Nocturnal Meetings of the Misplaced Page 5

  She leaned forward. “I found this letter. My mom must have taken it while she was kidnapped.” Silence dug into her jeans pocket. She presented me with a simple piece of folded notebook paper. “I’ve only shown this to Finn and Annie. They didn’t know what to do. I thought you seemed really smart.”

  I moaned a little in disagreement, chewing the corner of my thumbnail, admitting, “I’m a straight-C student.”

  She pushed the letter at me.

  The handwriting was shaky. The paper had yellowed and aged with time. It read:

  If you find this paper, my name is Laney Serel. A man has kidnapped me and has taken my baby. He kept me in a basement and has moved me to a log cabin in the woods. I think he’s going to kill me. If he does, I at least want someone to help my daughter and

  The letter was torn and stopped in midsentence. “Maybe you should go to the police with the letter.” I threw out the idea, and feeling stumped, I handed the letter back to her.

  “That dick next door is the sheriff!” She folded the letter and clasped it in her small fist. “Anyway, I tried calling the police, but they blew me off.”

  Our eyes locked for a moment. She dropped her hands in her lap in a defeated gesture. Then her eyes brimmed with tears.

  I wanted to say something to make her feel better. I especially didn’t want her to cry. “Next time we all meet, we should discuss this. Brainstorm.”

  One tear fell. She quickly wiped it. Only resignation showed on her face, but something else rose to the surface. Her face brightened. “Like the Scoobies?” She wore a crooked grin, revealing only one of her dimples.

  “Come on, kids!” Reese called from up the stairs.

  “Yeah, like the Scoobies.” It kind of wrapped this horrible story with some glimmer of hope. It may have been false hope, but it was better than nothing. “I’ll try to see if this Laney Serel’s a missing person,” I told her.

  I went along for the car ride. Reese made small talk with Silence, who suddenly seemed shy.

  In a few minutes, we felt the soft give of dirt on the unpaved drive as Reese parked. Silence got out of the car and slipped inside a beat-up farmhouse. It almost looked abandoned. “Poor kid,” Reese commented.

  I was left feeling that I had to do something.

  Chapter 7

  Hate

  Finn

  Present

  I was at the station, in a small room with a metal table and a couple chairs. The deputy’s gaze stayed on me. He was red-eyed and caffeinated. It was as if he thought his unwavering stare would launch me into some full confession. It just confused me.

  He leaned in closer. “A guy like Tommy Walker moves here from the city, and he’s a little more streetwise than you. It’s normal you want to impress him.” His words poured over my face, reeking of coffee and cigarettes. “Is that how it was?”

  “Not really.”

  “From what I hear, you got knocked around at home and didn’t have too many friends. Is that why you’re lying for him?”

  “I ain’t lying.”

  “I noticed Tommy seems awfully cozy with the blond girl. Doesn’t it bother you that you didn’t get the girl?

  He had my head pounding with all the things I wanted to forget.

  Eight months earlier

  My mom pulled the twins away in a shimmering wave of dizziness as my stepdad slammed me against the wall. Pain shot from the back of my skull and left a dent in the drywall.

  “You piece of worthless shit!” He pulled his belt free from his jeans, balling up a part of it in his clenched fist. His whiskey breath poured out in waves onto my face.

  I heard the babies crying and my mom called out, “Don’t go crazy, Polar Bear!”

  What did I do this time? I wasn’t sure. I touched my aching head and felt warm blood. I had enough. “You cracked my head, asshole!” I exploded.

  “Just go somewhere I’m not.” He threatened, “And if I find out you’re in my garage again, I’ll kill you!”

  I barreled out of the house. The screen door rattled closed behind me. My body shuddered with anger as I saw my dirt bike at the end of the yard next to the trash. That’s what set him off. Tommy and I had worked on my bike in Polar Bear’s sacred garage. I yelled, “Psycho!” in the direction of the front door.

  I pushed the heavy bike by its handlebars to Reese and Holden’s house. I didn’t want Reese to make a big deal about things, so I went to Tommy’s basement window, instead. A little light glinted through the window. I came closer and put my face to the glass. I saw him with Silence, their arms wrapped around one another. They were laughing, smiling. I knew there would come a time when she would get a boyfriend, but now, and him? I walked fast toward the woods. I could taste the bitterness and started spitting. I kept walking as if I had to get to someplace. Stupid, Tommy with his pretty boy good looks. Then I gave him all the hate I had for my stepdad. I gave him all the hate I had for Mudget, and still, I hated him more.

  Cutting through those woods, a chill went through me. Warm blood trickled down my neck. My sneakers had gotten wet in the snow and I wasn’t even wearing a jacket. My toes started to hurt. I cut off to the side of the road. I walked and froze and hated Tommy. The hate was the only thing warming me up at all. My brain played two separate movies. One was of my stepdad’s enraged red face as he banged my head against the wall. The other theatre played a picture of Tommy touching and kissing Silence. Out of nowhere, headlights nearly blinded me.

  Reese popped out of the car. “Get in.”

  I was shaky and blinking in the bright lights. Hesitantly, I slid in the backseat. The car was nice and warm, but I was still shivering.

  Tommy turned around to look at me, “Where were you going?” He peeled off his hoodie and threw it to me.

  “Nowhere.” Swallowing my anger, I put the jacket on. I checked the back of my head, not wanting to bleed in Reese’s car. She was one of the nicest people I knew but was a neat freak. I touched a large clump of dried blood matted in my hair.

  “Was it your stepdad again?” Reese asked. “I can call someone.”

  “No one hates social service more than me, but maybe you should report him, Finn.” Tommy chimed in.

  “No. It wasn’t him.” I felt weird inside but tried to sound cool. “I went for a walk, that’s all.”

  I didn’t talk again either until Tommy and I went downstairs. By this time, my anger shrank into a small, weak monster. “Why were you with Silence?” I asked in an embarrassingly whiney voice. I hadn’t planned on asking him, but I couldn’t keep it in. “She’s just a kid. You think you can have every girl, is that it?”

  “God, no. I’m sorry. Silence likes you. But you think she’s a kid and she is a kid, but so are we.”

  My agony rolled over into confusion and then into astonishment. She liked me, but she was crazy beautiful.

  “You should kiss her already.” Tommy sat down on the couch.

  “How do you know I haven’t?” What was wrong with me? I didn’t even hit him. I talked things out. That wasn’t how I was raised. Still, I had to make sure. “Did you kiss her?”

  He shook his head as he said, “No.” His voice remained flat. If someone was lying, they usually tended to oversell it. At least, I was that way. He even yawned. “Come on, Finn.” He wore an easy smile and rolled his eyes at me.

  I flopped down next to him.

  “You really like her,” Tommy said.

  I shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. I had trouble admitting it. “Something like that.”

  Chapter 8

  Laney Serel

  Tommy

  Finn had fallen asleep on the couch early. I brought an extra blanket from my room and covered him up.

  I wondered why his stepfather always started on Finn so late at night. Did he beat him only when he was drunk? Did he want him out of that house for darker reasons? With Finn out of the house, there was a lot of easy prey. This, and my conversation with Silence about the kidnappings had me
too wired to sleep.

  My head was cooking up crazy ideas and half-baked theories. Maybe the sheriff had something to do with the kidnapping? If I could prove this, he would go to jail. It would be justice for Silence and her mom, and peace for Finn and his family. I decided I would start my amateur investigation by finding out anything I could about Laney Serel.

  I quietly snuck up the stairs. I paused and heard Reese ask, “Why do you always have to drink yourself into oblivion?” before leaving the room.

  A buzzed Holden sat at the kitchen table with several empty beer bottles in front of him. He was rosy-cheeked from drinking. I went and sat by him. It surprised me when he reached out and patted my shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Tommy.” He leaned back in the chair. “I’m glad I’m getting the chance to know you and Isabella. I wished it would have happened, you know, differently.” He seemed to tear up and sniffed. “I’ve seen that girl around before—is that your girlfriend or Finn’s?” he asked, changing the conversation.

  “Yeah, she’s sort of Finn’s girl,” I quickly said. “Hey, do you mind if I get on the computer?”

  Holden seemed to think it over. “It’s a little late. Can it wait?”

  “Well, I don’t have school tomorrow and I wanted to get my homework out of the way.”

  “Okay. I don’t want to get in the way of you becoming a scholar.” He sounded sarcastic and sleepy. “Night.” He bought that I was doing homework on a Friday night. He didn’t know me at all.

  A desk anchored the living room. It was neat and organized with shelves and cubbyholes. Books and letters filled different nooks. Lining the top shelf of the desk were a couple of framed wedding photos of Holden and Reese along with a framed picture of a ginger tabby named Snickers that had since passed on. The tidiness was all Reese, I thought and began my hunt.

  I searched for Laney Serel everywhere. On free sites and paid ones. I’d bought a visa gift card with the money my grandfather had given me. I searched newspaper articles regarding missing persons or victims of crimes. I found several Laney Serels in public records under birth announcements and even obituaries. None of them seemed to be the Laney that was in trouble in that letter. Everything I tried only led to dead ends.

  Then I typed in “Newspaper headlines about crimes in Summertime, Indiana.” That got me somewhere. I read a headline, “Missing woman’s remains found in Summertime.” I hit print. The outdated printer was slow and obnoxiously loud, making me feel impatient. I clutched my shirt, balling up part of the material in my fist as the printer droned on. Within a minute, something from the corner of my eye made me tense up.

  I looked. It was Holden. I rubbed my eyes, trying to return to reality. He towered above me, although his arms were corded with muscles, his stomach almost hung over his boxer shorts. “Some of us go to work in the morning. I got a side job for Saturday.” He laid brick and always came home dirty. “Can you keep it down?” he asked as the printer came to a halt.

  “Sure. I’m done,” I faked a smile his way, rubbing my head with both my hands.

  His eyes narrowed at me in response. “Good night,” he groaned dragging himself back to his bedroom right down the hall.

  I grabbed the papers, folded them and put them in my backpack for safekeeping. The house was silent and still. I went into the darkened bathroom and flicked the switch. The under-counter fluorescent lights hummed. I guzzled some generic night-time cold medicine, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight without it. I padded across the hall, grabbing a pillow from the sofa, I made my way to Isabella’s room. I needed to know she was safe and sound. Through the soft glow of her nightlight, I saw her slightly opened lips form the tiniest “O.”

  Sprawling out on the floor, I guarded Izzy. My eyelids dropped an eighth of an inch. The quiet felt like fingers plugged into my eardrums. I had no face to imagine and nothing to go on. Still, I fell to sleep thinking of Laney Serel.

  A memory of an unsettling story my mom used to read to me ambushed my dreams. It played like a silent picture in my head. Although the faces of the woman and little girl were blurred, my mom’s voice narrated the tale.

  “The stars’ hard, distant points shined as the only witness. Trees and darkness seemed to go on forever. The woman’s muscles ached. She had endured hours on the highway in a trunk with her two-year-old daughter. It had been like being in the womb with her child. Yet the stale air and heat had sucked every drop of moisture and energy from her cells.

  Now she had been given this small chance. Exhausted, or not, she ran. Her heavy feet stumbled over rocks that shot up like furious teeth. The lady kept running, tripping through foliage and brush, scratched up by merciless branches. Sloshing through sloppy pathways, her boots dragged earth and twigs along the way, but she never fell. She couldn’t. She was holding her daughter to her chest, shielding her from everything.

  All her nerves tingled as her entire system went into overdrive. The too-familiar trees began to spin, and her knees gave out. Finally, out of sheer fatigue, she stopped and stumbled backward on the uneven ground. Her breath came out loud and fast, diminishing into a whimper. She dug her boots in the mud, rooting herself in the spot. With tired arms, she carefully set her daughter down and attempted to balance herself.

  “Mama,” a little, frantic voice squeaked.

  The lady’s eyes focused on that small face beaming up at her. Her shaky fingers caressed her daughter’s curls, crisp with tears and sweat. The buzz of nerves and breeze hummed through her body. Her mind blazed with one thought. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe,” she promised.

  Crunching footsteps descended and her daughter looked up as her palm flew to her mouth. He was back.

  My mom sat cross-legged on the floor, close, but not so close that we were touching.

  “Well, Tommy, you’re only eight so you might not get it,” she said and closed the notebook; a broken pencil marked her page.

  We were at a studio apartment next to the L Station. The apartment vibrated and rumbled as a train went by. I bristled at the ear-piercing sound.

  “You’ll get use to the trains. This is a great apartment,” she said, running her fingers over the synthetic fibers. “You don’t even need furniture when the floors are carpeted. And this is new carpet, too. It’s like a luxury. It’s a bed and a couch.”

  I was still thinking about the story. “So, what happens to the lady?”

  The question brought a strange gleam my mom’s eye. She was really thinking it over. “I don’t know, yet.”

  “Could you read me a real story?” I asked.

  “No. I just have this one.” She took out her funny cigarette, the ones that calmed her, and started smoking. “We’ll go to the library soon.”

  “In your story, you could make the lady and girl get abducted by aliens,” I said. “Or find another world in the tree.”

  Her face broke into a smile, eyes tipping before the corners of her mouth began their slow climb. People would always tell me that I had her smile. “Hmm. Those are good ideas. You’re smart,” she said.

  My mother’s image slowly faded out.

  I woke up, still sprawled out on Izzy’s floor. And I remembered now, my mom never finished the story. She would rewrite that page and reread it to me every year or so. It was the same old worn-out opening. It didn’t mean anything. Only now the dream left me feeling more than a little messed up inside.

  Chapter 9

  Scream

  Tommy

  I had carried a feeling of heaviness around with me all Saturday, thinking about my dream and what I found out on the internet. When midnight came, I was more than happy to make my escape.

  The day had hit sixty. Now I slopped through the soupy snow, this time prepared, in snow boots that no longer fit Finn’s huge feet. I was already freezing when icy water ran down the back of my neck. I pushed the water away, feeling chilled. Bringing my flashlight up to the trees, I saw the melting snow dripping from the branches.

  A wind started up ou
t of nowhere. A slight spasm of unease moved in my gut. There were so many tall trees. I felt like I entered the woods from my mother’s story. Fear helped me keep up with Finn’s brutal pace.

  “Are you going to tell Silence you like her?” I asked.

  He had gotten a foot ahead of me, but halfway turned around when he answered. “When school’s out, she’ll turn thirteen. I think that’s better.” Finn blinked a couple of extra times.

  “So, that’s what you’ve been waiting for. It makes sense.” I looked at him, and he shrugged in passive agreement.

  “I don’t know what I would say.”

  “You should know. Dude, you’ve been dating since kindergarten,” I joked.

  “Something like that.”

  He might have been as bad at this stuff as me. I had more on my mind than their little romance. The darkness seemed more threatening now that I knew about some of the horrors that happened in these woods. Finn passed me, saying, “I gotta piss, bro.” He stepped off the path, into some weeds.

  “You always have to wiz.” I stopped walking and pointed my cell phone’s tiny light on two trees which merged together. Their gnarled and craggy barked branches intertwined in a macabre and twisted embrace. On closer inspection, it almost looked as though the larger tree kept the smaller one captive for centuries. How had I not noticed it before? I twirled my cell phone light around, realizing it wasn’t just these two trees. Everything looked different tonight, almost dreamlike.

  Finn returned to the trail, zipping his pants up. This time he led us around a sharp curve. A fog blew from the ground, adding to my paranoia. The wind continued to drift through the branches. It was an airy, unearthly sound. It fluctuated between whistles and moans.