the main doors, back to the investigation.
Fitzgerald is waiting as the automatic doors open and cold air from the air-conditioned main lobby once again strikes me in the face. My uniform is dirty from my trek through the woods, I stink of sweat and am perspiring heavily again after my heated conversation with Christine.
“She won’t let us talk to the girl, or the boy for that matter,” Fitzgerald says as I walk to a vending machine to buy a bottle of water.
“Who won’t?” I ask, slugging the whole bottle back in one gulp.
“Antonia Clark,” Fitzgerald replies. “She says Calli isn’t up to talking now and she doesn’t want Ben talking to us, either. I think she’s hiding something.”
“What would she be hiding?” I ask as I thread more change into the machine, this time choosing a soda full of caffeine and sugar. It is going to be a long night.
“I think she knows something about her husband. I don’t buy that she didn’t know he didn’t go on that fishing trip today. Maybe she’s covering for him,” the agent named Temperly says.
“That’s bullshit,” I say, looking him in the eyes. “Have you even talked to Toni Clark? Have you even had one conversation with her that makes you believe this?”
“Just the one we had a few moments ago, when she absolutely refused to cooperate with us,” Temperly says snidely. “I don’t know, I guess if my child was kidnapped and my son beaten to a pulp, I’d want to know who did it.”
“And so does Toni,” I say in an even, low tone, trying to keep any anger out of it. To be thrown off this investigation was the last thing I needed. “She just wants to keep her kids safe. She’ll let them speak with you when they’re able.”
“Yeah, she really kept them safe, didn’t she?” Temperly mutters under his breath.
Agent Simon steps forward, a good thing because Temperly is pissing me off. “Let’s talk to the doctor, see how long he thinks it will be before Calli will be able to speak with us. Then we can go from there.”
“Where was Toni off to, anyway?” I ask the three agents.
They all shrug and look at one another.
“Her crazy husband is out there and you just let her leave?” I ask in disbelief.
The agents raise their eyebrows at each other. “Let’s go find the doctor,” Simon says.
As we walk past the receptionist’s desk the clerk calls out, “Can one of you speak with a Fielda Gregory? She’s on the phone, very upset about her husband.”
“I got it,” Fitzgerald says before I can grab the phone. I step as close to him as I can, hoping to hear what is happening with Martin. Fitzgerald listens for several moments before he tells Fielda that he will get back to her shortly. “Jesus Christ,” Fitzgerald mumbles. “What next?”
We all look at him expectantly. “It appears that Martin Gregory is now the next person to go missing out of our two little families.”
“What do you mean? I had Jorgens take him home. He told me that Martin said he and Fielda were heading over to Iowa City together to see Petra.”
“Gregory never went with them. Fielda drove to Iowa City with her mother and Mary Ellen McIntire,” Fitzgerald explains.
“Jenna McIntire’s mother?” Temperly asks.
“Yes. Let me finish,” Fitzgerald says impatiently. “Petra needs surgery and Mrs. Gregory doesn’t want to consent to the operation until she speaks with her husband. But she can’t find him. She tried at home, at the police station, here at the hospital, friends, family, everywhere with no luck. Then Mary Ellen McIntire piped up that she might have an idea where Martin Gregory is.”
I wait for a moment for Fitzgerald to continue. Then it clicks. “Jesus, he went looking for Griff,” I whisper.
“Yeah, he did. Mrs. McIntire said she and Martin had a brief conversation and that he alluded to the fact that he was going after whoever had done this to his little girl,” Fitzgerald says grimly.
“As far as we know, Griff Clark is still up in those woods. Would Martin go back in there at this time of night?” Agent Simon asks, looking to me.
“If I know Griff Clark like I think I do, he’s probably taken off for good. Right after he gets a few drinks into himself.” A horrible thought skitters across my brain and I turn to the receptionist. “Can you tell me where Calli Clark’s doctor is?”
A few minutes later Dr. Higby introduces himself to us and quickly makes it clear that under no circumstances are we to try to speak with the Clark children.
“No, no,” I say. “It’s Toni Clark. Do you know where she went, when she left a little while ago?”
“She went home. Said she wanted to get some clean clothes for the kids. Why, is there a problem?” Dr. Higby asks as a look of genuine concern creases his face.
“I don’t know yet,” I answer as a transmission comes over on my walkie-talkie. We all stop to listen as a dispatcher relays a report of a disturbance at 12853 Timber Ridge Drive. The reservist stationed at the house had reported that he heard angry voices at the back of the Clark home and what could have been a gunshot.
BEN
Rose has come back with a tray full of food. Pudding, Jell-O, soup, ginger ale. All soft food, she says, so I won’t hurt my face chewing. I have to smile at that. She is a nice old lady. She leaves me alone so I can eat; she says she’ll be sitting out in the waiting area if we need her. Says she knows I probably don’t want some strange lady sitting in our room watching us. She’s right. I just want to lie in bed, eat my mushy food and watch TV.
Calli, you’re still sleeping. I keep looking over at you, wishing you’d wake up. Because even though I don’t want Rose sitting in here with me, I’m still pretty lonely, and it seems like it’s taking Mom forever to get back here. Your nurse stopped in a few times to check on you, taking your pulse, checking your IV, feeling your forehead.
I try not to think of Dad. I’m beginning to feel a little bit guilty about what happened up on the bluff, but what was I supposed to think, with Petra all hurt and you looking so scared? I don’t think that I can ever look him in the eyes again after what happened. I hope Mom understands. I couldn’t even tell her that Dad was the one to break my nose, but I think she knows, deep down.
I remember, Calli, before you stopped talking, you’d lie at the end of my bed, waiting for when I’d come home from school. Every day I knew that you’d be up there. I didn’t mind so much. You always left my stuff alone—you did like to play with my rock collection, but you couldn’t hurt a rock collection, could you? I’d open up my bedroom door and you’d be sitting there sorting out the rocks. You’d have a pile of black ones, of shiny metallic-looking ones, of pink feldspar and of yellowish calcite. You didn’t call them by their scientific names, though; you had your own names for each one.
“This is Magic Cat’s Eye,” you’d say about my black obsidian. Or you’d hold up my shiny quartz. “This is Ice Rock. If you bury it in the backyard, everything will all turn to ice.”
Sometimes I thought you’d never shut up. And now that you haven’t talked for so long, I can hardly believe that you ever will again. I miss it now. I never would tell anyone this, but I still talk to you, and in my mind you talk back. Of course I’m still the older, smart one, and you’re still my little sister, who couldn’t possibly know as much as me. In my head you’d say, “Ben, do you think that Daddy will ever stop drinking?” And I’d say back, “I just don’t know, Calli, but I suppose anything’s possible.” Or we’d just talk about stupid, everyday stuff like what we’re having for supper or what we’re going to watch on TV. I wish you’d wake up right now and say, “Ben, I want to watch channel seven, give me the remote!” But you don’t. Never once have I asked you why you don’t talk. I know it’s got something to do with the day Mom lost the baby, though. I came home from Ray’s house and there Mom was on the couch. Someone had put a blanket over her, was it you? Someone had put a blanket over her, but the blood was seeping through. I asked you what happened over and over, but you didn’t say a word. You just sat on the floor by Mom, rocking back and forth, holding on to your stuffed monkey, and I called Louis and he called an ambulance. I thought for a minute you might say something when the baby came out. For the life of me I still don’t know why they let us two kids watch that. When the baby came outta Mom and they wiped her clean, and you reached out to
