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Authors: David Wiltse

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BOOK: The Edge of Sleep
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“I was just joking, sweetheart,” Karen said.

“Or we can spend the time waiting at camp for permission to leave,” Becker said.

“Hang on,” Karen said into the telephone. She looked at Becker with raised eyebrows.

“Whatever you want,” Becker said. “It’s your trip.”

“My job, too,” she said, then, into the phone, “Malva, give me directions to the motel. I’ll take this one myself.”

“Guess what,” Becker said, turning to look at Jack in the backseat.

“What?”

“Not only do you get to go to camp today. You also get to watch a pair of supersleuths in action.”

“Hey!”

“It’s actually very boring.” Karen warned.

“It’s usually very boring,” Becker said. “But then, you never know.”

“Is there a pony involved?”

“No,” said Karen. “Just a jackass.” She thought a moment. “Or two,” she added.

 

Another car followed them off the highway into the Restawhile driveway, going rather too fast for the situation. As Karen came to a stop in front of the office, the other car moved quickly past and skidded to a halt in front of the farthest cabin. An elderly couple stepped out of the office, looking past Becker and Karen to the car in the distance. Becker saw a woman hurry from the car to the cabin door. She tried a key, but the door would not open. She put her head to the crack of the door, said something, then stepped inside quickly as the door opened all the way.

Karen was trying to get the attention of the elderly couple but having no luck. They seemed as engrossed in the distant scene as if it were the stuff of high drama. It was not until Karen produced her identification and announced that she was with the FBI that the woman seemed to notice her.

“You see,” Reggie said to George triumphantly. “The FBI. I told you it was important.”

“You really the FBI?” George asked.

Karen held her identification toward him but spoke to the woman. She could tell already that the woman was in charge.

“I understand that you responded to a state police request for information.”

“Right there,” Reggie said, pointing toward cabin six. “In six. Just what you’re looking for.”

“What did you understand we were looking for?” Karen asked.

“A man and a boy,” Reggie said. “A big man, the trooper said. Isn’t that right, George?”

George was studying the attractive young woman who claimed to be an FBI agent, trying not to stare while still getting an eyeful. He seemed surprised to have been consulted.

“Ah, yeah. That’s what the trooper said. A big man with a boy.”

“Well, he’s in there,” Reggie said, pointing.

“In the bungalow where the woman just went?” Karen asked.

“She claims he’s her husband, but don’t you believe it,” Reggie said. “He believes it, but don’t pay any attention to him.” She nodded her head contemptuously at George, who was drifting toward the car in an effort to disassociate himself from his wife. He had hoped he could study the woman agent from that perspective without being noticed. Jack had rolled down the rear window to hear the conversation and George winked at the boy, pretending not to hear the reference to himself.

“Did the state trooper mention that we were looking for a man and a boy alone?”

“That’s your man in there, believe me. Take a look for yourself, he’s as weird as they come.”

Karen looked at Becker. Becker suppressed a grin.

“We think it’s unlikely that the man we’re looking for would be traveling with his wife,” Becker said, his voice polite and formal.

“She’s certainly not his wife,” Reggie said. “I already told you that. Go look. Just go see for yourself. Something is going on in there.”

“What sort of thing?”

“I’m happy to say I don’t know. My mind doesn’t work that way.”

Becker glanced at George, who was studying Karen’s legs. He sensed Becker’s eyes on him, looked up, grinned sheepishly.

“But it’s something the police should look into,” Reggie continued. She looked back and forth at Becker and Karen, who were obviously reluctant to take any action. “Well, for heaven’s sake, what did you come here for?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Karen said grimly. “Is the man there right now?”

“Unless he dug a tunnel he is. I’ve had an eye on that cabin ever since.”

“Ever since what?”

“Ever since I saw him in it. You would too, if you’d seen him, believe me.”

“Is the boy there now?”

For the first time, Reggie acted less than certain. “I’m pretty sure he might be,” she said.

“But you’re not completely sure?”

“Why don’t we take a look and find out? He could be in the bathroom.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, ma’am. Did you see the boy in there earlier?”

“Not in so many words,” said Reggie.

“You didn’t see him in so many words?”

“I saw his toothbrush. I saw the way the man acted, he was hiding something, I saw him carrying something at night ...” She trailed off, losing steam as she was forced to voice her circumstantial case aloud.

“You mean you’ve never actually seen the boy in person?” Karen struggled to keep the annoyance from her tone.

“Not exactly ... but I don’t have to see something to know it’s there.”

“Have you seen his clothing? ... His playthings? ... His books?”

“His toothbrush.”

“Nothing else?”

“I’ve seen the man! That’s enough.”

Becker turned to George and asked him if he had seen the boy. George put both hands in the air, palms open, disavowing any connection with the whole business.

“I haven’t even seen the man.” he said, not looking toward his wife.

“Why don’t you just go see him.” Reggie demanded, “instead of standing around, calling me a liar.”

“Nobody’s calling you a liar, ma’am.” Karen said soothingly.

“Then why don’t you go see the man for yourself and ask him? Don’t rely on him.” She indicated George with a gesture that was at once both designatory and dismissive. George grinned at Becker, inclining his head ever so slightly back at Reggie, trying to involve Becker in man’s universal understanding of women.

“We’ll just have a word with him, then.” Karen said, turning toward the cabin.

“Ask him about the bedspread, let’s hear him explain that,” Reggie said, falling in step with Karen.

“I think it’s best if we conduct the interview ourselves,” Karen said.

“I know how to deal with him.” Reggie said.

“I’m sure you do, but it’s normal procedure for us to conduct an interview in private. I’m sure you would want the same consideration.”

“If I’m not there, how will you know if he’s lying?”

“We usually do this alone.” Karen repeated. “If we need further confirmation, naturally we’ll ask you.”

“I can tell you everything you want to know,” Reggie said, but she fell back, letting Karen and Becker proceed alone.

Karen leaned into the open rear window of the car to speak to her son. “Just stay here.” she said. “This shouldn’t take very long.”

“But ... ”

“If there’s a pony in that room. I promise I’ll let you know,” Becker said.

“This might be easier to take if I didn’t get the impression it amuses the hell out of you.” Karen said to Becker as they started toward the cabin. “You have a very strange sense of humor.”

The woman came bustling out of the cabin before Karen and Becker were halfway there. She wore a starched white nurse’s uniform, white stockings, white orthopedic oxford shoes. Contrasted to this snowy field, her eyes seemed to be blazing an unnatural blue. The blonde hair on her head had been piled into a bun to fit within a cap, which she was not wearing at the moment, and strands had fallen loose around her head, giving her a scattered look, even in repose.

But she was not in repose. She came at Karen and Becker with the zest of someone greeting old friends, eyes flashing happily, her toothy smile another element in white.

“Is she crazy, or what?” Dee asked merrily. “A nice old woman at heart. I’m sure, but alone too much, you know? You should talk to her husband about her, he’ll give you an earful.”

“I am special agent Crist with the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Karen said, pulling out her identification.

“Is that right? Good for you.” She paused long enough to size up Becker from head to foot “I’ll bet you’re special, too, aren’t you?” And then to Karen, “Don’t want to make him feel bad. He’s trying his best.”

Dee grinned at Becker to let him know she was teasing. There was a quality to everything she said that was so familiar in tone that Karen wondered fleetingly if they already knew each other.

Then Dee was past them, walking briskly toward the office, speaking over her shoulder and forcing them to follow.

“My husband has eye problems. You know what that’s like. I didn’t ask for much, just for him to be left alone during the day? Is that so much to ask for? I don’t think so. Now the old lady has gone in there, scared the poor dear half to death, apparently scared herself to boot—well, you’ll straighten this out, won’t you. That’s what makes you both special, isn’t it? ... Oh, look! Oh!”

Dee veered toward Karen’s car, gushing and exclaiming as if she had stumbled upon treasure.

“What’s your name?”

“Jack Hollis,” Jack said.

“You can call me Dee. And whose little boy are you?”

Jack pulled away slightly from the face coming at him through the rear window and pointed at his mother.

“Oh, he’s beautiful, he’s just such a beautiful boy!” Dee said to Karen. “You are a very lucky momma.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you.”

“And you ...” Dee leaned into the car even farther. “You are so precious. I could just eat you up.”

Jack tried to smile at the strange woman, at the same time edging away until he was stopped by the sleeping bag on the seat beside him.

“How would you like to come live with me?” Dee asked. “Would you like that, would you like to live with me for a while?”

Dee turned again to Karen. “Just for a little while? Can I have him?”

“Not right now. I’m afraid. He’s going to camp today.”

“Are you? Are you going to camp? Where are you going?”

“Camp Wasaknee.” Jack said.

“You must be so excited ... You’re not scared, are you? Don’t be scared, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Good boy ... Oh, you’re so beautiful.”

Dee turned to Becker and Karen again. Her eyes had become teary, dimming the brilliant blue.

“You are so lucky,” Dee said, touching Karen’s arm. “You have no idea. Oh, I wish he were mine.”

“He’s a wonderful boy,” Karen said.

“I hope you appreciate him,” Dee said. “You shouldn’t leave him locked in the backseat with the windows closed, by the way.”

“I do know that, actually,” Karen said quickly, offended. “And he’s not locked in. And the window’s open.”

“It’s hard to think of everything,” Dee said, patronizingly. “Especially if you’re a working mother and have to take him to work with you.”

“I’m not taking him to work. We were on our way to camp ...” Karen stopped, thinking her only hope for dignity was to remain silent.

“I’m sure you try your best,” Dee said. She squeezed Karen’s arm dismissively, then turned abruptly to Becker. Her tears seemed to have evaporated within a second.

“And just what are you contributing to all this?” Dee asked, smiling.

“Just standing around,” Becker said.

“That’s what they do best, isn’t it?” Dee said to Karen.

Karen, still smarting from the implied criticism of her parenting skills, refused to be drawn into Dee’s conspiracy. The woman was a reflexive flirt, Karen thought, turning on her overwrought charm for everyone she encountered, man or woman. It was heavy-handed as a club with women, but it seemed to work with men. She was annoyed to see Becker smiling as broadly as the woman.

“Well then, come on in and help me out,” Dee said to Becker, and again she was on the move, skipping up the steps and into the office before Becker or Karen could react.

“She seems to have her own agenda,” Becker said, still smiling.

“You find her funny, too?”

“I think she likes me, what do you think?” Becker said.

“I think she needs a Valium.”

“She’s more fun than a midget, though.”

Becker and Karen followed Dee toward the office and heard her already engaged in a shouting match with the woman owner before they reached the door.

“Is it too late to just turn and run?” Karen whispered. Becker grinned sardonically and with a low, sweeping bow, ushered Karen into the office before him.

 

Ash washed the boy meticulously, wearing the plastic gloves as Dee had taught him. He sat in the tub with the boy, holding his body with one arm and soaping and scrubbing with the other. Using one of Dee’s nail files, he cleaned under Bobby’s fingernails. He scoured the boy’s ears, laved away the last of the tears, the scent of fear. When he had finished. Ash left the boy in the tub to let the water soak away the last traces of his earthly ordeal.

Ash dressed himself and waited impatiently for Dee to come home in response to his phone call. He was unable to lose himself in the television stories, his mind wandering again and again to the boy in the bathtub. He held Bobby’s good luck charm in his hand, squeezing it for luck, hoping that somehow it could change things. The boy had insisted that it had always worked for him; perhaps now it would work for Ash. He rubbed the coin between his thumb and finger, looking at the face of the man embossed on the metal, wondering who he was that he could bring such good fortune.

 

Ash was at the door when Dee arrived. She took in the situation in a glance and her voice was crisp and authoritarian. Ash had known she would be certain of exactly what to do.

“Put your gloves on and put him in the bag,” Dee said. She peered through the drawn blinds at the small convocation outside the motel office. Reggie was talking and pointing at Dee’s cabin.

“When I get everyone inside the office, you get that bag out of here, understand?”

“Yes, Dee.”

“Get it to the edge of the highway, but out of sight. We don’t want anyone finding it now. We’ll pick it up tonight when we leave.”

BOOK: The Edge of Sleep
13.96Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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