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Eric had been very understanding.
It really ticked Garrison off.
He didn't want the cop's help. He didn't need his help. Aiden would have gone back to the cabin on his own whenever he was finished...whatever he'd been doing. And now he'd probably get picked up for DUI, all because Garrison had called the cops.
Because of Sam.
She was staring straight ahead, hands on the wheel, unmoving. She'd been like that since he'd made the call, like she was waiting for him to say something. Probably to admit she was right.
And maybe she was. He wasn't convinced, but she hadn't left him any choice.
He should say something. She'd been nothing but nice to him, nothing but helpful. And if anybody else were in this situation, Garrison would recommend they call the police. It was the right move, if he wanted to find his son. If he'd wanted to do nothing, he could have done that from the cabin. Just waited, hoped the boy would come back.
He probably should have done that. Not called anyone. Because then Sam wouldn't be sitting beside him, looking anywhere but at him. And Eric wouldn't have been understanding and patronizing on the phone, all eager to help. And Garrison wouldn't feel utterly impotent.
In the end, he knew how this would play out. The cops wouldn't be helpful. Sam wouldn't, either. Garrison had to figure this out on his own. That was the only way.
Unfortunately, it was too late to undo his choices now.
They'd been stopped on the side of the road for fifteen minutes.
"Do you want to take me back to the cabin?" he asked.
"Do you want to go back to the cabin?"
He tried to imagine what it would feel like to sit there, to pace and worry, all alone. If he asked her to, Sam would stay with him. For support. But he didn't need her support. He didn't want to need it. He couldn't be alone, and he didn't want to need. He hated to need.
"Let's keep driving," he said. "Maybe we'll see him."
She drove down each little road that led to the lake, and they looked for some sign of Aiden. No deal. Then she headed back toward town. He was getting a feel for the layout now that he'd driven every street of this tiny hamlet. Under different circumstances, he'd be charmed.
But there were drugs here, too. Drugs everywhere.
When Garrison called the police, he'd been happy to hear a woman's voice. He hadn't wanted to talk to Eric or Brady. Better to make this impersonal. But, apparently, when the dispatcher passed the information along to the guys on patrol, Eric recognized the name. Because Aiden Kopp wasn't John Smith, was it? Of course Eric had called.
"I got a few ideas where he could be," Eric had said. His Southern accent wasn't as pronounced now as it had been earlier, but it was still unmistakable. "If he hooked up with one of the dealers in town, I might be able to locate him."
"Great. Thanks."
"You bet. Sorry to hear this. He seemed like a nice kid."
Seemed. As if Aiden couldn't be an addict and a nice kid at the same time. Was Aiden a nice kid now? An addict, a liar, a thief? A single guy with no kids like Eric could never understand. Garrison wasn't even sure he did.
Garrison heard himself say, "He used to be."
"I don't know what this is going to look like, especially if someone else finds him first. But if I do, I'll go easy on him."
Go easy. As Sam maneuvered the car along the streets of downtown Nutfield, Garrison wondered if he should have told Eric not to go easy. What Aiden needed was the fear of God put into him, and maybe that meant getting arrested and thrown in jail. Maybe it meant being knocked around a little bit. But of course Eric and the other cops in town wouldn't do that unless Aiden resisted arrest.
He'd been taught better than that.
Course, he'd been taught not to use drugs. He'd been taught not to sneak out of the house and steal his father's car.
They reached the police station and inched by. Would Garrison see the inside of that building tonight?
His phone rang. A local number. "Kopp here."
"There was an accident." Eric's voice was all business now. "Aiden ran off the road and hit a tree."
Oh, God. "He okay?"
"Just shaken up, I think. Paramedics are on the way." He rattled off directions, which Garrison repeated.
Sam swung the car around and picked up speed. "Tell him we're ten minutes out."
Garrison spoke into the phone. "You know what happened?"
"I think he saw me and was trying to lose me."
Garrison's anger rose suddenly. "You were chasing him?"
"No," Eric said, irritatingly calm. "He saw me behind him and panicked, I think. The ambulance just got here. I'll explain more when you arrive."
Garrison hung up the phone.
"An accident?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. He said he thinks Aiden saw him following and tried to get away."
"Oh, no."
Sam might have said more, but he couldn't listen to her. He felt like he was in a trance. What if Aiden had died? What if it was worse than Eric had said? He tried to imagine what that would feel like to lose his son, but he couldn't do it. He only felt numb.
Maybe Aiden wasn't dead, but maybe he was badly injured. Paralyzed. Or brain damaged. He wouldn't be using drugs anymore, in that case.
The thought, so casual, like it didn't matter. Like his whole life didn't hinge on this.
Maybe Aiden would get arrested, thrown in jail, charged with DUI and possession. Assuming he was possessing—which Garrison did. Maybe he'd be facing jail time in New Hampshire. Would Garrison relocate here to be close to him?
Would they have mercy?
Would they throw the book at him?
Garrison experienced all these thoughts as if he were watching a movie. Look at how despondent he felt. Look at how helpless. Look at how useless and impotent. He could name the emotions, but he didn't really experience them.
But then the anger came, and that one felt real. Angry at Aiden for sneaking out. For putting him through all this. For getting addicted in the first place.
Angry at the police for screwing this up. Angry at himself, for trusting the kid, for letting himself hope.
Of all the emotions, the anger won. He glanced at Sam through a haze of it, thought of a thousand things he could say. What came out of his mouth was,
"I never should have listened to you."