The Drowning Child

68

Ren parked the car in the parking lot, but sat holding the steering wheel, her head bowed. She thought of Seth Fuller as a little boy, his long hair being grabbed by Roger Lyle, so he could torture him, so he could be his killer or his savior, so he could twist him all up inside and damage him and make him reach out to dissolve the pain. She thought of him watching the world going on around him, seeing dumber kids get better grades than him, feeling a terrible emptiness inside where he had been robbed of his innocent soul. She thought of him tearing open a fentanyl patch and how tragic it was that to take that was worth more to him than his life.

Just do this.

Seth Fuller looked up at Ren from his hospital bed, panic in his eyes, his face ghostly, his skinny body hooked up to monitors, tiny little lines making sure everyone knew that his heart still beat, that his blood still flowed, that he was alive, that he had a chance, that he had a future.

She blinked back tears. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad you made it.’ She sat down on the chair beside his bed, touched his arm.

He struggled to speak. ‘Are you here to arrest me?’

Ren smiled. ‘I am definitely not here to arrest you.’

‘Phew,’ said Seth.

‘I am so sorry, Seth,’ said Ren. ‘I know about Roger Lyle. I know what he did to you... and a lot of others.’

Tears slid down Seth’s face. He turned away.

‘I can’t imagine what you went through,’ said Ren.

‘I told one of my friends once,’ said Seth. ‘We were ten. He just laughed. He thought it was a joke. I don’t think people believe that anyone would do this. I don’t think people understand. My hair... I hated how he grabbed my hair. When I shaved my head, I was twelve years old, and I got sent home from school, because it was against the rules. But Lyle called me in for extra classes and Aunt Shannon thought that made me was special. That cliché. And I couldn’t bear to tell her the truth. Her sister was dead, she was looking after me, she was so proud of how well she was looking after me. And that son-of-a-bitch just clamped his hand around my skull and pressed his fingertips right in, and it didn’t matter...’

‘These kind of abusers are very clever,’ said Ren, ‘and there are almost no signs.’ She paused. ‘Who gave you the patch, Seth?’

‘I got it from a guy in Salem.’

Ren looked at him. ‘That’s a lie.’

He looked away.

‘I want to help you,’ said Ren. ‘And whoever gave you that patch did not. You owe them nothing, Seth. You owe it to your Aunt Shannon to tell me the truth. From what I heard, you wouldn’t be here without two people: Clyde Brimmer and your Aunt Shannon. The most obsessive safety freak in town found you. Did you know Clyde carries around all kinds of emergency supplies – epi pen, Narcan – Narcan is what saved you. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?’ She paused. ‘So you certainly owe it to him and to Shannon to tell me who gave you that patch, because whoever it was doesn’t give a shit about you, Seth. Shannon does. You owe her.’

A tear slid down his face. He looked at her. ‘That’s the problem...’

The problem? Why would it be a problem for Shannon? Ren waited for him to expand on that. He didn’t.

Oh, Jesus Christ. I know who it was.

‘John Veir...’ said Ren. ‘Was it John?’

Seth looked away. ‘John Veir saved my life.’

And once more in Seth Fuller’s damaged story, savior and killer are intertwined.

‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘So, why would he give you a fentanyl patch now?’

‘He’d heard about Wiley beating the crap out of me,’ said Seth. ‘He knew I was in pain, and that my doctors would have a hard time prescribing meds, because of my addiction issues. And Aunt Shannon would have been all over it.’

There is something so strange about this.

‘He just wanted to help,’ said Seth. ‘I feel bad.’

‘Please don’t,’ said Ren. Jesus Christ. Please fucking don’t.

Why the fuck is John Veir messing about in Seth Fuller’s pain, while his son is missing and his whole life has been turned upside down?

‘How did it happen?’ said Ren. ‘Why did he give this to you? Did you reach out to him?’

‘No,’ said Seth. ‘He just showed up. He thought he was doing the right thing by me.’

But he couldn’t possibly have!

‘Will he be prosecuted?’ said Seth.

‘Yes,’ said Ren. Oh, yes. ‘Do you know where he got the patch?’

Seth shook his head. ‘I don’t know – someone who’s sick. Not a dealer. Some lady who’s got cancer. That’s all I know.’

Patti Ellis. Jesus Christ. Is anything sacred? ‘Do you still have the package it came in?’

He shook his head. ‘No. I don’t know where it is.’

Ren stood up. ‘We’re going to get you some help, Seth. You won’t have to deal with this alone. Not the abuse, not the addiction... I want to make sure you get all the help you need. You deserve a wonderful life. Do not let the actions of one sick bastard take another day away from you.’

I want to save you. I want to save you. I want to save you.

But why, the fuck, would John Veir want to risk your life?

Ren’s cell phone rang. Gary. She picked up.

‘Ren? We’ve had a sighting.’

‘Of Jimmy Lyle?’

‘No – Caleb Veir.’