Scoop (36 page)

Hugo entered a completely dark house. Normally Jane left a living-room light on and sometimes even the television, muted. But there was no sound nor sight in his home. He felt for the light switch in the kitchen and flipped it on. He’d lost his appetite, especially when he realized he wouldn’t be able to come home right after the show like he’d promised, but he peeked in the fridge for his dinner plate anyway.

To his surprise, there was nothing there. They’d had a lot of fights over the years, but Jane had never thrown his food in the garbage. Come to think of it, the kitchen didn’t have the normal, lingering smell of dinner in the air. Maybe Jane and Kaylin went out. But even then, she always ordered him something to leave in the fridge.

Hugo sighed. If he ate, it would only be to get his mind off his troubles. So maybe he should figure out how to get out of his troubles so meals could be meals instead of distractions.

He laid his things on the table then decided to scoop them up and take them upstairs like Jane liked for him to do. She had this pet peeve about things left on the table, but most nights Hugo was too tired to organize. He never understood why he couldn’t do it the next day.

He climbed the stairs, another reminder of their differences. Hugo had wanted a house without stairs, while Jane had insisted on two stories.

He normally checked on Kaylin, but he wanted to talk to Jane, even
if he had to wake her up. This couldn’t wait until morning, and he could only pray that she would understand what kind of night he had had.

That’s the sad thing
he thought as he plodded down the hallway toward his bedroom. He needed someone to talk to about tonight. Hugo had awakened Jane on only a few occasions, but she’d always listened, even with her eyelids halfway drawn.

Yet even the dilemmas at work paled in comparison to the state of his marriage. Something told him he could save it if he would just listen to her, try to figure out where things had gone wrong. Maybe it was as simple as leaving socks on the floor. Or maybe it was more complex, since he knew he’d seemed distant the past few months. But Hugo knew every problem had a solution. It was just a matter of finding it.

He walked quietly across the dark bedroom toward the bathroom, his eyes barely adjusting to the darkness. He had always wanted a night-light so he could see better coming home, but Jane had a list of criteria that had to be met for her to sleep soundly, and one of those was a pitch-black room.

In the bathroom, he quietly closed the door, flipped on the light, and set down his things. As he undid his tie, he thought about all the feelings swirling inside. Something could be said for pain.

Alongside the pain, he also felt hope. He would do anything to save his marriage. He loved Jane. But it was true that ever since he’d taken the executive producer’s job, which made him the ten o’clock show’s producer, their relationship had grown distant. They’d sat down one day and charted out each of their schedules, and both had been ecstatic when they realized, with careful planning, they could make both of their schedules work.

But what hadn’t been on that chart was the emotional distance they would eventually develop from running in separate directions. Jane had been elated at the increase in salary, and Hugo had finally landed his dream job. So why was this so hard? Weren’t all the fringe benefits enough to sustain them?

He decided to give his teeth a quick brush. He was stalling, but he figured his chances of starting out the conversation on a good note vastly improved if his breath was decent.

Then there was nothing else to do but go in there. He opened the door and decided to keep the bathroom light on. There was nothing that woke Jane up faster than light, which was why they had hung shades heavy enough to cloak the sun.

“Jane?”

Hugo stared at the bed, which was neatly made and empty. As if turning on another light would help, he rushed to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. Jane was gone. In her place was a white envelope, blank on the outside.

Hugo left it there and rushed to Kaylin’s room. He pushed open the door, and her bed was empty too. He ran back to his room and tore open the envelope.

In her sloppy handwriting it read, “Were at my mothers. I will call you next week.”

Hugo sat down on the bed and read the note over and over. She hadn’t even known he was late. She hadn’t even waited for him to come home. She had packed her things after she’d come to the station.
Maybe before.

Hugo threw the note across the bed and kicked off his shoes. He slammed his hand against the lamp, causing it to crash to the ground. A sliver of bathroom light sliced across the bed just to his left, but everything else was dark.

“Fine!” Hugo yelled at the top of his lungs. “Fine!” he said again as he galloped downstairs. He turned on every light he could find. The entire house looked alive enough to throw a party.

In the kitchen, he opened a can of SpaghettiOs and grabbed a spoon. He turned on the television, burrowed into the couch, and put his feet on the coffee table, just like Jane hated.

A
s big as Roarke was, he seemed small sitting behind the bars at the county jail. When he looked up and saw Ray, he looked betrayed. “I’m sorry,” Ray said, clutching the metal bars. “I should’ve been there for you.”

“If you’d been there,” Roarke said, choking up, “they would’ve believed me. I was so nervous trying to explain the letters and the break-in that I ended up sounding like Hannibal Lecter’s crazy brother. It didn’t help that I pretended I wasn’t home for the first half hour while the police were knocking.”

Ray smiled through his own tears. Roarke could always make him laugh. Roarke hadn’t been fully processed yet, but thanks to some connections he had at the jail, Ray was able to visit him in the holding cell at this late hour. It looked like a slow night. Only three other people were in there, too drunk or too high to care about what was happening around them. The stench was horrible.

Roarke finally stood, holding his back from sitting on the hard, metal bench.

“Tell me what happened,” Ray said quietly.

“I have no idea how they figured out I wrote the letters. But why am I surprised? We watch
CSI
enough to know they can figure out practically anything, you know?”

Ray nodded and swallowed. Now was not the right time to tell him Hayden had given him up.

“Anyway, it didn’t take much, you know. They asked a couple of questions, and then I broke down and told them everything…about my crush, the letters, breaking into her condo.” He looked up. “I didn’t mention
you.” He looked back down. “Anyway, I was nervous, you know? And even as I was talking, I thought to myself that I sounded like a raging lunatic. But I couldn’t stop, and I couldn’t collect my thoughts to make any of it sound reasonable.”

Ray shook his head. “I don’t know that they have enough evidence to hold you, Roarke. I mean, you confessed to the letters and the break-in, and you gave them the reason why. Beyond that, they don’t really know what happened to Gilda.”

“They’re holding me on unpaid parking tickets,” Roarke sighed.

“How can they do that? Hold you in jail for a few unpaid tickets?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Oh.”

“But it won’t be long until they bring other charges against me, Ray. You have to get me out of this.”

“I’ll do everything I can. You know I will.”

“And you’ve got to keep this off the news. Keep me out of the news. I couldn’t bear for this to get out, for my name to be attached to this, and for everyone to know I wrote those letters to Gilda.”

Ray struggled to keep his composure. He knew he couldn’t make any promises. He had no idea how to keep this out of the media. “Were any news crews around when you got arrested?”

“Only the news copter up above, circling like a stupid vulture.”

“What channel?”

“Ours.” Roarke looked up. “I’m going to become the laughingstock of the city, aren’t I?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Roarke couldn’t hold in the tears in any longer. “You know, Ray, I’ve been fat since I was born. I was a fat toddler, a fat kid, a fat teenager, and now I’m a fat adult. One year we moved right before I went into junior high. I decided I was going to change my name, since my parents gave me a name that seemed to rhyme with every word that meant fat. So I
thought long and hard and decided to go by my middle name, Roarke. I told my parents that would be my new name and not to call me anything else. But you know what? We don’t give mean kids enough credit. They’re pretty creative. At my new school, I acquired two new nicknames. Roarke the Fork and Roarke the Pork.”

Ray couldn’t look at Roarke any longer. It was breaking his heart to see his friend in such distress.

“But my parents always taught me to do the right thing. They told me that people could call me all the names they wanted, but if I did the right thing, they could never destroy my dignity. And that’s what has always kept me going, Ray. My dignity. Now I don’t even have that.”

“That’s not true,” Ray said, clutching his friend’s hand through the bars. “We’re going to clear your name, buddy. I promise. We’re going to find out what happened to Gilda, and you’ll have your dignity again.” The word
promise
felt so heavy on Ray’s tongue. He didn’t know what he could do, but he had to try, and he had to give his friend hope. “I’m on it right now. We’re going to figure this thing out, okay?”

Roarke nodded, and Ray could see a flicker of hope on his face. Ray squeezed his hand and turned to leave.

“What are you doing to do?”

“Trust me, my friend,” Ray said as he walked toward the door. He had no idea what he was going to do.

It wasn’t hard to find Hugo’s house in the middle of the night. It glowed like a lighthouse. Ray pulled into the driveway with his lights off and shut his car door quietly. He’d been to Hugo’s house once, back when the station used to do Christmas parties.

On the front porch, Ray hesitated before he knocked. What was he going to say? Why was he even here? He didn’t know, really. But in the
parking lot of the jail, he sat in his car and prayed like he hadn’t prayed in years. If he’d been able, he would’ve gotten on his knees. He had never felt more desperate, and he knew one thing for sure: God had the answers they all needed.

Ray knocked, and to his surprise, the door flew open almost immediately. Hugo looked like he was about to say something when his face registered it was Ray. Ray wasn’t sure who he had been expecting, but it wasn’t him. Hugo’s shirt was half untucked and his hair looked like his hand had run through it about a hundred times.

“Ray?” Hugo squeaked.

“I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night,” Ray said. “I hope I didn’t wake up your family.”

“What do you need?”

“It’s about Roarke. They arrested him tonight for parking tickets, but that’s just an excuse to hold him until they can find more evidence linking him to Gilda’s disappearance.”

Hugo blinked as if the sun had suddenly popped into the sky unannounced. “They think Roarke has something to do with Gilda?”

“It’s a long story,” Ray said. “May I come in?”

Hugo opened the door wider and glanced outside a time or two before closing the door. Hugo said, “I’ve just been up working.”

“Oh.” Ray also noticed the can of SpaghettiOs on the living-room table with a spoon sticking out the top.

Hugo shook his head and laughed, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh you give after a good joke. It had a sardonic feel to it. Ray didn’t know where to begin. “The notes they found were from Roarke. I just recently found out myself that Roarke has had a crush on Gilda. Apparently he’s had one for a while.”

“Roarke and Gilda,” Hugo said, leading Ray into the living room. He gestured for him to sit down. “Who would’ve thought? Well, who knows? Maybe they’d make a great couple. You just don’t know about people. You
think two people are matched up perfectly…they have a lot in common, have similar life goals, are good friends. But it can all go away, you know? There doesn’t seem to be one thing that can keep a couple together. If you could say, make sure to have A or B, that would make it a lot easier. But there is no A or B. In fact, there’s nothing in the alphabet that can give you any hope.”