Set You Free (4 page)

“How can you be sure it was Tom?”

“The man took a picture with his cell phone. He just now showed the photo to Erin and Jack, and they identified Tom.”

“But you said that Tom took off, right?”

“He did. But we don’t know where he went afterward.”

“He probably came home,” I say.

“Did you see him last night?” she asks.

I think of the hallway in my house and try to remember what it looked like when I stumbled in. Was Tom’s door open or closed? Were his shoes on the mat? I can’t remember. I don’t even know how I got home.

“Maybe,” I say.

“Let’s go to your place and take a look, okay?”

And suddenly I have a hand on my back, pushing me forward. “What are you even saying? What could Tom possibly have to do with any of this? You can’t think Tom
took
Ben. Can you?”

Her cell rings, and the hand disappears from my back. “Okay,” she says. “I’m en route to the suspect’s house. Can we keep the police presence down for the time being?” Listens again. “Thanks. Yes, I’ll report in as soon as we’re there.” She pockets her phone as we pass the Dairy Queen.

“Suspect?” I say. “Do you mean Tom?”

“Have you ever heard of the seventy-two-hour rule, Lauren?”

“What?” I say. My head is pounding. My skin feels moist and electric. I’m getting really tired of the way Detective Evans feels the need to end all her sentences with
Lauren
.

“If a missing child isn’t found within seventy-two hours, the likelihood he or she ever will be drops dramatically.”

“You said
suspect
,” I say. “You were talking about my brother and you used the word
suspect
.”

“I did.”

We move quickly and silently. I have a million questions I want to ask her, but I feel so ill and dazed that I simply follow along.

“Tell me about your brother,” Detective Evans says as I slam the car door shut. She’s reading something on the in-car computer.

“He would never hurt anyone.”

“Okay. But what is he like?”

My coffee has gone cold. The car smells of grease and sweat. When I got in, I had to grab my cell phone off the seat before sitting down. “He’s a guy,” I say.

“He’s a grade ahead of you, right? But he goes to Mitchell Mayer High?”

“He was living with my dad downtown for a while. When my dad moved to California, Tom decided to keep going there. He’ll graduate this year.”

“So he’s eighteen?”

“Seventeen. His birthday is Thursday. For one week a year we’re the same age. Like, the same number age.” I’ve always found this interesting, but it sounds really stupid when I actually say it.

Detective Evans presses the touchpad on the computer, and her eyes dance from side to side as she reads. “He’s a big guy.” She looks at me.

“Kind of.”

“But you’re…well, you’re not, and your mother isn’t…”

“And my dad isn’t fat either. Back in grade school, when my parents were going through their divorce and everything, Tom started eating. Like, whenever he was upset or worried, he’d eat.”

“Divorce is tough on kids.” Detective Evans starts the car and backs out of the parking lot.

I press the button to lower the window but nothing happens. My hangover has shifted into high gear, and I’m overheating and shaky and would rather be curled up in bed feeling sorry for myself.

“Do you two get along?” she asks.

“We don’t have a lot of the same friends or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

“So you don’t spend much time together?”

“Pretty much none.”

“Who are his friends?”

“I don’t know,” I say. Which sounds better than
He doesn’t have any
.

“What
can
you tell me, Lauren?”

“Like I said before, the divorce was really tough on Tom. Our dad decided that Tom should live with him. Tom agreed
to go, I think only because he didn’t want it to be a giant battle. We saw what the divorce was doing to our mom, and I guess Tom figured he could save her from the worst of it if he just went. So we’d still see one another on weekends, but it started getting awkward right away. Like, he started changing. Closing in on himself.” I look at her. “But none of that matters. I know he would never do anything to Benny.”

“So he knows Benjamin?” Detective Evans says.

“I already told you he does.”

“When was the last time he saw Benjamin?”

We’re almost at my house, stopped at a crosswalk where once, long ago, I’d stepped into the street in front of a car and Tom had pulled me back at the last second. The streets are stained with a million of these memories.

“Yesterday,” I admit. “He saw Ben yesterday.”

SIX

“I was in bed early,” Mom says. The living room is settled in darkness. I go about opening the curtains as she speaks. “I had to take something for my migraine, and it knocked me right out.”

Detective Evans has already pawed through Tom’s room. “He doesn’t have a computer?”

“He’s never wanted one,” Mom replies.

“No cell phone either, I understand. That’s a bit different for a kid his age.”

“Tom has never gone in for electronics. I don’t know what to say.” She wrings her hands. “He’s only been living here for half a year.”

I crank open a window. “Mom,” I say, “I’ll talk to Detective Evans about Tom, okay?”

“He moved in with his father all those years ago and…” She covers her face.

I want to tell her it was Tom’s choice. A decision had to be made. Sure, it was an easy out for everyone, but no one knew at the time that it would be so hard on Tom.

Detective Evans is leveling that penetrating stare at my mother now. A new target. A new file to draw information from. “And that was a difficult situation?”

Mom nods to this. “Maybe we should have tried to work things out,” she offers.

“That’s not always the best plan.”

“No, you’re right. Things could have been worse,” Mom says.

“Sometimes it helps to simply see our kids as people,” Detective Evans says. “Everyone has a flaw or two.”

“That is certainly true,” Mom says.

“But do you believe he could have taken this child?” Detective Evans says.

“No. Absolutely not. Tom has had his difficulties, but he…No.” She’s holding her head as though it might explode.

“Mom,” I say. “Go lie down, okay? I’ll talk with Detective Evans.” I help her to her bed, close the curtains and turn off the light.

“It’ll be okay, Mom,” I say before leaving the room.

“How do we find him, Lauren?” Detective Evans asks when I return.

“I told you before, I don’t know,” I say.

Detective Evans looks at her phone. “Could you turn the
TV
on to channel four?”

“Why?” I say, already looking for the remote.

“There’s something you should see.”

I turn the
TV
on to find pictures of Ben and Tom on the screen. “What is this all about?” I say.

“Watch.”

“If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of Benjamin Dale Carter or Thomas Evan Saunders,” the announcer says, “please call the local authorities. Both are missing and may possibly be traveling together.”

I stare at the pictures. Ben’s photo is one I took at the park a week ago. Tom’s is his yearbook photo. I start to speak, but Detective Evans interrupts me.

“We’re not saying Tom has anything to do with Benjamin’s disappearance, Lauren. Just that we would like to talk with him.” She sits on the couch and flips the
TV
remote from one hand to the other, back and forth, watching me. “It’s the best I could do under the circumstances.”

“Why?” I say. “Because he was walking in our neighborhood last night and someone got freaked out? This is insane.”

“You know why we need to speak with him, Lauren.”

I look at the picture of Tom again before it disappears. It seems as though it’s been cropped from the yearbook. I wonder how they managed to get it so quickly.

“I don’t think I want to talk to you anymore,” I say. “Please just go.” The Amber Alert has disappeared and been replaced by a talk show.

“You could help us find him, Lauren.”

“Find who? Ben or my brother?”

“Lauren. You
must
know some of the places he goes. The people he connects with. We just need one lead. Someplace to start.”

“I don’t know anything,” I say. “Please go.”

“Lauren,” Detective Evans says, “JJ told us about that day in the park.”

“That was a total misunderstanding,” I say.

“Nevertheless, it is causing us some concern.”

“It shouldn’t. Nothing happened.”

“Lauren—” she begins, but I’ve had enough.

“Go!”

“Lauren, I need you to try to help your brother here. I need—”

“I need you to go,” I say, and I must look crazy because Detective Evans pulls a card from her pocket and lays it on the coffee table, then backs away.

“I’ll go. It’s okay, Lauren. I know this is difficult. But if he comes back here, you need to call me. Do you understand? I can’t say what will happen if someone else finds
him first.” Her cell rings as she’s opening the door to leave. She answers it, there on the threshold. Looks back at me.

“It’s Erin,” she says, holding the phone out and switching it to speaker.

“Lauren?” Erin’s voice fills the room. “Lauren, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Lauren, would you mind coming over here with Detective Evans?”

I stare at the stupid green carpet. I’ve hated this carpet since day one. So did my dad. It was one of the last things he mentioned before walking out the door. This stupid green carpet.

What a mess.

“Lauren,” Erin says. “Please.”

“Okay,” I say. “Fine.”

SEVEN

The Carters.

Erin, Jack, JJ and Steph.

They’re all here.

We enter through the kitchen, avoiding most of the madness. There are news vans and journalists outside. A group of them moved toward the cruiser as we pulled in. A uniformed officer had to shield us, arms out, shaking his head as photographs were taken. I wonder if this much attention would be given to Benny if his father wasn’t the mayor.

I spot JJ standing beside a fit-looking female officer, a few strands of his perfectly coiffed hair gently waving in the air-conditioned breeze. The officer stifles a laugh at something JJ says, and he straightens up.

Steph is at the kitchen table, a book of photographs in front of her. She immediately stands when she spots Detective Evans. “I don’t recognize anyone in here,” she says. I catch her glance. The one she saves for the unworthy.

“I’d like you to keep going, Stephanie,” Detective Evans tells her.

“I’m never with Ben,” she says.

“But you might have noticed one of these men nearby. Maybe at a park or outside your house. Maybe not even when you were with Benjamin.”

“They’re all starting to look the same,” she whines.

“Stephanie, you told us you wanted to help in any way you could. This is helping.”

“I don’t notice old guys, and these guys are all old
and
creepy.”

“Please, Stephanie,” Detective Evans says.

Steph closes her eyes and exhales sharply. “I need to make a smoothie before I can go on,” she says, opening the fridge. She’s wearing a pair of shorts only slightly larger than the panties beneath. A blue dress shirt is open farther down than it should be and tied above her waist.

“Thank you,” Detective Evans says. She moves me through the kitchen toward the living room. We’re no more than three steps in before I find myself wrapped in Erin’s arms.

“We’re going to find him,” she says. Her eyes are huge, round, red-rimmed. She nods in agreement with herself. “We are.” She releases me. Erin is thin and has these
perfectly formed lips. Her hair is tied up now, but when it’s down it’s a great, flowing waterfall of curls. She has big green eyes, just like Benny. Strangely, for a woman her age, she’s never had her ears pierced. In fact, she rarely wears any jewelry at all. There have been a few times at the park when people asked if we’re sisters. Though I think that’s more about how young Erin looks than because of any similarities we might possess.