What Follows After: A Novel (25 page)

Etta Mae couldn’t help it, she felt tingly all over. Had felt like this most of the day. She’d had this feeling before, mostly in church. But sometimes when she prayed, either alone or with her ladies group. She recognized the feeling as the Holy Ghost.

She was pretty sure that was what this was now.

This tingly feeling happened toward the end of the day. She was finishing up in the kitchen after making dinner for Josephine and for her too. Josephine had insisted she bring some home. She said it was silly making all that food for one person. Etta Mae looked up from the dinette table she was cleaning. There was Josephine still sitting in that chair, hurt foot propped up, eyes staring through them binoculars.

Josephine was all stirred up too after her conversation with Etta Mae that morning. “I don’t believe in coincidences anymore,” she’d said. “Not since I started following the Lord.” She was sure God had set this all up. He’d made sure Etta Mae was the one who got picked to help her with housecleaning after her fall. Because she had that connection to Timmy. Josephine had even said she wouldn’t be surprised if God had one of his angels stick out his foot and trip her on purpose, just to make her this helpless. Help
less enough that her sister Mabel was forced to take pity on her and offer to let Etta Mae come over like she did.

Josephine could’ve used help a dozen other times over the years, had even deliberately hinted as much to Mabel. But Mabel had never once offered the services of “her domestic,” as she liked to call Etta Mae.

“No,” Josephine had said. “This wasn’t any coincidence.”

Etta Mae didn’t think so either. It was all she could do not to stop these chores and march right over there, demand to see the boy the next-door neighbor had hidden away. She had asked Josephine if she could. Josephine didn’t say much when she said no, but it was clear to Etta Mae the very idea almost terrified her.

“No sign of him yet?” Etta Mae asked.

“Not yet,” Josephine said. “I’ve seen old August over there a couple of times. Twice through the living room windows, once out on the porch. But no sign of Timmy.”

Etta Mae realized that Josephine wasn’t even talking like that boy was anyone else but Mamie Lee’s Timmy. “You sure we shouldn’t just go over there? You seem pretty sure it’s him.”

Josephine set the binoculars down a moment. “Oh, I am sure. On one level anyway. But you don’t know August, what he’s like, what he can be like. I have to be absolutely sure before we start making accusations. If somehow we turned out to be wrong and it was his little boy, I’d never hear the end of it. I might even have to move. I think the wisest thing is to just sit here and wait him out. That little boy has to show up sometime, right? And now that we have his picture from the newspaper sitting right here next to me, I can make a positive identification with certainty.”

“We can do better than that,” Etta Mae said. “I’ve seen Timmy myself with my own eyes. If you think you see him, you just yell for me and I’ll run right over.”

“I’ll do that, Etta Mae.” Josephine turned to look at the clock on the wall. “You better start getting ready to leave for the day. You got a ways to walk before you get that bus, don’t you?”

“You’re right. I almost forgot.”

“Say, before I forget to ask. Can you take a look around the kitchen, see what ingredients I have to make a pie?”

“A pie?”

“Yes. I’m thinking about tomorrow. Maybe I can take another stab at making August a pie. He might do the same thing he did the last time, but at least it would give us an excuse to go over there. He’s not likely to take a shotgun to a woman bringin’ a pie.”

“He take a shotgun to you last time?”

“No, but he keeps one nearby. Had a feeling if I pressed him too much further, he might have gone for it. ’Course, I think he’s all bluff and bluster, but you just can’t be too sure with someone so unstable.”

“Then what did he do the last time you brought him a pie?”

“He tossed it in the trash can.”

“You mean the leftovers?”

“No, the whole pie. It was blueberry, as ripe and juicy as they get too.”

Mike and Rose had just gotten home from the store. Rose and Gina had decided to get working on dinner. About that time, Colt walked in the door from his visit across the street at Murph’s house. Scott noticed he had a look of concern on his face.

“Everything go okay at Murph’s?”

Colt closed the door. “Yeah, it was fine. I came home now because Mom asked me to before I left.”

“Is anything else bothering you?”

“I’m not sure.” Colt walked over to the front window and looked down the street. “Did anything new happen on the news? About this whole Cuba thing?”

“I don’t think so,” Scott said. “Why?”

“It’s Mr. Weldon. He’s acting kind of strange.”

“What’s he doing?”

Mike got up to look too. He had just started reading the newspaper Scott had finished a little while ago.

“He’s walking down the sidewalk in front of his house,” Colt said, “holding some kind of meter up in the air. I think it’s a Geiger counter.”

“A Geiger counter,” Scott repeated. “I didn’t even know you knew what that was.”

“Sure I do. I’ve never seen one, but we’ve read about them in school. And I’ve seen them on some of those monster movies you took me to. You know, the ones with the giant bugs and lizards that got so big because of radiation.”

Still standing over Colt, Mike said, “That’s exactly what it looks like. A Geiger counter.”

Scott got up and looked for himself. “Could be what it is, but it looks a little different from the ones I’ve seen.”

“You’ve seen Geiger counters, Dad?”

Scott didn’t realize something like that would be impressive. “I have, both at school and at work. Why don’t we just go ask him what he’s up to?”

“Could we?” Colt asked.

“Sure. Mom and Aunt Rose have just started dinner. Just let me do the talking. You want to go with us, Mike?”

“No, you two go ahead. I’ll just sit here and finish reading the newspaper.”

“Come on, Colt. Let’s go have a look.” They headed toward
the front door, but Scott stopped. “Let me tell your mother first where we’re going.”

Scott walked back to the kitchen. “Hey, Gina, I’m going to take Colt down to see Mr. Weldon for a moment. Check out something odd he’s doing on the sidewalk.”

“Something odd? Like what?”

“Looks like he’s taking some radiation measurements.”

“What? Why? Is something going on?”

“Nothing new, not that I know of. Just thought it would give me something to do with Colt. He’s pretty curious about it.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “We’ll just be here pulling the strings out of these beans.”

“Let’s go, Colt.”

They headed out the door, but it seemed like they were too late. No sign of Mr. Weldon. “Can we at least walk down to the corner?” Colt said.

“I guess that can’t hurt.”

So that’s what they did. And it paid off. Mr. Weldon was still outside, still walking the edge of his property. He had turned the corner, so they couldn’t see him around the hill. “Mr. Weldon,” Scott called out.

Weldon turned, started walking in their direction. “Hey, Scott, can’t talk right now. Need to pay attention to these readings I’m taking.”

“We won’t bother you then. Colt and I were just curious what you’re doing.”

Weldon stopped walking when he got near them. “This is my new Bendix Radiation Kit. Bought it out of a catalog a few months ago. Hoped I’d never have to use it. Now it looks like I have to.”

“Why now?” Colt said. The worried look had returned.

“The Russians have called our bluff. They’re not stopping their
ships. Which means they’re not stopping their work on those missiles in Cuba. Which means, we’re going to have to invade and make them stop. Which means . . . well, you know what it means. Those missiles will start firing off. Could be this afternoon, maybe tonight. Maybe in the morning. But I don’t see any way out of it now.”

“So what’s this thing do?” Colt asked.

“It measures radiation fallout.”

“You think there’s radiation out here now?”

“There’s always a certain amount of radiation going on,” Weldon said. “Most of it’s not harmful. So I’m out here measuring the background radiation, the normal kind. That way I’ll have an accurate reading once the missiles start going off. The wife and I can’t come out of our fallout shelter until the harmful levels come back down to normal.”

“Makes sense,” Scott said. Of course, the whole thing sounded ridiculous and unreal.

“You and the wife give any more thought to our offer? You know, to join us once it all starts to hit the fan?”

“We did,” Scott said. “Gina’s just not sure she wants to go that route. She says she doesn’t want to live in a world after something like that happened. But thanks for the offer.”

“I’d suggest you give it some more thought,” Weldon said. “Once things start boiling over, we’ll have to close the door on that thing for good.”

“Thanks, Mr. Weldon,” Colt said. “But even if we wanted to, we could never go down there. Not without Timmy.”

This idea wasn’t panning out.

Vic and Nate had been on the phone all day calling hospitals throughout the state of Florida, looking for the names of little boys Timmy’s age who had died over the past year. Then calling law enforcement personnel in the same area, giving them the names and addresses of their fathers. The leads given them by the officers and deputies who’d gotten back to them had all turned out to be dead ends.

“I really thought this might turn up something useful,” Nate said.

“It still might,” Vic said. “How many more hospitals you have left to call?”

“Four.”

“I have five. What do you say we call it a day, finish these in the morning?”

“I say yeah. Let’s do that. You want to call the boy’s parents, give them an update?”

Vic stared at the telephone. No, he didn’t. “Guess I better. Wish I had something positive to say.”

“You’ll think of something.” Nate pushed away from his desk
and stood up. “Guess it wouldn’t help to point out the world hasn’t blown up yet.”

Vic forced a smile. “Don’t think I’ll lead with that. But you go ahead. After this call, I’ll be right behind you.” He watched as Nate picked up his hat, put on his coat, then headed for the exit. He reached for the telephone and dialed the Harrisons’ number from memory.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Scott, this is Vic with the FBI.”

“No, this is Mike. Scott’s brother-in-law. But he’s right here. Let me get him.”

Vic waited a moment.

“Hello, Vic, this is Scott. Any news? Please say yes.”

Vic sighed.

“Guess that’s my answer,” Scott said. “No leads from that new idea?”

“Not yet. But we’re not done. I still have to hear back from quite a few law enforcement personnel. And Nate and I still have a number of hospitals to call tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“Remember, Scott, it’s not the quantity of leads we have that matters. We only need one that works. This is the nature of police work. It’s not like the movies. Someone comes up with an idea like Nate did, it generates a lot of work, you work it through over several days, hoping to turn up something solid. Lots of times, it does.”

“I understand, Vic. Really, I appreciate all you guys are doing. I just wish there was something we could do. We feel so helpless over here. It’s been five days now. Feels like five weeks.”

“Have you gotten any calls from the press? Newspapers or the local news?”

“Not a single one.”

Vic couldn’t believe it. He thought for sure they’d be hounded by the press. A kidnapped little boy? “It’s gotta be this Cuba deal. It’s got everybody totally preoccupied. Maybe when this whole thing blows over, this case will get the kind of attention it deserves.”

“You think that’s going to happen?” Scott asked. “That it’s all going to blow over soon? Are you hearing something we’re not? My neighbor down the street’s measuring the air for radiation fallout. Of course, he’s definitely the Chicken Little type. But even from what I’m seeing in the newspaper and on the news, it looks pretty bleak.”

Vic thought about his boss taking time off that morning to go to confession. And the overall mood in the Orlando office. “No, it looks pretty bleak from where I stand. I think the only thing that will stop the worst-case scenario is the same thing that’s stopped it from happening all along.”

“M.A.D.,” Scott muttered.

“Mutually Assured Destruction,” Vic said.

“Nobody wins if everybody blows up,” Scott said. “That’s how a guy in our office summarized it.”

“I like that. That’s what I’m counting on, Scott. I don’t have any inside FBI information. Seems to me right now, Kennedy and Khrushchev are like two hot-rodders playing chicken. Somebody’s gotta pull off to the side. But it’s getting close, I’m not gonna lie.”

“I wish somebody would pull off to the side pretty quick,” Scott said. “So we could get more help finding Timmy.”

You and me both, Vic thought. “But we’ll get right back on this tomorrow morning, first thing.”

“Will you call me when you’re done with this thing, this new idea? Even if nothing pans out?”

Vic dreaded the idea. “Of course I will. But let’s not give up yet. Only takes one lead that works, right?”

Scott didn’t answer for a moment. “Right,” he finally said.