I tried to look over their heads and into the room.
“Can you let go now?” I asked the cop, and she did.
Just a few more people came out, and they stepped aside as I entered the room. I saw Ryan, and he saw me. He looked surprised and-maybe-a little disappointed.
I expected more. A lot of cameras, a lot of people. But I saw only one film crew and a handful of people who looked like reporters.
Someone said my name.
“Mr. Stuart? What did you think of the press conference today?”
I thought I recognized the woman. Did she work for the
“I missed it,” I said. “I didn’t know-”
“Are you encouraged by this lead?”
“Of course.”
“How have you managed to keep your spirits up during this ordeal?”
A few more people gathered around. I hoped they were all reporters. I saw Ryan come closer, his big head and body standing out in the crowd. He looked nervous, concerned. I remembered what I looked like. Unshaven. Unshowered.
But the questions kept coming.
“How is your wife holding up?”
“She’s fine.”
“Why didn’t she come today?”
“She’s. . I don’t know. I guess she’s moved on.”
“Moved on? How so?”
“She doesn’t really think Caitlin’s coming home.”
A TV light came on, and, beneath it, a glowing red dot. They were filming. I started to sweat again. Ryan said something, but the light kept me from seeing him.
“Mr. Stuart’s had a long morning,” he said. “And I need to brief him.”
“Do you think your daughter is still alive? Do you think you’ll see her again?”
I couldn’t see who’d asked the question. The room swirled a little bit.
“Yes, I do.”
Camera shutters clicked and whirred. A flash went off. No one said anything, no more questions, so I kept going.
“In fact, I have seen her. Just this morning, I saw her in the park.”
The cameras clicked more rapidly. There were more flashes.
I felt hotter, more nervous, my clothes too tight and constraining.
“You saw her?”
“Your daughter?”
“Really?”
I felt a hand on my arm, a strong grip. Ryan. He started to lead me away.
I wanted to explain.
“I saw her-I saw a girl-in the park by the cemetery. I don’t really know if it was Caitlin-”
Ryan pulled me out of the room and down the hallway, leaving the reporters behind. He ushered me into another office, a small room with two empty desks and a filing cabinet.
“That was not a smart thing you just did back there,” he said.
“Why didn’t you tell me this was happening?”
He sighed. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“No, it’s not.”
“Look, Tom. This came together quickly. I had to get that sketch out to the newspapers. Isn’t that what you wanted? And, yes, we do like to have the families at these things, but given the strain you’ve been under and the strain in your marriage, we-I-thought it might be best to talk about this on my own.”
“I can talk about my daughter if I want. I have the right.”
“You repeated a ghost story. Now anything good that would have come from the sketch could be overshadowed by what you said in there.” He turned toward the door and opened it. He stuck his head into the hallway and looked both ways. “Get out of here. Go out to your car and get out of here. And don’t talk to any reporters. I’ll try to make this right.” He gave me the once-over. “I think they’ll believe you’re under a great deal of stress and don’t know what you’re saying.” He remained in the door, holding it open for me.
But I wasn’t ready to go.
“Ryan, can I ask you something?”
He didn’t encourage me, but he didn’t walk away either.
“What do you think I saw in the park today? What was that?”
“You saw what you wanted to see,” he said. “Nothing more, nothing less. It’s human nature to do that. This is a difficult time for you, Tom. Very difficult.”
“Is that it? It’s just an illusion?”
“The feeling is real,” he said. “The desire to see your daughter.”
I shook my head. “But it’s not enough, is it? The desire? The wish? For me, it’s just not enough.”
Chapter Fourteen
My cell phone buzzed on the nightstand. I kept my eyes closed, ignoring it, but it seemed to buzz louder, shaking and jumping against the varnished wood like a beached fish. I reached out and answered it without looking at the caller ID screen.
“Yeah?”
“What the fuck is going on up there?”
“Buster?”
“Did you see this shit in the paper? Did you really say this stuff?”
I didn’t immediately follow what he was saying. I tried, through the fog, to reconstruct the events of the previous day and evening. It came back in a rush-my morning at the park and my encounter with the reporters at the police station.
“It’s in the paper down there?” I asked.
“Are you kidding? Missing child possibly seen in strip club, in the company of an adult male, and then the father of the missing child goes on some loony riff about seeing the girl in the park-”
“I know the story,” I said. Through the window I saw a flat, gray sky. The house felt cool, as though the weather was turning. “I’m just glad it’s getting coverage.”
“Don’t worry. Everybody knows your story now.”
I pulled the blanket over my bare legs and leaned back against the soft pillows, letting them support my head and shoulders.
“I’m surprised you called,” I said. “I thought maybe I’d pissed you off.”
“You did,” he said. “But I’ve been thinking about you and how tough this is on you.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I haven’t appreciated the toll it must take on you. And I don’t mean in the obvious ways. Hell, look at you. You lost your dad when you were little. And then you lose your only child. I guess I don’t think of you losing your dad since my dad was always around, but you did. You lost your old man when you were really young. And now you’ve got this with Caitlin. It’s tragic.”
“Thanks.”
“It looks like I was wrong anyway. Shit, this is the real deal, isn’t it? Did you meet this witness?”
“I did.” I told him the story of meeting Tracy in the strip club. He listened, interjecting with occasional exclamations of amazement and surprise. Telling the story to someone who was so into it, who was eager to hear it and who had the appropriate responses, felt gratifying. I felt better just laying the facts out there. “So that’s
