Seven Wakings Read online

  “I want to help,” Kate says. “If mom was murdered, I want to know why.”

  “Count me in.” Mac get up and goes to the fridge. “It’s about time I put my cop blood to work.” He pulls out a carton of soymilk and reaches into the cabinet for peanut butter and jelly.

  Lynette looks at me with “say something” eyes.

  “I’m glad you guys want to be involved, but let’s just take this one step at a time.” I get up and look out the window. The missionaries are nowhere in sight. Turning back, I say, “I need to see the files on the kids again, and I think Archer’s naïve enough to show them to you.”

  “Me?” Lynette walks into the kitchen. “Why me?” She puts a plate and napkin on the counter for Mac.

  “Because I told him about you. Said you could do psychological profiles of the families whose children didn’t seem to be ‘typical’ runaways.”

  “I could certainly do that, but it’s not like he’ll let you be in the room when I do.”

  Mac brings his plate and glass to the table. “What if he came here first? I could wire this place like a mall. You’d be able to see everything.” He takes a bite of his sandwich.

  “That’s a great idea. Can you zoom in on files? Maybe take pictures?”

  He swallows. “He’ll have to sit in a certain spot. But yeah… I can figure something out.”

  Lynette calls Archer and suggests they get together about the missing kids. “My heart is aching over the loss of Emma. I’d like to help…as a memorial, of sorts.”

  He agrees. “Nothing official, just a friendly chat.” They set a meeting at Lynette’s house after his shift.

  Meanwhile, the kids come up with a way to watch the exchange between Lynette and Archer: After running to our old house, with Rico at their heels, Mac enters Lynette’s kitchen and connects something to Lou’s computer. Kate has a Bluetooth earpiece and a cell phone.

  “If you point her computer this way, and Lynette and Archer sit in these two chairs,” Mac adjusts the angle of the computer, and puts a video cam on the top. “we’ll be able to see them from our home computer. We’ll just have to Skype her, then minimize their screen.”

  I look at him like he’s speaking Latin.

  “At home, we’ll turn on our Apple— it has a built-in camera— connect to Skype, and mute our side of the conversation.” Mac looks to see if I understand.

  I don’t.

  Kate picks up on my confusion. “Basically, it’ll be like a one-way mirror, we can see and hear them, but they won’t be able to see us.”

  Now she’s speaking my language.

  Kate continues: “With the Bluetooth on, only Lynette will be able to hear you. You can tell her to ask specific questions, or respond in a certain way.”

  Mac adjusts the settings on his phone to record our conversation so we can replay it.

  Kate gives Mac the Bluetooth and her cell phone. “Do you know how to pair these?”

  He presses a small button on the side and a blue light flashes on. “You just have to select ‘add a new device’ from the connectivity settings. Did you ever set a passcode?”

  I wonder when kids became so technologically savvy? I feel like a caveman.

  Kate shakes her head.

  “Then it’s probably the default: 0000.” Within seconds Mac has them synced, and gives them back to Kate.

  She helps Lynette with the earpiece. “It’ll feel weird at first, because it sits on— instead of inside— your ear. But try not to mess with it; you’ll muffle the sound. Besides, Archer will think you have some kind of weird tic if you keep touching the side of your head.”

  Mac looks up at them. “You should put down your hair, Lynette. If the blue light is still noticeable, I can put some electrical tape over it.”

  Lynette unravels a loose bun and shakes out her hair. Her mane is so wild that you’d have a hard time seeing a fog light through it. Mac gives her two thumbs up. “You should leave it on, so that you get used to it before he gets here.”

  “When’s Archer coming?” I ask Lynette.

  “Seven o’clock,” she says.

  “Just enough time for that Mexican dinner I promised you guys.” They look at each other; seem to be comparing notes.

  Realizing I’m broke, I defer to Lynette.

  “Dinner’s on me,” she says.

  There’s a first time for everything.

  “Are you going to tell Lou about me?” I ask, knowing that Lynette tells him everything.

  “Definitely not,” she says. “He was just beginning to believe you were psychic. Reincarnation would take another seventeen years of convincing.”

  In Lynette’s old Buick LeSabre, we buckle in. I look at my kids as if seeing them for the first time. “You guys are so amazing,” I say, and reach back to squeeze their hands.

  “No touchy, feely stuff, Mister,” Kate says.

  I draw back; realize that I threaten her. By simply being male, I pose a new level of risk.

  After La Cucaracha, Lynette goes to her house; the kids and I go to ours. Huddled around the computer, we hear a knock on Lynette’s door.

  “Tell Lynette to put the phone down somewhere close, but face down. Otherwise Archer will see that it’s active.” Mac says.

  I can see him becoming an FBI agent. But I’ll never know.

  Mac adjusts some settings on the computer. “Here’s your phone.”

  After dialing, Lynette answers and does as told. The doorbell rings. She looks through the peephole, must see that it’s Archer.

  “Come in,” she says, and ushers him into her living room. Most of her furniture is beige and purchased from garage sales. I once asked Lynette what she was saving all her money for: a trip abroad, a bigger house, plastic surgery? She tightened her mouth and said, “A rainy day. Subject closed.”

  “Have a seat.” She gestures to the wrong chair.

  “Not that one!” I bark. The kids look at me. “I mean… we won’t be able to see him there. You have to be in the chairs by the coffee table.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lynette says to Archer, as if she’s Martha Stewart, “men usually sit over here… tradition.”

  Kate sees Archer for the first time. “What a hotty.”

  “I know,” I touch her hand, “…and he’s nice too. I give you complete permission to make babies with him… when you’re older.”

  “By older… do you mean tomorrow?”

  The thought of her being sexually active throws me. “I was thinking something more along the lines of immaculate conception… when you’re twenty-five.”

  Mac puts up his hand. “As much as it kills me to interrupt the sex talk you’re having, I think we should pay attention.”

  Suddenly I crave alcohol. I don’t just want a drink; I need one. “Do we have any liquor?”

  The kids stare at me.

  “I need alcohol.” My cells feel like they might implode. “Now.”

  Kate shrugs. “I guess there’s still stuff at grandpa’s house.”

  “Get it. I feel like I’ll stop breathing without it.”

  Kate goes out the back. Rico doesn’t know whether to follow her or stay to protect Mac. He chooses to run after Kate, a sign that he trusts me.

  Mac stays focused on the computer. He’s figured out a way to have their interaction transcribed. Words race across the bottom of the screen, mostly small talk.

  Kate returns with all the leftover bottles from Dad’s wake. Reading the labels: “We have Schnapps, Jose Cuervo, Jagermeister, and Smirnoff.”

  Smirnoff calls to me. I grab the bottle, twist off the lid, and gulp like I’m pouring water on flames.

  “Hey,” Kate says to me, grabbing the bottle, “that’s enough!”

  It’s more than enough. Now I feel a different kind of sick.

  “Excuse me Mr. Boozer. They’re talking about the runaways.” Mac says and redirects me to the screen. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”

  “Emma was working on a runaway problem?” Lynett
e crosses her legs at the ankle.

  “Actually, she wondered if it might be something else.”

  “What do you mean ‘something else’?”

  “She thought that some of the kids might have been abducted.”

  “Oh?” She feigns surprise. “Do you know why she suspected that?”

  “Some of the kids didn’t fit the profile of a typical runaway.”

  “How so?”

  “They seemed younger. Less ‘damaged’.”

  I whisper into the phone. “Ask Archer if you can see his files. So I can tell him where to focus.”

  Lynette glances at Archer’s briefcase. “I’m wondering… if you would feel comfortable enough… if you can tell me about the missing kids.”

  Archer shifts in his seat. “I don’t think I can do that.”

  “It’s just that I knew Emma so well. We grew up together. I’m sure I’ll be able see what she was thinking. I always could.”

  He thinks for a moment. “This is off the record, right?”

  “Just you and me.”

  “If you have some insight into the pictures, I’m willing to listen. But, their files are strictly off limits.” Archer pulls out the files, with the photos clipped on the outside, from his briefcase and places them on the table. “This is the order Emma had them in before…” His voice drifts off.

  Mac aims the camera down to the coffee table, then gets up for something.

  I whisper to Lynette, “The ones that have the thicker files have been in the system for a long time. You can put those to the side for now.”

  “Knowing Emma, she would have put the kids who have a history with Child Protective Services toward the bottom. Not because they’re less important, just not related to what she was looking for at the time.”

  Archer flips through the files and removes all but about a dozen, then lays the remaining ones out on the coffee table.

  I reach for the Vodka, while instructing Lynette. “Now put away any that have been arrested, or have a history of drug abuse.”

  Kate grabs the bottle from me. “Knock it off!”

  Lynette addresses Archer. “Do any of the remaining kids have a police record or a problem with drugs?”

  Archer looks through and removes four more files.

  With the exception of three files, there are clear similarities in the pictures that are left on the table.

  They’re all young girls.

  Too young to choose the street over family… no matter how dysfunctional.

  Lynette seems to get it. “If you remove these three older boys…”

  Archer finishes her sentence, … “They’re all young girls.”

  Lynette gets more specific: “Pre-pubescent girls. Archer… you’re dealing with a pedophile. A prolific one.”

  Archer flips through the remaining five files. “Each of these girls was reported missing within the last two weeks.”

  “Have you spoken with any of their families?”

  “They aren’t my cases.” He looks to Lynette. “Why would I be given the oldest files?”

  “They probably just wanted someone with a little more experience to handle the new cases.” She pats his forearm. “I wouldn’t take it personally.”

  Mac returns and makes a guttural sound. “That’s Anna Tyler.” He points at her picture.

  I was so ‘in business mode’ that I forgot that he might know her. “Oh, Honey. I’m so sorry. I should have warned you.”

  She looks angelic: long blond wavy hair, ethnic blue eyes, and berry stained full lips. “She’s the girl Mom asked me about.” Kate’s voice trails off.

  Mac mutters, “She’s in my Social Studies class. I thought she was just on vacation.”

  I rub his back. “We’ll find her, Mac. I’m sure of it.”

  Kate says, “I can see why you like her. She’s really pretty.”

  He never told me about her. I wonder how much more I don’t know about my kids’ lives. And will never know.

  Mac zooms in on the photos holds down a key and presses a button on the top of the computer. “Screen shots for later.”

  Kate writes down the names of the missing girls.

  Lynette’s expression changes; it looks like she going to drop the bomb. “There’s something else that may shock you.”

  “More than finding out that five girls are in the hands of a pedophile?”

  She nods. “I think someone in the police department is involved in these cases. Someone that was in the meeting room on the day Emma was killed.”

  “What? Who?”

  “That I don’t know. But, I believe someone knew Emma was onto something during her last meeting at the station. My advice? Focus on these five girls, but don’t tell anyone what you’re doing. Or send me in to meet with the parents. I wouldn’t even have to run assessments. I could just see their homes and ask them a few questions.”

  Archer’s mind seems to be spinning. “I…I need to sleep on this. Figure out what to do.”

  Lynette puts her hand on his back. “I understand. Will you call me in the morning and let me know what you decide?”

  He nods and stands. Lynette shows him to the door.

  Kate says, “You can ‘creep’ on the girls’ Facebook pages to see what they’re about.”

  “Good idea.” Mac goes to his Facebook page. He’s tagged in several photos with Anna. She’s smiling in every photo, whether alone or with family and friends. This was not an unhappy child who would run away from home.

  “You can also MapQuest their houses in satellite image.” Mac types in Anna’s address and zooms in on her house. The image is so clear you can see the shingles on her roof.

  Once he puts in all of the addresses, a clear pattern emerges.

  I trace a “C” on the computer. “If one more girl get taken, it’ll close the circle.”

  “So you think another girl will be taken from about here?” Kate points at Woodcrest.

  “Unless the kidnapper’s name begins with a “C,” that would be my guess.”

  Lynette comes in the back door. “Archer is literally the best looking person I’ve ever seen.” She glances around. “What’s with all the liquor?”

  “He’s a booze hound,” Mac says.

  I look at the Vodka; want to down some more. “Seriously, it’s a cellular thing. I felt like I would catch fire if I didn’t have a drink.”

  “It’s not just the mind that gets addicted.” Lynette moves the bottle out of my reach, and looks at Mac. “Is something wrong?”

  Kate responds. “Mac knows one of the girls.”

  Lynette gasps. “My God… I’m so sorry.”

  Something shifts in Mac’s eyes. The shock is gone. He has his father’s look of resolve. I wonder what’s cooking in that beautiful mind of his, but I know he won’t tell me. Not yet.

  Mac zooms in for close inspection of each house. They’re all middle class neighborhoods on the outskirts of Baltimore. On Facebook, all of the kids have a good network of friends and seem squeaky clean. Narcissism— as with most teens— is their worst fault.

  After working all evening, the kids ask to go to Lynette’s house. A little part of my heart breaks knowing Lynette is replacing me. I can’t resent her— my kids are lucky to have someone that loves them so much, and they love her back— but I do. I put my jealousy on the back burner and ask if I can read them to sleep, like I did when they were young. I promise to leave when I’m done.

  “What do you want to read?” Mac asks. He’s testing me.

  “I thought I’d read To Kill a Mocking Bird.” It’s their favorite book.

  He smiles. “That’s the right answer.”

  Rico curls between their beds. I read by lamplight, until I hear Mac’s soft purr.

  In the silence Kate turns to me. “Grandpa said you should brace yourself.”

  I put down the book. “What do you mean?” I’m ready for anything.

  “You won’t be DeWayne tomorrow.”

  I wasn’t re
ady for that.

  “Who will I be?” I sit on the end of her bed.

  “He didn’t say. But he said you only had six more ‘wakings,’ not days.”

  We look to each other. It seems like a shorter timeline has been set for when I’ll be gone forever. A tidal wave of fear meets a firestorm of anger. I can’t let Kate see what I’m feeling, because I know she’s feeling it too… and more.

  “Well then,” I say as if I’ll tidy the room, “we’d better be sure to make the best use of our time together.” I smile a toothless grin.

  Kate smiles back. “Yeah… I guess so.” She looks at me. “It sure hasn’t been dull.”

  “Remember… I promised you magic everyday.”

  “Lately it’s been the ‘jumping through flames’ kind of magic.”

  I laugh and move back to the chair, then read until sleep overtakes her.

  Back in the living room, Lynette is making up the couch.

  “I think you should take me to Lou’s Place,” I say.

  She turns to me. “Why?”

  “Apparently, I won’t be DeWayne tomorrow. Maybe it’ll give him a fighting chance if he wakes up there.” I grab one of Lou’s jackets.

  “Who will you be?” Lynette drapes herself in a wool wrap.

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  At Lou’s Place, I lay down on one of many cots and look around at the dimly lit space. All of these broken spirits have put down their defenses and given into dreams. There’s something beautiful, almost childlike, about trusting that they’ll be taken care of until dawn. This place might be the best home most of them have ever had.

  Lou hands me a bottle of water. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  “Back?” I turn over on the cot to face him. “I’ve been here before?”

  He smiles a crooked smile, sits on the edge of my cot. “You must be having a bad day.”