The Dark Light Page 2

  “I’ll be here.”

  Far too easy.

  “I mean really here for him—not just present in some form or other.”

  “I’ll be here,” he said. “We’ll do something. Bowling, maybe.”

  Pretty sure I’d heard right, I subtly sniffed for booze, but came away with coffee.

  “Then I’ll tell Willie,” I said. It sounded more like a question than a statement.

  I took my uneaten yogurt to the sink, all the time keeping one eye on Pete should he keel over from what, for him, was an overabundance of humanity. He’d gone back to staring at the phone. There were two crumpled lines in his forehead. They only appeared when Pete was deep in thought.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, wondering what had brought on this strange mood. Maybe he’d lost money, maybe he’d been in a fight.

  “Another kid disappeared yesterday.”

  Wow. Pete caring about something other than his drinking buddies.

  “I heard,” I replied. “Onaly Crossing. Why do you think I’m so freaked about Jay? I mean, seriously, Pete. Onaly’s ten minutes—”

  “In Crownsville.”

  I spun back from the sink. “What?”

  Pete again looked up. His eyes sparked with an emotion I couldn’t pin down. When the muscles in his jaw tensed, I recognized it as anger.

  “Last night,” he said. “Alex Dash.”

  That couldn’t be right. “Alex Dash from Jay’s class?”

  “Do you know any others?”

  The Dashes ate at Mickey’s every Thursday—today. I pictured them in their usual booth by the window. They always got the chicken special, family style. Four pieces of white meat, all you could eat of the dark. Mashed potatoes. Green beans. Cinnamon rolls. They always seemed so happy. . . .

  My stomach turned, the news slowly sinking in. “Two in one day. The kidnapper must have come here from Onaly. What about the other kid, Pete? What did he do with him?”

  Pete didn’t offer a theory. He pointed to the phone. “Sheriff Burkett called late last night for volunteers. We’ve been scouring the town, the river, the Ridge. There’ll be a real search now that the cops have rolled in.”

  I’d heard the phone ringing late last night but had just thought it was one of Pete’s cronies trying to lure him back to the bar. Now I remembered the patrol cars on the corner of Birch and Main. Maybe they’d known that the kidnapper was cruising our streets. Thank God I’d sent Jay to the Bakers’. It was far too easy to imagine him here alone. The door unlocked. Jay, as always, oblivious to everything but his Wii. Over the sound of his game, he wouldn’t hear some psycho inch into the house, checking the kitchen, grabbing a knife. . . .

  My skin cold, I pictured Jay in Alex’s place, locked in some guy’s trunk. “I should stay home and help search.”

  Pete shook his head. “You get off to school, Mia. You need to keep up those grades. You’re gonna have college to think about soon.”

  College? I couldn’t think of anything but Jay, the Dashes, and the Thursday night chicken special.

  “What do we tell Jay?”

  Pete sighed. “Principal Shankles is calling an assembly this morning.”

  Cankle Shankles— the art teacher who’d taught me to open my eyes. I couldn’t think of a better person to break the news to those kids.

  I patted Pete’s shoulder on my way out of the room. Now that the initial shock had worn off, I was touched that he’d been thinking about things like taking Jay bowling, my grades, college. . . . I turned back at the door. “About this weekend, Pete.”

  Pete made a small smile and that handsome face appeared, eradicating his usual weariness.

  “You go to the lake, Mia,” he said. “I won’t let Jay out of my sight. I promise.”

  * * *

  Only the arrival of the president himself could have knocked Alex’s name off the lips of the students at Crownsville High.

  “They’re talking about a curfew,” Willie announced. “For everyone. Us too!”

  We were camped in the cafeteria with our boy buddies, Kieran and Seth. Seth’s family lived next door to Willie’s, so they often shared rides to school. He was also totally besotted with Willie. I couldn’t picture them ever getting together; it’d be too twisted, a bit like dating your brother. Besides, they weren’t what you’d call a great physical match. Seth was a little shorter than me, maybe five-five, five-six. On the other hand, Willie, our reigning queen of volleyball, at six-one, with long black hair, always made a statement.

  Willie and I had been friends since my first day of school in Crownsville when we’d been teamed together during Music and Movement to depict winter. As the other teams had melted their way through summer and frolicked through spring, Willie and I had been struck with a hysterical fit of the giggles. Immediately banished to “time-out corner,” it was a friendship formed from solidarity. Not much had changed since then.

  After hearing her news, Seth all but collapsed in his seat. He covered his head with his hands, his eyes on Willie, as always. “Curfew? But this guy’s after kids.”

  “If it is a guy,” said Willie. “It could be a child slavery ring.”

  “Or one screwed-up psycho who’s clearly not interested in us. They’re not putting me under curfew. No way.”

  “The cops obviously know something they’re not saying,” added Kieran. He leaned back in his seat. “I wonder if anyone’s mentioned it to the new kid.”

  Willie bolted upright, and a smug grin inched across Kieran’s face. Willie’s reaction was exactly what he wanted.

  “Excuse me,” she said, cupping her ear for news. “New kid?”

  “Started this morning,” Kieran replied.

  As far as gossip was concerned, Kieran was the worst kind of fishwife. He was known around school as the Skunk, on account of a patch of gray on the side of his black hair. He touched the patch whenever he was about to spill a juicy secret, just as he was right now.

  Intrigued, I leaned in to him. “Which grade?”

  “Ours,” said Kieran, “though Raquel Somers said he looked older. Apparently, he’s related to the Crowleys. He’s staying with Old Man Crowley down by the river.”

  “In that old shack?” asked Willie. “Crowley’s completely insane. And here I was thinking no one could have a family worse than Mia’s.”

  I blew her a kiss.

  “You should take him cookies, Mia. Welcome him to the Dysfunctional Families of Crownsville Club.”

  “We’ve already reached our membership quota,” I replied, then quickly changed the subject: “Is this curfew going to affect the lake this weekend?”

  Willie threw up her hands. “I forgot to tell you about the lake!”

  “That’s what I love about you, Willie,” said Kieran. He waved at the neighboring table of freshmen who were now staring at us. “Understatement.”

  “The lake’s off,” said Willie, and stuck out her tongue. “Andy can’t get his dad’s boat, which means none of his group wants to go. They’re heading to the Ridge instead.”

  I didn’t miss the look that passed between Kieran and Seth.

  “So what’s that got to do with us?” said Seth.

  “I don’t know what it’s got to do with you,” Willie replied. “But it means the rest of us are Ridge bound too.”

  “Because Andy Monaghan says so?”

  “Because Mr. Monaghan and Ms. Mia have to hook up before he graduates. It’s fated. The stars are aligning. This is the time when they finally get together.”

  I looked at Seth and shook my head. “She’s delusional.”

  “Or right,” Willie replied. She pulled from her bag a dog-eared paperback, one of the many soppy romances she devoured on a regular basis. “Meant to be,” she said, and waved the book, Destiny’s Dilemma, beneath my nose.

  I groaned. According to Willie, all love was fated, and she was determined to prove this by matchmaking any single person who crossed her path. It had never made much sense to me. Fat
e is fate, right? It shouldn’t need a helping hand.

  Of course, this grand view of romance didn’t apply to her own love life. Then she was more like, “That guy’s hot. I’m going to ask him out.” I’d never had that kind of confidence with guys. Nor did I believe in fate.

  I hated to burst Willie’s bubble, but Andy and I getting together was a long shot. I really liked him, but a lot had happened since the last time we’d almost gone out. Andy could have any girl he wanted. He was unlikely to still be interested in me.

  Kieran snorted. “Will they, won’t they? What does it matter if they put us under curfew? I mean, do you really think they can catch the guy in two days?”

  “Dad has the whole town looking,” said Willie. “Seems Alex disappeared a little after nine last night. That rat-dog of theirs got out, and he went after it.”

  “So he was close to home,” said Seth.

  “Last seen heading behind the elementary school on Rowe.”

  Andy forgotten, I straightened. “At nine last night?”

  “Or thereabouts. Mrs. Dash isn’t in a state to remember much of anything.”

  But I remembered. It had been at about nine when I’d seen the light in the same area. My heart kicked.

  Maybe someone had really been there, someone with a flashlight, someone kidnapping Alex as I’d stood there and just watched! No. It was coincidence. Had to be. I couldn’t go to Sheriff Burkett with something like that. Had I even seen anything anyway?

  I recalled how the moonlight had appeared from behind the clouds and then, nothing. No truck; no van; no hooded, cloaked shadow. Certainly no Alex Dash. But if that was where he’d last been seen . . .

  I almost screamed when the bell rang for homeroom. Kieran and Seth had already wandered away.

  “Relax, Mia,” said Willie. “There won’t be any curfew. I’d make Dad’s life too miserable being home every night.”

  We grabbed our bags and entered the tide of bodies that streamed into the hallway. My mind remained fixed on the fields by Rowe.

  “Since you mentioned the lake,” said Willie. “Does this mean you spoke to Pete?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, though suddenly it didn’t seem so important. “He’s gonna stay with Jay. He even talked about taking him bowling.”

  “Holy crap. Pete acting like a parent?”

  I doubted Willie’s disdain for Pete would ever die. Sure, he wasn’t about to win any “Uncle of the Year” awards, but he’d stepped up when it’d mattered, and that meant more to me than him being there for bedtime stories and baking cupcakes.

  “He’s doing his best, Wills,” I said.

  Willie stopped, statuesque amid the jostling crowd. “Mia, why do you always defend him?”

  I recalled Pete’s face that morning, remembering his concern about my grades and college. “Because he’s my uncle,” I said. “And if he hadn’t taken us in, I don’t know where we’d be.”

  * * *

  The Dashes didn’t come to Mickey’s, and the booth at the window stood empty all night. I caught Greg looking that way a couple of times during the shift. He shrugged and offered me a halfhearted smile.

  “I can’t believe it,” he said. “Ten years old.”

  Mickey’s was quiet all evening, but for the usual collection of waifs and strays who held court at the bar at the back of the restaurant. Thankfully, Pete wasn’t with them. He and I had an unwritten rule: He never drank at Mickey’s when I was on shift. Seeing him loaded with this crew would have been far too depressing.

  By eight thirty, Rich Manning, who’d been Crownsville High’s homecoming king in 1982 or something, had had far too much to drink. He grabbed my arm as I passed the bar.

  “Fetch me a beer, Mia.”

  Getting stuck with Rich was the last thing I wanted. “You know I can’t serve beer. Greg’ll be back in a minute.”

  “You look old enough to me,” he said. Leering, he patted the empty stool beside him. “Come on, I won’t tell.”

  Gross. Sometimes I had to remind myself why I worked here.

  I glanced at Gus Mason, who’d been patiently listening to Manning for most of the night. Gus shook his head. “You’ve had enough, Rich. Let Mia get on with her work.”

  “Used to be you didn’t have to ask for a fresh beer in Mickey’s,” grumbled Manning.

  “Used to be you knew when it was time to go home,” Gus replied.

  Gus had been in Crownsville since, I don’t know—the Stone Age. He lived on the river near Old Man Crowley. Gus ran a ferry along the river in summer. It was popular with hikers who came to walk the woods along the Ridge. Willie and I would sometimes jump on for a couple of bucks, but I don’t think Gus made much money at it. It was just something he’d always done.

  “Whole place is going to the dogs,” said Rich. “Whole town. Whole country!”

  Glad to get out of his reach, I headed for the nearby wait station where I began to fold napkins for the weekend. Rich continued to gripe.

  “Used to be everyone knew where everyone’s kids were. Not now. It’s the lights, Gus. Nothing good ever happens when the lights come to Crownsville.”

  As soon as Rich mentioned lights, I looked across to the bar. Don’t get me wrong, Rich Manning wasn’t what I’d call a reliable source of information. But still, I kept my ears open.

  “And what lights would that be?” asked Gus.

  “You know the ones. Up on the Ridge, out on the river. Saw ’em myself a couple of nights ago.”

  “Is that a fact?” said Gus. “From what I heard, you was in here a couple of nights ago. No wonder you saw stars.” He glanced in my direction, just as I stifled a smile. He winked.

  “It’s the aliens, Gus. Feds know all about ’em. I bet the Feds know what happened to those kids.”

  “That must be it,” said Gus. “Aliens.”

  “I’ve seen the lights on the Ridge.”

  Gus set down his beer. “Rich, you haven’t seen anything more than a bit of Saint Elmo’s fire or will-o’-the-wisp. Maybe you set fire to your own fart but were too drunk to realize it.”

  I covered my mouth, struggling not to laugh out loud.

  “UFOs,” Rich continued, undeterred. “Coming here from New Mexico. CIA’s got files on it. Ask the CIA what happened to those kids.”

  “I’ll be sure to,” said Gus. He yawned. “When they’re next in town.”

  As pathetic as Rich Manning was, I thought about what he’d said for the rest of my shift. Whatever it had been, I had seen something the night before. Maybe it was something important. With Alex still missing, it was time to come clean.

  At the end of my shift, I called Willie.

  “Is your dad home?”

  “Just got back. Missed dinner and everything. What’s up?”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  “About what?”

  “Willie, I’m not even sure, but I’ll bring chicken.”

  “Then I guarantee you’ll have his undivided attention. I’ll tell him you’re coming over.”

  Willie was looking out for me when I pulled up on her family’s driveway. “What’s the big news?” she asked, as soon as I left the car.

  Not convinced I knew anything helpful, I shrugged. “It’s just something I saw last night. It’s probably nothing.”

  The Burketts lived close to the center of town in Crownsville’s “Historic District,” which was basically one long, tree-lined street. Dreaming of central air and her own en suite bathroom, Willie had been begging her parents to move to the new subdivision they were building to the west of town. I preferred this house with its overgrown trees, brick front, and lavender shutters. Over the years that Willie and I had been friends, it had become my second home.

  She led me to the kitchen where Sheriff and Mrs. Burkett were seated at the table. As soon as the sheriff saw my box of chicken and potatoes, he gestured me over.

  “That’s the kind of girl I love. Come sit down.”

  The sheriff was a man’s m
an—tall and athletic like Willie but, unlike Willie, blessed with a healthy dose of good sense. He doted on Willie, and doted on me as if I were a long-lost daughter. No amount of wish fulfillment could ever make me imagine that my dad could be anything like Sheriff Burkett. When I thought of the sheriff, I thought of barbeque, touch football, and good-natured lectures about boys and speeding. When I thought about my dad, I pictured weasels.

  Mrs. Burkett fetched plates, squeezing my shoulder as she passed. She was as unlike Willie as the sheriff was Willie’s double. A little over five feet, she was fair-haired and soft featured. A real country mom.

  “So what’s this about, Mia?” asked the sheriff, putting some chicken on his plate. “Not Pete, I hope. He’s been with us looking for Alex all day.”

  I glanced at Willie, sitting expectantly beside me. “It’s not Pete,” I said. “But it is about Alex. I think I saw something last night. I’m not really sure what it was, so I didn’t know if I should say anything.”

  “Always speak out,” said the sheriff. “And, believe me, we need all the help we can get. Kid just about vanished into air.”

  In my mind, I tried to rehearse what I wanted to say, but whichever way I looked at it, it still didn’t make any sense. “I think I saw someone on the land behind Rowe,” I finally blurted. “Someone with a flashlight. It was difficult to tell. I know Alex was last seen over in that direction. This was about the same time.”

  “What were you doing out there?” asked Sheriff Burkett.

  “Heading to the Bakers’ to pick up Jay.” I glanced at Willie. “It was while I was talking to you. That’s why I’d pulled over.”

  “I wondered why you went all weird on me,” said Willie. “I thought you were mad about Pete.”

  “Something was out there.”

  The sheriff took a bite of drumstick. He wiped grease from his mouth. “The Bakers’. So you were on Route Six?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, relieved he appeared to be taking me seriously. “Almost parallel to the elementary school on Rowe.”

  “And you thought you saw Alex.”

  “No,” I said. “Someone else.”

  The sheriff leaned forward. “Someone with a flashlight.”