Okay.”Tripoli fell silent, lost in thought.“He had many names,” he murmured.

“Huh?”

He turned to her.“That's what Danny said. Do you remember?”

“Aliases?” She pulled him back down, pressed closer to gain warmth from his body.

“He called him father…”

“A priest?”

“Or God.”

“Trip, get real!”

“John,” he uttered thoughtfully. “John…How many Johns do you know?”

“Hundreds,” she said. “Zillions!”

“The old man kept him,” he went on, still caught up in his conjecture.“Educated him. You’ve got to grant him that.”

“Infected him,” she injected.“Poisoned him so he couldn’t even go into a lousy department store!”

“But what were his intentions?”

“To steal my child!”

“Right. But at the same time the old man tried to give him something—”

“Hey!” She pulled abruptly away. “Who the hell's side are you on, anyway?”

“Yours. Danny's and yours, of course. I’m just trying to put myself in the old guy's head.”

“You’d better not, because I’d like to smash his fucking skull,” she said vehemently.

“I understand.”

“No you don’t understand. Can’t. Not quite. No one can.”

After Tripoli left, Molly headed directly for her bed. Restless in his sleep, Danny had kicked off his blanket and one of his legs hung half out of the bed. Molly gently slid him back into place, straightened the covers, and tucked him in tight. Immediately she fell into a deep slumber. Her dreams were jumbled. She was in the office and Larry was saying something. The next instant she was with Danny in the woods. There was snow on the ground, and he was standing in front of an outdoor fire warming his hands. A tall figure was lurking in the distance behind them, watching him, watching her. He began to move forward, his feet dragging through the snow with a shuffling, dragging, hissing sound. No, it was a scrambling sound. A rubbing. A…No, wait, it was real, not a dream.

Molly awoke with a start. It took her a moment to focus. Something was moving outside the trailer. Cocking an ear, she could make out a slight rustling, a faint scratching noise below the window by Danny's bed. The old man, was her immediate thought. He's come to take Danny back.

Crouching down on the floor where she couldn’t be seen, she quickly crept over to Danny's bed. He was tossing in his sleep,
muttering and, when she locked her arms around him, she could feel his pulse racing. Her own heart was pounding, too. She hung by the bed, paralyzed in the darkness, straining to listen, afraid to move.

Then the noise was gone and all she could hear were the normal nighttime sounds of the trailer park, a door slamming somewhere in the distance, a baby whimpering. Maybe it was just a cat digging under the trailer? she told herself. Or one of those raccoons that were always raiding the dumpsters. Yet as she tried to calm herself, she could have sworn she still felt a presence hovering just outside the thin walls of her home, watching them.

Finally, she got up from her crouch, lifted Danny, and carried him back to her own bed.

“Huh? What?” he asked as she settled him under the covers close to her.

“Shhh,” she whispered under her breath, clutching him close. “It's okay. Just go back to sleep.” She stroked his cheek and in an instant he was back asleep, his body tucked warm against hers. His pulse was even now, and she could feel his little heart beating next to hers.

“He was here,” said Molly first thing in the morning when she got Tripoli on his cell phone. He was just driving into the office. The day was dark and drizzling and she was standing in front of the trailer in her bathrobe getting soaked. It always seemed to be raining, more than ever, more than she could remember.

“Who?” he asked.

“The old man.”

“You
saw
him?”

“No. No.” She told him about the sounds.

“Okay. Fine. But how do you know it was the old guy?”

“I could feel it.”

“Molly—”

“And Danny felt it, too. His heart was racing away and—”

“I had a guy posted right in front of your place. He didn’t see anything. And if you heard something, why didn’t you call him? He’d have been on your doorstep in a second. Or call me.”

“I was so scared,” she said,“I wasn’t thinking.”

“Next time you call me.”

“There better not be a next time. Anyway, I’m getting a gun,” she said.

“You know how to use one?”

“No.”

“Well, forget it. It's a lousy idea. You’re going to end up shooting
someone. Could even be one of my guys. A gun? No way! You don’t want one. Not with a little kid in your trailer.”

Shortly after ten, Molly had an unexpected visit from Larry Pierce.

“Just thought I’d drop off a little welcome home present for our young friend.” He went back to his car and returned with a big, gift-wrapped box. Molly noticed that he had brought along his briefcase, too.

Danny came wandering curiously out of the bedroom.

“Oh, hello there young man!” exclaimed Larry. He turned to Molly,“Boy, he looks really wonderful!”

“Do you remember Mr. Pierce, Honey?” She rested both hands on his shoulders. “Larry's my boss at the magazine you were looking at yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah,” Danny nodded. “The one I read with that story about grapes.”

“
Read?
” Larry laughed.

“Larry's been a big help to me while you’ve been gone.” She moved Danny closer to him.“He's a good friend, too,” she smiled up at Larry, resting a hand on his arm. Danny's eye was on her hand.

“I brought a little something for you.” Larry plunked the package down on the floor.

“Maybe you want to open it, Honey?” suggested Molly.

“Come on, let's take a look.” Larry knelt down and unwrapped the carton. Inside was a metal box. He swung open its doors to display the contents.

Danny's face lit up.

“You know what this is?”

“Sure I do!” said Danny. “It's a thing to magnify very tiny objects.”

“Exactly! A microscope. And this is the deluxe model. I didn’t know if you were too young—”

“Oh no, I’m not.” Danny already had the microscope positioned on the floor, and he was angling the mirror, trying to catch the light.

“I heard you were really grown up now and—”

“Look, it's got just everything.” Danny opened the small drawers, examining the contents.

“Right. Slides. Stains here. Forceps and scalpels—you have to be very careful with this, though, it's sharp. And it's got some ready-made slides, like these? I think…” Larry held one up to the light, “…this is a sliver of a bird's feather, right?”

“Oooh,” cried Danny, squinting into the eyepiece.“You can see everything. All the little lines and…Hey take a look!” Molly hadn’t seen him this excited since he had come back.

“Well, I’ve got to run off.” Larry reached for his briefcase and headed for the door, then hesitated. “Look,” he turned to face her. The gesture seemed a little too rehearsed. “I know things must be topsy-turvy for you right now…So I
really
hate to ask anything…” he sounded terribly reluctant.

“Well, go on,” Molly urged, “at least ask.”

“If you could just take a quick look at some things—maybe when you have a few spare minutes.” He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick manila envelope, then a bunch of files and laid them on the table. “We’re stymied. None of us can make heads or tails of these.”

Molly opened the envelope. Inside were stacks of bills, accounts payable, contracts, and requests for reprint rights. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” she said, and couldn’t help but note his smile of relief.

“And these files,” he pulled out some more from his briefcase. “They’re the writers’ fees for—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said.“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”

Danny looked abruptly up from the floor, kept watching, his eyes still on the door as Larry gave his mother a peck and finally left.

“He's a nice man, isn’t he,” said Molly.

Danny chewed on his lip, then turned back to his new microscope, peering into the eyepiece. “I don’t really like him so much,” he said without looking up.

“What? Why do you say that? He certainly was thinking of you when he brought this nice present, right?”

“Yes.”

“So?”

Danny carefully adjusted the knurled focus knob back and forth. “I don’t think he tells the truth.”

“About what?”

Danny looked up at her and shrugged.

“And he's done so much for me. For us. Why, without the magazine job, I don’t know what we’d do. And your Mommy— Mother—needs to do things she likes, too. You want that, don’t you?”

“Sure.” He looked up and smiled at her.“Sure.”

Late that morning, the lab report came back from Albany. Tripoli was on the phone in his office when Sisler dropped it on his desk.

“Hey, what's this?” he asked, covering the mouthpiece as he leaned far back in his chair and continued to listen.

“Forensics,” said Sisler.

Tripoli popped upright. “Hey, Pete, let me call you back,” he said, snapping the receiver into its cradle.

He ripped open the envelope and quickly scanned it with Sisler hanging over his shoulder. Forensics had done a thorough job, examined everything. The boy's underwear. No pubic hairs. No signs of ongoing sexual abuse. The soil caught in the treads of Danny's sneakers. The lint in his pockets, the fibers and stains on his clothes. When they had eliminated all the knowns, they discovered lots of fibers from domestic animals—fleece from sheep, hair from goats. But they
also detected filaments from the wilds—the unmistakable fur of rabbits and deer and squirrel. All his clothes contained significant amounts of charcoal and wood ash. The stains on his pants were vegetable in origin, the residue of native wild grapes, raspberries, blueberries; his shirt sleeves had spots of tannin found in the bark of trees. It might have come from a solution used to tan skins or simply from the outer coating of hickory and black walnuts. The sweater assay was just as Tripoli expected, made from hand-carded wool.

“Well?” asked Tripoli, turning to Sisler.“What does it tell you?”

“I don’t know. I suppose that the kid hasn’t been shitting us. He didn’t spend the winter hanging out in a ranchburger in suburbia— at least not one that had carpets and drapes.”

“And?”

“There really is a hermit out there somewhere?”

“Exactly!”

“Okay,” said Sisler. “Now how do we find him? Where do we start? Even if we’re sure it's south of here, there's one hell of a lot of land out there between Ithaca and Key West.”