Unspeakable Things(71)

“But you caught the man who took Gabriel,” I said, feeling like a big, dumb vegetable, like saying it would make it true even though I knew it wasn’t. “We heard it at the park. The molester was peeking in Becky Anderson’s window.”

“Arnold Fierro,” Mom confirmed, slipping Dad a strange look.

Officer Kent stood up straighter, his hand resting casually on his weapon. “We have made an arrest. Just being thorough. Can you offer any information on Mr. Godlin? Has he had people over that you know of? Any unusual sounds coming from his property?”

“He doesn’t have anyone over,” I said.

The officer nodded encouragingly.

“He always scared me,” Sephie offered.

The officer chuckled grimly. “I’m afraid that’s not probable cause to search his house a second time.”

Words and images spun in my brain. The Peeping Tom had been arrested. Gabriel was still missing. Sergeant Bauer’s dog tags had made that noise, but the police thought Goblin was connected. Bauer’s words at the party came back to me: You know Goblin’s stepdad used to rape him like it was a hobby, like it was softball or some shit that he had to do every Tuesday and Thursday?

“What’s ‘probable cause’ mean, exactly?” I asked.

“The police have to have a good reason to enter your house,” Dad said, his voice frosty. It sounded like a warning, but I didn’t know if it was directed at me or the officer. “They can’t harass you.”

“That’s right. If you’ve seen anything suspicious at all, that might help.”

I wanted to cry out. If you think it’s Goblin, go look golookgolookgolook.

And then go to Sergeant Bauer’s house.

I cleared my throat, making room for the only words I could form. “If you’d met Gabriel, you wouldn’t stop until you found him. If you knew him, you’d look inside every house in Stearns County. He’s someone important.”

The officer removed his hat. He looked serious. “I have a son Gabriel’s age.”

That glimpse of kindness almost convinced me to talk, to spill everything I knew, about all the boys being on my bus route, that the bus went right by where Bauer was staying, that the attacks must have started about the same time Bauer was kicked out of his own house, Bauer, whose dog tags made that clicking sound when he was excited, that same sound that Ricky said the man who attacked them made. I was even going to tell him about Dad and how our situation wasn’t urgent like Gabriel’s, but if they had extra time, could they see if my dad was helping Bauer to do something with boys and basements and also please save me and Sephie before my dad came up those stairs?

I opened my mouth.

Officer Kent raised an eyebrow. I’ll listen, it said.

Dad and Mom both tensed.

The words were there on the edge of my lips, bitter pills that I was desperate to spit out, but I couldn’t. I snapped my mouth shut. It wouldn’t be any use. Bauer had told me the police already knew all the boys were on my bus route. Bauer was the police. Besides, Dad had told me and Sephie a hundred times that the worst thing we could do was tell. I swallowed all that like a mouthful of poison, my eyes on my feet.

Officer Kent was probably watching me, I didn’t know. I couldn’t peel my stare off the ground until he spoke.

“Call if you see anything,” he finally said. I looked up, and our eyes connected. “If we get so much as a peep, we can go in and look for your friend.”

Dad stepped in front of me, reaching for the card Officer Kent was offering. I saw he’d been holding Sephie so tight that he’d left finger marks on her bare shoulder.

The officer’s eyes lingered on me a moment, and then he slid into his cruiser and drove away.





CHAPTER 47

Dad started drinking as soon as the officer drove away, his mood black as tar. I wanted to scream at him, tell him he had no right to take up all the attention, every minute of every day of my life, that other people had feelings and worries and needs, too, thank you very much.

But I didn’t say a word.

I found Mom in the kitchen, poring through her cookbooks. My muscles were shivery, my skin too tight. I wanted so bad to not think anymore. It was too early to go to sleep. “I’m going to my room to read.”

“I need help with supper.”

It was four in the afternoon. “Now?”

“Yep. Get Sephie.”

“Can’t we have leftovers? We hardly ate any of the food at my party.”

Her lips thinned. “You’ve earned yourself an extra chore for talking back. Go pick eggs.”

I almost reminded her it was my birthday. Almost. “All right.”

I sent Sephie to the kitchen before stomping outside. The sun was too bright, the cicadas too loud, the air too humid. Inside the chicken coop, the burring hens irritated me. I gathered four warm brown eggs. As soon as I held them, I knew I wanted nothing more than to pitch them at the side of Dad’s studio.

I walked down the hill, glancing back at the house only once. Dad would have his butt in his chair for the rest of the day. Me, Mom, and Seph would wait on him, bringing him dinner, cleaning up after him, even though he hardly brought in any money. We’d squash down our own feelings and experiences to create the maximum amount of space for his stories of how terrible his life was.