Vision (16 page)

He kissed her softly. Sweetly. No desperate panting or pulling off clothes. Just his hands in her hair, feeling the softness of it under his palm. Soaking in the touch and feel of her. Memorizing each patch of skin.

Finally, her hair tousled, Gabe pulled away. “It’s getting late. I should get you home.”

Bobby nodded and smiled. “You should.”

“So,” Gabe said, “do you believe me now?”

Bobby didn’t have the chance to answer. A caravan of flashing blue and red lights surrounded them, sirens shrieking. A bullhorn blared, “Robert David Pendell. Get out of the car. Put your hands over your head.”

“What the hell?” Gabe said.

“Don’t argue with people with guns. Just do as they say. These guys shoot first and ask questions later.”

Bobby got out of the car slowly, hands over his head. He couldn’t see past the glare of the flashing lights. Couldn’t see whose amplified voice boomed through the bullhorn.

“You’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Dana Barclay.”

The shaking started in his knees and worked its way up his spine. Dana. The vision he saw. Her throat cut.

A figure strolled toward him from behind the glare of the lights. A bulky figure. Sheriff Barclay. He spoke in a cold, flat tone, void of emotion. “I should have known you were full of shit. That you were hiding something all along. Rotten trees grow rotten apples. You’re an asshole just like your father, Bobby Pendell. Maybe an even worse asshole. A more dangerous asshole. The signs were there all along, but I chose to ignore them.” The sheriff’s voice rose steeply to a shout. Droplets of spit flew in Bobby’s face. “Now this! What the hell did you do with my daughter, you little fucker?”

“What? I didn’t do anything to Dana!”

The sheriff yanked Bobby by his waistband, twisted him around and slammed him facedown against the car, wrenching his wrists into handcuffs. A sharp blow behind his knees sent him toppling to the ground on his side.

“What are you doing?” Gabe screamed. “Stop it!”

He felt his glasses ripped from his face, a light shined directly into his eyes. Pain knifed through his eye sockets, his vision shattered into jagged fragments. He squeezed his eyes closed against the stabbing light, his eyes tearing.

“Open your eyes, you bastard!” Sheriff Barclay roared, kicking him in the ribs. Bobby groaned, the air rushing out of his lungs.

“He can’t!” Gabe pleaded. “Stop this right now! You can’t do this!”

On his side in the dirt, the pain in his eyes like razor cuts, Bobby heard the squeal of tires, the slamming of car doors followed by the scuffle of feet.

“What’s going on here?” It was Mr. Cooper. “You can’t arrest him. He didn’t do anything.”

“Says you,” the sheriff barked. “Stay out of police business, music teacher, or someone might break your precious fingers. This animal is involved in my daughter’s disappearance.”

Max Friend’s calm voice cut in. “Has he been read his rights? What’s your basis for the arrest? The kid can barely see. I have his medical report with me.”

“He had plenty of time before reporting to work. And apparently, he sees well enough to continue working in your establishment,” growled the sheriff, the rage in his voice barely controlled.

“Let him go,” Max said, his voice silken, yet frosted over with ice. “I was parked a few yards down and taped the whole arrest. I’m not at all above posting the whole sorry scene on YouTube—‘Police harass visually-impaired boy in false arrest.’ Maybe you should review his file before you proceed.”

“I know people at the state level,” Mr. Cooper said. “You wouldn’t want an inquiry, would you?”

There was a pause. The sheriff’s voice cracked. The man was distraught, on the edge of hysteria, and somewhere, under the pain, Bobby felt a deep pity for him. He couldn’t blame him. His daughter, Dishwater Dana, who’d never hurt anyone, was dead. Of this, Bobby was certain.

“My daughter is missing. Can you understand? What if your daughter is next, Friend? Dana told me she was going for her run. Before she left, she mentioned to me she’d had an upsetting talk with Bobby Pendell. That he scared her. Threatened her. That kids in school were talking about how weird he’s been lately.”

“He’s been under a lot of strain, Sheriff,” said Mr. Cooper calmly, his voice slow and steady. “Being upsetting does not make him a kidnapper.”

“Not being able to see right does not make him innocent. If he can clear tables, he can see good enough to drag a girl into the woods. What did you do with my daughter, Pendell?”

“I
s there a body?” asked Mr. Cooper.

“No. But every minute counts. I have to find my girl.” The sheriff was sobbing in rasping, gulping howls. “My girl is gone! Do you understand? Gone! He’s a monster—preying on the innocent. For all I know, he’s just picking up the family business where his crippled father left off! Do you know how many unsolved crimes there are in the cold case file?”

“What the hell are you implying, Sheriff?” Mr. Cooper’s voice remained calm and steady.

“You should be taken off this case,” Max Friend added firmly. “With all due respect, Sheriff, you’re not making sense. There haven’t been any murders around here before that other girl’s disappearance.”

“That’s what you think, Friend!” the sheriff shouted. “Do you have access to the state-police files? You just talk out of your ass, Mr. High and Mighty. You just got here. How the hell would you know what’s gone on in Graxton before you came? How about ten unsolved murders, huh? Ten unsolved murders spanning fifteen years.”

“My glasses,” Bobby whispered, hoping someone heard him. “Please.”

He was pulled to his feet, his glasses repositioned on his nose, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. He felt Mr. Cooper’s reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Just the same, you have no grounds to arrest him. No evidence whatsoever to connect him to any of that,” said Mr. Cooper. He whispered into Bobby’s ear. “Keep your head and let me handle this.”

“I never saw her after school, Sheriff Barclay. I was home,” Bobby blurted.

“They have nothing on you, Bobby,” Max said defiantly. “My sympathies over your situation, Sheriff, but I think your time would be better spent combing the woods for your daughter rather than harassing an innocent kid.”

There was a long pause. The bright light clicked off. Bobby let out his breath.

He heard the chink of the handcuffs being unlocked.

“Get him the fuck out of here,” the sheriff growled.

Back at his house, Bobby left it for Mr. Cooper to break the terrible news to Coco. After the searing pain of the sheriff’s spotlight, his head still vibrated and throbbed from even the slightest movement. Despite the glasses, he couldn’t keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds.

“I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning,” Mr. Cooper said. “If you or Coco need anything, let me know early, before classes start. Tomorrow is going to be a very strange day at school.”

“Thanks again for everything, Mr. Cooper. I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me a thing, Bobby.”

After they left, with Coco sobbing quietly on the couch, Bobby could still barely pry his eyes open. Pete rubbed against him, whimpering, crawling between his legs. Even the dog knew something was up.

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” Bobby said, feeling his way over to the couch. Pete jumped up, wedging himself between them.

“She called me,” Coco moaned. “She told me she was still pissed at me and asked if I put you up to messing with her head.”

Bobby rubbed the bridge of his nose and debated telling Coco about the vision he’d had, but there didn’t seem to be any point. “I just reminded her to be careful. That there was a killer on the loose.”

“Jeez, Bobby. Do you know how creepy that must have sounded to her? Her dad has her all skittish and paranoid as it is. Probably because he’s worse than any criminal out there. You have no idea what goes on in that house.”

“I can just imagine,” Bobby said.

“It’s my fault. I should have gone to see her. We were supposed to go to the mall to shop for sneakers. But we had another stupid fight.
Fuck
.”

“Coco, it’s not your damn fault.”

He heard Coco get to his feet.

“I’m going to look for her.”

“Don’t!”

Coco spoke quietly. Slowly. “Why would you want to stop me, Bobby?
Do
you know something you’re not telling me?”

“No. I just…I get these hunches. Don’t go out there. It’s not safe,” Bobby pleaded.

“Hunches? What the
fuck
are you talking about?”

“I… Please, Coco. You have to believe me that I only wanted to warn her. I just had this feeling—”

“I have to find her.”

There was a rush of air as Coco sprinted for the door. Bobby sprang, lunging, and grabbed Coco around the waist. Coco was taller, but Bobby was stronger—more compact and wiry. He tackled Coco to the floor and sat on top of him, pinning his wrists to the floor.

“Get off me, asshole. I’m going.”

“Please believe me, Coco. You don’t want to go out there.”

“Now you’re freaking me out, Bobby. Tell me you had nothing to do with this.”

Bobby groaned. “For the love of God. How could you think I would hurt Dana?”

He felt Coco relax under his grip. “How about you just level with me, Bobby? It all started with you and that head injury. Did you even
have
a head injury? Next you start blabbing about serial killers. Then your eyesight begins to go, you imagine you see a body in the garbage, and lo and behold—the body turns up. Now this shit with Dana. You know how this seems, don’t you?”

“I swear I can explain, but—”

“Go ahead. Explain away. It looks like you’re a killer. Either that, or that you’ve pretty much lost your mind.”

“I’m afraid that’s what you’ll think when I tell you the truth. Which is why I haven’t told anyone else.”

Bobby slid off Coco. Coco got to his feet and began to pace the floor. “Just spit it out, already. Get it over with.”

Bobby exhaled. “Promise you’ll hear me out, okay? After I’m done, you can decide if you want to believe me or not.”

“Okay. But you’d better make it worth all this drama.”

“It’s like…I sense things when I touch certain objects. I guess they’re usually things that belonged to the victim or the killer. I see—I get visions of stuff that’s happened already, and today, for the first time, I saw something that hadn’t happened yet.”

“So you’re telling me you’re a fucking psychic?”

“I guess, if you want to put a label on it.”

“And you’re going blind at the same time.”

“Pretty much.”

“Dude, it sounds bat-shit crazy. Like your whole brain is turning to Gruyere cheese or something.”

“I know, Coco, and I don’t understand it, either. But you’ve got to believe me that I didn’t hurt Dana.”

“So you knew she was in danger and you didn’t tell me?”

“Who would believe me? They’d just think that I had something to do with it. And I couldn’t be sure that my hunch was true.”

“Weird, weird shit.” Coco let out a long breath. “I get it, man. You took a big risk telling me all this. I want to believe you, Bobby. I really want to. But you gotta admit it’s just plain crazy.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

They lapsed into silence. For lack of anything better to say or do, Bobby said, “Want some coffee? I could really use some right now.”

“Why don’t you let me make it?”

“I have to practice doing things for myself.” Bobby stood and headed for the kitchen.

“So you haven’t told anyone?”

“Not the psychic part.”

“What about your eyes? Will they improve?”

Bobby got the canister of coffee down and shook it to see if there was enough left. Already, he realized, he’d been relying less on his sight and more on touch and feel. “Apparently the doctors think I’m going to go completely blind, eventually.”

“But you can see now, right?”

“If I could open my eyes? Maybe. Yeah.”

“Shit, dude. This sucks.”

“Tell me about it. Max Friend doesn’t trust the diagnosis from the VA. He’s taking me to see a specialist for another opinion.”

“That’s pretty cool of him. Guess he doesn’t want to lose his best busboy ever.”