The door that led from the kitchen to the backyard opened and Dwayne came in. “Hey,” he said. “Cal.”
“Dwayne.”
“Thanks for the heads-up about the bad water, but we already knew,” he said.
Celeste added, “Dwayne knew before anybody.”
Dwayne stepped in quickly. “I was out for a walk before Celeste even woke up. Ran into someone on the street who told me. Came home, made sure Celeste knew before she was even out of bed.”
“Lucky thing,” Cal said.
Dwayne nodded. “Yeah.” He heard the television going and peered around the corner into the living room. “Who’s the kid?”
Celeste brought him up to speed.
“She’s gonna stay with us?” Dwayne asked.
Cal said, “Not for long, I hope. I’m trying to get in touch with her father. Once he gets here…”
Dwayne shook his head. It was clear he didn’t like the idea, but he said, “I guess. As long as it’s just her.”
Cal went back into the living room. Crystal had tuned the TV in to, of all things, the Weather Channel.
“Why are you watching this?” Cal asked.
“I like weather,” she said.
Cal told her she would be staying with Celeste and Dwayne until her father could get to Promise Falls.
Crystal asked, “Both of us?”
“No,” Cal explained. “I’ll stay in my hotel.”
Cal noticed the child’s face starting to look brittle. “No,” she said. “I can’t stay here without you.”
“Celeste and Dwayne are very nice. You’ ll-”
“No!”
Cal had never heard the child raise her voice before. He’d never really seen her emotional on any level.
She stayed sitting perfectly rigid on the couch, hands clasped together on her lap atop the clipboard, and screamed: “No! No! No! No! No! No!”
Celeste and Dwayne rushed into the room, Dwayne saying, “What the hell?”
Cal slowly sat down beside Crystal, put his arm around her, and pulled her close. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”
As Crystal stopped screaming, Cal glanced over at his sister.
“Sure,” she said, nodding encouragingly, a broad smile on her face. “We’ve got lots of room! Cal can stay here, too.”
“On the couch,” he said. “I’ll be fine right here.”
Dwayne turned and went back into the kitchen, where, seconds later, they could hear the pop of a beer can opening, then the back door opening and closing.
SEVENTEEN
HILLARY and Josh Lydecker were among the throngs of people crowding the Promise Falls General Hospital ER and adjoining hallways. Doctors were now looking at their daughter, Cassandra, whose symptoms were pretty much the same as everyone else’s.
The Lydeckers had made a trip to the hospital chapel and prayed quietly for their daughter to pull through.
But they prayed for their missing son, George, too.
They were heading back to the ER from the chapel when Hillary spotted the detective who had been to their house after they’d reported George missing.
“Detective!” Hillary called out. “Detective Carlson!” She started running down the hall, her husband right behind her.
Angus Carlson had been talking to one of the doctors when he heard his name called out. He turned, saw the Lydeckers, and said to the doctor, “Thanks, we can talk later.”
He waited for the Lydeckers to close the distance between them, then said, “Hello. Why are you here? Who’s sick? Is it George? Has George turned up?”
Hillary, nearly out of breath, said, “Cassie.”
“Your daughter,” Carlson said, remembering.
“Yes. She’s very sick.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s hit so many people.”
“Is there any news about George?” Josh Lydecker asked.
Carlson’s lips pressed tightly together before parting. “I’m afraid I don’t have any.”
“Cassie told us,” the father said. “About what George has been doing.”
Carlson waited. “You mean-”
“Breaking into garages,” Hillary said. “She said he does it all the time. That he breaks in, that he steals things. I can’t believe he would do that. Is it true?”
“According to your daughter, yes. I’ve asked to be notified of any garage break-ins, see if they might be connected at all to your son’s disappearance, but there haven’t actually been any such occurrences in the last week, at least none that have been reported to the Promise Falls police.”
“So what else are you doing to find him?” the woman asked.
Carlson said, “Well, right now, as you can see-”
“But before all this happened,” the father said. “What have you been doing?”
“We’ve put out a description to all officers, I’ve spoken to George’s friends, I’ve looked for any activity on his cell phone, and-”
“Have you searched?” Hillary Lydecker asked. “Have you gone door-to-door? Have you-I don’t know-searched people’s basements and… and abandoned buildings, someplace where he might have fallen and gotten hurt, or-”
Carlson reached out a comforting hand to the woman’s arm. “We can’t just search random houses, ma’am, without cause. We’re doing what we can, believe me.”
“How can this be happening to us?” she asked. “One child missing, now the other sick? What did we do? Why would God do this to us?”
Carlson said, “That’s out of my area, I’m afraid. But if I hear anything about your son, believe me, I will be in touch. I hope your daughter’s going to be okay.”
He made his way outside the hospital so he could use his cell phone. He’d learned a few things since Duckworth had left, and felt it was time to update him. He made the call.
“Duckworth.”
“Carlson, sir.”
“Where’ve you been? Finderman was trying to reach you earlier.”
“Why?”
“She was going to send you out to Thackeray, but I got pulled off and had to take the call.”
“You know there’s no cell coverage in the ER. What happened at Thackeray?”
“Homicide.”
“What? Who?”
“Student named Lorraine Plummer. She was one of the ones-”
“I interviewed her,” Carlson said. “I remember. What happened?”
“Later. Why are you calling?”
“I’m still at the hospital. Story’s not really changing. Same symptoms with everyone. Number of people coming in has slowed. Guess the word’s getting out. Local and state health officials already all over it, taking samples, looking for E. coli, like maybe there’s sewage or animal waste in the water, but it’s not like they can tell you immediately whether that’s the cause or not. It takes several hours to do the tests on the water to confirm what it is.”
“Is that their best guess?” Duckworth asked.
“They’re kind of hedging. The symptoms they’re seeing are not totally consistent with E. coli. So they’re not issuing a boil-water advisory. Like, if they were pretty sure it was E. coli, they’d say if you boil the water, that’ll kill the bacteria, and then it’s safe to drink. But lots of people, they had boiled the water, and they still got sick.”
“The overnight guy at the water plant-shit!”
“What?”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Duckworth said. “Maybe he’s one of the ones who got sick.”
“Say again?”
“Find out if someone named Tate Whitehead has been admitted.”
“I’m going back in. I’ll get back to you.”
Carlson ended the call and reentered the hospital. A paramedic told him a list of patients’ names was being kept at the admitting desk, on paper and on computer. Carlson saw a nurse behind the desk. Early twenties, fair-skinned, black hair that would have fallen to her shoulders if she didn’t have it pulled back into a ponytail.
Carlson gave her the name.
“Whitehead,” she said. “Whitehead.” She looked up, shook her head. “Nothing. Maybe he’s sitting out there and hasn’t checked in with us.”