Chapter 13: Cold Trail

Emily woke up with a plan fed by the suggestion from Mr. Harris. It drove her to get up, get dressed, wash the old tears from her face and act instead of react. To retrace the steps leading to Cole's loss on the slim but real chance she might remember something after all.

She was tired of the nothing inside her leaching away her strength and her resolve to help her brother. The police had squat, the arrogant and angry Detective Brandsom at a loss.

"The trail is cold," he told them the evening before as the last of the storm made its way over the heavy forest, leaving the empty, star-lit sky behind. As empty as her heart. Those pinpricks of light held her attention out the living room window. She could look at nothing else, not his face surely, or the blame settling on his low brow every time he caught her eyes. Safer to study the quiet stars and the cold of the darkness out there where Cole was.

"What do we do now?" Pamela's voice was laced with cracks, thin lines of pain running new channels with every word.

"We keep looking." Brandsom's answer was expected, but not helpful.

Emily finally said what she had been thinking since the night her brother disappeared. "What if he didn't wander off and get lost?" The stars shuddered. How dare she voice it to them? And yet, she had to say it, didn't she? "What if someone took him?"

Her mother's quiet crying said it all. So did Brandsom's silence.

"Of course we've been looking into that," he said. She could see him glaring at her, his reflection in the window a shadow of withheld fury. "We've been exploring every avenue. But without a witness to tell us what happened," there was the heavy accusation again, "the investigation is at a stand-still."

Useless. She wanted to scream it in his face, pound it against his judgments but it was a waste of time. Pathetic.

"What about the other two boys?" She did turn this time, heard Pamela's crying halt, the sharp intake of Jack's breath and witnessed the arrow of intent hitting her directly in the face. Brandsom would punish her for that.

"What boys?" She had opened the dam. They needed to know. Emily waited patiently, silently, arms crossed, while he tried to explain.

Pamela's shoulders slumped slightly at the mention of the first boy's accident. But both of Emily's parents latched onto the loss of the second child. Ten years old, Cole's age.

"We believe his father kidnapped him in a custody dispute." Brandsom's reassurance did nothing for Emily this time, either. "We're attempting to locate him as we speak."

"But you don't know for sure." Why was she pushing so hard? What was it she wanted the detective to admit? That he had wasted precious days, weeks in the other boy's cases, following false leads and suppositions? No. That wasn't it. She wanted him to admit he was wrong.

He would never do it. She knew it, read it in his body, saw it in his eyes. For the first time she was thinking straight, more than straight. Clear and flawless. They both knew the truth and he hated she pushed him to say it.

"No," Brandsom said. "There is a possibility that Gavin Petrie isn't with his father."

No one spoke, they didn't need to. Each of them knew what that meant.

"We need to call the FBI." Emily hadn't heard such strength in her father before. "If someone is taking kids..."

"I'm not convinced of that," Brandsom cut him off. "Besides, it's not like you see on TV, Mr. Underman."

"What will convince you?" Emily dropped her arms. "Another boy going missing?"

Silence. Brandsom stood and left with an ineffectual, "I'll call you if we have any news."

Not like it mattered. There was nothing more to say.

Emily pushed the whole thing from her mind as she made her way down the back stairs. If Harris was right, if there was something she'd forgotten, she would find it. And, hopefully, a path to Cole.

"Em?" Jack stood at the kitchen door, a spatula in his hand, "Best Dad" mug held half way to his lips. Her stomach clenched, remembering Father's Day the year before. Cole picked the present.

"I'm going out." She let it hang there, waiting for a protest.

"I'll save you some bacon." Did he know where she was going? Did he guess what she was hoping for? Didn't matter. He disappeared around the doorway and she was free to leave.

The air felt soft after the rain, the morning sun gentle on her shoulders. Everything smelled fresh, like new earth turned over, and flowers. Someone down the street was cutting their grass, the drone of the lawn mower ebbing and growing as the breeze carried it and the scent of crushed green toward her.

Harris said she had to go back, to where it happened, but it seemed easier to start from the beginning. From seeing him on his lawn with Jester, Cole waving. She continued on, stopping at the corner of her street, two blocks from the park. Emily closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath.

Cole bounced beside her, fighting for her attention, cartwheels sending small pebbles from his hands and sneakers, bright blue ball bouncing and bouncing

Emily opened her eyes and moved on. She felt him next to her, the subtle pressure of phantom buds in her ears, the echoes of music pounding in her head. There was the park, up ahead, the playground just visible past a thin line of trees. Children laughed nearby, squealed. But Cole hadn't, not that day.

You used to be fun.

She stumbled at the edge of the park, her toes catching on the rounded curb as her guilt slammed her with those words. How had she let him down so badly? But she had. In her mind, she watched herself go to the oak tree, hiding under the heavy branches almost brushing the ground from the weight of the leaves, a sullen, angry, pathetic shell filled with guilt and the need to die. While the bright, glowing boy who loved her hovered around the edges of her darkness, begging to be let in.

She sent him away. Emily found herself settling into the grass at the base of the tree as she had that day. This time, however, she paid attention.

Was there anything, anything at all? A hint of motion she ignored, a sound she heard? Not likely. The music drowned out everything that day. Everything but Sam shouting her name.

Emily sat up. Was that the moment? Was Sam alerting her that Cole was in trouble? She closed her eyes again. What did she see in that moment in time?

Her eyes flew open in the silence between songs. The sound of Sam's voice echoed in her head. She looked around for someone, anyone, but she was alone.

Yes. That was the moment. What else? What else?

The sun was nowhere to be found that day. She remembered the gray of the sky in flashes as she looked around, the green of the leaves, the quiet of the playground. There weren't any other kids left. Everyone had gone home. The street was quiet and empty.

Except.

A car. There had been a car near the playground. The taillights caught her attention for a heartbeat, but it drove away and she forgot all about it. Hadn't seemed important.

Until now.

Emily rose to her feet, vibrating with excitement. Harris was right! She did remember. The car was big, like a station wagon, brown, seen only from the back. But it was him, she was sure of it. The man who took Cole.

If it was a man. She watched too many police dramas to believe it was anything but.

She had to tell her parents. Then froze. What good would it do? Did she really see it or did she imagine it because she wanted so much to remember something? Frustration held her back, and doubt. It was likely she would just be adding to their hope with what could end up being her imagination playing tricks. She considered telling Harris. It was his idea in the first place. But she shot down that idea, too. She needed something more solid. Try as she might, the big brown car was all she could remember.

Emily wandered around the edge of the park. The sky darkened again, rain threatening. Worried parents ushered their unhappy kids toward home. Emily stayed, finding a seat on the swing, hearing the familiar squeak of the chain over the bar, scuffing her feet in the dirt still damp from the night before.

"There has to be something." She rested her temple against the linked metal. It felt good to hear her own voice after all the silence in her head. "I'm missing something. What?" She looked up. Toward the edge of the woods.

Madison was watching her again. Emily waved without thinking.

Madison waved slowly back.

Emily rose from the swing and wandered closer. What was that? In Madison's hand? Something blue. It looked familiar. She moved away, fading out before Emily could catch her. Emily kept on anyway, taking a moment to examine the spot where her ghostly friend had stood.

Nothing. No proof Madison had ever been there. Emily sighed and straightened, spotting Tara up ahead, holding that same something, bright in her hand. She, too, waved, then turned and headed toward the street through the edge of the woods.

Heart pounding with hope, Emily ran after her, breaking through the trees to the street. No Tara. But this was where she saw the car pulling away, she was sure of it. Emily looked around again. And again, nothing.

"This is getting old." She brushed at a fat drop of rain that touched her cheek, ignoring the odd one dying on the pavement around her. The heat of rising anger blocked it out. "Well?" She spun in a circle. "What, damn it? What the hell are you trying to tell me?"

Silence. Someone's dog barked a street away, once. The soft patter of rain came then eased. The uncertain sky waited with her.

"I'm getting sick of this." She turned and faced the woods, letting her anger out on the softly bowing treetops swaying in the rising wind. "Fine. Punish me. I deserve it. But if you can help me find Cole... help me! Or leave me the hell alone!"

Even the breeze died. The earth held its breath, wrapped her in a cone of spun silence that went on and on and on.

Nothing. She breathed deeply, exhaling in a rush. "Have it your way."

When she turned, she wasn't surprised to find Sam waiting for her.

"Just fuck off!" Emily threw all her rage and guilt and resentment at her oldest friend. "He's my brother!"

Sam backed up a step. One further. Emily followed, though sullen and unforgiving, half a block from the park. Sam stopped near the storm drain and waited. Pointed. Vanished.

The world started moving again. Rain fell in a heavy spat, wind buffeting her hair, the gust pushing her so hard she stumbled, ending up on her hands and knees next to the drain. Emily looked inside.

Far in the back, covered in leaves and a candy wrapper, shining blue and welcoming her, sat the object Madison had been holding. Tara, too.

Cole's ball. Proof.

She reached for it, grunting as she was forced to lie on her stomach, her arm deep in the grate. It sat there, just beyond her reach, calling out to her with her brother's voice. The rain began again for real, drenching her to the skin within moments. She felt the water rush toward her, heading for the drain. The downpour quickly filled her corner of the street with water. Emily choked on it, coughed it out of her mouth, pushing the soles of her sneakers against the pavement with all her strength. The rushing water touch the edge of the ball, push it sideways, precarious. It was ready to disappear just like him.

She couldn't let it go.

Her fingers brushed the side of it, tipped it forward. Another rush of water hit it, sent the wedged toy spinning sideways, closer to her hand, so near the edge of the drain. One more hit and she knew it would be lost forever. Emily cried out as she pushed as hard as she could, stretched her fingers to their utmost, feeling it slip past her wet hand as she grasped for it.

Emily pulled back and lay panting, rain water filling her nose and mouth. Her right arm ached from the battle. But when she drew it toward her and cradled it against her chest she was rewarded by the happy sight of Cole's bright blue ball.

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