The Narrows(65)

“We’ve got guns but we keep them locked up in the back.” He tapped a thumb against the firearm at his hip. “I’ve got this, too.” He folded his hands on his desk and tried to sound casual. “So what can I do for you?”

“I have some…information,” she said.

“About your brother?”

She nodded. “His friend Dwight Dandridge said Matthew might have gone out to the old plastics factory on the other side of the Narrows. Do you know the place?”

“Yes.”

“He said he didn’t tell you because Matthew’s not supposed to go out there and he didn’t want to get him in trouble.”

“Why does Dwight think he went there?”

“Because that’s where they went Friday after school. Dwight said Matthew thought he saw someone inside the factory and he wanted to go in after him.”

“Someone who?”

“Oh,” she said, “Dwight said he thought maybe…well, he thought he saw our dad.”

Ben blinked. “Dwight said he saw your dad go into the factory?”

“Well, outside the factory, not in it. I don’t think so, anyway.” She paused and thought about it. “And no, Dwight didn’t see him, but he said Matthew did. I think.”

“And Matthew said it was your dad?”

“That’s what Dwight said.”

“Did they go into the factory? Dwight and your brother?”

“Dwight said they didn’t. He said he got too scared. But Matthew really wanted to go in there.”

Ben nodded and chewed on his lower lip.

“I drove out there last night,” Brandy said, “and I would have gone up to the factory but the bridge was out.”

“I guess I can drive out there and take a look,” Ben said.

“I want to come with you.”

“Shouldn’t you be in school today, hon?”

“I skipped out.” She seemed nervous admitting this to him, as if she were facing jail time for truancy.

“Why don’t you go home and keep your mom company and I’ll drive up to the—”

“I really want to go with you, Ben. Please.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his chin, feeling the bristles of his beard that he’d forgotten to shave that morning. He supposed it couldn’t hurt anything having her come along. The poor kid looked terrified. “Okay. You can come. But then I’m driving you straight home, okay?”

She nodded fervently. “Okay.”

Together they walked down to the sally port where Ben switched on the large ceiling light and punched the mechanical button that raised the garage doors. He went to an equipment locker, opened it, and rooted around for the industrial bolt cutters he knew were in there. Finally he located them toward the back of the locker, hidden behind someone’s rain slicker. Ben examined them, noting that they looked like the wishbone of some large prehistoric animal, and put them in the trunk of the cruiser.

Brandy stood in front of the bell-shaped birdcage, staring at the bat.

“Pretty neat, huh?” he said, coming up beside her.

“How come it’s here?” She sounded uncomfortable.

“It got caught in the garage. The guys wanted to keep it as a sort of mascot.”

“Will you keep it forever?”

“No. We’ll let it go soon enough.”

“Does it drink blood?”

Ben laughed. “It eats fruit. Bugs, probably, too.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get in the car, take a ride.”

They drove out to Route 40, mostly in silence. Ben’s attempts at small talk failed—he had no idea how to make idle chatter with a sixteen-year-old—and it wasn’t until Brandy initiated conversation that things took a more dramatic turn.

“My dad called the house today.”

Ben nodded firmly but said nothing.

“It was early when he called. I heard my mom on the phone with him. She cried.”

“We had the FBI locate him and tell him about Matthew. I guess he wanted to speak with your mom about it.”

“He hurt Matthew the most when he left,” she said. “I mean, my mom cried a lot and I was upset, too, but I was also mostly angry. But Matthew, he was really devastated. He didn’t really understand what was going on, either. He would spend hours sitting in the garage, which is where my dad kept his workbench and did little projects and stuff, like he was waiting for him to come back. It made my mom sad to see him sitting in there and it made me angrier.”

“I can understand that.”

“You said you knew my dad, huh?”

“We grew up in Stillwater together, yeah.” He braced himself for more questions about Hugh Crawly, but she did not ask any more. So he asked one of his own. “Have you seen your father since he left Stillwater?”

“No.” She looked at him and he felt her eyes weighing heavily on him. “You said the FBI found him? My dad, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Is he…close by?”

“No, hon. He’s living in Salt Lake City.”

“Oh.”

“That’s in Utah.”

“I know where it is.” She turned and faced forward again. “So then Matthew was wrong. He couldn’t have seen our dad, could he?”