Chapter 24
Clay is the first one out of Mike’s car and the first one to the door.
He grabs the knob, twists, and pushes. It’s open.
He steps into Judd’s small foyer and then the living room.
Chief of Police Zoey Jensen sits in Judd’s recliner, her expression solemn.
Straight-mouthed with eyes staring right at him.
Clay goes numb, as if the world has stopped spinning and is about to explode.
He opens his mouth to speak when Zoey’s eyes look to her left.
Clay follows them to see Braedon stretched out on the couch, fast asleep under a blanket.
He snorts, then rolls over onto his side.
Clay responds by motioning for Zoey to step outside.
Judd, Mike, Clay, and Zoey walk away from the house and speak in hushed voices, hoping they blend into the sounds of the night and Braedon doesn’t wake.
“What happened?” says Clay.
Zoey looks at Judd and then Mike and then back to Clay and says, “When I ran into you earlier tonight, I knew you were up to more than just looking for Teddy. Something was happening or was about to happen. You were acting a little too casual. There was no desperation in your voice. No frustration. It was like you had everything under control, or at least thought you did.”
Clay doesn’t respond. Neither does Judd or Mike.
“So after you left the bar, I followed you. First to right here, and then again when you were tailing Judd.”
“How did you manage to tail me?” says Clay.
“It’s amazing how difficult cars are to see when all their lights are off. Especially when your focus was on following Judd. I parked a couple hundred yards behind you. Too far away to know what you were doing. Then when you took off toward the bridge, I moved up and watched you help Judd.”
“And you didn’t come to our aid,” says Judd.
“I was going to,” says Zoey. “But I witnessed your truck being stolen and I had to make a choice. And since whoever bopped you on the head most likely had something to do with Teddy’s disappearance, I decided to follow them.”
“And?” says Clay.
“And first of all, I had no intention of just leaving you there. While in pursuit of the suspects, I called both Officers Wahlquist and Kimmich. They did not answer their phones. I woke up Sue at home. She couldn’t track them down either.
” Zoey turns toward Wahlquist and, for the first time since he’s met her, Clay sees pure police in her eyes.
No quirky offbeat personality. No playful smile.
“Where the hell were you, Mike? I saw you at Knut’s handing out meat raffle tickets.
But when I called the bar a little later, they said you’d left. ”
“On patrol,” says Mike. “Could have been on the road along Shady Creek. No cell reception there.”
“No radio reception either?” says Zoey. “’Cause Sue went to the station to try you.”
“I didn’t get a radio call,” says Mike.
Three pairs of eyes swing toward Mike. And three pairs of eyes know he’s lying.
“Let’s put a pin in that for now,” says Zoey. She takes in a big breath and exhales disappointment. She then turns toward Clay and Judd and adds, “I remained in pursuit of the suspects who led me into town. And that’s where things got a little dicey.”
Clay looks back toward the house where Braedon sleeps. He feels it in his body before he understands it in his head, but his brain catches up in a fraction of a second. “The boys on the bikes,” he says. Statement. Not a question.
“Uh-huh,” says Zoey in a flat monotone.
“What does that mean?” says Judd. “The boys on the bikes.”
“We’re talking about some kids who knocked you unconscious, threw your cell phone and keys into the river, and took Clay’s truck.
And just before they left, they pulled three bikes out of the brush and threw them in the truck bed.
Don’t worry, Clay. No damage to the vehicle.
It’s parked safely around the corner from the community center.
And your canister of cash is in evidence lockup at the station.
How much is it? I didn’t have time to count it. ”
Judd hesitates, then, verging on embarrassment, says, “Forty-five K. And there were three of them? Now that number makes sense. A multiple of three.”
“What?” says Mike. “Why didn’t you—”
“Later, Mike,” says Clay. Now it’s Clay’s turn to take a big breath. What he exhales is dread. “How was Braedon involved?”
“The boys called Daniel and demanded a favor. Braedon tagged along because, well, he panicked. He knew it was wrong but didn’t want his friend to go alone. He’ll fill you in. Just know that when Braedon tells you they had a gun—”
“What?” Clay can’t tamp down his fury. “They pulled a—”
“Hear me out,” says Zoey. “It wasn’t loaded. Didn’t even have a clip in it. The chamber was empty—I checked.”
Clay hears Zoey’s words but his heart still races.
“The short of it is,” continues Zoey, “all three boys are in custody. Their story is they were out mountain biking and found a work glove, an electric saw, a Replacements hoodie—”
“The band the Replacements?” says Judd.
“Exactly. And with that stuff, Teddy’s earring.”
“What do you mean, they found that stuff?” says Clay. “On the mountain bike trail?”
“Just off it,” says Zoey. “They knew Teddy was missing. So they hatched their plan to pretend they kidnapped him, took the earring as evidence, left the other stuff where they found it, and you know the rest.”
“What are you talking about?” says Mike. “I don’t know anything.”
“No,” says Zoey, her voice flat and unforgiving. “You don’t.”
“A glove, Teddy’s Replacements sweatshirt, a saw, and his earring?” says Judd. “Just those four things? No other sign of Teddy?”
“That’s what they said,” says Zoey. “I didn’t ask for more details. I want separate interrogations for that.”
“Let’s do it,” says Mike.
“I’m going to let you sit this one out, Mike,” says Zoey. “But thanks.”
“But who—”
“I’m bringing Judd out of retirement for this one.” She then turns to Clay and says, “And you went to West Point. They must have taught you something about enemy interrogation when you weren’t playing soccer.”
Clay wonders if she knows more than that, but how could she? She couldn’t. She doesn’t. He simply nods and says, “A little. Happy to help.”
“Good,” says Zoey. “Consider yourselves deputized. And thank you. I’ve spoken with each of the boys’ parents.
They’re not real happy with their sons at the moment and waived the right to have an attorney present at questioning, so let’s get to it.
Sue and Carol are expecting you to drop Braedon at their place.
Then I’ll meet you at the station at … let’s say three o’clock.
Figure by the time we’re done, we can go out for breakfast.”
“I really screwed up, Dad. I’m sorry.” Braedon leans against the passenger door half asleep. “I’m willing to accept whatever punishment you give me.”
Clay is tempted to say, Oh, you’re willing?
Thank you for your permission and generosity.
But this is the first real trouble Braedon has ever been in, and Clay wants to get the parenting part right.
When Clay was a boy, Judd didn’t handle this kind of thing well.
All it did was drive Clay underground. Make him more careful.
More secretive. Especially when Clay was twelve years old and hadn’t yet found his place on the soccer team at Dorset-Cornwall.
He did his share of sneaking out of the house and other mischievousness, and he became damn good at hiding it from his father. Maybe that’s why he became a spy.
More lies is the last thing he wants to instill in Braedon. He doesn’t want to seed clandestine thinking in his son. He wants to seed honesty and transparency. “I hear that you know what you did was wrong,” says Clay.
“I really do,” says Braedon.
Clay believes him. One thing Braedon is not is a bullshitter. “And I appreciate you saying so. Still, I may come up with some kind of punishment. Something that will give you some thinking time.”
“Like what?” says Braedon.
“Maybe repainting the shed out back. It’s looking kind of rough. What do you think of that?”
“That sounds fair,” says Braedon. “I helped paint my room. I think I can do a shed.”
“There you go. Good attitude.” They drive in silence for a minute, then Clay says, “So when that Graham boy pulled a gun on you and Daniel, did it feel like he might really pull the trigger?”
Braedon shrugs. “I don’t know. But I didn’t feel scared when it happened. That’s why I grabbed the bottle from Daniel. I guess I figured he wouldn’t really shoot us. Later, after Chief Jensen came, I felt kind of scared. Like something bad could have happened. But I was okay when it was happening.”
Clay nods. “I know the gun wasn’t loaded.
But a gun is a gun. Some people treat them with respect and a healthy amount of fear.
And some people think they’re a license to act tough.
Or worse. I guess what I’m asking is, do you think any of those boys are capable of killing a person?
Or do you think they’re just kids being kids, screwing around? ”
“I don’t know,” says Braedon. “Probably kids being kids. They act tough but they’re not scary.”
Clay says in his best Irish accent, “Not like the lads of Ireland, aye, sonny Jim?”
Braedon laughs. His brogue blows away Clay’s. “No, Da. The hard lads of Ireland are proper brutal, yeah?”
Clay and Braedon laugh their way into Sue and Carol’s driveway.
It’s the same house where Clay sometimes spent the night or even a week while his mother was going through the worst of it.
It hasn’t changed much. It’s a hundred-year-old saltbox two-story with white clapboard siding, a white picket fence, and a flower garden bordering the house.
Half barrels of more flowers are scattered about.
The lights are on inside and out. This is something Sue and Carol did for Clay, too.
To make him feel like he wasn’t being a bother getting dropped off in the middle of the night when his father had to rush his mother to the hospital.
Seeing the place again, especially at this hour, pulls at Clay’s heart.
He can’t take his eyes off it but keeps both hands gripping the steering wheel lest he get sucked into a vortex that pulls him back to those terrible days.
Sue and Carol did their best to ease Clay’s pain.
In some ways, they were both the mothers Pam couldn’t be. Not on her bad days, anyway.
“You okay, Dad?” says Braedon, watching his father lost in another time.
Clay manages a smile. “Yeah, Brae. I’m good. Sue and Carol meant a lot to me. Still do. You’ll be in good hands here. Now let’s go. My guess is there’s going to be hot chocolate and cookies waiting for us.”