Idyll Fears Read online

  “Maybe we should get the press involved,” I suggested.

  Mr. Forrand said, “Won’t that slow us down? I think we should search first. He’s out there, freezing, and he can’t feel it!”

  “Can you get neighbors to help?” I asked.

  “Of course. I wanted to go before, when they arrived, but they wouldn’t let me.” They being my men. “His birthday’s in six weeks,” he said. “He’ll be seven years old.”

  I snuck a look at my watch. Would he? Cody Forrand had been missing over two and a half hours.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I radioed Hopkins. Told him to meet me outside the Forrand house. He pulled his car in front of the house, got out, and waddled over to me, hitching his pants every five steps. Billy, the station rookie, came too.

  “Status?” I aimed my remark at Hopkins.

  “Lady across the street saw Cody when she walked her dog, around 7:45 a.m. Next-door neighbor saw him too. After that, nada. We’ve canvassed four blocks.”

  “Do you have a pic?” I asked. He pulled a glossy photo from his jacket. Cody had that too-wide smile kids give in school pictures. He wore a navy V-neck and had spit-flat hair. “We’ll need copies. Billy, why don’t you get on that? Get some flashlights, too.”

  Billy’s gloved hands were tucked under his armpits. His lack of body fat was a liability. “Sure thing.” He looked at Hopkins. “Keys?” Hopkins tossed him the set.

  “What about the other team?” I asked. “Dispatch sent another car, yeah?”

  “They went to the park, the one with the big playground,” Hopkins said.

  “Walker Park? Bring ’em back. We’re getting neighbors and more men from the station. Then we’ll start searching.”

  He muttered, “We’ve been searching.” I let it go. It was cold, and he’d been outside over an hour. Assuming he hadn’t made Billy do all the legwork.

  The volunteers gave us trouble. Whole families appeared. Kids cried, “I’ll help find him!” I told Officer Klein he should arrest the next parent who brought a child to help search. He wiped snowflakes from his cheeks and said, “Seriously?”

  Mrs. Lutts, the dog walker who’d spotted Cody, told me, “You should talk to Angela May.”

  “Did she see Cody?” I asked.

  “No, she’s a psychic. She helped find my wedding ring last year, and she found the Peterson’s lost cat, Marmalade.”

  “Uh-huh.” A psychic? What was with these people?

  Mrs. Forrand’s sister, Jessica, showed up while I examined a map. She was younger and blonder than her sister. “Why haven’t we started yet?” she demanded.

  Time ticked away. We waited for Billy to return. Mr. Forrand stomped his boots and said, “Ready yet?”

  We assembled the volunteers into two-person teams, one civvy and one cop. There were fewer cops, so two teams were composed of neighbors. I asked them if they had everything they needed. “Are we supposed to have walkie-talkies?” one asked.

  Damn it. Of course. The civvies didn’t have them. I told Klein to sort it out.

  The snow fell sideways, blown by a wind that made everyone shiver. Even big guys like me felt the chill. How could Cody survive this? He can’t feel the cold. No pain was a superpower. One that could kill him.

  Yankowitz and Robinson showed up last. Yankowitz tugged on his earflaps. Made me wish I had some. My skullcap kept creeping up, exposing my ears. “Chief?” He seemed scared. I’d nearly fired him, after he wrecked a patrol car. I’d taken him off meter-maid duty and found something he could do: restart our town’s abandoned K-9 program.

  Mrs. Forrand tugged the front window curtain aside, watching people pace the snowy road. I moved out of her sight line.

  “I was thinking, if it would help, I could bring Skylar.” Yankowitz rocked on his heels. Made deep half-moons in the snow. He was a little heavy. A lot of my men were.

  “She’s my other dog, trained in search and rescue,” he said.

  Another dog? Jinx, his German shepherd, was trained to sniff out drugs and take down bad guys. “Skylar could find Cody?”

  “The snow might make it tough, but she can show us where he headed.”

  A neighbor approached. Mr. Waterson, former Army. He’d told me when he arrived. “Um, Chief, where are the water bottles?” he asked.

  “Water bottles,” I repeated.

  “You have to make sure searchers stay hydrated.” He looked around. “Some of these folks need better gear, you included. In this weather, cotton kills.”

  “I’ll get somebody to fetch water.”

  Yankowitz peered at my map. “You need to halve the area they’re searching. He’s a kid. He didn’t walk six miles. Not in this,” he said.

  “Only have ’em search a quarter mile?” I asked. It sounded too small.

  “Most searches done in good weather, you don’t run a survey bigger than this.” So Yankowitz knew about search and rescue. That made one of us.

  “Go get the dog,” I told him.

  “Hey, everybody, change of plans,” I called. The volunteers grumbled. Mr. Forrand said, “We need to get out there. Now!” I said we needed water, and a neighbor piped up, “I’ve got a case in my garage. If someone comes with me, we can grab ’em.” Officer Dix said he’d help. I had Klein rezone the map, halve everyone’s areas.

  Mr. Forrand stomped over. “Why are you redoing the maps?”

  I told him the search area was too ambitious.

  “What if Cody got that far? We need to be out there, looking. Not waiting for water!”

  I said, “If we don’t find him, we’ll widen the area. I need to consider everyone’s safety.” He muttered, “Idiot.” I pretended not to hear.

  After the maps were changed, we gathered everyone and went over protocol: Search the assigned areas for a boy wearing a red coat and blue snow pants. If they found Cody, radio for an ambulance. Return to the Forrands’ house when they finished. Hopkins would stay at the house. He’d alert us if Cody returned, and serve as our liaison for on-the-ground situations. The water bottles arrived. Each volunteer took one. Billy tested that everyone was tuned into the right radio channel. Mr. Forrand said, “Let’s go already!” I sent them off and wished them luck.

  Snow pelted every bit of bare skin. The back of my neck was half numb. I could’ve sat in my car, run the heater, or gone inside, like Hopkins. It felt wrong. I’d sent twenty-two men and women to search in this. I could wait until Yankowitz showed up. When he did, a furry golden dog jumped from his car to the snowy ground. It barked, once, the sound muffled by the snow.

  “Golden retriever.” I knew this breed. Mostly from TV commercials.

  Yankowitz said, “Her name is Skylar. She’s four years old.” Skylar snapped at falling snowflakes.

  “She’s done searches before?” I asked.

  “A few, and she’s had lots of training.”

  Yankowitz gave Skylar an order. She stopped playing and followed us to the front door. Mrs. Forrand opened it after one knock. She started back when she saw the dog. “Oh!” Her hand flew to her mouth.

  Yankowitz said, “It’s okay. She’s very gentle.”

  “Doggie!” Anna hurtled toward us, arms extended.

  “Anna!” her mother warned. Too late. Anna had wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck.

  “This is Skylar. She’s a trained search-and-rescue dog,” Yankowitz said.

  Hopkins came out of the kitchen, a muffin in his hand. “Where’s Jinx?” he asked. All of us had met Yankowitz’s other dog. He’d become the station mascot.

  “Home,” Yankowitz said. “We’ll need a piece of Cody’s clothing.”

  Mrs. Forrand nodded, though she looked uncertain. “Anna, honey, leave the dog alone.” Anna got in one last, long pet, from Skylar’s ears to her rump.

  Yankowitz told Mrs. Forrand, “Something he wore recently is best.”

  “How about his pajamas?” she asked. “I’ll go fetch them.”

  “We’ll come,” I said. A look ar
ound the house wasn’t something I’d pass up. Maybe we’d find a clue to Cody’s location. A few feet later, I found three deep holes puncturing the hallway’s plaster at waist level. Smaller than a fist, but deep. I stopped to examine them. Hammer? The holes, ragged paint and plaster at the edges, spoke of rage.

  “Where did these come from?” The plaster left white dust on my fingertips. She’d mentioned abuse accusations. What if there was something to them?

  “Golf club,” she said. “Cody made two holes before I heard him. He caught Anna on the shoulder with the third.”

  “Ouch,” Yankowitz said.

  “She was only bruised, thank God,” Mrs. Forrand said. “It’s hard for Cody to understand pain. How other people feel. It’s totally foreign to him.”

  “Any trouble at school?” I asked. A kid like Cody might be a problem when a disagreement on the playground broke out. Might hit too hard or never stop hitting.

  “That hasn’t been the problem,” she said.

  Her comment made me ask, “What has been the problem?”

  She rubbed her arms. “Kids at school, boys, mostly, dare Cody to do things. Jump off the top of the slide. Touch hot things. Cody loves attention. So he does it, every time. Last month he cut his arm with an X-Acto knife on a dare. Didn’t tell us because he knew we’d be upset. He needed a tetanus shot and an overnight stay at the hospital.”

  She turned into the first room on the right. The smell of urine was strong here. I didn’t figure Anna for a bed wetter, so it must be Cody. Maybe it was part of his condition. There were two bunk beds. “Cody’s bed is on top,” Mrs. Forrand said. The room’s décor was a mishmash of glitter, robots, sports teams, and plush animals.

  She picked up a pajama top from the floor. Yankowitz took it with a “thanks.”

  When we reached the living room, Hopkins was there. “We got an injury,” he said. “Idiot got lashed in the eye by a tree branch. Had to reassign teams. Goddamn civvies.”

  “Hey,” I said. “Language.” I jerked my head toward Anna, who lay on her stomach on the floor, a blue crayon in hand.

  She said, “I’m making Cody a picture of trucks.” I gave it a glance. The truck was a rectangle on two circles with one square window.

  We walked outside, back into the cold and blowing snow. Yankowitz held the pajama top in front of Skylar and gave her an order. Skylar lowered her head and moved, quickly. Yankowitz, attached by a long lead, followed at a distance. The dog went inside the child-sized playhouse, and then came back out. Moved toward the backyard. Across the white lawn was the back of a yellow ranch. A house where no one had answered during the first neighborhood sweep. Skylar trotted downhill. She stopped. Her muzzle nudged the snow. “Has she got something?” I asked.

  “Give her time,” he said.

  Skylar led us to the yellow house. The lights were on. A car was covered in snow, and there were no tracks in the drive. Not driven since the snow began. Maybe the owner had seen Cody. “I’m going to knock,” I told Yankowitz. I walked to the front of the house, where two shallow cement steps led me to the dark-brown front door. There were no holiday decorations. I wondered if the occupant was Jewish or Muslim. Then I remembered where I was: Idyll, Connecticut, in the year of our Lord, 1997. I rapped the rusted brass knocker against the door and waited. The door opened a few inches to reveal a strong-jawed young man.

  “Help you?” he said.

  “Hi there. A boy from the neighborhood is missing. Cody Forrand. He went outside to play and hasn’t come home. We’re asking folks if they’ve seen him.”

  “Nope.” His answer cut short my next line.

  “You haven’t seen his picture.” I held up the photo.

  His eyes bounced off it. “No. Sorry.”

  “You are?” I asked.

  “Mike.” He tapped his foot. Jittery.

  “Got a last name, Mike?”

  “Calloway.”

  “Anyone else live with you?”

  “Nah,” he said.

  “What were you up to this morning?”

  “I was—” He stopped. Thought. “Sleeping in. Work was cancelled.”

  “Where’s work?” This guy set off alarm bells. Maybe he didn’t like cops. Maybe something else.

  “Idyll Elementary.” He didn’t open the door wider.

  “You’re a teacher?” He seemed awful young.

  “I teach computing. This is my second year.”

  “Maybe you had Cody in your class. Cody Forrand.” I held the photo up.

  This time he looked. “Don’t think so. Sorry. Um, I’ve got breakfast nuking in the microwave. It’s gonna explode if I don’t get it.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks for your time.”

  He closed the door so hard it vibrated in its frame.

  The dog had led Yankowitz four houses away. When I reached them, he said, “She’s been back and forth here. Neighbor see anything?”

  “Says no.”

  My voice must’ve betrayed my skepticism. “You don’t believe him?” he asked.

  “He was weird. I don’t like weird.”

  Skylar whined. Yankowitz patted her. Snow fell from her coat. “She’s reached the end.” He pulled a bone from his pocket. “Good girl,” he said.

  “She go near any of the houses?” I asked.

  “The house you checked and that one.” He pointed to a white house. I checked my notes. Billy had rung the doorbell but got no response. “Whoever lives there sure has the holiday spirit.” He wasn’t kidding. The house had lights strung on the roof and electric candles in every window. Three wise men and a giant plywood Snoopy oversaw a nativity scene on the lawn. A dozen ceramic elves lined the walkway.

  “I’m going to bring Skylar up.” He pointed to the sloping lawn we’d descended.

  “I’ll check this house,” I said. “Then meet you.”

  The doorbell played “Silent Night.” The woman who opened the door wore a red sweater with white reindeer. “Oh!” She stepped back. “Come in! Come in. Don’t fuss about your boots.” I gave up trying to kick the snow off and stepped inside. I removed my hat. Its black wool was white with snow. She pushed up her glasses. “My, it’s really blowing out there, isn’t it?”

  “Sure is. Ma’am, a boy has gone missing. I wonder if you’ve seen him?” I handed her the photo. The heat turned the snow into rain. I dripped fat drops onto her Santa mat.

  She looked at the photo. “Cody,” she said. “Forrand, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. He was playing outside this morning. Hasn’t been seen since.”

  Her hand smacked her sweater reindeers. “I did see him, this morning. He was playing near the neighbor’s house. Mr. Calloway’s.”

  “The teacher?” The one who’d seemed shifty. Who’d denied seeing Cody.

  “I thought Cody was looking for something. Kept peering at the ground. I was going to ask him, but the oven started beeping. I’m baking cookies for the church bake sale. Would you like one?”

  My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t had anything but coffee. Coffee that sat in my car, stone cold now. “No, thanks. What time did you see Cody?”

  “It must’ve been about ten minutes before eight. That’s when the cookies had to come out of the oven. You’ve got to be careful. Butter cookies burn so easy.”

  “Did you see him after that?”

  “No. I put the next batch in, and I forgot about Cody. My sister called and I got to talking with her. Wait. The doorbell rang, later, but I didn’t catch it in time. Phone cord doesn’t stretch that long. Do you think it could’ve been Cody?”

  “No. Probably a policeman. Mr. Calloway, next door, has he lived here long?”

  “Almost two years. He teaches at Idyll Elementary.”

  “Okay. Thanks for your help, Mrs. . . . ?”

  “Ms. Hart.” She leaned on the “mizz” and added, “Never married. Not the type. From what I hear, neither are you.” She winked. Dimples appeared.

  Back outside. The storm felt worse after be
ing indoors. I thought of what she’d told me. She’s a lesbian? She belonged to a church? Did the neighbors know? My radio beeped. Billy reported that a Mr. Cullen on Dogwood Avenue had seen a boy like Cody around 8:15 a.m. The volunteers chattered. Two said they’d head to Dogwood. Others said they were closer. I got on the radio and said, “Stop talking.” They didn’t. I yelled it. They stopped. I walked uphill, against the wind. Yankowitz stood outside his car. Skylar lay on the back seat, eyes alert. “Dogwood Avenue?” I asked him.

  “Small dead-end road five blocks from here,” he said.

  “Yankowitz will check out Dogwood,” I said into the radio. “Everyone else, check your area. Return to base when you finish.”

  “You sure you’ll be okay out here, Chief?” Yankowitz asked. “Your gloves aren’t up to the job. Your boots either.”

  My leather gloves were wet, and my boots weren’t keeping my toes dry or warm. I blinked a snowflake from my eyelash. “I’m fine. Head out.”

  He drove away. I looked up, into the falling snow. It was like looking into outer space. Stars zooming past. Where was Cody? God, don’t let the kid die. Just this once, don’t be a complete fuck. Not this time. Okay?

  “Chief!”

  I looked back at the Forrands’ house, where Hopkins stood. Bastard wore only a shirt. Cozy as a bug in a rug. I should swap him out with a searcher. See how he liked it out here, with wet feet and a runny nose.

  “Chief, they found him!”

  All my animosity disappeared. I ran toward Hopkins, eager for the news.

  For once, God had listened.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Anna jumped up and down. “They found him! They found him!”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “At the McManus house, on Beech Street,” Hopkins said. Beech Street was two streets over. How had we missed him?

  Anna stopped jumping. “Cody isn’t allowed to play there,” she said.

  Mrs. Forrand said, “She’s right. Those boys are always trying to get Cody to do stunts.” Her eyebrows leapt a half inch. “Has he been there the whole time? Since this morning?”

  We all checked the clock. Noon. Perhaps he’d never been cold at all, but sitting, warm, inside the McManus house.