Off the Deep End (9)

His back stiffened. He moved to the sink and turned on the faucet, then waited for the water to get cold. It always took forever because of the broken tank valve, and we’d been meaning to get it fixed for months. “Isaac doesn’t have friends anymore. You know that as well as I do.”

His words hurt even though they were true. Isaac was an introvert and had always preferred being by himself. He’d always liked to have just a few close friends, but he’d pulled away from all of them after the accident. It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to stay friends. His best friend, Jordan, still made an effort. I saw last week that he’d sent Isaac three game requests that had gone unanswered. That was why Jules made me so furious. She acted like I was so lucky and fortunate to have had my son’s life spared, and I was—I didn’t want to ever appear or sound ungrateful—but I’d lost my son that day too. Isaac had come back from that lake forever changed. I shifted my gaze back to Mark. He had finally turned around.

His shoulders slumped forward in defeat. He was unshaved, and his eyes were bleary and bloodshot like he’d been drinking for three days straight. He wore an expression I’d never seen in our twenty-one years of marriage, and I thought I’d seen them all.

“I’m not doing this with you again tonight. I’m just not.” His voice was flat. No emotion.

“Doing what? All I’m trying to do is figure out what happened to our son.”

He let out a slow, deep breath. “I’m tired of going round and round in these meaningless circles with you. We both know what happened to him.”

“No, we don’t.” I ferociously shook my head. “We have no idea what happened to him. I—”

“Yes, we do.” He spoke on top of me. I tried to interrupt him, but he raised his hands to shush me. “We know exactly what happened to him, Amber. The same thing that happened to Brady and Josh.”

“That’s not true. We can’t know that for sure.” My voice shook. I gripped the island with both hands like I might fall off the earth if I didn’t.

“Yes, we can, and we do.” He nodded, almost patronizingly, at me. “We’re pretty much as close as you can get to being positive about it. Everything follows the exact same pattern of the other boys. That man—”

“Shut up! Stop talking like that!” I slapped the granite countertop. “Why do you always have to go there?” I yelled, stepping around the island and over to him. “You always go there! Why do you always do that? It’s like you’ve already given up hope. Like he’s already dead.” I wanted to punch him in the face. My hands shook at my sides. “We can find him. We can. We still have time, especially if Jules has him. She’s not smart. Not like the man who took those other boys. She’s not a real criminal. Just disturbed, and we can get to her, I know we can.”

His mouth formed a thin line. His jaw was set firm as he locked eyes with me. “They found his phone yesterday, Amber. Come on. You know what happens next.”

“No. Just no.” Fury and denial flooded my system.

“I get not wanting to believe it at first, I do, believe me. But yesterday they found his phone tossed on the side of the road just like the others.” He took another step closer to me. “I’m sorry, Amber, but that sicko has our boy.”

“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t.” I gave my head a sharp jerk with every word like that would negate it even more. “You don’t know that. You don’t. No one does.” I put my hands over my ears so I didn’t have to hear what he said next. I’d already heard it. I wasn’t hearing it again. What happened to those boys had nothing to do with my son, even if it might look like it did. She was a copycat. Playing a game with me. Taking him away from me because I’d taken him away from her. “Jules has something to do with this. She’s behind it. I know she is.”

“Really? What happened to him then?” Mark pulled my hands off my ears. His nose flared in and out with each breath. I pushed him back. He was getting too close.

“I don’t know exactly what happened to Isaac, but Jules had something to do with it.” I wish I had something more to give him or the police, but even if I didn’t, he was forgetting the most important fact—the one that made all the difference. “We file a restraining order on her, and a week later our son goes missing? You’re trying to tell me that’s a coincidence? Come on, Mark.”





CASE #72946

PATIENT: JULIET (JULES) HART

“Tell you more about Isaac giving me CPR? You want me to tell you about that?” I’m taken aback by Dr. Stephens’s questions about Isaac, even though he’s the reason we’re here.

Nobody ever focuses on Isaac rescuing me, and I’ve spent a lot of time processing that night. That’s all any of the therapists and counselors want to do with me in our sessions, as if I’m just one good cry away from getting over the whole thing. Do they really think that’s possible? The only people who get over losing kids are the ones who don’t have any.

I cock my head, studying Dr. Stephens closely. Does he really not know what happened with Isaac pulling me out of the lake that night? Why does he think it’s important? Where’s he going with all this? His face is impossible to read. Maybe it’s because he’s so young. He’s got such a boyish face. No matter what I say or what he reads about me in those pages, his face stays stuck on indifferent. Or maybe he’s always this aloof?