They sat alone in the house, sequestered and silent, until the sheriff showed up. Pete Lancaster’s knock was different this time—the urgency and the power he usually presented with were gone.
When his father went to answer the door, it opened to reveal a hatless sheriff, his bare head bent almost penitently. He looked up at Daniel, then past him at Thaddeus and Tabitha, who had come to stand behind him. Kristyn had taken the children back to their hotel to wait. They were going to let them swim in the indoor pool and pretend like everything was normal.
“May I come in?” Pete asked. In answer his father opened the door wider and they all made space for him to enter.
“Have a seat,” his mother said, but Pete shook his head.
“What I have to say won’t take long. There’s more details to delve into, some facts I need to verify, but I feel like what I just heard is the God’s honest truth.” He looked directly at Thaddeus, making eye contact. “Your friend is in a lot of pain. A lifetime’s worth.”
Thaddeus nodded because he didn’t know what else to do.
“So it was him?” Tabitha asked. There wasn’t a trace of anger in her voice, just sadness.
Pete nodded. “Like I said, there’s more to the story than I can get into right now, but yes, he does have guilty knowledge and some culpability in what happened.” His gaze swept across the three of them. “But it’s complicated. And it’s not going to be easy to prosecute. Suffice it to say that the real bad guy in all of this is already dead.”
Thaddeus thought of Phillip when he’d called him in St. Louis. He’d called, Thaddeus thought, because he’d known this was it. He thought of how Phillip had kept bringing up that night. Thaddeus had silenced him every time. He’d been, Thaddeus guessed, trying to confess, to finally—after all this time—unburden himself. But Thaddeus hadn’t let him.
“His uncle had something to do with it, didn’t he?” he asked.
The sheriff dipped his head just once. “I promise you folks will have the whole story just as soon as we put all the pieces together.” He clapped his hands together and the loud sound startled them all.
“We’re real close to closing this case.” Pete looked out the front window at the beautiful day outside, at the reporters gathering again, hungry for news. “And this will all be over, once and for all. In the meantime I’m gonna go out there and run those vultures off. You folks deserve some peace.”
In unison Thaddeus, his mother, and his father all nodded their agreement.
* * *
As soon as the last of the reporters were gone and the coast was clear, Thaddeus asked to borrow the car for the second time. He was thankful when his father simply dropped the keys in his hand and didn’t ask why he needed to leave or where he was going. Thaddeus wasn’t sure he could’ve explained it if he’d been asked to.
As he drove the familiar roads, he thought about that night, about what he’d thought it had been versus what it had turned out to be. He thought about Phillip as a kid and Phillip in the church that morning, his guilt and grief bursting out of him because it couldn’t stay locked inside any longer.
He thought about how he’d searched for his brother, his own guilt and grief mounting with each step he took. At first he’d thought Davy was messing with him, hiding on purpose to get him back. A girl had been there and said she was with Davy until they got separated in the field. He’d thought she was in on it, helping Davy with his ruse. He hadn’t yet grasped how desperate the situation was.
He eased the car onto the shoulder and shifted into Park, his breathing erratic, his heart rate elevated as he went back in time in his mind, allowing the images instead of pushing them away like usual. The little girl who was with Davy was the last one to see him. She kept insisting she saw a car pull into the drive that led to the farmhouse that night. Her sister had been the one to call the cops. Both she and her sister had wild curly hair.
But then the little girl had been swallowed up in the drama of the search, her name never shared because she was a minor. She’d been questioned, his family had been told, but her story wasn’t of much use. She and the other kids had been deemed “unreliable witnesses.”
He’d never really thought about her after that, assuming she’d grown up and gone on with her life. He’d never seen her again.
Until she walked into their house a few days ago to act as their Public Information Officer.
“Anissa,” he whispered. She’d never said a word, not even when he’d been flat on his back in her foyer, trying to understand why she lived there, in the place where he’d gone to fulfill his long-ago promise.
He felt for the piece of fool’s gold. Pyrite was its real name. He’d researched it at length, intending to include it in his memoir, until he realized that if he included the rock he’d carried since that night, he’d have to tell why Davy had tossed it at his feet and stormed away. He’d have to reveal just how bad of a brother he’d been. So he’d left it out entirely. He’d never been able to share what he’d learned about pyrite—just how close to gold it was, how it was used as a fire starter in ancient times, how the Thai people believed it to be a sacred stone, used to ward off evil.
Thaddeus couldn’t help but think that, had Davy held on to the stone instead of tossing it away, the night wouldn’t have unfolded the way it did and he, Thaddeus, would not be driving his father’s car in his hometown on his way to forgive a man he’d hated for decades for no reason at all.
He looked both ways, put the car in Drive, and eased back onto the empty road.
* * *
When he arrived at Gordon’s house and found Anissa there in the yard, Thaddeus didn’t even question her presence. He just looked from her to him and back again. They all stood silently for a moment before he realized he should explain his visit. But how?
First, he looked to Anissa. He wanted to say, “I know who you are, and I know you’ve been keeping secrets.” But what good would that do? Anissa lived in the exact spot where Davy disappeared. She’d devoted her life’s work to helping victims. It made a sad kind of sense. That night had not just impacted her; it had shaped her, and she had used it for good. He’d always wanted whoever lived in that spot to appreciate what had happened there. And they did. She did.
“Is there news?” she asked, the naked hope shining on her face as she spoke. Beside her, Gordon stiffened as if bracing himself.
“You didn’t do it,” Thaddeus said to Gordon, thinking about his memoir as he spoke, of the things he’d written about this man. He hadn’t named him, but he’d said enough that anyone could’ve surmised who he was referring to. He’d been wrong.
Maybe he should write another book, a better book, a book that told the whole truth this time—even the parts that made him look bad. He owed it to his readers. He owed it to Gordon Swift, and Anissa, and his family, and the girl next door. He owed it to himself.
“I know that now,” he continued. “And I wanted to say I’m sorry. For all the terrible thoughts I’ve had about you. For how much I’ve ha—” He broke off as a knot of shame and regret clogged his throat. “I’ve hated you,” he forced himself to continue. “When you did nothing wrong.”
Gordon stood stock-still as he absorbed the words. He didn’t even blink. Anissa watched him warily, a look of fear replacing the hopeful look she’d just worn.
Gordon seemed to be waiting for the “but” to come out of Thaddeus’s mouth, for the other shoe to drop. Thaddeus had always thought of himself and his family as The Victims. But there had been so many that night.
He reached inside his pocket and held up the rock. Once shiny, it was now dull and worn with hardly a trace of the gold surface that had once caught a little boy’s eyes.
“I wanted to give you this,” Thaddeus said.
Gordon nodded and extended his hand to take the object Thaddeus was offering. Thaddeus took one last look at the piece of fool’s gold—knowing what a fool he’d been about so many things—and put it in the other man’s hand.
“I’ve carried this rock for a long time. I don’t want to carry it anymore. So I tried to think of someone who might be willing to take it off my hands, someone who would understand how I feel, who could decide what to do with it from here.” Thaddeus watched as Gordon turned the rock over in his hands, inspecting it.
“It used to be shiny,” he added. “If you didn’t know it, you’d have thought it was real gold.”
Gordon turned the rock in his hands, examining it. “I bet I could use this in a sculpture. I’ve got one I just started working on.” Gordon looked over at Anissa. “Today, in fact.” Anissa smiled at him and Thaddeus wanted to—but didn’t—ask what was going on between them.
“I could incorporate it in a way that, I think, you’d find meaningful.” Gordon looked over at a dripping pile of scrap metal, then back at the rock he now held. “I like things that are worn,” he said, but not really to Thaddeus. Not really to anyone at all.
* * *
Thaddeus got out of the car and stood for a moment, collecting himself. While he was gone, people had come over. Cars were parked along the street and in both his and Larkin’s driveways. He’d had to park down the street and walk back to the house he’d grown up in.
As he got closer, he could hear noise coming from the direction of the backyard. He could smell a . . . grill? They were barbecuing? It sounded and smelled like a party. Not what he’d expected to come home to.
He stood there, puzzled, until someone called his name. He looked over at Larkin’s house to see her coming toward him. He’d seen her arrive at the funeral, but they’d been escorted out so quickly afterward that he’d not gotten the chance to speak to her. Though he’d wanted to speak to her, he still didn’t know what to say.
“Hi,” he said when she got to him.
“Hi yourself,” she said, her voice hesitant. He could tell she was holding herself back from him. He didn’t blame her.
“I think I’m going to leave tomorrow,” he said. As he said it, he knew it was true.
He saw a momentary flash of disappointment cross her face—there, then gone. “Then I guess I’ll say goodbye,” she said.
He exhaled, ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess so.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, then looked down at the ground before looking back up again. “But first, can I just say something?”
“Sure?” Though he’d meant it as a statement, his answer came out sounding like a question.
“I think—” she started, then stopped, waving her hand as if to wave the words away.
“What?” he asked, his heart beating faster.
“Not my place,” she said.
“No, say it. I want you to,” he urged.
She grimaced but continued. “I think you haven’t let yourself have things like a home and a family because Davy never got them. I think it was your way of paying some sort of penance.” She studied his face as if she was checking that it was safe to go on.
“I just hope that now—now that you know what happened—you can start allowing yourself those things. You’re allowed to grow up and move on. And I hope you will.” She pretended to punch him in the arm. “And stop saving people from you. I’m betting there’s someone out there who doesn’t want to be saved.”
She hadn’t wanted to be saved, and that was a mistake he could never take back. They looked at each other, the what-if hanging like a fog between them. But like a fog, it burned off quickly, replaced by a little voice calling out, “Mommy! I’ve been looking for you!”
Larkin turned and waved Audrey over to where they stood.
“We should let you get inside,” Larkin said. “I know everyone wants to see you, to make sure you’re ok.”
“I will be, you know,” he said. “Ok.” His hand went to his pocket before he could remember the rock was gone.
“I have no doubt,” Larkin said.
He wanted to reach out and pull her to him, to hold her for a moment before he let her go, once and for all. But he’d given that up when he was fifteen years old. In another universe, if Davy hadn’t disappeared, they might have ended up together. But they didn’t live in that universe. They lived in this one.
The three of them walked toward the Malcor house. The sky was blue and the birds were singing and the smell of good food wafted on the breeze. It was spring, and everything felt new.
As they got close, the front door opened and Nicole stepped out. Thaddeus remembered Larkin stepping out of that same door just before he and Davy left that night, Kristy beside her, asking to look for fireflies, not believing they were gone for good.
Nicole saw the trio and stopped short, her eyes straying to Larkin and Audrey. He introduced them.
“Larkin, Audrey, this is Nicole. She’s my publicist, here to help with the publicity around the case.” He looked over at Nicole and added, “And for emotional support.” Nicole bit back a smile. As soon as they were alone, he’d tell her he was going to book a flight for tomorrow. He’d ask her to accompany him. And then they’d see what happened.
“And this”—he turned to Larkin—“Is Larkin.” He gestured toward her house. “She lives next door.”
“Oh, so you’re the girl next door?” Nicole asked, a teasing tone to her voice.
“Yes,” Larkin said. She and Thaddeus exchanged a look, an acknowledgment, a goodbye in a glance. “That’s me.”
October 13, 1985
6:21 a.m.
At first when he hears the knocking, Gordon assumes it’s the widow at his door, there to ask him to help her with something. The old bird is an early bird, accustomed to farming life, in the habit of going to bed when it gets dark and rising as soon as the sun peeks above the horizon. It is not uncommon for her to show up at what to him is an ungodly hour, dressed and alert, surprised he isn’t also. If she’s feeling chatty, she will extol the virtues of being early to bed, early to rise. But her sermons fall on deaf ears. Gordon is still a young man, still prone to all-nighters like in college. He’s not quite ready for full-blown adulthood. He has decided to ease into it.
As Gordon nears the door, he can see that the figure looming in the window isn’t the diminutive widow. It is the shape of a big, broad man. Gordon looks down at his watch as if to verify that it is indeed too early for any usual call. He thinks of the helicopter he’d heard flying overhead during the night and wonders if there was some emergency he slept through. He peeks through the muslin curtains and is met with a pair of hooded eyes squinting back at him in the bright morning sun.
“Mr. Swift?” the mouth below the eyes asks. “Might I speak to you a minute?”
The sight of an officer at his door so early in the morning is unsettling. Though he has done nothing wrong, the police presence makes him feel as though he has. Still, he nods and tugs the door open.
“Yes?” he asks.
The officer points at the widow’s house. “Sorry to disturb you so early, sir,” he says. “But I was just chatting with the nice lady who lives over there, and she said you might be able to help me.”
Gordon nods in a way he hopes makes him look like a good guy. Because he is a good guy. Other than some minor traffic violations, he’s never intentionally broken a law.
“Whatever I can do to help,” he says and means it.
The officer makes a pained expression. “We’re looking for a kid, actually,” he says through his teeth. “A little boy. Seems there was a group of them here last night, getting up to some mischief, I guess. Did you happen to see any of ’em, maybe?”
The kid, Gordon thinks. The kid who showed up at his door alone. The kid who was afraid. The kid, Gordon remembers with a creeping sense of shame, he sent away. But no one knows about that but him, and the kid. Gordon does not need to wonder if he’s the kid who is missing. The awareness of this fact is just there all of a sudden, sitting in his gut like the paving stones that lead to his door, flat and oblong and heavy. Still, he decides it’s best to keep quiet about the kid being there, lest he rouse suspicion.
“Um, yeah,” he says. “I heard them running around. I guess they were playing games or something.” He gestures toward the upper fields, near the main road, far away from where he and the officer stand now.
He should’ve called the cops himself last night, put a stop to all the shenanigans from the get-go. Then they would’ve come and run those kids off, and the kid never would’ve come near this house, never would have gone missing, maybe.
“Didn’t see any of them down here near your place then?” the cop asks, and his nostrils flare as if he’s sniffing out a lie.
“No,” Gordon says. He gestures vaguely at the room behind him and the officer stands on his tiptoes to see over Gordon’s shoulder into the place he calls home. For a second he thinks of inviting his guest in, proving he has nothing to hide. But the pile of discarded hands he drew last night is still there on the floor. The hand drawings are a bit macabre. They could be misconstrued. He will clean that up as soon as the cop leaves. If for some reason they decide to come back to search, the hands will be gone.
“I had the ballgame on the television,” Gordon says. “So I didn’t really hear anything once I turned that on.”
The cop nods, taking him at his word. And why shouldn’t he? Gordon is telling the truth. Or mostly telling the truth. The cop pulls out a card with his name and the station’s phone number on it. He places it in Gordon’s hand as he says, “Well, if you think of anything, just let us know. We’ll be looking.” The cop gives a long sigh. “As long as it takes to find him, I guess.”
“I’m sure you will,” Gordon rushes to say. “Find him, I mean.”
“Yeah, the little tyke probably got himself lost and fell asleep in the woods. He’ll wake up and make his way home soon enough, I imagine.” He rolls his eyes. “We had a helicopter fly around, did our best to search in the dark, but it wasn’t easy. His mama and daddy are all spun up about it, as you can imagine.”
Gordon nods even though he is not a father, so he can’t imagine. Gordon is not sure he ever wants to be a father. His mother says he’ll change his mind as soon as he meets the right girl.
“Well, I better keep canvassing. Lots of ground to cover,” the officer says. He bends the brim of his hat, a departing gesture. “You have a nice day.”
Gordon wishes him the same, then watches him amble over to his patrol car, not appearing to be in any real hurry. Gordon watches as the car backs up in an arc, then proceeds forward, kicking up dust and rocks as it accelerates down the drive. He watches until the police car disappears from sight, the nagging weight at the center of his body the only indication that his life has just changed forever.