Elephant in the Sky (12 page)

30

Ashley

“So you think it's possible, then, that Nate is suffering from some sort of mental disorder or illness? That there's the chance he might hurt himself or someone else. Mrs. Carter, I need you to confirm this.” The question was clear as crystal, and pointed directly at me.

“I … uh … I don't know for sure. But … maybe, I guess?” The police officer continued to stare at me. It was clear she wanted a more specific answer. “I mean, yes. My answer is yes. I do think it is possible that Nate could hurt himself. He doesn't seem to be making much sense lately. But I don't think he would hurt anyone else. He's too kind for that,” I answered weakly. I looked down into my tightly clasped hands to avoid Pete's gaze. I could sense that he was clenching his teeth, even from across the table.

“Has he ever been diagnosed with anything we should be aware of? Or gone to see a doctor for symptoms that might suggest he needs help?” Constable Matthews interjected. The questions coming from the cops were becoming more pointed. Increasingly urgent. Like rapid fire.

“No. Nothing like that yet,” I responded.

Pete remained quiet.

“What about your families? Is there a family history of mental illness?” Constable Matthews asked.

“No. Nothing.” I responded.

More silence from Pete.

“Mr. Carter? Anything in yours?”

Pete didn't respond. I looked across the table to see fear and uncertainty reach his eyes. He seemed torn about what to say next.

“Mr. Carter, it's important you tell us everything you know,” Constable Baker said firmly. “Your son's life could be at stake. Every minute counts.”

Pete shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then answered the officer's question. “Yes … Todd Blakely … Ashley's father and Nate's grandfather … he's bipolar. He was diagnosed with the disease two years ago and has been in and out of psych wards a lot since then.”

Heat raced to my cheeks as I struggled to keep up with what Pete was saying. My
father
? Bipolar?

With Nate missing, it was all too much to take in and I began to feel faint.

“Mrs. Carter? Are you okay?” Constable Matthews asked. “Perhaps you could use a glass of water.”

I nodded my head, and Pete jumped up to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. He twisted off the cap and handed it to me, silently apologizing with his eyes when they met mine.

I took a long sip and closed my eyes. Forced myself to inhale slowly and begin to dissect the pieces of the puzzle Pete had just revealed.

“My father … he's
bipolar
?” I looked at Pete for his response, but couldn't miss the glance exchanged by the two police officers. My question made it clear that this was new information to me. Pete had clearly known about it for a long time.

“We'll let you two talk about this. We're going to go look for Nate. We've got everything we need now, and we'll get a bigger team of officers out on the street to look for him right away.” Constable Baker stood from his chair and pushed it into the table. “This new information about possible depression in Nate and a past medical history of bipolar disorder in the family escalates the urgency a great deal. I'll need to notify the sergeant. Ultimately, it will be his call, but I suspect he'll bring in a search commander and set up a mobile command post right away.”

“Wait! I'm coming with you!” I shrieked, standing up and lunging for the police officer. I grabbed Constable Baker's arm as he was walking away and pulled him back towards me.

“Mrs. Carter? I know this is hard for you, but you need to let go of me. Now, please.” Constable Baker firmly shrugged his arm out of my grasp.

As soon as my unexpected aggression registered with my brain, I dropped his arm. Judging by what was happening to my own actions and voice, I wasn't recognizing anything around me. There was too much going on for me to actually process anything.

“I'll tell you what,” Constable Matthews interrupted. “Mrs. Carter, why don't you come with us? You can ride along as we look for Nate. It might be helpful to have you there, and I can guess you aren't going to do well sitting and waiting. But Mr. Carter, we need you to stay here. In case your son comes home.”

Pete begrudgingly nodded in agreement. I grabbed my jacket and was out the door before he could consider asking to switch places. There was zero chance I was actually going to stay at home waiting while my son was out on the dark streets by himself, and I was too furious with Pete to even be in the same room as him.

The news of my father being bipolar, and how Pete knew about it when I didn't, had smacked my brain with more surprise and concern than I would have thought possible. But it was nothing compared to losing Nate, and I couldn't stop to think about why Pete hadn't told me. I couldn't focus on anything — or anyone — but my son until I knew he was safe.

Once in the back of the cruiser, I sat as close to the window as possible, peering out into the black night. The car window was icy to my touch, and it was still raining outside. Fresh tears streamed down my cheeks as I thought about Nate out in the dark. All alone and scared.

I looked up at the almost­-full moon, barely distinguishable through the threatening, inky clouds. My mind flew to a conversation Nate and I had had a few years before, on one of my favourite days with our family.

Nate was about six years old, and we were by ourselves, lying on the dock of a cottage we'd rented. We were looking up at the stars. Overstuffed with toasted marshmallows we'd just roasted over the blazing fire Pete had built, Nate and I were enjoying some alone time and taking in the balmy August night.

“Mommy?” Nate had asked. “Why does the big moon look bumpy?”

“It's a great question, Bean,” I'd replied. “Those things that look like bumps are called craters. And craters are big, gigantic holes.”

“Gigantic holes? Like bigger than this
lake
?”

“Some of them, yes.” I chuckled under my breath.

“How do they get there?” Nate was fidgeting beside me, but kept asking questions.

“Well, sometimes there are these huge flying things shooting through space at super-fast speeds.”

“Faster than
Superman
?” he asked, his voice rising towards the end of the question.

“Yes, faster than Superman,” I said and laughed. I gave him a squeeze. “Anyway, these super-fast things are called asteroids. Or comets. And sometimes they crash into the moon and create those massive craters. Which are the giant holes. And some of them are so big we can even see them just by looking up. Isn't that cool?”

“Uh huh. That
i
s
cool.” Nate snuggled closer into me. I put my arm around him and he rested his head on my shoulder. His hair smelled like the lake and dirt but filled me with comfort as I remembered all of the fun we'd had in the water earlier that day.

“Mommy? How come they don't crash into Earth?” Nate asked.

It was another good question, and I wasn't sure I even knew the answer. As an arts major, science wasn't exactly my forte. “Hmmm … I'm not really sure, to tell you the truth. But we could look it up tomorrow and find out together. What do you think?”

“That would be good. I like finding things out together.”

“Me too, Bean.” I pulled him closer. Squeezed him tighter.

“Mommy? Will we always be together?” Nate had asked. He sat up and I could barely make him out, peering at me through the dark. My heart melted.

“We'll be together lots, Bean. As much as possible. But sometimes we might be apart from each other. Just for a little while.”

“Like when?”

“Well, like when you're at school and I'm at work, for example.” I paused, watching Nate's reaction. “Or, when you get older, and you might want to go for a sleepover at a friend's house, or at Cub Camp. Wouldn't that be fun?”

“Nah … I don't want to sleep over anywhere. I want to stay with
you
.” Nate lay back down, returning to our snuggly position.

“You might not always feel that way, Bean. But I'll tell you what. You see that moon up there? That really big, crater-filled moon? Well, I happen to know that no matter where you are … or where I am … that moon will always be in the night sky. So if you're ever lonely, or not with me for whatever reason, just … look up. Find the moon, and know that I'm looking at that same moon, and thinking of you.”

“Okay, Mommy …” Nate's voice trailed off and I knew he was getting sleepy.

I sat up and gently carried my son to the warmly lit cottage to tuck him into bed. I kissed his forehead good night. When I turned off the light in the room he was sleeping in, the bright glow from the full moon outside filled the room. It shone directly over of the cottage, its light streaming through the open window of the bedroom. As I stood in the doorway, watching Nate sleep in the cozy moonlight, my soul filled with warmth and peace.

Years later, sitting in the back of the chilly cop car, peering out the window into the cold, dark night and looking for my lost son, I couldn't have been further from what I felt that night. But one thing was the same. That full, crater-filled moon high in the sky.

I glanced up, taking in the shadowy glow of the moon and thought of Nate. My son. My baby. I watched the moon's shine play peek-a-boo with me through the dark clouds surrounding it. Like it was teasing me, just to see if I'd keep watching.

I held my glance, staring at that moon, and wondered if Nate, wherever he was, was looking at it too, and thinking of me.

31

We continued to circle the city, but Nate was nowhere. And we weren't finding any clues as to his whereabouts. We showed his picture to anyone we saw. But in the wee hours of the morning, most people were at home, sleeping soundly. At first, I had gone with them, but I knew they thought I was too anxious. Too forceful in my approach, and it wasn't helping anyone. Instead, they'd asked me to stay in the car while they approached people with Nate's most recent picture. In the meantime, I frantically called every person I could think of.

As I waited for the officers to finish talking to a group of teenagers who were hanging out at a park, Constable Baker's words raced through my mind.

“
Mrs. Carter?
Is there a chance Nate might hurt h
imself or someone else?
”

I shuddered. No matter how hard I tried to get the words out of my mind, I heard Constable Matthews's voice over and over and over. The recurring words intensified my panic.

The police officers returned to the car, jerking open the door and snapping me back to reality. “Did you find anything out?” I asked anxiously. I felt as though I'd asked the question a hundred times that night.

“I'm afraid not. Although we did scare the pants off them with a warning about drinking underage,” Constable Matthews answered. “I bet they're barely sixteen. I always wonder … where the hell are their parents?”

“Do you need to take them home?” I asked weakly. I needed them to keep looking for Nate, but was empathetic for the kids' parents. I imagined their mother pacing at home and worried about her own children.

“No, no … we gave them a serious warning and told them to head home. They seemed to be scared enough to just do it. We're committed to finding Nate, Mrs. Carter. The whole department is doing everything possible to find your son.”

“I'm really grateful for that. Pete and I … we're so scared.” The fresh tears I expected did not come, and I wondered if I had literally cried myself out of them. “And please, call me Ashley. I should have told you that hours ago.”

“Okay, then. We'll do that. Do you need anything, Ashley? Water? Coffee?” Constable Baker asked.

“No. I just want to keep going. I need to find him.”

Just then, my phone rang. It was Tay.

“Tay! Have you heard anything?” I asked frantically.

“No, hon. I'm sorry. I was just calling to check in and see how you are. And to see if you've found him yet.”

“No, we haven't. And I'm so scared.” The tears returned. Tay's voice sounded like home, and it made me even sadder.

“I know, sweetie. I know …”

“How's Grace?” I asked. “Is she freaking out?”

“She was, but she's finally fallen asleep. We had hot chocolate to try to make her feel better, and she's sleeping with Julia.” Tay's voice was smooth. Somehow calming. “And Braeden's out looking for Nate as we speak. We rallied a group of people, and they're all out looking for him. We'll find him, Ash. You need to keep believing that.”

“They're all out looking for him?” Gratitude flooded through me. We needed all the help we could get.

“Yes. Almost everyone you and I called. There have to be twenty of them, at least. We're all here for you, sweetie. There are a lot of people looking for Nate. We'll find him soon.”

I tried to believe Tay. I knew she was right. I needed to remain positive. I had to have faith. Nate needed me to never give up, and I wouldn't. I couldn't.

After I'd hung up the phone, I called Pete to let him know that a neighbourhood search team had been championed by Braeden.

“I need to join them, Ash. I'm going crazy here waiting. I can't do it for one minute more.”

“Yes, you can. You have to. What if Nate goes home? Pete, you don't have a choice.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right …” Pete's voice trailed off.

“Why don't you call your sister? Maybe Kaitlyn could keep you company over the phone while you wait,” I suggested. “Have you called her yet?”

“No. I don't want to bug her this late. Besides, there's nothing she can do and I don't want to alarm her.”

“Don't be ridiculous. She's your
sister
. Of course she'd want you to call her. Just do it. Please. It will make me feel better knowing that you aren't going crazy by yourself over there.”

I paused at my choice of words. They stung once I heard them out loud, suddenly sounding clichéd and horrible. I'd never stopped to think of them in that way, but the phrase “going crazy” suddenly hit way too close to home. Not only because of the possibility of what Nate was going through, but also because of my father.

I pushed the thoughts of my father from my mind. I forced myself to think of Nate. To focus on my son so we could bring him home.

At two o'clock in the morning, we stopped by the mobile command post that had been set up. It looked like a large motor home, but the inside was filled with cops, computers, and coffee.

“Are you Mrs. Carter?” a friendly man asked when we walked inside.

I nodded.

“I'm Oliver … the search commander assigned to Nate's case. We're doing everything we can to find him.”

“Thank you.” I tried to smile at him but couldn't muster up the energy.

“And I've got good news for you. We just got a great lead. We recently found out that Nate was at a pool hall about two hours ago. One of the patrons had seen him, and took pity on him after he'd left. We've searched the entire pool hall from top to bottom, and Nate is no longer there, I'm afraid. But we're close. And we aren't stopping tonight until we find him.”

“A
pool hall
? Which one?” While I was shocked that my nine-year-old son was at a pool hall by himself, the flood of hope that shot through my veins trumped all other feelings. My son was still alive two hours ago. It had to be a good sign.

“Ian's Billiards,” Oliver responded.

“Ian's Billiards? Isn't that … isn't that really far from our house?”

“Yes. Very far. We're not sure how he made it there, but the patron's description matched him perfectly. I had two officers pay him a visit at home with Nate's picture, and he confirmed that it was Nate he saw.”

“Why wouldn't he help him?” I cried. “Why did he wait to call?”

“We don't know for sure. We suspect he was doing something illegal himself and was likely afraid of bringing attention to himself. Turns out he had a guilty conscience, though, which is good for us. It's our best lead yet, and we know he's still around here.”

“Still around here?” I asked. Was the search commander talking about …
kidnappi
ng
? He couldn't be. Not Nate.

Oh God. Please, please …
not Nate. Please, God, keep him safe. He's just
a little boy.

“We're going to keep going. We're searching all around the pool hall, Mrs. Carter. We've got cops going up and down streets, knocking on doors and asking for any clue that might find him.”

I nodded and looked around for a chair. I was beginning to feel faint.

“Here, Mrs. Carter. Why don't you sit down?” Oliver grabbed a folding chair from one of the desks, and gently guided me into it.

“You need some rest, Ashley. Why don't you let us take you home?” Constable Matthews asked. “You can be with your husband, and we'll update you the minute we have any more information about your son.”

“No. I'm not doing that,” I replied, more forcefully than I intended. Taking a deep breath, I continued gently, “I'm sorry … I know you're looking out for me. But I won't go home. I need to stay out. For Nate. No matter what, I will not give up on my son. I just can't.”

Constable Matthews nodded, looking at me sympathetically, and I knew she understood. I wondered if she had children of her own. And what she might be thinking or feeling to witness another mother looking for her child.

“Why don't you call your husband to let him know about the good news, and then we'll keep going. I understand why you want to stay out. You can do whatever makes you feel comfortable. We'll find Nate together. Okay?” Constable Matthews smiled at me, filling me with a quick burst of renewed energy.

Her response and the way she looked at me suggested that she was, indeed, a mother. That her stomach was in knots, just as my own was.

As I pulled out my iPhone to call Pete, I took comfort in Constable Matthews's compassion. It made me feel better to know that an empathetic mother was on my side during the horrific ordeal. Nate wasn't her son but, as a mother, she felt my panic. Shared in my dread. And if she was experiencing even one millionth of what I was feeling, I knew she'd never let them stop looking for my son.