December Park(108)

It was true that it had been creepy, but we had gotten used to the presence of law enforcement all over town this past year. Sadly, it had become commonplace.

As we walked our bikes, Peter and I told them how we had run into Mr. Mattingly outside the Werewolf House.

“He scared the shit out of us even worse than that cop,” Peter said. “I still don’t understand what he was doing all the way out there.”

“He was going after his dog,” I said, though I didn’t think I was completely convinced of this, either.

“Mr. Mattingly at the Werewolf House and some strange guy going through our stuff in the woods,” Scott mused. “It can’t just be a coincidence.”

We all looked at him.

“One of them must be the Piper,” he explained.

“Where’s the logic in that?” Peter asked. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I just don’t know how you made that connection.”

“We’ve been going to all the places the Piper goes,” Scott said. “The Dead Woods, where the Cole girl’s body was found. The Werewolf House where that fence post thing came from. Not to mention the statue head. Maybe it was only a matter of time before we crossed paths with him. Which was sort of the point of this whole thing, right? To figure out who the killer is?”

Michael cleared his throat and said, “I think you guys are just trying to scare the shit out of each other.”

“I’m not scared,” Scott said.

“Yeah? Well, then you’re scaring the shit out of me. Cut it out. I don’t like talking about the Piper once it starts getting dark.”

When we reached the intersection of Point and Counterpoint, we waited for a break in traffic before pushing our bikes across. Behind the Superstore plaza, we climbed on our bikes.

Scott said, “What if the Piper had nothing to do with Adrian’s disappearance? What if his whacko mother actually did something to him? That would explain why his mom hasn’t reported him missing. Right?”

We all looked at him for a long time. Doreen Gardiner was certainly strange, but was she capable of that? I couldn’t fathom it.

Could you fathom someone’s father poisoning himself in the family car? a voice spoke up in my head. And what about that hideous scar on her neck? What awful things have happened to Doreen Gardiner? Were they things that could have warped her mind so terribly, so completely, that she would do something unthinkable to her own son?

“Okay, enough of this,” I said. “I’m going over there tomorrow and asking Adrian’s mom where he is.”

They nodded, the relief evident on their faces. It was as though they had been waiting for me to make this suggestion all week.





Chapter Twenty


Where Adrian Went





As it turned out, there would be no need for me to confront Doreen Gardiner.

That night, while clearing the table after dinner, I saw through the kitchen window the Gardiners’ car pull into their driveway. Doreen Gardiner got out and skulked to the porch. Then the passenger door opened and Adrian climbed out.

At the sight of him, I was momentarily overcome by disbelief. I went to the window and watched his small fragile-looking silhouette follow his mother into the house. It wasn’t until the Gardiners’ front door closed and lights came on in the windows that I felt myself relax. I expelled a shaky breath against the windowpane.

My dad and grandparents were sitting on the back deck with some of my grandfather’s friends, drinking wine and telling war stories.

I poked my head out and said I was running next door for a minute. “Adrian came back,” I finished.

“Right next door,” said my dad. “No place else.”

I agreed, then ran through the house and out the front. As I crossed the lawn, I saw lights come on at the back of the Gardiner house. Someone was in the kitchen. Adrian’s silhouette appeared in the window. I felt that he was looking right at me. Then the curtain swished back into place, and my friend’s silhouette moved away.

The Gardiners’ backyard was overgrown and buggy. Clay flowerpots were scattered about a concrete slab in front of the back doors, and a hollowed bamboo wind chime hanging from the eaves clinked in the wind. A garden hose lay unspooled in the grass like a cobra.

I went up to the porch doors and knocked lightly. The blinds had been swept to one side, and I could see the whole kitchen—the dishes stacked on the counter, the pots in ranks and towers on chairs, unopened cardboard boxes under the table. Something went zzzt-zzzt in the bushes nearby. I was about to knock again when Adrian came to the door in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers that looked like bear feet, claws and all. He popped the lock on the door and whooshed it open.

“Hey,” he said, the word coming out slow and disinterested. It was as if we’d just hung out yesterday.

“Where the hell have you been?” I blurted.

He stepped aside and waved me into the house. “Come on in.”

I entered, surprised that after all these months the air still smelled stale and there were unpacked boxes shoved against the walls in the adjoining hallway.

“Where’ve you been?” I said again. “Me and the guys have been trying to get in touch with you all week. We thought something bad might’ve happened. We went looking for you.”