After Dark (25 page)

The car crunched to a stop and I pressed my face against the earth.

“Hey, are you all right?” called a baritone voice.

Go away.
I breathed in dust and coughed, my spittle tangy with adrenaline. A car door closed and hushed voices bickered quickly.
I’m exhausted
, I realized. My eyes wanted to stay shut. I felt the energy going out of me and the deep, sweeping pull of sleep.

I won’t be able to find the creek.

I could barely make a fist.

“Hello, sir?” said the voice, closer now. A shadow blocked the high beams.

I flopped over and gazed at the man.

“I fell,” I said.

“Okay, son. You look pretty torn up. You alone out here?”

I wasn’t alone. I probably wasn’t far from the house. I didn’t know, though, and the man asked too many questions. I closed my eyes as he propped me up in the grass.

“I’m calling the cops,” said a higher voice.

Oh, she sounded angry.

“We’re going to help you find your people,” said the man.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a little boy peering at me from the backseat of the car. The way he looked at me, I knew I was becoming a memory—slightly menacing, surely strange.
Remember that man we found by the side of the road, all dazed and scratched up?

I felt sorry for him, because he was just a kid.

You don’t know what you’re getting into, being born.

Chapter 29

HANNAH

Nate Sky talked me through the worst night of my life—a night I have convinced myself I deserved. Didn’t Matt and I play with death once? We did. I lied and pretended; he wore it like a cheap Halloween mask.

Now it had come to collect.

“Sit down somewhere,” Nate said. “You stay on the phone. Matt might be in trouble. Listen and do what I say—it’s important.”

Then he explained that Seth’s heart had stopped.

“He was found in his hotel room. He was partying all weekend.”

“Where is he now?”

“Hannah. He’s gone.”

“Okay,” I said. But it wasn’t okay. But it had to be okay. Now I understood. My mind began to spin at the speed of panic. “You told Matt?”

“Yes. Are you sure he isn’t in the house?”

“Pretty positive. I’ll check right now.” I was already on my feet, running. I flicked on lights as I went.
Flash, flash, flash.
That huge house lit up room by room. Would I find Matt curled in a corner? Sprawled on the floor?

Gruesome images intruded.

“Get your cell and his. Keep them with you. Call nine-one-one.”

I started to shake—
call 911?
—and forced myself to be still.

“What do I say? Are you sure?”

“Yes. This is an emergency. I’m not sure if you…” He trailed off, then started over. “Tell them your fianc
é
just received news of his brother’s death and has gone missing. Give them the timeline. Tell them there’s a history of suicide attempt.”

Again, the shaking.

Again, I made myself relax.

“Okay. Calling now. I’ll call from my cell. Be right back.”

I dialed 911, which I had never done before, and after a series of quick questions, the dispatcher told me police and EMS were on the way. She instructed me to remain calm and double-checked my address. “Do not leave the residence,” she said. When she told me I could hang up, I ended the call robotically.

“Thank you, Hannah,” said Nate. “Are you okay?”

“Uh … no, yes…” I touched my chest and forehead. I couldn’t actually tell if I was okay. My mind kept spinning, spinning—
this is an emergency, Seth’s heart stopped, Matt might be in trouble, I need you to stay calm.

This was not a dream.

Despite the dispatcher’s instructions, I walked around outside the house while I waited for the police. I called for Matt every few minutes. Chilly wind billowed through the meadow.

“The suicide attempt,” I said to Nate. “Tell me about it.”

“You didn’t know?”

“I read about it online—last year, when Bethany outed him.
Fit to Print
published a bunch of stuff.” Fear suppressed any embarrassment I might have felt. I spoke in a too-calm, measured voice, covering the receiver and lowering the phone when I hollered Matt’s name. “The article wasn’t detailed. It mentioned a psych ward…”

“Right. If—when we find him, we might want to move him for a while.”

Move him
. Code for “have him committed.”

Over my dead body.

“Tell me what happened. We never talked about it.”
But we should have
, I realized. I should have pushed Matt to tell me about his past instead of ignoring it or waiting for him to mention it. As if he ever would.

“There isn’t much to tell. He…” Nate’s confident tone wavered. “Our parents’ passing … he never dealt with that. Emotionally. Psychologically. The drinking didn’t help. He was in grad school, and … tried to overdose. He left a note.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Nate, I’m so sorry about—”

“Please. I’m not ready to discuss that.”

My heart constricted. How could Nate compartmentalize so well? Seth Sky was dead.
No, God—
I couldn’t believe that. Thumbs-up … we gave each other a thumbs-up after he cleaned the word “slut” off my car. I saw his sad smile. He was so alive.

“When he got sober,” Nate continued, “he wanted to leave everything behind. Ella and Rick, the East Coast. He bought a place in Montana and stayed there awhile, then moved to Denver … maybe to be close to his agent, I don’t know. She was his only friend for a while.”

I leaned against the house and shuddered.

Matt knew almost everything about me—he’d teased out my life story during our first few phone calls—and I knew almost nothing about him.

One dry, hoarse sob escaped me.

What if I never got the chance?

I slid to the ground, folding under the weight of guilt. Seth was gone. He’d needed someone, anyone, and no one helped him.

It would serve me right if Matt was gone, too, because I didn’t deserve him. He’d come alongside me for a while, never belonging to me, and now he was gone.

“Hannah, you’ve got to hold it together.”

“I can’t. How? How are you doing it?”

“Faith,” he said.

“I don’t have any faith.”

I heard sirens—a faint tremolo growing louder—and soon I saw blue and red lights flashing in the dark.

*   *   *

When the police and paramedics arrived, I had to get off the phone with Nate, which made me cry.

“You’re all right,” he said. “I’m here; I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be buying a ticket to fly out tomorrow. Call me back as soon as you can.”

Then I sat in the kitchen with a female officer and told her everything.

Her partner searched the house.

Another group of officers combed the property, their flashlight beams glancing eerily off the windows and their calls making me flinch.
Matthew Sky! Matt Sky! Matt!

Lost boy,
I thought, just like Seth. And I had played a cruel game with Seth’s heart. Matt had played a cruel game with Seth’s mind.
I should disappear, too … join them …

“Miss Catalano?”

“Huh? Sorry. What was the question?”

“We need some assurance from you that this isn’t another hoax. We’re exhausting lifesaving resources here and—”

“It’s not a hoax.” I rubbed my eyes. When the officers had arrived, they’d strolled up to the house—hands on belts, no hurry—exchanging weary looks. I couldn’t blame them. Matt and I had cried “wolf” last year and the whole nation heard our cry. Search-and-rescue teams had risked their lives in the mountains, looking for the missing author. More than once, I’d sat down just like this, feeding lies to the police. People had grieved for him. Seth had grieved …

Tears of fear and frustration seeped into my fingers.

“Please,” I said. “I’m sorry. Please find him.”

Hannah, you’ve got to hold it together.

I sent up a prayer for strength.

I said to God:
Don’t make me pay for my sins with his life.

The officer’s partner returned to the kitchen.

“All clear,” he said. “I’m going to help outside.”

An hour later, only one police car and the ambulance remained. The female officer began talking me through filing a missing-persons report. “You can do that tomorrow at the station,” she said. Her radio buzzed. “Take notes on what you remember tonight—”

“You can’t”—I clutched my cell—“you can’t go. He has to be…”

What was Matt wearing? Why couldn’t I remember?

“Ma’am, we have to—” Her radio buzzed again and a garbled voice said something. She walked away and responded. I clung to the counter.

Was this how my happiness ended?

“Miss Catalano,” said the officer. “They’ve found him.”

It turned out to be a family of three that had found Matt on a road beyond our property. Unable to get much information from him, they’d called the cops. Somewhere, wires got crossed. One car was taking Matt to the hospital while other officers responded to my call. Matt heard the word “hospital,” panicked, and demanded to be taken home. He must have seemed cogent, because the officers turned and brought him back to the house.

They escorted him out of the car. He was barefoot and limping slightly. Bits of dirt and grass clung to his shirt, which was torn.

I ran and threw my arms around him. He didn’t move. He wore a dazed expression, eyes unfocused, and let the officers handle him.

“We’d like to get him stabilized in the ambulance,” said the female officer.

“He’s fine.” I stepped in the way.

“We can’t be sure about that, given your call. Excuse me—”

The paramedics popped open the back of the ambulance and Matt’s eyes widened. He pulled against the officer’s grip.

“Mr. Sky, it’s all right, we just want to make sure you’re—”

His nostrils flared. He tried to yank his arm free and the two paramedics grabbed him.
Oh shit,
this was not going to end well.

“Stop it!” I shrieked. “Please.” I forced my way to Matt and cupped his face. His wild eyes panned over mine. They didn’t catch with recognition. “Matt, listen. We have to get in the ambulance, and then we’ll get out. No big deal. Come on…”

I stepped backward and he followed.

We climbed into the ambulance together.

He sat on the stretcher while the paramedics checked his eyes and cleaned his feet, which were cut in several places. They kept asking for a verbal okay. I squeezed his hand.

“He’s had a shock,” I said.

“We need to make sure he’s not
in
shock. We’re trying to prevent—”

“I’m okay.” Matt’s voice silenced everyone. I stared at him and kissed his hand. The paramedics frowned at one another.

“There,” I said, “he’s okay. And his brother’s a doctor and he’s coming tomorrow, and he has a psychiatrist, and I’ll watch him around the clock, so…”

The paramedics and I argued for twenty minutes—it felt like forever—while Matt sat on the stretcher and stared at his feet.

Finally, with a lot of “at your own risk” warnings, they left.

Matt was docile, completely tractable as I led him into the house.

I held his hand and took out my cell. I wanted to handcuff him to me. A firm grip was the next-best thing.

“I’m calling Nate, okay?” I said.

He gazed at the floor.
Fuck
, had I made a mistake in sending away EMS? The silence of the house closed around us. I tightened my hold on his hand.

I knew, I just knew, that if I’d let the paramedics take him to the hospital, and the physicians there got hold of his medical records, they would “move him” to a psych ward … medicate him, observe him, put those pitiful socks with paw-shaped grips on his feet. His room would have Plexiglas windows. His meals would come with only a plastic spoon.

I rubbed brimming tears across my sleeve.
You’ve got to hold it together.

Nate answered the call instantly.

“Hannah, what’s happening?”

“He’s here. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

I stumbled through a narrative of the night. Matt appeared oblivious. Now, it was Nate’s turn to panic. “Can I talk to him?” he said. “I don’t like this. He needs a hospital.”

“Um, lemme see.” I muffled the cell against my shirt. “Matt? You wanna talk to Nate?”

Matt’s foggy stare stuck to the floor. He shook his head and I stroked his knuckles.

“That’s okay, baby.” I lifted the phone. “He can’t talk right now.”

“Hannah, goddamn it. Is he there?”

“Yes, and he’s fine. He … said he doesn’t want to talk. Maybe tomorrow.”

Nate chastised me for dismissing the ambulance and demanded a picture of Matt, which I took and texted as we talked. I sort of angled the shot to avoid the muddled look on Matt’s face. That would go away soon …
right?

“If something happens,” Nate said, “if he disappears again—”

“I’ve
got this
,” I snapped, but cringed immediately. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s been—”

“I know. Look, go on. Please call tomorrow. Call or text with any updates.”

I gave Nate promises and assurances and said good-bye.

“He’s doing fine,” I told Matt as I led him up the stairs. Silence. I smiled and chattered away as if nothing had happened. A thought flashed through my mind—
am
I
the one in shock?
—but I dismissed it. I couldn’t afford to worry about me right now.

In the bathroom, I cleaned his face with a damp washcloth and he pulled off his shirt.

“I’m … so sorry,” I said. “About—”

He looked at me sharply. The motion startled me.

He shook his head once—a gesture I would learn meant
we aren’t talking about that
—and climbed onto the air mattress in the bedroom.

Chapter 30

MATT

I eased my finger off the trigger of my pistol, relaxed my hands on the grip, and lowered the gun. The sound of its shot still sang in my ears. Four of the five cans that I had balanced on the fence now lay in the grass.