Have You Seen Luis Velez?(10)

The apartment fell quiet again at the mention of his name. A deep, resonating silence, like that surrounding a eulogy or a prayer.

“I should get back,” Raymond said, swallowing the last bite of his last cookie. “I didn’t tell anybody where I was going. But I’ll come back and check on you.”

“That’s good of you. Thank you, Raymond. Who knows? Maybe Luis will come back. Maybe he will show up at my door. I have dreams about that. Both when I’m awake and when I’m asleep. He tells me different stories of why he couldn’t come sooner. But it’s no matter in the dream, because he is back.”

She stopped talking. Abruptly, he thought. As if she’d meant to say more, but the more had gotten stuck.

Raymond watched her wring her hands the way she had done that first day in front of her apartment door. It had only been the previous day, but it seemed like a far more ancient history.

“I’m just worried sick about him.”

“I know,” he said. “I know you are.”

Raymond didn’t say out loud that he would pitch in and attempt to locate this Luis Velez. If indeed Luis were a person possible to locate. But that was the moment when he knew he would.



On his way up the stairs to the fourth floor, he heard it. He hadn’t even remembered to listen for it. It was just suddenly there.

On every step with his left shoe, Raymond could hear a light but consistent squeak.





Chapter Three




* * *





Out of Here

Raymond dropped through the missing basement window of the abandoned building at the end of the block. It was early the following morning. Sunday. Light, but only barely.

He took a few steps across the basement floor, opened his mouth to call the cat . . . and nearly ran into a living, breathing person.

Raymond heard a little shriek escape him. He stood still, trying to calm his heart, but it hammered in his chest.

“You scream like a girl,” the person said. “I thought you were a girl.”

It was a young white man not much older than Raymond. Maybe a year older. Not as tall, but bigger on balance. Heavier. Far more dangerous. Then again, who wasn’t? He wore a letter jacket, wool with leather sleeves, the kind all the high school athletes wore. Also, Raymond knew him. Vaguely. Because they went to the same school. But he didn’t know the boy’s name. Or maybe he was a man. Maybe he was eighteen. Raymond knew only that he feared him.

“I know you,” the guy said.

“You do?”

“Aren’t you in my chem lab?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Raymond felt his breathing settle. Some, anyway. It was seeming likely that he would survive this encounter. It appeared to be morphing into something like a normal conversation.

“What’re you doing down here?” the guy asked.

“Oh. That. I wanted to see if I could get that . . .” Raymond made a sudden, instinctive decision not to mention the cat. “. . . bench. That stone bench. I kind of liked it. I was gonna see if it was too heavy to carry home.”

The guy turned away, and Raymond breathed a sigh of relief. They had been standing close to each other, nearly nose to nose, and the stress of that closeness had been wearing Raymond down.

The guy walked to the bench. Reached down and tried to lift one end. It didn’t budge.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he said.

“What are you doing down here?” Raymond asked. Then he immediately wished he hadn’t. His heart took to hammering again.

“Looking for that cat.”

Raymond didn’t answer. While he wasn’t answering, he felt a cold sensation rising up around his ears.

The guy kept talking.

“You know. There’s a stray that goes in and out this open window. I see it. I think it lives down here. I was gonna see if I could catch it.”

“What do you want a cat for?” Raymond asked. He could hear his voice tremble. He hoped the other boy couldn’t.

“I don’t. It’s for Mason. You know Mason?”

“I don’t think so. What does he want a cat for?”

“Hard to say. But, knowing him, I’m glad I’m not the cat. Some kind of evil genius experiment, I’m sure. So . . . have you seen it?”

“The cat?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes. I did see a cat. Just as I was coming down here. It was in the alley outside.” It hurt Raymond to call the cat an “it.” But he didn’t want to let on that he knew much about her. “I think I scared it. It ran out to the sidewalk and then made a right. You know. Toward school.”

“Thanks,” the guy said. “I’m on it.”

He jogged to the missing window, pulled himself up in one smooth movement. He rested his belly on the open window sash, then swung a leg out into the alley. Just like that, he was gone.

Raymond walked to the bench and reached his hands down to brace himself. To help himself sit. His legs felt shaky. Something that normally filled the inside of his gut seemed to be missing. He settled on the cold stone bench and worked to calm his own heart rate and breath.

His eyes fell on an open cardboard carton full of . . . well, junk, really. His first thought was to dump it all out and use the box. But it looked water damaged and weak. Ready to fall to pieces.