“What?”
“Someone better be dead?”
“Well…no, I guess not. It’s just something you say. Who are you?”
He reached out his hand, then stopped himself, since no one shook hands these days with the virus and all that. He was wearing a mask, but it was dangling underneath his chin, as most people did now, since everyone was getting tired of being careful.
“Brad Shearer, FBI.”
Even his name sounded annoying, but that was nothing compared to the smirk he had at one a.m. Everything about this guy rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was just the fact that he was ringing my doorbell at this hour.
“Okay, Brad Shearer, FBI, what on God’s green Earth are you doing here? You do know people around here are asleep, right?”
“Yes, and I am sorry for disturbing you, but I need your help. Can I come in?”
I shook my head. “No, you can’t come in at one a.m. My kids are asleep. Or at least some of them are. What do you want?”
“I need your help,” he said. “I assume you’ve heard about the Marshall kidnapping case?”
I narrowed my eyes and had a major Deja-vu. “The Marshall kidnapping. Of course, I heard about it. I solved it. That was ten years ago. We closed the case. The guy’s on death row and will be executed this Friday. Why are you at my door in the middle of the night babbling about a case from ten years ago?”
“You haven’t heard, then? It’s been all over the news tonight.”
“I don’t watch the news, not since the Coronavirus. I got sick of all the fear. Heard what?”
“It happened again.”
I exhaled. I couldn’t really figure out what was up and what was down with this.
“What happened again?” I asked. “The kids were killed back then. The murderer was convicted.”
“But the Marshalls had another child,” he said. “A boy. And now he has disappeared too.”
Chapter 10
THEN:
After Roy’s mom died, he was told he was depressed. It was his school that had him evaluated by a psychiatrist who told him this. He was being quiet in class and hardly ever did any of his work, they said. He had no friends either and didn’t seem interested in making any. They told his dad all this, and Roy’s father decided to try and make him happy. He took him on a trip to Disney World for an entire weekend, and they went on each and every ride in the park. It was a fun weekend, and Roy enjoyed himself for the most part. What he didn’t enjoy was when his dad’s phone kept ringing, and he had to take this. But Roy didn’t complain. Roy never complained.
Then, one day, his dad came home late from work as usual and found Roy sitting alone in his room, reading his comics, also as usual.
“Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” his dad said with a very unusual smile. There hadn’t been many of those since Roy’s mother died. Come to think of it, Roy believed it was the first one since that day.
A frown grew between Roy’s eyes. He looked up from his comic.
“Go out for dinner?”
They hadn’t been out to eat since Roy’s mom got sick five years ago. Usually, they’d order a pizza or some Chinese takeout when his dad finally came home around eight or nine at night. They’d eat in silence; sometimes, Roy would even take his food to the living room where he’d eat while watching TV because it was so boring eating with his dad.
What was this?
“Yes, son. You and me out for dinner. There’s this nice Italian place downtown. It’s new. I thought we’d try it out. Dress nicely.”
And with that, he left Roy’s room, and the boy heard him whistle as he walked down the hallway to his own room. Roy sat on his bed, puzzled, till he decided to do as he was told and get dressed. He found his nice white shirt that his mom always said he looked so handsome in. The sleeves were short, and the chest was tight, but it would have to do. It was the only nice shirt he had.
“Great, now do something about that hair,” his dad said as he came back into his room. He brought with him a cloud of strong-smelling cologne. His dad touched Roy’s hair and tried to brush it sideways so it wouldn’t fall into his eyes.
“We really should have this cut soon,” he said. “You look like a mess.”
Roy pulled away.
“Ah, well,” his dad said, putting his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “It’ll have to do.”
“What’s the big deal anyway?” Roy asked and messed up his hair again so it’d look normal and fall in front of his eyes so no one could see all the pimples on his forehead or see how nervous he was from being out in public. Roy didn’t like being out among people much. He didn’t like it when anyone looked at him. He preferred to be in his room.
Driving to the restaurant, his dad chatted about his work, and Roy stared at him suspiciously from behind his bangs. His dad never told him anything about his work. He barely ever talked to him at all. What was this about?
“Here it is,” his dad said and stopped the car in front of a small Italian restaurant. Roy looked through the windows as they got out of the car. The place was crowded. The thought made Roy uncomfortable.
“Do we really have to?” he asked. “We could also go grab a burger somewhere.”
“Don’t be so boring, son,” his dad said. “Let’s get some real food for once. We deserve it, you and I.”
Roy looked at his father, then felt suddenly flattered that he actually wanted to spend time with him. It was rare these days that he even had time to talk to him once he finally got home.
Roy followed him inside, where his dad stopped by the entrance, then scanned the room.
A waiter came up to them.
“A table for two?”
Then, something happened. Roy’s father spotted someone in the room, and he waved. She waved back, and he pointed toward her.
“No, let’s sit over there.”
Roy stared at the woman waving at his dad. She was gorgeous, and it made him beyond nervous.
“Can’t it just be the two of us?” he said to his dad, trying to stop him as he already strode toward the woman in the red dress.
“No, son,” he said. “We don’t want to be impolite. I know this woman from work. Do try and show yourself from your best side, if you have one, okay?”
Chapter 11
It was happening again. How could it be happening again? How could anything like this happen twice?
“I’m scared, Peter,” Mary said. “It feels like…like last t…”
“I don’t want to hear it,” he snorted, then got up from the chair where he was sitting. They had rented a suite at the resort in Orlando. Peter tried to sound so collected, but she could hear the fear in his voice. She tried to speak again, but no words formed on her lips. Her nails were bitten down and bleeding, but that didn’t make her stop. She bit them again, and then again like she was trying to inflict pain on herself.
“I can’t go through this again,” she said, her voice breaking.
“Stop it,” he said and turned to face her, looking down at her on the soft couch in the hotel room suite. “Just stop it.”