The Drowning Child

71

Ren’s heart was pounding.

The anger at Aaron Fuller for having his PlayStation, the anger at his father for giving it away, the anger at his mother – why? – the drowning in the koi pond, quitting the job at Rose Dennehy’s... I know what you fucking did, John Veir. You found Rose Dennehy’s phone wherever Caleb had hidden it. You knew it wasn’t his, so you went through it to see who it belonged to – and you found the video he’d made.

Ren’s stomach turned at the thought that Caleb Veir recorded what he did to little Luke Monroe.

Selfies, videos – that’s what kids do.

Oh, God. He’s just a kid.

A damaged one. An abused one.

You saw Luke Monroe, his little neck gripped, his head pushed into the pond.

And that was the moment your world fell apart. You knew what your son done, who your son was. Your twelve-year-old son was a killer.

You were horrified. But you love your son. You knew what Jimmy Lyle did to him. You always knew he was damaged. You just didn’t know how badly. But you love your son. You felt responsible, because you went off to war and you left him behind, and you left your wife behind, and they fell apart. You love your son. More than he will ever understand. Because that’s not something he can understand. Even though you thought, you hoped, he could.

Did you confront him? Did you look into those angry black eyes and ask him why he did it? Was that when you locked him in his bedroom? He’d have been crazed at this point – he hated you. He knew you knew his secret. He just didn’t know what you were going to do about it. He thought maybe you were going to call the police, that he’d end up in prison. He figured you wanted to get rid of him anyway, that you never liked him. There was no way he could make it out his bedroom window on the second floor, it was too high. So he kicked at the door, he kicked and he kicked and he kicked.

You couldn’t let him go to prison, could you? So you ran through your options and you chose to save him. You would have him disappear, let everyone think he was another tragic young victim – that way no one would ever suspect him of being a killer. Meanwhile you would get him somewhere he could have the help he needed, and eventually you would bring him home, cured. You believed that that was possible.

You just didn’t realize what a mess you would make.

So you called your sister and asked her to help you save him. She was only three and a half hours away. You were lucky.

Why, though, why did she help you? Isn’t she honorable? Doesn’t she believe in justice? She is so desperately earnest to save Anthony Boyd Lorden, to right that wrong, why would she jeopardize everything she’d fought for to save a child killer, even if he was a child himself, even if he was her own nephew? How did you talk her into getting involved?

Weren’t you lucky Alice agreed – and that she was only three and a half hours away.

And weren’t you lucky that Merrifield escaped the day before? He was the perfect person to pin this on. There was a history there, with you, with Seth. So easy to blame him for Caleb’s disappearance.

Weren’t you lucky?

Lots of luck.

Ren’s heart started to pound.

Oh my God: this was planned, it had to have been. You didn’t just find the phone and confront him and then everything magically fell into place. You knew weeks ago that on Monday, March 6, Alice would be in Portland on a speaking engagement. She would be close by. And Teddy wouldn’t be home. And you planned everything around that.

But what about Merrifield? You knew he was dealing. You knew that Lockwood was bringing drugs into BRCI via his sister, Serena. So you worked that into your plan: you approached Lockwood and blackmailed him into helping Merrifield escape. After all, who would suspect the good, kindly, nerdy therapist?

For some unknown reason, Alice agrees to help. She knows not to drive her own car – she borrows Paula Leon’s. She drives that car into Lister Creek Rest Area where you transfer Caleb from the trunk of your car into hers... But how did you persuade him to go along with all this?

How come he didn’t fight you off? Fight her off? Or was he willing to leave Tate behind him? Had you told him enough stories about prison and inmates to terrify him? Did he trust you, was he willing to go along with your plan, spend the next few years in some facility where they could cure people like him?

No. You drugged him. That’s what you did. Your wife’s Xanax. Caleb had no clue what was going on. You gave him a spiked drink, and he was knocked out for the entire ride.

And Alice Veir, I know what you did. You drove back to your hotel and... what? How did you move Caleb? He woke up. He woke up, and you told him what was happening. And maybe he resisted, maybe not, but you parked beside your rental that evening, transferred him into the trunk, returned the keys to the innocent Paula Leon. Then you drove the four-hour journey home.

You arrived at your house in darkness. You have no close neighbors, anyway. You could enter unseen. Days pass – Caleb resents you, you resent him. Or maybe you loved spending time together. I’m guessing the former.

Then you get a phone call from your brother, he’s freaking out, the police are getting closer, they’re asking too many questions, he’s running out of stories, his lies are catching up. Then John Veir’s final panic, the desperation to find another suspect: this time someone who wouldn’t talk, his last-ditch attempt to frame someone was Seth Fuller: he nearly killed Seth Fuller to cover up Caleb’s crimes.

It doesn’t work. John calls you, and you get in the car with Caleb and you drive again. You have rehearsed the story he will tell, pieced together all the evidence you have been fed by your brother, used your brilliant lawyer’s brain to create a convincing story that the police will believe, that will hold up to scrutiny, that will hold up in court, if it comes to that. Only problem is... Caleb runs. You stop at French Prairie Rest Area and he thinks: screw this. He doesn’t want to go back to his father, back to the scene of his crimes, back to a home where he will be scrutinized, watched, encaged, worse than ever before.

You trusted him too much. Caleb runs, and his story is rough, and unpolished. His narrative has holes. Now, you and your brother are hoping he won’t be found.

But he is seen by the wrong woman at the wrong time – a woman whose life isn’t led like yours – on fast-forward, but a woman who is watchful, who knows faces, who studies them, their angles, their features. She knows she has seen that missing boy, Caleb Veir. She may say she is a little less convinced than she really is, just so she doesn’t sound too crazy, but she knows, she knows it’s him.

There is nothing else you can do – you have to continue your drive to your brother’s house. Anything else would raise suspicion.

Oh, fuck: Seth Fuller doesn’t know where the packet is. It had to have been close to him when he was found. That means Clyde Brimmer or Shannon has it. If Shannon Fuller knows you nearly killed Seth, she will kill you, John. If you don’t kill her first.