A monster.
Stevie tried to scream, but the monster pushed on his mouth. The monster had no face. Stevie heard something by the window and knew there was another monster in the room. Getting Robert.
The no-face leaned down and Stevie smelled cigarettes, and that both relieved and frightened him. He was sure it was a man now, not a monster, but what was he doing to him? And Robert?
The man was wearing a ski mask. It was too hot to wear that, so why was he?
The man in the mask whispered. He had a scratchy voice. “Don’t make a sound, you hear me?”
Stevie tried to nod his head, but the man was holding his face hard.
“If you make one sound I’m going to kill you and your brother. I’ll kill you right now.”
Stevie tried not to cry but couldn’t help it. He wanted Robert. He wanted his mom. Even his dad. Anybody.
“So you listen good. I’m gonna be right outside this window, and if you move. If you make any sound—quit crying!”
Stevie couldn’t stop.
“Quit crying or so help me I’ll kill you both.”
For Robert, Stevie thought. Stop crying or they’ll hurt Robert. Stevie closed his eyes and sucked in air through his dribbly nose. It took him a minute, but he stopped crying.
“Good,” the man whispered. “Now here’s what you do. You turn over and put your head in the pillow. If I hear you make a sound or call out anything, you’re going to be dead, you and your brother. You understand?”
Stevie nodded.
The man slowly took his hand away. “I’m gonna to be there all night. Not one sound. Now turn over.”
Stevie did as he was told. If he did what the man said, then Robert would be okay and so would he. They would get to live.
Oh God let us live. Oh God don’t let them hurt Robert. God God please.
Stevie started to cry again but made himself stop. They would kill Robert if he made a sound.
Oh God don’t let me make any noise. Make them go away and don’t let Robert get hurt.
He had to go to the bathroom. But if he moved they would kill Robert. He had to go to bathroom so he did it in the bed.
This was worse than nightmares. He remembered the nightmare he had before Robert told him stories, and one of the monsters took his bear and broke the eyes, shattered them. The bear looked at Stevie with shattered eyes. The eyes accused him. Why did you let it happen, the shattered eyes said.
Tonight was like that for real. Robert was gone and Stevie couldn’t help him. Only God could help him. Stevie could only lie in the bed and not cry.
Shaken awake.
Jolted out of sleep. Somebody clutching him. Hurting his shoulders.
Mom.
She was shaking him and yelling, “Where’s Robert?”
Scared, Stevie thought it was a dream. But the room was full of light and he felt the wetness and smelled it and knew it was real. Like last night was real.
“Answer me!”
Like she was mad at him.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t want to make a sound. What if they were outside the window?
Now his mom was really crazy and tears were in her eyes.
“Answer me, will you!”
If she was yelling then maybe it was okay to talk now. “Outside! Look outside!”
“Outside where?”
“The window!”
His dad charged in. Must have been right outside the door. Ran to the window and looked out.
He turned back to Stevie, face red. “Whattaya mean outside?”
“A man! He had a mask. He was gonna kill us!”
His mom and dad didn’t say anything. They looked at each other the way people did sometimes in movies. Not knowing what to do.
“Where’s Robert?” Stevie said.
His mother said, “Frank, call the police.”
Stevie let himself cry now. He saw Robert’s train pajamas on the floor.
The police came. A lot of them. It was confusing. Everybody was talking to him, asking him questions, making him go over and over things. Stevie started sucking his thumb again. He clung to his mother.
She told the police not to make him talk anymore, that he had told them everything.
Other people came. Stevie knew they were people from TV. They had cameras and microphones.
Stevie’s mother wouldn’t let the people in the house.
Finally, when it was dark, the people were gone. But the house wasn’t the same. Something had changed and it wasn’t just that Robert wasn’t there. It was that Robert wasn’t there because of Stevie. He wasn’t there because Stevie didn’t say anything. The man in the mask didn’t stay outside the window. He just said that to scare him.
There was a moment when Stevie knew all this instantly. One look was all it took.
One look from his dad. They were sitting at the kitchen table. Too tired to eat. Mom had heated up some Tater Tots for Stevie, and he ate some, but not all of them. His parents were silent, looking down at the table.
And then Stevie saw his father looking at him. The look bore into Stevie like fists. It was a look of disgust. His father hated him. Stevie was sure of that now.
Stevie ran from the table into the bathroom and threw up and cried.
His mom came in and cleaned him up.
His father didn’t come. His father didn’t speak to him for a week.
Eight weeks later, Robert hadn’t been found. There was no ransom note. No contact of any kind.
Stevie managed, from snippets of conversation, to piece together that the police thought a group might be involved. They called it a “religious cult” and Stevie wondered what that was. He asked his mom once and she just shook her head like she didn’t want to answer.
A couple of times he heard the word pervert and wondered if that was something else, but he was afraid to ask.
His father was drinking a lot of beer and stuff from a bottle. He stayed away from the house for days sometimes. When he came back he and his mom yelled at each other.
When Stevie looked at his father, he thought something was taking Dad over. A bad thing. All because of Robert. What Stevie had done to Robert.
And then one day the bad thing took over completely. The day they found out Robert would not be coming home. Ever.
His mom told him it wasn’t his fault. And a doctor his mom took him to also said it wasn’t. The doctor, a nice lady, even got Stevie to say out loud that he knew it wasn’t his fault Robert had died in a terrible way.
But Stevie didn’t believe it. He knew better.
Stevie also knew that he was why his dad went away. He never saw his dad again.
When Stevie turned six he found out that his dad was dead. And learned a new word. Suicide.
He hated the sound of it. It was an evil sounding word.
A word he couldn’t get out of his head.
Part I
1
25 Years Later
“Mr. Conroy?”
Steve heard his name. Like someone calling from the front of a cavern with him deep inside. Inside, where his thoughts were pinging off the walls like a scared drunk’s haphazard gunshots.
“Yes, Your Honor?”
“I said you may cross-examine.” Nasty voice. Judge O’Hara, ex-prosecutor, ex-cop, did not like screwups in his courtroom. Especially if they were ex-prosecutors now prowling the defense side of the aisle. O’Hara glared at Steve from the bench, his imperious eyebrows as authoritative as the Great Seal of the State of California on the wall behind him.