Off the Deep End (71)
All the days since then had been leading up to this. If the Dog Snatcher had Isaac, any moment his body would show up in a field somewhere. There was still a small chance that he did. I’d never doubted that possibility. Even if Isaac was up to something, it could’ve been a horrific coincidence. Coincidences happened all the time. And even though it was unlikely, the killer could’ve switched detergent.
But it was starting to look like that wasn’t the case. Just like the night Isaac had gone missing and every hour that had ticked away increased the likelihood of a horrible outcome, this time it was the opposite. Every hour that passed without any sign of him decreased the likelihood that the Dog Snatcher had him. Not that there weren’t other horrific possibilities—stuff we’d thought of and things we’d missed—but at least it increased the chances that he was alive. As long as he might be alive, there was hope.
There was also no denying that Isaac might’ve staged this. Would he have been able to pull this off by himself? My thoughts circled back to Jules like they always did. Were the two of them in on it together? Nobody had said anything to us about her for a few days. We hadn’t even gotten a debriefing from Detective Hawkins last night. That was a first. Were they still talking to her? Or were they too focused on us?
It’s been almost forty-eight hours since Mark and I decided not to tell anyone about Isaac’s erased computer or what was on it. At least not yet. We’d decided to wait.
“Let’s just give ourselves some more time to think about it,” he’d said after Katie came looking for us in Isaac’s room after we’d been gone for so long. “It’s an important decision with a lot at stake, and I don’t think we need to rush into anything.”
But we weren’t giving ourselves more time to think about it. We were giving Isaac time to get away and waiting for today to see what happened. Day fourteen. At least by the end of the day, we’d have one big question answered. Until then all we could do was wait in fear and second-guess everything we’d done.
“Mom, it’s your turn.” Katie’s voice interrupted my thoughts, pulling me into the present moment and back to our Monopoly game. She insisted on playing it earlier this morning to help pass the time and keep herself distracted. It was certainly working because it was after noon and we were still at it. Even though Paloma had come over, Katie had never been away from school or her friends for this long in her entire life. It was unnatural and felt abnormal being trapped inside like this. As if our lives were paused while we lived in a gigantic bubble.
No matter what happened, she was going to have to go back to her life soon. She couldn’t exist like this forever. None of us could. The TV played CNN in the background behind us, an endless recounting of our tragedy that we couldn’t bring ourselves to turn off.
“I see you bought two more hotels on Park Place and Illinois Avenue,” I said, eyeing the board dotted with our red hotels and green houses. The big pile of cash in the center. She’d tried talking Mark into playing with us, and he’d joined in the beginning, but he’d never had an attention span for board games even when things were good, and he hadn’t lasted past the first hour. We’d auctioned off his properties.
“I sure did,” she said with a tiny grin and pointed at my dwindling stacks of cash laid out in front of me. “You’re going to have to cross your fingers and hope you land on Free Parking when you come around that corner, or you’re screwed.”
I started to laugh, then stopped just as quickly. Laughter today felt wrong. I grabbed the dice for my next turn when suddenly Robin Meade stopped midsentence and cut into her usual programming. “Folks, I have breaking news. We have confirmation of a live shooter situation at Falcon Lake High School in Falcon Lake, Minnesota. It’s happening right now.”
I froze. My insides heaved.
“Oh my God, Mom,” Katie said, jumping up and racing to the family room. Mark was already standing in the front of the TV. I hurried to join them.
Robin Meade was in the studio. Her hand was on her earpiece, trying to hear from whichever reporter was talking in her ear. “This is unbelievable, folks. The same high school that missing fifteen-year-old Isaac Greer attended is now in an active shooter situation.”
We watched in stunned horror as the scene we’d witnessed so many times in the past played out in front of us on the screen. But this time it was our school. Our people. Our friends. People we’d known since kindergarten. Students fled through the doors in single-file lines with their hands on their heads as the SWAT team led them out. Some of them walked. Others raced. The same chaos. The helicopters livestreamed air shots.
“There’s no word as to whether or not there are any casualties. All we know is there were sounds of shots fired and the sound of an explosion by the gym.” Robin kept her hand pressed to the microphone in her ear. “I’m getting reports that the explosion was in the boys’ locker room. There are two injuries. We don’t know the extent of those injuries and whether those injured are students or teachers. Sam Mercer is on the scene now, and we’re going to go live there in a second. Sam?”
I turned slowly and caught Mark’s eyes. He was already staring at me. We didn’t need to speak. Suddenly, the living room flooded with all the technicians and investigators clamoring around the TV. Detective Hawkins was missing. He hadn’t come back since lunch. Did he know this was happening? Where was he?