IN THE morning Maddy visited the sheriff’s office. It was in a small addition built onto the front of a house, covered with asbestos siding. It was very clean. The linoleum floor was so shiny that her shoes etched neat, dusty prints.
The sheriff was an old man in a brown knit suit. His manners were dry, precise, and formal.
He didn’t think Maddy had much to worry about. Because she had heard from Laura, they were treating it as a case of runaways. Now, he knew that she had heard all these stories on television and milk cartons, but ninety-nine times out of a hundred, runaways showed up safe and sound of their own accord.
The State Police had been notified. They would
check on any hitchhikers Laura’s age anyway, as a matter of course. The county juvenile officer had been notified. A Miss Gallagher. There was no point in going to see her, since she didn’t know anything.
He expected Laura would turn up tomorrow at the Parents’ Weekend, or even at home. That’s where runaways from the nearby camps usually went. He hoped she would notify them if that occurred. It was a courtesy they appreciated, and it helped keep their records straight.
There was one thing. A report he thought might be relevant. He began to sort through a pile of pink flimsies on his desk with dry fingers.
“Some personal possessions—clothes—were stolen from baskets at the bathhouse at the municipal beach. The investigating officers were pretty sure that a boy and girl of about the right age were involved … Here we are.”
He held a sheet of paper at arm’s length so that he could read it. “Well. This isn’t much help. Green sweat shirt, bathing suit. ‘A little fox with glasses.’” The old man smiled at Maddy. “Does that sound like your daughter?”
Maddy stiffened. “My daughter has been badly abused and frightened. I doubt if she has the time to steal things from bathhouses.”
“No, of course not,” said the sheriff. “These kids were probably pretty experienced. The girl apparently distracted the attendant while the boy did the pilfering. The boy is described as very cool. Not the same
class of kids as you have at camp.” He tossed the pink slip back onto his desk. As Maddy watched it drift down among the others, she wondered what he could possibly have meant by that.
On the pavement outside the sheriff’s office, Maddy stopped and stared up and down the empty street. The day must be got through somehow. She didn’t know what to do. A sign over a café next to the motel across the street said EAT. Obediently she crossed the road and went inside.
She sat down near the front window in a booth of quilted red plastic. A waitress in a short skirt brought her a menu. On the menu were large colored photographs of plates crowded with eggs and bacon, enormous sandwiches of three and four layers, and fruit platters incorporating whole melons and pineapples. She felt as if she was being invited to eat herself to death. She ordered cold cereal.
The waitress brought a pitcher of milk and a bowl. In the bowl was a small box of cereal, still sealed. Maddy read the list of contents on the box carefully as she ate. The cereal was largely fiber and of doubtful nourishment. It seemed appropriate somehow.
When the bowl was empty, she remembered that she had not called her office and told them where she was staying. She had left the camp’s number, but not the motel’s. It was not too important. The camp knew where to reach her in case Laura called, but then she wasn’t in her room, and almost at once she became
convinced that Laura had called and because she was sitting alone in the café she had missed the message.
She paid her bill and hurried back to the motel with quick, unsteady steps.
There were no messages. The clerk was sure. He showed her the pad where messages were recorded, and would have explained further, but she turned away. She would still call the office. It was something that she could do.
A young woman in jeans and a patched anorak caught her arm. “Mrs. Golden? I’m Margo Cutter.”
“Is she back?”
“No. We haven’t heard anything. Could I talk to you a minute, Mrs. Golden?”
“I’m sorry, I was just …”
“Please, Mrs. Golden. You talked to Laura yesterday, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
“Well, did she say anything about Howie? I mean, did she actually say he was with her?”
Maddy tried to remember. Laura hadn’t mentioned the boy. She was almost sure of that.
“No,” she said. “I didn’t know there was a boy involved until I talked to Wells. Is it important?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not. The thing is, we don’t even know for sure if they’re together. They were … they were taken to the island separately. I know it’s a little island, but they might not have found each other. I’d just feel better if I knew they were together.”
“Why?”
“Does that sound strange? You wouldn’t think so if you knew Howie. He’s so little and, I don’t know, klutzy. I worry more about him than Laura in a way.”
Maddy didn’t know what to say. This boy, this Howie, didn’t seem very real to her.
“I don’t mean to scare you, Mrs. Golden, but I don’t think people are taking this seriously enough.”
Maddy looked at her. What did the woman mean? Did she expect Maddy to be sobbing? Tearing her hair? She felt a sudden surge of irritation.
“I’m sorry, Miss Cutter. I must call …” she began, but the woman wasn’t listening.
“We just don’t know anything! Laura couldn’t swim. We don’t know how she got off the island. We don’t know if they’re together. We don’t know if someone picked them up, or what. They didn’t have anything, Mrs. Golden. They didn’t have any clothes or money. I don’t understand …”
“What did you say?” Maddy’s question fell through the young woman’s talk into an enormous silence.
Margo looked up at her, her face troubled and frightened. “Didn’t Mr. Wells tell you? They … they were stripped before they were dumped on the island. They were naked.”
Maddy was stunned. How could this have been allowed to happen? She wanted to howl with pain and anger, but instead watched the desk clerk sorting mail with quick, clever fingers.
“The sheriff …” She had to clear her throat and begin again. “The sheriff said that a boy and girl stole
some clothes at the municipal beach. ‘A little fox with glasses,’ he said. Does that sound like Laura to you?”
Margo smiled hesitantly. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t have said …”
“I think it must have been. I think it must have been Laura.” A little fox with glasses. She had been annoyed with the description when she heard it. Now she found it comforting.
“I was just going to call my office. To see if Laura might have called again. Perhaps you’d like to come up.”
Margo stood by the door as Maddy sat on the bed and placed her call.
“Mrs. Pritzer? This is Mrs. Golden. I’m fine, Mrs. Pritzer. Has Laura called?”
There was a pause while Mrs. Pritzer considered the question. “Yes. She did call. Just a short time ago.”
“Thank God. What did she say? Where is she?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Mrs. Golden.”
“What?”
“It was a person-to-person collect call, Mrs. Golden. I didn’t feel that I could accept the charges since you weren’t here.”
“You didn’t … But how could you do this? I mean, I don’t know where Laura is. Don’t you understand?”
“No, I don’t, Mrs. Golden. No one has said anything about this to me.”
There was nothing Maddy could say. Mrs. Pritzer was right. Maddy had told her nothing. She had explained,
of course, why she had to leave work to Mr. Alexander, the head of her department. She had done everything but tell Mrs. Pritzer. She wondered vaguely why she had not. Perhaps it was because she expected the woman to know everything.
She explained that if Laura called again Mrs. Pritzer was to accept the charges. Yes, Mr. Alexander would approve. Mrs. Pritzer hung up promptly, her goodbye a carefully calculated reproof.
As Maddy replaced the receiver she realized that she had forgotten, after all, to give Mrs. Pritzer the number of the motel. Perhaps it didn’t matter. If her office should try to reach her they would call the camp. That was where she would spend the day.
“Is there anyone else she might have called?” Margo asked. She had overheard enough to understand.
“What? No. There’s no one.” No one at all. Of all the people she knew, there was not one that Laura might turn to. Maddy could not understand how she had allowed such a situation to arise.
“I mean, is there anyone at home? In case she calls there?”
“No. An answering machine.”
The two women looked at one another, both thinking of that empty apartment in their own way, and then Maddy dialed with trembling fingers.
The machine had recorded several messages. Someone from the office had called with an inquiry concerning certain contracts. There was a reminder about
a demonstration for the homeless. In case she had forgotten. She was really needed. Her mind began to go numb as she heard her own mother in San Diego explain in a high, unnatural voice how much she hated to leave recorded messages. Her mother paused, as if wondering why she had called, and then Laura’s voice suddenly said, “Mom?”
“Laura?” said Maddy, forgetting. It was only a voice. Laura was not there. Miss Cutter took a step forward, but Maddy motioned her away.
“This is Laura. I’m okay. I didn’t tell you before, but I’m not at camp anymore. I’m with this boy. I like him a lot, but it’s not what you think. His parents are archaeologists. We can’t go back to camp anymore because they did something really despicable to us. What …?” Laura’s voice changed, no longer speaking into the phone. Faintly, Maddy heard another voice, one she had never heard before. It was soft and urgent. It was coaching Laura. Telling her what to say.
“Mom?” Laura had turned back to the phone. “They said we were the goats, and they took our clothes. I mean everything, even our underwear. They stuck us out on this island, and they were going to sneak up and spy on us, so we left. We really hate them. I mean that. So anyway, we won’t be at camp tomorrow when you come up. We’ll meet you in the parking lot. He’s going to come home with me. His parents are in Turkey and they’re not here. So please make it okay
with Mr, Wells. This is very important. We’ve got to stay together. I don’t have any more change, so I have to go. I love you, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t get adjusted at camp, but they’re really despicable.”
Margo was watching her. Her eyes were wide and questioning. Her lips moved, shaping a question she was afraid to ask.
Maddy punched in the appropriate code so that the message would be replayed, and gave the receiver to the young woman. When the message was finished, Margo smiled. If she had been able to see that Maddy was reassured, she might have laughed.
“They sound okay. Really okay.”
Maddy tried to smile. “Well. At least it’s not what we think.” She wondered why she didn’t feel the relief that brightened Margo’s face. Certainly Laura had sounded all right. Her voice had reduced everything to the commonplace. To the manageable. Why was she still so uneasy?
“I just wish we knew where they were. If they had enough to eat.”
“I think I know where they are. At least roughly. They’ve probably broken into one of the empty summer cottages along the lake. There are dozens of them. They could find what they need there.”
“Cottages? Can’t we go find them?”
“I’ve already looked. Yesterday.”
“But you didn’t find anything?”
“Oh yeah. I found eight at least that somebody had broken into. It’s the local sport for teenagers around
here. I couldn’t tell if they had been there. It would depend, I guess, on whether they wanted to be found. Listen, Mrs. Golden, I don’t think you have to worry. They seemed to be taking care of themselves pretty well. It might be best just to show up at the parking lot tomorrow.”
“Yes. Yes, I know. You’re probably right.”
She thought of what that horrible man Wells had said—that Laura and the boy might not mind making them worry a bit. She had been so angry that he would suggest such a thing. Now she hoped it was true. It seemed, finally, fair. Lately she had been willing only to let Laura annoy her. There is not much of an investment in annoyance, and no great return. But terror is something else. You find out exactly how much you love someone when you’re terrified.
She leaned back against the headboard of the bed. It was covered in quilted satin. When she touched it with her cheek, it felt cool.
“Do you think,” she asked, “do you think I should try to take the boy back to the city with us?”
“I don’t know about that, Mrs. Golden,” said Margo. “I doubt if the camp would be able to surrender custody, just like that.”
“No, of course not.” Maddy knew that Margo was right. There would be rules and procedures that Laura and the boy couldn’t appreciate.
“It would probably be best if they were separated, anyway,” Margo continued. “They’re feeling very close now, but it’s an abnormal situation. They might be
developing a dependency which would interfere with their resocialization later.”
She sounded like a textbook on child psychology that Maddy had once read. Reasonable, and yet somehow wrong. Maddy’s own intuition was that if you found someone you liked and trusted, you held on for dear life.
Margo was adjusting her jacket in the motel mirror, getting ready to leave. The phone call seemed to have restored her confidence.
“And really, Mrs. Golden,” she said. “I don’t think you’d want responsibility for both of them. You have your job, and well, we don’t know what they’ve been up to. They’ll need supervision.”
Maddy didn’t answer. She was thinking of the boy’s voice. It had been attractive, even compelling. Laura had listened. It might not be as easy to pull them apart as Margo imagined.