Of course, with my sleep-induced grogginess, there could have been a troop of naked fencers in the kitchen and I wouldn’t have noticed. I looked back at the untouched snow on the driveway and the empty spot where he usually parked his sled.
You dog, you, I thought. So he spent the night with the girlfriend. That’s a first. Must be serious.
Mr. Drummond smiled at me in the mirror, waiting for an answer.
“Day off,” I said. True, and all he needed to know.
* * *
The snow on the driveway was still untouched when I returned on the bus after school. Only the letter carrier’s tracks crossed over mine on the front walk. I took the mail out of the box and let myself into the house. I went right to the phone, sure he’d called and left a message.
I was curious about his excuse: the storm was bad, it got late, I’d had a few beers, none of your business. All true, take your pick.
There was only one message, logged at 2:30 P.M. I punched the button and played the tape:
Hello to the Munros. Scott, this is Claire. Sorry we got signals crossed about dinner last night. Wish you had made it. Oh, the car wasn’t making that noise this morning, but I still think it should be checked. Can you get it in this week? That’s all. Um, hi, Arden , if that’s who answers.
I walked to his bedroom and pushed open the door. The bed was neatly made, a shirt and sweater were draped on a chair—the same shirt and sweater that had been there last night. The same mess of baseball cards and comic books on his dresser.
“Scott?” I called. My voice sounded loud, sharp, tight,
I checked the bathroom. The towel I’d used was the top item in the hamper. The toilet seat was down. My socks lay on the floor.
He hadn’t been home. He’d never been to his girlfriend’s.
His truck was in the garage, his driving gloves on the kitchen counter.
I looked at the back door. “Walk in,” I whispered. “Walk in now.”
The phone book had a Poole, C., listed with a rural address: County Road PN. Where the hell was PN?
The message on her machine was my second major shock of the day: a child’s voice. This is Hannah. Mom and I can’t get to the phone , but leave a message. Thanks.
Mom and I?
Oh brother, brother. No wonder you didn’t spend nights there. I left my own message, hoping I’d disguised my surprise.
This is Arden Munro , Scott’s sister. Please call me. Thanks.
I poured a soda and wondered, should I be worried? Didn’t matter, I was worried.
I called the police station and asked for Al. When in doubt, call a cop.
“We’ll have him call you,” the lady said.
Al rang in five minutes. I could hear restaurant noise in the background and resisted making a doughnut joke. I told him why I was calling. He wasn’t too concerned and told me to check with Claire.
“No,” I answered firmly. “He never went there. Claire called and left a message. She was kind of wondering where he’d been last night, only she didn’t come out and say it. But you could tell.”
“His sled is gone?”
“That’s what I said, Al. The ’Cuda and his truck are both here, his sled is gone, and he didn’t make it to where he said he was going last night.”
“Let me make some calls. And stay there; I’m coming over.”
Cop on the way—a bad sign.
The heat hadn’t been turned up all day; Scott always did that. I felt cold, so cold. I crossed my arms and looked out the window.
Winter dark settles in about four o’clock and it comes quickly, a sneak attack after a day of blinding sun-on-snow. Across the street, the Drummonds’ lights went on through the house like a current—flick, flick, flick. I saw Kady in the suddenly illuminated kitchen working at the counter, saw her mother walk past behind her, saw Jean pull the curtains in her room, saw their father pushing a vacuum in the living room.
Had anyone looked at this house, they’d observe nothing but stillness and shadows.
CHAPTER 17
This is what we know,” Al said as soon
You dog, you, I thought. So he spent the night with the girlfriend. That’s a first. Must be serious.
Mr. Drummond smiled at me in the mirror, waiting for an answer.
“Day off,” I said. True, and all he needed to know.
* * *
The snow on the driveway was still untouched when I returned on the bus after school. Only the letter carrier’s tracks crossed over mine on the front walk. I took the mail out of the box and let myself into the house. I went right to the phone, sure he’d called and left a message.
I was curious about his excuse: the storm was bad, it got late, I’d had a few beers, none of your business. All true, take your pick.
There was only one message, logged at 2:30 P.M. I punched the button and played the tape:
Hello to the Munros. Scott, this is Claire. Sorry we got signals crossed about dinner last night. Wish you had made it. Oh, the car wasn’t making that noise this morning, but I still think it should be checked. Can you get it in this week? That’s all. Um, hi, Arden , if that’s who answers.
I walked to his bedroom and pushed open the door. The bed was neatly made, a shirt and sweater were draped on a chair—the same shirt and sweater that had been there last night. The same mess of baseball cards and comic books on his dresser.
“Scott?” I called. My voice sounded loud, sharp, tight,
I checked the bathroom. The towel I’d used was the top item in the hamper. The toilet seat was down. My socks lay on the floor.
He hadn’t been home. He’d never been to his girlfriend’s.
His truck was in the garage, his driving gloves on the kitchen counter.
I looked at the back door. “Walk in,” I whispered. “Walk in now.”
The phone book had a Poole, C., listed with a rural address: County Road PN. Where the hell was PN?
The message on her machine was my second major shock of the day: a child’s voice. This is Hannah. Mom and I can’t get to the phone , but leave a message. Thanks.
Mom and I?
Oh brother, brother. No wonder you didn’t spend nights there. I left my own message, hoping I’d disguised my surprise.
This is Arden Munro , Scott’s sister. Please call me. Thanks.
I poured a soda and wondered, should I be worried? Didn’t matter, I was worried.
I called the police station and asked for Al. When in doubt, call a cop.
“We’ll have him call you,” the lady said.
Al rang in five minutes. I could hear restaurant noise in the background and resisted making a doughnut joke. I told him why I was calling. He wasn’t too concerned and told me to check with Claire.
“No,” I answered firmly. “He never went there. Claire called and left a message. She was kind of wondering where he’d been last night, only she didn’t come out and say it. But you could tell.”
“His sled is gone?”
“That’s what I said, Al. The ’Cuda and his truck are both here, his sled is gone, and he didn’t make it to where he said he was going last night.”
“Let me make some calls. And stay there; I’m coming over.”
Cop on the way—a bad sign.
The heat hadn’t been turned up all day; Scott always did that. I felt cold, so cold. I crossed my arms and looked out the window.
Winter dark settles in about four o’clock and it comes quickly, a sneak attack after a day of blinding sun-on-snow. Across the street, the Drummonds’ lights went on through the house like a current—flick, flick, flick. I saw Kady in the suddenly illuminated kitchen working at the counter, saw her mother walk past behind her, saw Jean pull the curtains in her room, saw their father pushing a vacuum in the living room.
Had anyone looked at this house, they’d observe nothing but stillness and shadows.
CHAPTER 17
This is what we know,” Al said as soon
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