Chapter Five – Part 7
Elroy stood next to a gray van parked about a block from the main Euclid Heights Library. He watched intently as an ambulance pulled up to the front of the building to retrieve the injured Charlie Wilson.
There wasn't anything particularly remarkable about Elroy. He appeared like a typical twelve-year old boy. His sandy red hair was cut into unkempt bangs. He wore jeans and a black T‑shirt with Marvin the Martian on it. He carried an iPhone shoved half in one pocket, and a small Bluetooth earpiece.
Despite his mundane appearance, the people who passed him on the street and met his gaze would quickly look away, as if they saw something disturbing in his eyes. Elroy barely noticed, he was long used to that reaction. Besides, there were more interesting things to spend his attention on. Like the swirls of color around Charlie as the medics wheeled him to the ambulance.
Elroy spoke quietly to himself, mouth next to the bulge in the cord to his headphones. "Why didn't we follow the girl, Mr. Jackson?" The boy's voice was a barely audible whisper. The mic still picked up his voice, it earpiece was a bit more sensitive than the standard cellular headset, and it routed his question to a special app on the iPhone that routed the call through an encrypted data channel rather than the standard cell network.
"Our instructions are to monitor and take in Mr. Wilson, Elroy." The voice in the headset was slightly distorted by the software. Elroy thought the app made everyone sound like Darth Vader.
"But she's loads better than Charlie."
The doors to the ambulance closed and the voice on his headphones told Elroy, "Come back to the van, we're following him to the hospital."
"Loads better," Elroy repeated.
"We have time. You got a good look at her, right?"
"Uh‑huh."
"Then get in the van. You can look through yearbooks for her while we're at the hospital."
Elroy turned around and the sliding door in the side of the van opened for him. Inside was a bank of surveillance equipment and a balding, gray‑haired man who wore a bald eagle clip on his tie.
The door slid shut, and after allowing the ambulance a respectable lead, the van pulled out and followed.
Saturday, October 23 07:55 PM
Allison kept thinking about the overheard telephone conversation as she sat down with Mom for dinner. The questions kept gnawing at her, and Allison kept trying to think of a way to broach the subject without admitting she'd been eavesdropping.
They were halfway through dinner, and a comparably long uncomfortable silence, before Allison got up the nerve to ask, "How come you never talk about Dad?"
Mom's fork screeched on the plate. The sound startled Rhett, who dashed out from under the table and up the stairs. "Why do you ask?" Mom looked away from Allison, her distress was lined in her face. It wasn't just the overwork that Mom always complained about. She looked worried.
She looked old.
"You don't talk about him. About why you left, or what he was like. . ."
Mom nodded slowly, still looking away. The light carved out harsh shadows on her cheeks, and her eyes were too shiny. "I'm sorry. Maybe I haven't been fair to you. But—" Her eyes closed. "It's hard for me."
Seeing Mom like upset Allison. She tried to keep the distress out of her own voice. "I'd just like to know what he was like."
"He was stubborn. He was persistent. . ." Mom's voice lowered until it was barely audible. "He was better than I gave him credit for."
"Mom, why. . ." Allison's voice trailed off. Mom was on the verge of tears and she was about to hit her with something like "Why did you say he was dead?" or "Why are you hiding things from me?" But Allison couldn't do it.
Mom stood up and grabbed the plates. Allison could see her hands shaking. "I loved him," she whispered. She was talking more through Allison than to her. She hurried to the kitchen with the plates, and Allison could barely make out the rest of her words, ". . .but I loved you more, Allie." The sentence ended with a near-sob.
Mom.
Allison could feel her own eyes burning with the start of her own tears. After a moment she got up from the table and walked to the kitchen door. Mom leaned on the edge of the sink, staring down, her body shaking with crying too soft to hear.
"I'm sorry," Allison said. She stood in the doorway, paralyzed, unsure of what to do.
Mom shook her head and did a shallow imitation of laughter. "I'm just a bit tired, Allie. I'm overreacting."
Are you? What was that call about? The question went unasked.
"Mom I heard—"
The phone rang. Mom seemed almost to wince as Allison reached for it and picked it up.
"Hi. Allie?" It was Macy.
"Uh Huh?"
"Me Ben and David are going to the Cinemark to see a movie. Can we swing by and pick you up?"
"Uh— I really got to work on that history paper—"
"I know, David been talking about your 'research' at the library—"
"Talk to you later."
"Wait a minute, girl. You got to tell me—"
"Bye."
Allison hung up the phone. She looked at Mom who still seemed to be tensing from the phone call. "It was Macy," Allison said. "The guys wanted to take me to a movie."
"Maybe you should get going on that paper, huh?" She gave Allison a weak smile, wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, and started running water in the sink.
"But. . ."
Allison felt as stressed out as Mom looked. Not now. She would wait until they both were a little calmer.
She sighed and climbed the stairs back to her room.
