Roy Cohen picked up the megaphone and prepared to address the crowd of a hundred or so people that had gathered outside the town hall. During the nearly three decades that he had served on the Troy police force, he had his share of tragedies to contend with. None of them prepared him for today.
“On behalf of the Quinlan family,” he began solemnly, “I would like to thank everyone for coming down here. If you’ll all just give me a few minutes to get organized, I’ll be able to brief you on what we need to do today. If we divide it up, we should have most of the town covered before dark.”
There was a grumble from the crowd, prompting Roy to raise his hand. “Before you say anything, I know most of you won’t be able to stay the whole day. I appreciate the time you can spare. I’d rather you do a thorough job for a short period of time, than rush this. As more people show up, we’ll have them sub in for those of you that have to leave. The Topaz Cafe has donated some coffee, juice and pastries this morning, so please help yourselves.”
He put the loud speaker down and reached into his pocket for his leather gloves, wishing Colin and Cody Dayton, his two scheduled day officers, were there to help. As luck would have it, they had called to say their radiator had blown on the way into town and they were being towed. There was no sense calling in Rick Purdy. That would leave him short on the night shift. He was going to have to handle this himself.
Flory Neuberg, the manager of Neuberg’s Drug Store, approached him carrying a box full of photocopier paper. He took it from her and placed it on the folding table the town council had thoughtfully provided for his use. Inside the box were hundreds of copies of Brooke’s photo. He barely glanced at them. Her image was hauntingly embedded in his mind.
“Ellie,” he called, noticing Helena’s granddaughter in the assembled group. “Can you help me for a few minutes and hand these out?” He lifted a bundle of pages from the cardboard box.
“Um, okay,” Ellie grunted, as she tried to suppress a yawn. She was surprised the cop remembered her name.
“Are we keeping you up?” the Chief of Police asked her.
“Somebody did,” Ellie snapped, glancing back towards the Helens. “My parental unit is well practiced in ancient forms of sleep deprivation.”
Having raised three children of his own to adulthood, Roy knew teenage sarcasm when he heard it.
“Good. If you’ve learned anything from the experience you’ll be able to teach my officers a thing or two. Their interrogation skills need work.” He smiled at her. He could see the family resemblance between the teenager and her grandmother.
Her nose up in the air, Ellie turned to her mother and shoved a poster into her hand without saying a word. She headed off into the crowd without so much as a see-ya-later.
“Do you think she’s still mad at us for waking her up last night?” Helena asked.
“Well, every hour on the hour might have been a bit much,” Helen admitted. They had hoped that Ellie would have been pulled back into a dreamscape during the night. But every time the Helens thought she had finished a deep sleep cycle and woke her up, Ellie had nothing new to offer themaside from a few choice words about a lack of beauty sleep normally being their problem, not hers.
Helena was certain Ellie had flipped them the finger beneath her covers at least once during the night. She was prepared to forgive her under the circumstances.
“It’s odd that he didn’t reappear though,” she commented to Helen. “Willie, I mean. He’s usually a keener for a repeat performance.”
Although the man in the dream was just an anonymous antagonist to Ellie, her description of him had led the older LaRose women to the same conclusion about his identity. He was “Whistling” Willie, so named for his annoying habit of whistling to announce his unwelcomed arrival.
“Maybe Willie got it all wrong and he’s gone off to haunt some other family,” Helen shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time he was confused.”
“Confused, yes. Wrong, no.” Helena corrected her. “He’ll be back. He knows where the little girl is. You mark my words.”
“If you’re so sure, why are we here? I have other things to do. I should be taking the van back to Tony.”
“We all have other things to do. We’re here to keep up appearances. How would it look if we were the only family in town not looking for the little girl?”
“I suppose. But what does this all have to do with Ellie? Maybe our imaginations are running away with us and it is just what everyone else thinks it issomething humanly criminal?” Helen offered.
“Willie doesn’t do humanly criminal. He’s not human. Not anymore, anyway.” She paused for a moment, considering what she was about to say. “I don’t think Ellie has told us everything. If this were a child who simply ran away and met misfortune, Willie wouldn’t be this interested. There has to be something else going on.” She bit her lip as she thought this over. “Maybe I should call him.”
“You can’t just call Willie,” Helen reminded her. “He’s on the other side. What are you going to do? Use your long distance calling card?”
“Oh, he’ll come if I call him,” Helena threatened.
“Don’t you dare,” Helen hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “He is a bad, bad, man.”
“Willie himself is not the problem,” Helena protested. “You know that.”
“But he’s connected to the problem. He always is. We’ll solve this on our own. I do not want that man near my daughter ever again.”
“You may not have a choice. Helen, you have got to sit that girl down and tell her who Willie is.”
“He is a nightmare. That’s it. No further explanation necessary.”
Helena started to reply, but Helen cut her off abruptly. “The discussion is over. You just watch your friend Roy solve the big mystery. That ought to keep you entertained.”
Helena’s face turned red as she turned her eyes to Chief Cohen, who was in turn, looking at her.
In Roy’s eyes, Helena was a welcomed sight. He wouldn’t say that she was unflappable, because he knew that wasn’t true. But he knew she was good in a crisis. He needed a dozen more people like her to help out today. He was more concerned about the other inexperienced volunteers. Most of them were dressed for a day at the mall, not winter dumpster diving. When this was all over, he was going to have to form a proper search-and-rescue group in the community.
Ralph Wildman showing up this morning was a mixed blessing. He was a dairy farmer, and Roy knew he had spent hours on end in the barn with the calves, getting them through their first winter. Ralph wouldn’t get cold being outside all day, and he wouldn’t give up easily. That had to count for something, Roy hoped, because Ralph was normally a major pain in the ass.
Forming a group to Ralph’s left were the students from Troy Tech. Roy was somewhat surprised they were here, given the altercation he had with a few of them after the game last night. They weren’t too happy when he confiscated their beer and poured it down the sewer. He knew they probably didn’t give a shit about the lecture he had given them, but at least they gave a shit about something. They gave a shit about a lost little girl, and no one told them they had to. Teenagers were often underestimated in Roy’s opinion. “Just a couple more minutes,” Roy assured everyone. “I want to make sure we’ve got all the sections covered.” He disappeared inside the town hall to get a map.
“I don’t envy him,” Helen said to Helena as she tightened a fuchsia-hued scarf around her neck. It clashed with her coat, but it was the only one she could find while scrounging through Helena’s hall closet. “Having to tell a parent you can’t find their child,” she continued, “that would be a horrible thing to have to do.” She thought about all the times Ellie had threatened to run away when she was younger.
“It makes finding the odd body on a porch swing seem like a walk in the park, doesn’t it?” Helena said sarcastically. “I’m sure our bad days don’t even compare to theirs. I have to clean up snot all the time when I’m teaching someone how to
use a neti pot. They scrape brains off of windshields after a head on collision. Neither are pleasant, but really…”
“Okay. Don’t get so defensive. Or descriptive. I take back what I said about the police and the cereal box,” Helen said. “Neti pot?”
“Think nose bidet. And thank you. But it doesn’t get you off the hook. You still need to tell Ellie about Willie.”
“Who’s that plump, curly-haired woman who’s glaring at us?” Helen asked, in an attempt to distract her mother. “I’m not getting a love vibe from her.”
“You mean the one dressed in the neon pink tracksuit?”
“Yes. She’s got to be cold in that outfit. Not to mention embarrassed. Never wear neon after Labor Day. Or ever, really.”
“That’s Betty Lachey, Ryan and Stan’s mom and our illustrious neighbor. With any luck she’ll be hibernating soon and we won’t see her until spring.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“Nor is she,” Helena laughed. “She hates us.”
“Us? How can she hate me? She doesn’t even know me.”
“Hate by association,” Helena said, forcing a smile and giving her neighbor a wave. “There’s a small town attitude in Troy, I’m afraid. You’ll get used to it. I did.”
“Is there a Mr. Lachey?” Helen asked, nodding politely to the woman.
“That subject is strictly verboten if you happen to want to keep the peace. Betty got sick of him constantly hanging around the house and told him to get a hobby. Well he did. A five-foot-six Texan named Traci. She was a brassy woman with guns from the double D ranch, if you get my drift. He ran off with her two summers ago.”
“Well, that explains why she hates you.”
Helena looked at her daughter. “For the record, I never even looked at her husband.”
“Hate by association,” Helen answered. “Listen, don’t say anything to Ellie about Ryan’s father running off. The less those two have in common, the better.”
“She’s going to find out eventually. What’s the big deal? Oh...oh, Helen. Haven’t you told her yet? About her father? Really, Helen. When are you going to have that talk with her? When are you going to have that talk with me?”
“Well, not right now. Maybe in thirty years.”
“Helen, your denial of who you are and what it all means is going to put Ellie in danger. You have to get over it,” she said sternly.
Betty Lachey began to walk towards them, and Helen sighed with relief. She didn’t want to talk to Helenaor Ellie, about any of that. Not now. Not ever.
“Is Stan feeling any better?” Helena asked, genuinely concerned. “It’s not like him to miss one of Ryan’s games. I noticed he wasn’t there last night.”
“Stan was just getting over the death of poor Mr. Wagner,” Betty began, “and now there’s all this terrible business with little Brooke. I swear, I don’t know what to tell him anymore. This town is going crazy.” She paused for a moment and pulled an orange winter vest from the bag she was carrying. She noticed Helen wince as she zipped it over her jacket. “What? Like that scarf matches your coat, Miss Hoity-Toity?”
Perhaps her mother was right about Betty Lachey, Helen thought.
Helena smiled. “Well, she’s got you there. You should have taken the black one. No fuchsia after Labor Day. Fuchsia is another word for neon.”
Suddenly self-conscious, Helen began to tuck the scarf under her coat to hide it. “It was in your closet.”
“I’m not happy about what happened at your house the other night,” Betty continued. “But I at least I know Stan’s alive and safe at his piano lesson. That is a darn sight more than the Quinlan’s know about their child. So it makes you stop and think.”
“I’m not totally batty, Betty. I can assure you that if I knew Mr. Wagner was dead on the swing, I would have taken care of it.”
“Humph,” she said. “Like you took care of Mrs. Harbinger? Never mind Stan, I’m having a hard time getting over that one.”
“There’s that Mrs. Harbinger thing again,” Helen said, poking her mother. “Do tell.”
It was Helena’s turn to change the subject. “Betty, I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced. This is Helen, my daughter.”
“I know who she is,” Betty snorted, as she turned her back on them and headed towards the pastry table. “And I know who her daughter of darkness is too.”
“Bitch,” Helena said. “I think she needs a good tongue-lashing.”
“Mother,” Helen cautioned, “get that look out of your eyes, and harness all that negative energy. The Chief is coming back outside.”
Chief Cohen faced the crowd. Tell them just what they need to know, he reminded himself. “Okay everyone, let’s begin. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
“What’s going to happen at the school on Monday?” Ralph asked. “Are we going to have to worry about some nutcase roaming the halls, trying to snatch another kid?”
Roy could sense the mood of the crowd changing. Most of the parents probably hadn’t thought that far ahead until Ralph mentioned it.
“I understand your concerns, Ralph, but let’s just try to focus on right now,” the Chief replied. “We’ll have security in place Monday morning if we need to.”
“Shouldn’t you set up some roadblocks or something?” Ralph insisted.
“There isn’t really much point doing that now, Ralph,” Roy said calmly.
That one got Betty Lachey going. “He would have had all night to get away. You should have set up one of those spike lines across the highway yesterday.”
“Ralph, Betty...” Chief Cohen began, “I appreciate your insights, as always. But you’re all just a step or two ahead of your favorite cop show. Things don’t work that way on Troy time. The only person we’re looking for right this moment, is Brooke Quinlan. That’s it. That’s our job today.”
“Why don’t you use some dogs?” Ralph Wildman asked.
Roy wanted to stuff a sock in Ralph’s mouth. “I need everyone to look with all of your senses. For example, use your eyes. If you were around Brooke’s neighborhood yesterday you’d know that we did bring a canine unit in from the city. The dogs were using their eyes and their nose. Unfortunately they were unable to track a scent beyond the end of the street.” He lied. The truth was that the dog had refused to follow the scent past Helena’s corner. The German shepherd had dug its claws into the pavement and no command given to him would make him go further. The town didn’t need to know that part.
“Use your ears. She hasn’t had any food or water and she might be hurt, so any sound she makes may be slight. Pay attention. If you have a blanket in your car, it would be a good idea to get it and take it along. She may be hypothermic, or in shock,” Roy added, noting that their faces had grown grim.
The town also didn’t need to know that the dog heard somethingsomething in a pitch so high, no human could hear it. Roy had seen the dog get down on its belly, cover his ears with his paws and howl in agony. In all the years Roy had been around dogs, both fully trained working dogs and those of the house pet variety, he had never seen a dog do that.
“You should have called me to bring my dogs,” Ralph insisted. “They can track a rabbit in wet grass. They’d have Brooke home by now.”
“Those dogs are so old they can’t even smell each other’s butts,” Ryan said aloud, looking at Ralph Wildman with contempt.
“Okay, okay, settle down,” Roy commanded. He knew had to get everyone grouped and on the road before they got more restless. “Does anyone have any other information on the whereabouts of Brooke Quinlan? I didn’t get a chance to talk to everyone in town over the last twenty-four hours, so if you have anything to tell me, this would be a good time to do it.”
“I saw her,” Ryan offered. “She ran by Stan and Kev just before they went up to Mrs. LaRose’s house. It was about seven o’clock.”
Tom looked at him. “Are you sure? I didn’t see her.”
“Well, I notice girls mo
re than you do,” he laughed good-naturedly, giving Tom a body nudge. He winced. “Crap. I really wrecked my shoulder last night. It’s still not sitting right in the rotator.”
“You notice girls when they're six?” Ralph Wildman asked, sneering at Ryan. “What's wrong with you, Lachey?” He raised his voice so others could hear what he was saying. “Maybe we should be checking your house first, since you seem notice little girls more than the rest of us.”
“Fuck you, Wildman. That’s not what I said.”
“You got a girlfriend, Lachey? One that’s your age?”
“I don’t need a girlfriend, Wildman. I do your daughter.”
Tara Wildman, who had been staying behind her father, moved even further away. “Stay away from my daughter, Lachey,” he said loudly. “You’re a pervert.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Fuckwad.” He turned to Tom. “I have no time for that asshole.”
“Maybe you should just cool it, Ryan,” Tom said. “People are looking at you like you’re psychotic.”
“People always look at like I’m psychotic.”
“Yeah, well you calling him that ... it just makes him more psycho. It’s like you two are in some demented ping-pong game. You know he wants to smash the ball down your throat, so you call him a name, just so he’ll lose his edge for a second.”
“Exactly. My serve,” Ryan smirked.
“Why don’t you give it a rest? Just walk away from him.”
“Maybe I keep him amused. Maybe he’s so fucking bored with his own sorry life that I keep him from shooting himself in the head,” Ryan said, unnecessarily loudly.
“You’re a hopped up loser, Lachey,” Wildman sneered. “They ought to test you for hyper-steroids before they sign you to any college team.”
Mrs. Lachey walked towards Ralph. “You say anything else about my boy, and I’ll have you up for slander.” She turned to her son. “Shut the hell up, Ryan.”
“Ryan, shut up,” Roy Cohen agreed, then added, “Ralph, shut-up. Betty, shut-up. We don’t need any accusations flying around. This isn’t a vigilante force. It’s a search party. We need facts. Think, Ryan. Did you see which way she went?”
“I don’t know. Tom and I were watching Stan n' Kev, so I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to her.”
“That’s what you say now,” Ralph said.
Chief Cohen looked directly at him. “Not that it is any concern of yours, but I can confirm that Ryan, and Tom here, had an alibi that night. I was with them at Helena’s until well after eleven. So don’t go there, Ralph. We’ve got to all work together. I need everyone to get into groups. I’ll give each of you a photocopy of this map of the town. Each one has a different highlighted area. That’s your territory. I need you to go there and look around. Look in the alleys. Look in the trash bins. Knock on every door. Make sure everyone in Troy sees the picture of Brooke. Come back here as soon as you've cleared your area. Groups of two, no more than three, please. I don’t want anyone going alone, but we don’t want to spread ourselves too thin. There’s a lot of ground to cover.”
Ryan stepped forward and took a map from Roy Cohen and motioned for Ellie to come over. “Tom and I’ll take Goth-Chic over there as our number three. You're on your own, Wildman.”
Standing alone in a crowd, Tara Wildman looked at Ryan with fire burning beneath her eyes. He may as well have been talking about her, not her father, with that last remark. How dare Ryan take the new girl along with Tom, when he knew damn well she was here, wanting to spend the day with him. Things were not going as she had planned ever since this new Goth-Slut had moved into Troy. Ryan and this new girl were getting far to cozy for her liking.
Ralph Wildman moved within inches of Ryan’s face. “You're trouble, Lachey. You've got an un-natural preoccupation with any girl that isn't your own age. I don’t know how you did it, but I’d put money on the line saying you did it.”
“Yeah. And you've got an unnatural preoccupation with jerkin' your right hand. It is what it is, Wildman. Did you hear what the Chief said? I have an alibi.”
“Where were you before and after, boy? That’s what I want to know.” He turned to Ellie and pointed his tobacco stained finger at her. “I’d think twice before I went anywhere with him, missy. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. That boy ain’t right.”