A Tap on the Window

Twenty-two

When Scott was twelve, he had an idea for a movie. He spelled it out for Donna and me over dinner.

“It’s about this guy who comes to Earth from another galaxy, or maybe it’s this one, like from Mars or something, it doesn’t really matter, but he comes here wanting to see what Earth people are like, and he has to take human form so nobody can see what he really looks like, which is kind of gross. Like, he has what looks like worms all over his face or something, but they’re probably blood vessels.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, glancing down at my noodles.

“At first I was thinking someone like Arnold Schwarzenegger could play him, but it’s not really a Terminator kind of role, so I have to think about that a bit more. His mission is to make friends with one person, and to study him, and he picks someone totally at random and watches what this person does, and how this Earthling interacts with other Earthlings. But what the alien doesn’t know is, he picked a real nerdy, geeky guy who doesn’t have hardly any friends, so he doesn’t interact much with other Earthlings. So the alien guy goes back to his home planet and reports that all Earthlings are lonely and unhappy and don’t really fit in, because they’re weird and like stuff nobody else likes.”

Donna and I said nothing for a moment. Finally, I asked, “That’s how it ends?”

Scott shook his head. “No, no. It has a happy ending. The alien guy comes back, and takes the person he was, like, shadowing, back to his own planet, because he feels sorry for him, and the Earthling turns out to be really happy there because everyone thinks he’s really cool and interesting and he doesn’t think about killing himself anymore.”

Donna put her hand over her mouth, got up, and left the room.

Scott said, “Was it the worms thing? I could take that out if it’s too gross.”

I’m not sure why that memory popped into my head after I ended my brief conversation with Augustus Perry and made my way back up to the bridge, where Sean Skilling was waiting for me. Of course, I had Scott flashbacks about every five minutes since he’d died. He was always there, just below the surface, regardless of what I was doing.

Maybe it was the notion of happy endings, how elusive they can be, and how they aren’t the same for everyone. For Scott, a geeky kid transplanted to another world, millions of miles from home, finds his happy ending among aliens who appreciate his uniqueness. But was it a happy ending for the parents he left behind?

Scott was on my mind because I was starting to worry there might be no happy ending in my search for Claire Sanders. Not if she ended up the same way her friend Hanna Rodomski had.

When I got to Sean, he was a mess.

“Is it her?” he asked, tears running down his cheeks. “It can’t be her. There’s no way it’s her.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” I said. “But it’s a bad scene down there.”

I had to grab him as he attempted to get past me to go under the bridge and see what I had seen.

“You can’t go down there.”

“Get the fuck out of my way,” he said, practically spitting the words into my face. He was a strong kid, and I wasn’t sure I was any match for him, but there was no way I wanted him going down there and seeing Hanna. First, he just didn’t need that, and second, I didn’t want him messing with evidence.

Although the dogs had already done a good job of that.

“Sean, listen to me,” I said, blocking his path. “You can’t go near her. I may have already screwed things up, getting as close as I did. Are you hearing me? Whoever did this to Hanna, we want the son of a bitch caught. You go down there now and you run a chance of messing up a crime scene. You hear me?”

I could feel the muscles in his arms, taut as steel, relax ever so slightly. “Please,” I said. “We’ll stay here on the bridge, we’ll stand guard, make sure no one else goes down and disturbs her, okay? Let’s preserve what dignity she has left.”

He turned and walked to the other side of the bridge, put his hand on the rusted railing. His body started to shake with sobs. I put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find out who did this. I swear.”

Sean turned and pointed an accusing finger at my face. “This is your fault. You dropped her off. You left her here for whoever killed her.”

I was aware.

I thought about that black pickup, pulled over to the side of the road, that I’d noticed seconds after Hanna had fled my car. The one that had taken off by the time I’d turned around and gone back for another look. I struggled to remember any details about it. Ford or Dodge? Foreign or domestic? I was usually good at that sort of thing, but it had been dark, and it had been raining.

“If I hadn’t got pulled over by that damn cop...” Sean said. “I was supposed to be there. It wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there. She wouldn’t have tried to run away from me.”

The trio from the porch were cautiously approaching. The one I knew as Mildred called out, “What’s happened?”

“There’s a body under the bridge,” I said.

“Mother of God,” Mildred said.

I told her the police would be here shortly. When I’d told Augie who it was I’d found under the bridge, he didn’t know the first name, but he’d recognized the last. “Jesus. That must be Chris Rodomski’s kid. Chris and Glynis.”

I’d confirmed it for him. He’d wanted to know what I was doing there, but agreed to wait for details until we could talk face-to-face.

“Ten minutes,” he’d said. “And I’ll call it in.”

I could hear sirens in the distance as I walked back over to Sean.

“I’m gonna hafta call my parents,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Look, Sean, before the cops get here, is there anything you haven’t told me? About who Hanna was helping Claire get away from?”

He shook his head. “I told you what I know. I swear.”

“After the cops let you off last night, after you ran the stop sign, go through it with me. What did you do then?”

“I drove by Patchett’s, just in case Claire was still there. Then I went to Iggy’s, in case Hanna or her were still around.”

“What time did you get to Iggy’s? Did you see Hanna get into my car?”

“No. I never saw you.”

“So you didn’t follow me, did you, Sean?”

“What?”

“In your Ranger. Did you follow me down this way?”

He blinked at me. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw a black pickup around here after Hanna got out of my car. I’m gonna have to tell the police that.”

The sirens grew louder.

Sean shook his head. “Are the cops going to think I did this?”

“They always look at the boyfriend. Luckily for you, the cops are your best alibi, since they had you pulled over around the time Hanna was killed. Plus, you may have been seen at Iggy’s, or caught on their security cam, if they have one, which again places you away from the scene.”

I hoped Iggy’s was more diligent than Patchett’s where security was concerned. If they had cameras, Claire might have been caught on them after I’d headed off with Hanna.

The first cruiser arrived at the scene, lights flashing, siren wailing. Two officers — a male and a female — got out. Kate Ramsey and her partner. The ones who’d sent the bikers on their way. Seconds later, another car rolled up. Out got Ricky Haines and Hank Brindle.

“What about you?” Sean asked.

The arrivals had distracted me. “Huh? What about me?”

“Aren’t they just as likely to think you did it?” Sean asked. “You dropped her off just before she got killed.”

It occurred to me at that moment that pissing off the chief of police at family get-togethers over the years might not have been such a good idea.