But still there was something missing in that equation. It was a child. It wasn’t a natural death. What the fuck was that kid doing up there, in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night? Where were his parents? Why was no one looking for him? Dear God, the boy wasn’t even dressed for the cold, probably would have died of exposure if he hadn’t caught a bullet.
And what about that bullet? Conner hadn’t fired the shot. That was all on Gene, who had now given up all his responsibility by putting a bullet through his own head. Same rifle no less. Now Conner, Michael and Jonathan were left holding the bag if that box was ever found – and it would be, if this new development went through. Conner had seen the plans. He had pored over them during late nights, staying after 5:00 p.m. at the office just to root through the proposals without anyone noticing or asking questions. Some guys wondered why he took such an interest in their latest underwriting project, but he just brushed them off. The box had to be moved. The boy had to be buried someplace where no one could find him. Conner hatched the plan himself and it was a good plan. He suddenly felt a surge of optimism, as if he were about to turn his life around. Peaks and valleys, mountains and gulches. Life is going up toward one or down toward another. This would put it forever behind them, clear the way for him to get his life back, unencumbered by the sins of the past. He would have to skip these stupid meetings for the sake of a long-dead boy and thereby continue working his way up the ladder of success. He would continue making enough payments on the mortgage to keep the foreclosure dogs at bay. He could do this. One step at a time, as the drunks say. One step at a time up that hill, up that mountain, with a dead body in tow, toward a lake in the mountains where it could all be put to rest.
Conner took the exit, leaving the tumult of the highway and driving onto the dark and winding back roads toward his little enclave in the hills. He stopped for gas and a coffee, hoping the caffeine would help right his brain and cover up the beer smell on his breath. He crossed into his hometown at seven. Clouds moved overhead and it was officially night. He had never left his hometown and he wondered why. Was that pathetic? He wasn’t sure. It just was and at this point there was no getting out of it.
His neighborhood was set high on a large hill, and his SUV burned gas plowing up the steep incline. During the day there were great views, but at night it was just rolling blackness occasionally dotted with headlights from Route 4 below. But as he approached Ridgeline Drive he saw different kinds of lights. Red-and-blue strobes bounced off the trees and mailboxes of his road. He turned the SUV and suddenly his mind went into overdrive. Two state police vehicles parked outside his house. He gunned the big engine and raced the few hundred yards to his driveway, jumped out of the car and ran to the front door. Terrifying images ran through his mind of what lay on the other side. Why would the police be here? What had happened? Were Madison and the children okay? Down the road he could see neighbors standing at the edge of their driveways, trying to catch a glimpse.
Conner opened the door and saw Madison standing in the tiled foyer with two hulking troopers. Her eyes lit on him for a moment and then turned back to the officers. He knew this look. She was all business right now. She was concerned and in charge and leveling expectations on those gathered around her. He could already see the deference in the faces of the officers.
Conner was practically breathless and trying to control himself, keeping the smell of alcohol at bay and praying the coffee had done enough to keep the booze off his breath, praying his hazy brain wouldn’t betray him right now.
“What the hell’s going on?”
The officers looked at him with that professional air of bored authority he despised so much, like he was a bug to be quashed, but for their mercy.
“I was trying to reach you,” Madison said. “You weren’t answering your phone.”
Conner was suddenly confused. He hadn’t heard his phone, hadn’t felt any vibrations. He instinctively searched the pockets of his jacket and pants. The phone wasn’t there. The last he had seen it was – shit – sitting on the bar at the tavern. He had been so lost in his thoughts he’d walked out without it, and now, suddenly, it was like a vital lifeline was missing.
“Your daughter was approached by a man when she was playing in the woods out back,” one of the officers said.
“What do you mean ‘approached by a man’?”
Madison, now brimming with anger, said, “He said he knew you. That he was a friend of yours and offered to take her away. Take her on a trip.”
“What?”
Madison continued. “Aria was playing out back in the woods behind the swings. And she says that a scary man came walking through the woods and talked to her and told her he was a friend of yours and could take her on a trip far away from here.”
“Jesus,” Conner said. His stomach was suddenly brimming with acid, his arms and legs hollow with the thoughts of what he could have lost.
“Your daughter is fine, Mr. Braddick,” the other officer said. “She’s just a little shook up. She was able to give a description, and we’ve got other officers driving through the area right now, checking with neighbors and seeing if we can find anyone that fits the description. If he
