“Who is watching the boys?”
“You remember our neighbor Ralph Swift? He’s with Greg at the house. And Ralph’s new wife, Peggy, is with Brian just over there.”
“Brian is out here?” I asked, turning to where Anne motioned.
“He knows he’s in big-time trouble, so he’s not talking.”
“Keep calling for William. Don’t stop.”
I hurried through the trees towards Brian, the top of his head illuminated by the screen of a phone.
“Thanks for coming, Peggy. I know it’s late,” I said, kneeling in front of Brian.
“It’s no problem at all, Lynn. But I can’t get Mr. Brian here to say a word.”
Brian’s freckled face was drained of color; it was obvious even in just the dim light from Peggy’s phone. “Hey, buddy. You aren’t in trouble with Nanna, Brian. You were just trying to find your brother. It’s OK. Tell Nanna where you last saw William.”
Brian said nothing, continuing to vacantly stare as if I, nor anyone else, existed in the world.
“Brian, look at Nanna.”
He didn’t move, didn’t blink.
I looked to Peggy’s concerned face and stood up. “Can you stay with him for another minute?”
“Of course,” she said, placing her hand on Brian’s shoulder.
“William!” I called out, hoping that the sound of my voice would cause William to stop, wherever he was, and call out to me. “William!”
The forest seemed ridiculously large, even though it couldn’t be more than a mile in any direction. For heaven’s sake, I thought, there was an Exxon not a half-mile away from where the trees ended.
That thought frightened me even more. What if William made it through the forest and to the road…?
“Tom!”
I followed the sound of my husband’s booming voice to find him shining a light under a fallen tree. “I’m worried William may have made it to the Harding Road. He’s only seven, he could easily get turned around. I’m going to get in the car and drive, see if he’s walking. Have you called the police?”
“Chief Stacks is coming with a few of his guys. They know to keep it off the scanners.”
I felt a bit of anger flare, but I swallowed it as I hurried back towards the house. What Tom was saying was right. Once it hit the scanners that a boy was missing in Belle Meade in the middle of the night, the overnight photographers from the local stations would be jarred from where they napped in their news cars. Live-broadcast trucks would soon follow.
We’ll find him long before that, I promised myself. Feeling my pants pocket, I pulled out the key fob to the Volvo, pushed the button, and saw the headlights flare to life.
I tried not to think about how relieved I felt stepping free of the trees.
When I drove back up the driveway a half hour later, two unmarked squad cars and an old Dodge pickup sat with their headlights on. I pulled up behind and hurried out. The beams from the vehicles shined on Anne frantically talking to one of the officers, who was taking notes and trying to calm her down. When she saw me, she once again burst into tears.
“We’re gonna find him, we’re gonna find him,” I whispered as she collapsed into my arms.
“Ma’am, we’re quietly calling in metro police to help comb these woods. If he’s here, we’ll find him,” the officer said.
“If he’s here? Of course he’s here!” Anne cried out.
I petted her hair. “Shhh, Anne.”
“Are you suggesting someone has him? Mom, what if someone was in the woods? What if he got to the road before you, and someone picked him up?” she asked.
“Excuse us, officer.” I took Anne aside. “Honey, call your sisters. We need everyone’s help. I’m going to get Brian and bring him into the house. He doesn’t need to be standing out there.”
“He won’t talk to the officers, Mom. He won’t talk at all. It’s like he’s in shock.”
“Just call your sisters.”
At the clearing, I was not surprised to see my daughter Kate had already arrived. She was pacing back and forth, talking on her cell phone in the same suit coat she had worn home from Washington. Tom and Belle Meade’s police chief were kneeling in front of Brian, who looked exactly as he did when I left him forty minutes ago.
Kate reached out and gave my arm a squeeze, continuing to talk quietly on her cell. Tom spoke in a low voice at my approach.
“Brian’s not speaking. Kate is on the phone with the feds.”
He explained volumes in those two brief sentences. He believed Brian was in shock after experiencing something traumatic. And the fact that Kate, who along with being our daughter was the chief of staff in Tom’s senatorial office, spoke intently on the phone with Washington meant she was talking to the FBI.
I headed straight for Brian. “I’m taking him to the house. He doesn’t need to be out here anymore. Come on, baby.”
I scooped him up, knowing he looked comically large in my arms.
“I’ll carry him—” Tom began.
“Keep searching. William’s here, we just haven’t found him yet.”
I could feel the heat from Brian’s body as I whispered soothing words to him on our way out of the trees. Thankfully, as we reached the yard, I saw that the officer and Anne had returned to the woods. I didn’t want her to see me carrying her son like a limp doll.
We entered the house, heading straight for the back rooms where I kept spare pajamas for all my grandchildren. I quickly found his favorite: a pair of Avengers shorts and a T-shirt. I undressed him and slipped on the pajamas.
We went into the kitchen next, where I poured him a glass of cold milk and handed it to him with an Oreo cookie. He held the cup in one hand and the cookie in the other, continuing to stare, bringing neither to his mouth.
“Let’s take them upstairs,” I said, relieving him of both, knowing I was moving too fast, that I needed to calm down myself. But instead, I hurried us up the stairs to my bedroom, turning on one small lamp. I peeled back the quilt on my side of the bed and guided Brian inside, kissing his forehead, then rounded the bed, took off my shoes, and climbed onto Tom’s rumpled side.
I took a deep breath and gently turned Brian’s rigid body towards me, looking directly into his eyes, brushing his hair with my fingers.
“I love you, Brian bear. I want you to go to sleep. But we have to find William. Can you tell me where was the last place you saw him?”
He closed his eyes, and I rested my head on his pillow. His eyelids then slowly drifted open, only for a moment.
“The lights took him,” he said softly.
THREE
My hands tested the strength of the ceramic mug as I watched the flashlights move in the trees. I’d come downstairs after Brian had rolled over and refused my repeated questions to explain what he meant about the lights. I’d covered his shoulders with the quilt, even though I was the one who was suddenly cold.
I almost wished to experience Anne’s bold and unhinged panic, weeping and crying out William’s name. Instead, my fear manifested differently, in horrible thoughts of my grandson, hurt, lying on the floor of the forest, unconscious from tripping, his bright red hair tangled with leaves, unable to alert even the police officer who stood unknowingly a few feet away. Or perhaps he was wandering in some nearby street having long since left the trees, his face flushed in tears, unaware of where home was and why no one had come to find him. In the darkest parts of my mind, I thought of William in the backseat of some stranger’s car, a stranger who coaxed him through trees, loaded him into the car with promises of going to see his parents, and was driving him farther away with each passing minute.
I glanced at a sudden series of snaps from one of the outdoor lights on the porch. I expected to see a singed cicada, or perhaps a wounded moth, drifting to earth. Instead, the lantern was nearly covered in a mass of movement.