Missing, Chapter 1--Long Time Gone
Title: Missing, Chapter 1--Long Time Gone
Author: vacheqirit
Rating: R for language
Character: Ensemble
Spoilers: Six months post-"State"
Disclaimers: FNL and these characters are the properties of their owners. No infringements intended.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by my own personal FNL "jukebox," which I'll reference via chapter titles in subsequent installments. Please send me feedback on this, and whether you feel up to reading another multi-part, ensemble piece...
My friends all think they've lost me, my family's up in arms
But no one ever noticed 'til I sounded the alarm
There's danger in complacency and comfort in the fight
For the way that you whisper in the sweetness of the night
The sweetness of the night.
‘Cause I feel the steady pull of things that I can't see
And I like it
I feel the steady pull of things that I can't see
And I like it, I like it, I like it.
Jonatha Brooke, Steady Pull
***
Lyla went missing the day after graduation.
She had told her parents that she was going to spend the following week at a friend’s house at Canyon Lake, but the specifics had never been entirely fleshed out. All her mother could recall later was that Lyla had planned to run some errands before she left, and that she’d call to tell her parents when she arrived at her destination. Pam left her a couple of messages on her cell phone in the coming days but didn’t think much of the fact that she hadn’t heard from Lyla until she went to her room to drop off clean laundry and noticed that it was in considerable disarray.
And that there was a half-packed duffel bag still on the bed.
“She eighteen now. And a responsible girl. I didn’t think I needed to know more than what she told me,” Pam told the police after she had frantically called every one of Lyla’s former cheerleader cronies, her manager at the gymnastics center where she taught tumbling classes, and even Jason.
No one had heard from her, or seen her, since the graduation ceremony.
Buddy, not surprisingly, had also not heard from her. But he made sure everyone around Dillon heard from him on the subject of his soon-to-be ex-wife’s parenting skills.
“What the FUCK were you thinkin’, Pam, just letting her make plans to run off across the country with no other information like who, what, when, where, and why...” Buddy’s face was purple with rage as he railed at Pam over the phone from the dealership. “And you have the nerve to tell me I’m a deficient parent? This is gonna be first-rate dirt for my lawyer to use on you, I’m tellin’ you right now.”
“Stop with the language, Buddy, it just makes it all worse.” Pam was at home, drained and exhausted after two days of making every contact and following every lead as to Lyla’s whereabouts. “Neither of us would win any parenting awards.”
“I’ll speak any way I like, thank you very much,” retorted Buddy, who was sifting through sales figures at his desk while he spoke. “And let’s just keep on task, shall we? What did the police say when you spoke to them? They checked the house top to bottom, right? Did they pick up any clues?”
Pam sighed wearily.
“They said they were ‘getting mixed messages’ from what was in her room.” She sat down at the kitchen table and took a sip of her coffee. It was room temperature. It had been hours since she’d made it, and she hadn’t even recognized the passage of time.
“What the hell does that mean, ‘mixed messages’? I tell you, does nobody talk like a normal person anymore...it’s all these ‘CSI-type shows on TV, gotta throw procedure and terminology all over the fuckin’ place...”
“Buddy, just listen, would you, so I don’t have to go through this again?” Pam walked to the sink and poured her castoff coffee into the sink. “This is what they said:
“She must have her purse with her, because it was nowhere in her room or anywhere else in the house or outside. They searched the school, but her locker was cleared out last week before graduation. She didn’t finish packing her bag for the lake. It was on her bed and had the type of stuff you’d expect to see for that type of trip: bikinis, shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops. Her makeup was in her bathroom. Her iPod was in its dock next to her computer. There weren’t any unusual emails, or really any emails, for the past week. She has a lot of clothes, so I can’t be sure if some of them are missing, but there was one detail that the police found kind of puzzling.”
“What? What detail?” Buddy stopped fussing with his paperwork to focus on her answer.
Pam’s eyes welled up again.
“That her cell phone was here. In the charger.” She fought to stop herself from sobbing.
“They...the police...said that that’s...unusual. For a girl her age, to leave it behind. If she ran away, she’d have taken it. If she was going somewhere else besides the lake, she’d have taken it. They asked me if she might have taken my phone, or anyone else’s in the house, or if she might have gotten herself another one without our knowing about it.”
“Well? What did you tell them?”
Pam began to moan.
“I don’t know, Buddy...she could have done all sorts of things, I just never noticed anything out of the ordinary...”
“Credit card activity? Her bank account?”
“Nothing. Well, I did give her $300 for the trip, but she couldn’t get far on that...” Pam collected herself.
“You pay her credit card bills, Buddy...have you looked at the statements? Maybe they need to look further back.”
Buddy swivled around in his seat and opened a filing cabinet drawer in his credenza. “I’ll just check, I keep the statements right here...” He pulled out a manila file and began to leaf through its contents.
“I seem to remember something about buying stuff for college, because there was a sale or some such...” He brought out a statement from March and perused it.
“OK, that’s...that’s not what I remember.”
“What? What is it?”
“She told me she was going to buy a new laptop and printer and other college things and that the bill would be high one time because of that.” Buddy let the page drop to his desk.
“Did she ever bring any of that kind of stuff home? Is she using a new computer or anything?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“No new wardrobe? Or jewelry? Hell, I don’t know, y’all are insane about shoes...”
“No, no, I haven’t seen anything like that. I mean, she’s barely worn anything but jeans and t-shirts for months now.”
“Maybe there’s something going on here. Something she’s in on.”
“What did you see on the statement?”
“She maxed out her limit. Five thousand. On a cash advance.” Buddy ran his hand through his unruly hair.
“I just never thought about it. Just paid the bill. She told me it’d be high, I didn’t bother to see what it was for...”
“Well, that...that could mean she planned this. That she meant to...disappear. Right? So maybe nothing actually...bad...has happened...”
Buddy closed the file with the flat of his hand, planning on sending a fax of the bank statement to the detective.
“Actually, I don’t take much comfort from that, Pam. She’s not here. She’s not with us. That’s bad. And who she might be with...I don’t even want to think about it.”
Pam was silent a moment.
“You know...I never thought about this before...”
Buddy’s sales manager was trying to get his attention from the floor.
“Wha...what?”
“She’s been on the phone a lot lately. On her cell. Long conversations. I asked her once if she was going over her minutes, and she told me not to worry, she’d pay me back if she did. I think I asked her who she was talking to and she said ‘Tyra,’ which, I have to tell you, I wasn’t sure I bought even then...”
Buddy’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.
“Don’t tell me they’re friends now. That’s hard to swallow.”
Pam whipped the dishwasher door closed, rattling its contents.
“Really, Buddy? I don’t know why on earth you’d say such a thing. Such lovely women, those Collettes.”
Buddy managed to keep from spewing the ugliest invectives back at his ex by pulling up a risque picture of the latest object of his affection...not a woman, surprisingly, but a mega-dealership in Arnett Meade that was for sale. Buddy had designs on it that kept him well occupied, though nothing could go forward until after the divorce was final. It would be the sweetest of pleasures to have a new source of income entirely out of Pam’s reach.
“Now Pam, let’s not drag up old laundry...” He was smiling to himself, looking at the the sales numbers on the other dealership, almost relaxed about things. “I think we need to do some more askin’ around, to see who Lyla’s been spendin’ time with lately. You can talk to Tyra, if that gives you some sense of control. No problem here.”
“No problem? No problem for you, maybe. Actually, I’ll leave that conversation to you, Buddy, since you enjoy the ladies so much. I’ll check with some other people who might know some things.”
“You do that, Pam, thanks. I’ll put the pressure on the boys down at the station. They need to get a little more proactive, seems to me, and they need to check on those long calls you mentioned, since it doesn’t sound like you pressed that point with them.”
Pam refrained from taking the cordless phone out of her hand and pitching it across the room. “You work all the angles there, Buddy, since this is your FIRST BORN we’re talking about here! And don’t think I don’t know about Nugent’s dealership. I’m gonna wait you out on that one.”
Buddy’s pause on the other end confirmed what Pam had thought: he’d had no idea she had kept her ear to the ground of late and had heard of this deal brewing.
“Well, Pam, a pleasure, as always. I’ll be in touch.” Buddy pressed the End button on his headset.
“Damn her for bein’ just like a woman.”
***
In the coming days, the police met with various staff members from the school about Lyla’s disappearance, including Tami, but none of them had much to offer. Lyla had been a student only in the most perfunctory way that spring semester: fulfilling what few credits she had left for her diploma, and keeping very much to herself. There was little to comment about.
After conducting their canvas, the police came to a separate conclusion, one which they didn’t share with Lyla’s family or friends. In truth, Lyla had few people in her life who would notice any changes in her lately. What had occured by happenstance when she was Jason’s girlfriend and presumptive life partner, that her life had been seemingly full of friends and activities and plans, had virtually disappeared overnight once she and Jason were history and she’d worn her Panther cheerleader outfit for the last time.
That she hadn’t developed a network of relationships beyond those roles became a possible easy cover for her now that she was gone.
Of course the subject of foul play came up in concert with the uncertainty about Lyla’s possible disappearing act. The attack on Tyra had as yet not been solved, and there had been a kidnapping of a young girl in Arnett Mead, the next town over, during the spring. The detectives on those cases shared their information and compared their leads to what was known of Lyla’s associates and activities. But no patterns or commonalities came immediately to the fore.
“We had some conversations back in the fall, after what happened with Jason,” Tami remarked when the police came by the house one afternoon, “but she hadn’t been in to see me except about her college acceptances.” She smiled weakly. “She got into every school she applied to. You’d think that would have made her happy, but she was not at her ease.”
“Why do you say that, Ms. Taylor?” asked the detective.
“She said it seemed...what was the word she used...’hollow,’ now. All that work. But I do remember she also said that at least it would get her out of here, out of Dillon, and that was the best thing about having to go through this year.”
“Who did she spend time with at school? Did you know her friends?”
Tami shook her head. “After she gave up cheer, I hardly saw her with anyone. Tyra, sometimes, which was a bit of a shock initially, but girls sometimes find they have more in common than they think.” This remark generated a mental note for Tami: she had to ask Julie about Lyla. Tyra may have brought the three of them together. It wasn’t an impossibility.
Later, after the detective had left, Tami tried to plumb Julie’s depths on the Lyla issue. Since the end of school, Julie had spent most of her days on the couch, watching TV or reading. Her job at the local pool would start in a few days.
“So what do you think happened to Lyla, hon?”
“Mom, you seem to think I knew her or understood her or something. I barely knew who she was. And she barely knew me.”
“Well, everybody knows you, sweetheart...”
“Yeah, and why is that, exactly? Because of YOU. Because of DAD. Even because of Matt. They don’t know me, and they don’t actually want to know me.” She scrunched further down into the couch pillows. “Can’t say that bothers me, though.”
“I just thought, maybe, since you and Lyla are both such smart, talented girls...you might understand what she’s been feeling this year. She and Tyra had mended fences, I think...”
“You mean I might understand Lyla, as in, having my life turned upside down by what’s going on in my boyfriend’s life, and having to deal with annoying stuff going on with my parents, and maybe trying to figure out who I want to hang out with and what I want to do with my time...” Julie stopped to consider.
“OK...weird. Maybe...maybe we do have a few things in common.”
“See, that’s what I’m saying...” Tami brought a large tumbler of iced tea over to the couch and plopped down next to Julie. Her ankles were swollen-tender. She was retaining more fluids now that she was only two months from her due date. Her whole body was round, burgeoning ripeness, soon to pop. Or, that’s how she felt. Like an over-pumped water balloon.
“Just bear with me here...” Tami took a long sip of her drink and placed it on the coffee table. Her hands raked through her hair as if that might help clear her mind.
“Somehow this doesn’t feel like an accident to me, like she was kidnapped or...” She now wondered if this was the right tack to take with her sensitive daughter. “Or something worse. What might she be trying to do? Where would she want to go?”
Julie closed her book, deciding it was time to absent herself from this all-too-boring analysis of someone she had no interest in. “It’s not that big a stretch, Mom. I think she’d just want to get as far away from here as possible.” Julie gathered her book and stood up. “I know that feeling. It sucks. Hard.”
“Honey, that’s an ugly way to put it.” Tami finished her tea. “My question is...would she really leave her parents to worry about her like they must be? She wouldn’t be so cruel. I can’t believe that about her.”
Julie stepped over her mother’s propped-up legs and headed to her room.
“I don’t know, Mom...I never knew Lyla, but she never struck me as being all sweet and sensitive and concerned about others. I mean, she’s Buddy’s daughter.” Julie pulled a face. “Ugh, I can’t imagine someone ever having SEX with him, let alone having kids with him. Lyla should be happy she looks like her mom, even if she got some of Buddy’s heinous character flaws.”
“Julie, stop! What is this Lyla hate? I never understood it. It’s...beneath you.”
“I don’t know, Mom, I think you’re the one who cuts her too much slack. If she wanted to disappear from Dillon for a while, it makes sense to me, but that’s just based on what I know about her life. I say, she should take Buddy’s money and run.” Julie made her way back to her room.
Tami sat alone on the couch, musing over Lyla’s possible motives to leave town.
“Well, she might just have done that, Jules,” she said to herself. “Maybe she’s giving Buddy a taste of what it’s like to have the upper hand.”
She made her way back to the kitchen for more iced tea.
“I hope that’s all it is.”
***
Jason met Tim at Ruby’s late one afternoon the week following graduation. Tim had yet to complete several classes and didn’t graduate with his class. He’d be starting summer school in a few days and might be able to get his diploma by December.
To his considerable annoyance.
He was sitting in a booth near the TV when Jason wheeled up.
“I already ate, Street. You slowin’ up, ‘cause of the heat or something?” Tim pushed a greasy paper plate with uneaten fries across the table. “Don’t say I never gave you nothin’. Saved some for you.”
Jason shook his head, declining the fries.
“I’m not hungry.”
Tim took a long draw on his soda.
“Where were you, man?”
Jason looked up.
“The police called me in. To talk about Lyla.”
Tim said nothing.
“I’d already told them a hundred times that she and I weren’t speaking, we didn’t see each other, we hadn’t spent a minute of time together since before Christmas.” Jason shook his head. “I mean, our break-up was practically front-page news back then. Wouldn’t they know if we’d gotten back together or something? It’d be all they could talk about at the barber shop.”
“Yeah, I think you flatter yourself, man,” replied Tim, trying to keep the mood light.
“Did they talk to you?” Jason looked at him with keen interest.
Tim finished his drink and dropped the cup on the table top.
“Yeah, they called me. I told them I didn’t know anything. Told them she thought I was nothin’ better than a piece of shit on the bottom of her shoe. Besides, I was out of town all weekend, at Bradley’s place.”
Jason almost smiled.
“What’s her name again?”
Tim smirked.
“Y’know, I don’t rightly remember...” He pulled out his wallet, preparing to return to the counter to buy a shake. “But she was more’n happy to call the police back and make sure they had my alibi. They didn’t seem to have any more questions for me after that.”
Jason shook his head.
“I should be so lucky to have that kinda alibi.”
Tim’s brow furrowed.
“What’dyou mean?”
“That’s the thing, Timmy...I didn’t need an alibi. The chair is my alibi. It’s like my alter-ego...as long as it’s around, Jason Street can’t do any number of things.”
“You can do a lot, Street. A lot.”
“Ironic, huh...the thing that allows me to be most like a normal person on a daily basis actually does the opposite in situations like this. It makes me exactly what I am...a quad in a chair.” Jason popped a wheelie. “Walkers can’t do that. But truth is...why the hell would they want to?” His head dropped to his chest.
“They just dismissed me after a couple of questions. Because they know I couldn’t overpower somebody while I’m in the chair, and especially not while I’m out of it.”
“That’s...that’s what they think happened? Somebody...grabbed her up?”
“Maybe. Happens every day.”
“So what you’re saying they’re saying is, you’re not man enough to be a suspect?” Tim looked at Jason.
He nodded his head.
“That’s fucked up.”
Jason gazed into the middle distance, an enigmatic look on his face.
“They asked me something weird, too,” he said, as if thinking it over. “About some...blog she was writing.” He turned to look at Tim.
“Did you know about that? It doesn’t sound much like Lyla.”
Tim slid across the booth’s seat. “Naw, never read it. Damned if I’m gonna spend one extra second in the computer lab if I don’t have to.” He stood up. “And who the hell would want to read that stuff, anyway? ‘Dear Diary...Today I wore my cutest new outfit, and that guy in Math totally checked me out...’” Tim held his hands to his neck and pretended to strangle himself.
“Dude, just kill me if I ever date a chick with a blog.”
Jason smiled. “Yeah, well, I’d probably have to. ‘Cause all the ladies who’ve enjoyed your attentions would start comparing notes, and that just wouldn’t be good for ANYbody.”
Tim made his way to the counter. “Very true, Streeter.”
Jason followed him, wanting a soda.
“But I think I need to check it out. Why else would she write it, if she didn’t want people to see it?”
Tim sauntered back to the booth.
“So, what’s her screenname?”
Jason chewed his lip. His face demonstrated his discomfort.
“I think it says...well, it says a lot.’”
“Yeah?”
“It’s...’SoOuttaHere.’”
Tim frowned.
“That doesn’t sound like her, either.”
Jason nodded.
“None of this does.”
***
Tyra was going to be studying all summer. Studying, and working. She thought it unlikely that she’d have the time or energy to bother with much else. It was almost a relief to consider how little she’d have to fuss with all the usual social bullshit.
Landry was, rather inconveniently, deaf to her protestations regarding concerts, road trips, mini golf...his list of potential summer-specific activities seemed boundless.
As was his enthusiasm.
“You have to take a day off once in a while, and all I’m sayin’ is that we should plan some things, maybe go to Austin, there’s that music festival I told you about, and Crucifictorious is an alternate band in the line up, so we’d need to go overnight...”
“Whoa, whoa...hold up, Axl. I never said I was gonna do any of this stuff with you.”
“Well, I know you can’t do all of it, but it’s summer. It’s required that we do stuff like this. You’ll regret it later if you don’t explore all of these opportunities.”
“Opportunities? Opportunities to get sunburned and dehydrated while surrounded by fifty-thousand smelly, noisy, ugly people who crap in inconvenient places and scream all the time? I think I can miss out on that kind of ‘opportunity.’”
“OK, then, maybe...maybe we could go up to Bradley’s lake house. Matt got it that time for him and Julie, so he could probably hook us up...”
Tyra chuckled. “There’ll be no ‘hooking up’ of any kind, Landry. Julie told me about that place, and truth? I’ve done my time in dark, stinky, uncomfortable places so I could be alone with somebody who wouldn’t even buy me dinner first.”
“I’d buy you dinner first. Where do you want to go? There’s a new Chinese place in Arnett Meade...”
“Landry! You...are unbelievable.”
“Yeah, I know.”
They made their way out to Tyra’s truck. She was giving Landry a ride back to the gas station where the wagon was getting a tune-up.
“Ever wonder if mean that in a good way?”
“But...it IS a good thing. Right?”
Tyra opened the door to the truck and turned back to give Landry a quizzical look.
“Really...I don’t know, Landry. I never know what to say when you run off at the mouth like you do, with a million crazy ideas and plans and, everything...” She held the door open for a moment. “...except, maybe...” She slid into the driver’s seat and swung the door closed behind her. “Chill?”
Landry nodded as he made his way to the passenger side. “OK, sure, I get it. You know where I stand, you don’t need to be reminded...”
“...every other minute...” Tyra amended.
“...every other minute, that I’m here and available and...and...” He opened the door and dropped his bag on the bench seat.
“Yes, Landry...I know, I’ve always known, I will always know...” Tyra swung her head to and fro with each phrase, rolling her eyes. “Thanks, very sweet, appreciate it...now knock it off.”
Landry bobbed his head. “Sure, right, got it. Just want to be clear, in case there’s ever any doubt...” He closed the door.
Tyra put the truck in gear. “You don’t have to stop, entirely. Just give it a rest now and then.”
He belted himself in. “Message received.” He paused a moment. “Speaking of messages...Did you get that email I sent you about the party on Saturday? I only ask because if we’re gonna go, I need to tell my parents that I can’t go see my grandmother with them that weekend...”
“Look, I know you’re all geeked out at home, with your computer and all those hand-held, goofy little game systems...”
“I haven’t played any of those in, well...a while,” said Landry, a bit chagrined.
“Yeah, but the point is, I don’t have a computer at home and I’m not gonna go to school to pick up emails from you about parties and BS like that! It was bad enough that I had to be in the computer lab so much for English this year. That blog-writing shit was a nightmare.” She took a turn down a side road without slowing down.
“That was the best class I’ve ever had!” Landry exclaimed, bracing his feet against the floorboards with practiced nonchalance. He’d become accustomed to taking steps to ensure his survival when Tyra was behind the wheel. “I mean, I’ve been keeping a blog on my own for a while now, especially since Crucifictorious burst on the scene...”
Tyra chortled. “I know you’re doing a screamin’ side business with all your CDs and t-shirts...”
Landry shook his head. “All that stuff is just to support our road shows. We’re all about live performance, being in the moment, responding to the will and desire of our audience, not selling out on mechandising rights...”
“Yeah, well, I think selling out might be the only way you actually bring in any cash, if the attendance at your last show is any indication...”
He looked pained. “It was a Sunday night. Our core audience was probably at church.”
At this Tyra laughed with full-throated delight. “Landry, there is just no keepin’ you down, is there?”
He turned his face away to look out his window. “Ain’t it the truth.”
“Look, if you need to ask me something, just call me, OK? We don’t need to communicate in cyberspace. I never understood why some people get off on that so much. I mean, how sad is that, spending all your free time in a dark room in front of a computer, trying to ‘relate’...” She used air-quotes. “...to people you’ve never met and would actually never want to meet. I guess it just allows you to be as weirdly yourselves as you want and nobody cares.” She turned down the street to the station. “Tell me, really, why that’s even the least bit appealing?”
Landry gathered his things together. “You know, not everybody can be as...” Landry searched for the right word. “...’outspoken’ as you are in person, but they still have a lot to say and want someone to listen to them. Some of those blogs we did for class were pretty intense. I learned a lot of stuff about people I never knew before.” Tyra pulled to a stop. Landry opened the door and stepped out to the curb.
“Like Lyla. She was always beautiful and smart and talented, but the whole thing with Jason and Riggs and...and...” Landry stumbled a bit, not having ever directly referred to the Triangle while Tyra was within earshot...”Well...she’s had a lot of stuff to deal with this year. And she talked about it on her blog.” He leaned back through the window.
“Maybe you should read it sometime.”
“Please!” she scoffed. “If I hadn’t had to write one for class, I wouldn’t even read my own blog.” She revved the engine, impatient to move on. “There’s really nothing she could say that would surprise me.”
Landry blinked.
“You know, not for the first time...but you’re wrong about Lyla. She’s really suffered, and she wrote some beautiful stuff about that.” Tyra was evidently unmoved by this direct appeal. “And for what it’s worth...I read your blog, too.” He looked Tyra in the eye. “It was good. Really good.”
“Landry, go fuck yourself! You’d say anything, I swear...”
“No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t scam you on something like that. I take that stuff seriously.”
Tyra was shaking her head in disbelief.
“This is what I get, hangin’ out with you arty types. You, Julie and Matt just tire me out.” She dropped the truck into drive. “OK, goodbye. Call me tomorrow, call me later, call me whenever. I might need a ride to that party on Saturday...” She pulled the truck away just as Landry called out with delight:
“Great! I’ll figure out a place we can go get something to eat first...”
The grit of dust in his face from Tyra’s back tires was his only reply.
***
Matt was going to be working almost daily at the Alamo Freeze all summer, covering shifts for the other workers who’d be taking vacations or doing summer school or going to band camp. All the sorts of usual summer activities that high school kids participated in.
Unless they were Matt Saracen.
“Matty, when was the last time you were out of town?” asked Smash one afternoon as they cleaned out the fry traps. The rank, heavy odor of burned grease would have made most people gag, but being seasoned, as it were, to the scents of fast food, these two hardly noticed.
Matt was scraping down the grill with steel wool.
“You mean, other than to play Gatlin, and for State?” He wiped his hands on his apron. “Uh, well...I think it was to see my mom. Yeah, that’s got to be it.”
“When was that?”
Matt considered. “Maybe...five years ago?”
Smash stopped working.
“You tellin’ me you ain’t seen your mom in five years?”
Matt shook his head. “No, ‘course not. That’s just the last time I went on a trip. She came here...I think it was three years ago.”
Smash shook his head. “Damn, Matty...that’s...that’s so pathetic, I can’t even let myself take shots at you about it.”
Matt stiffened. “What do you want me to say? I don’t get out of town much.”
“Naw, man, I mean, it’s...it’s too bad, that you don’t see your mom more often.”
Matt continued to scrape off blackened pieces of burger with forceful passes of the brush. “Yeah, well, I guess I have to agree with you.”
Smash reached for his soda and took a long pull. “Well, does it have to be that way?”
Matt rinsed the brush off in the sink.
“You know we don’t have a car, Smash, and we don’t have extra money for something like a trip...”
“Well...can’t she come here? I mean, have you asked her?”
“I...I think I mentioned something a while back, but she didn’t seem to pick up on it.”
Smash smiled. “Yeah, well, Matty, you ain’t the most assertive dude I’ve ever known. Maybe you need to ask her straight up, something like this: ‘Mom, you ain’t been to Dillon in a while, and I’d sure like to see you, show you around Panthertown, watch the State tape n’all, I’ll even treat you to a first-class Alamo Family Pack for dinner if you want. What do you say?’”
Matt nodded his head, a broad smile on his face. “You know, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound half bad.” He seemed to consider something, and his face fell.
“I don’t know though...I’m working so much this summer, I might not have the time...”
“Matty, don’t give up so easy, man. When I get back from my trip to San Antonio, I’ll cover for you so you can have some time with her, show her around, do it right.”
“But I’m working, like, every day, Smash, so with your shifts and my shifts, you’d be here round the clock...”
“Would you just take advantage of me while I’m offering, QB1? The Smash don’t do this kinda thing for just anybody.” He put down his cup and picked up two bags of trash, which he began to walk to the back.
“You call her when you get home tonight, you make a real good case about how long it’s been, how much great stuff has been goin’ on with you, how you want to spend some time, all that family bullshit...” He tossed the bags out the back door. “And she’ll be buggin’ you with dates and times and gettin’ in your head about everything, like a mom should.”
Matt found himself smiling. “Well, if you think we can cover things here...”
Smash threw a towel at him. “Are you deaf? Didn’t I just lay it all out for you? Maybe I need to get Julie to talk sense into you, since you can’t seem to handle the man-to-man approach...”
Matt put up his hands in mock surrender. “OK, OK, I’ll call her tonight.” He turned back to the grill.
“Thanks, Smash.”
“Just git ‘er done, Matty, before you drive me right out my mind.”
***
The police detective who had searched Pam’s house for clues about Lyla’s disappearance called her a few days later with some news.
“We’ve found something, ma’am,” he said, his voice low and neutral.
“Wh...what? You found...you found some...thing...” Pam could barely speak coherently. A body? Please, God, not a body...
“Yes, ma’am, something belonging to your daughter.”
Pam found a seat in the nearest chair to preclude falling in a heap to the floor.
“What was it?”
“Her purse, ma’am. Wallet, IDs, credit cards. No keys, though. And there’s been no sign of her car since we posted the alert on Monday.”
“Where did you find it...find her purse?”
“In the trash at a gas station out on I-10. About twenty miles out of town.”
“So...”
“She’s gone, ma’am. She may not be dead, but she’s a long time gone.”
Somehow, this information only made Pam feel worse.
“And...there’s the blog.” The detective paused to let Pam calm down.
“’Blog’? What’s a ‘blog’?”
“It’s an online journal. She’d been keeping one for several months. Seemed like it was something a bunch of kids over at the high school were doing for an English class. She started out with one blog under her real name, like the other kids, but at some point, she created another one with an alias. It’s going to take some time to track down all her contacts. Most of them we’ve seen, though, haven’t been from Dillon.”
“I don’t understand...”
“She’d post an entry, and people would respond by leaving messages. She was on some boards, too, various topics.” The detective cleared his throat. “One was about divorce. Some were about student life at various colleges...”
“She’s going to Tulane in the fall,” offered Pam.
“Yep, I think that was one of them.”
“So...what...what has she been writing about?”
The detective seemed to be talking to someone on the other end.
“What...yeah, OK...Mrs. Garrity, I need to get going. We’re going to work through some of these online contacts and see if anything pops. We’ll be in touch.”
“But wait...how do I...where is this...‘blog’...?” Pam frantically searched the kitchen for a pen that worked so she could take down the information.
“Uh, right...” The detective put his hand over the phone and said something indistinguishable, then came back on the line. “Do you have a pen? It’s at: ‘soouttahere’...” This he spelled for Pam. “...dot blogspot, one word, dot com. You can check it out yourself. Bye now.”
“Oh, OK...I guess I can do that...” Pam replied absently, not noticing that the detective had already hung up. She looked at the web address she’d just written down, wondering what she’d find when she pulled it up.
Many people would later find themselves surprised by what they read there.
***
In the following weeks, despite a county-wide canvas and a state-wide alert, Lyla’s car was not found.
It had been carefully arranged not to be.
On a lot on the far edge of Westerby, a few towns over from Dillon, a dumping ground had taken hold in a brush-lined field off a major thoroughfare. Abandoned vehicles and appliances had been accumulating there for decades, marking the passage of time by degrading incrementally into the ecosystem. Lyla’s car was left behind a rusting R/V and an ancient school bus. Her Honda had been prepared like a body for mummification: drained of all its fluids, the air let out of the tires, battery disconnected and plates removed. It was grafitti-ed with orange spray paint, and the VIN number was filed down so as to be unrecognizable.
But if anyone had thought to look beyond the obvious cosmetic damage, they would have noticed that the car was still driveable. The last person to operate it wasn’t sure if they would need to use it again. It was haphazardly covered with a stray piece of tarp and was left ready for anything. Or nothing.
It would be some time before he’d know for sure which it would be.
Author: vacheqirit
Rating: R for language
Character: Ensemble
Spoilers: Six months post-"State"
Disclaimers: FNL and these characters are the properties of their owners. No infringements intended.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by my own personal FNL "jukebox," which I'll reference via chapter titles in subsequent installments. Please send me feedback on this, and whether you feel up to reading another multi-part, ensemble piece...
My friends all think they've lost me, my family's up in arms
But no one ever noticed 'til I sounded the alarm
There's danger in complacency and comfort in the fight
For the way that you whisper in the sweetness of the night
The sweetness of the night.
‘Cause I feel the steady pull of things that I can't see
And I like it
I feel the steady pull of things that I can't see
And I like it, I like it, I like it.
Jonatha Brooke, Steady Pull
***
Lyla went missing the day after graduation.
She had told her parents that she was going to spend the following week at a friend’s house at Canyon Lake, but the specifics had never been entirely fleshed out. All her mother could recall later was that Lyla had planned to run some errands before she left, and that she’d call to tell her parents when she arrived at her destination. Pam left her a couple of messages on her cell phone in the coming days but didn’t think much of the fact that she hadn’t heard from Lyla until she went to her room to drop off clean laundry and noticed that it was in considerable disarray.
And that there was a half-packed duffel bag still on the bed.
“She eighteen now. And a responsible girl. I didn’t think I needed to know more than what she told me,” Pam told the police after she had frantically called every one of Lyla’s former cheerleader cronies, her manager at the gymnastics center where she taught tumbling classes, and even Jason.
No one had heard from her, or seen her, since the graduation ceremony.
Buddy, not surprisingly, had also not heard from her. But he made sure everyone around Dillon heard from him on the subject of his soon-to-be ex-wife’s parenting skills.
“What the FUCK were you thinkin’, Pam, just letting her make plans to run off across the country with no other information like who, what, when, where, and why...” Buddy’s face was purple with rage as he railed at Pam over the phone from the dealership. “And you have the nerve to tell me I’m a deficient parent? This is gonna be first-rate dirt for my lawyer to use on you, I’m tellin’ you right now.”
“Stop with the language, Buddy, it just makes it all worse.” Pam was at home, drained and exhausted after two days of making every contact and following every lead as to Lyla’s whereabouts. “Neither of us would win any parenting awards.”
“I’ll speak any way I like, thank you very much,” retorted Buddy, who was sifting through sales figures at his desk while he spoke. “And let’s just keep on task, shall we? What did the police say when you spoke to them? They checked the house top to bottom, right? Did they pick up any clues?”
Pam sighed wearily.
“They said they were ‘getting mixed messages’ from what was in her room.” She sat down at the kitchen table and took a sip of her coffee. It was room temperature. It had been hours since she’d made it, and she hadn’t even recognized the passage of time.
“What the hell does that mean, ‘mixed messages’? I tell you, does nobody talk like a normal person anymore...it’s all these ‘CSI-type shows on TV, gotta throw procedure and terminology all over the fuckin’ place...”
“Buddy, just listen, would you, so I don’t have to go through this again?” Pam walked to the sink and poured her castoff coffee into the sink. “This is what they said:
“She must have her purse with her, because it was nowhere in her room or anywhere else in the house or outside. They searched the school, but her locker was cleared out last week before graduation. She didn’t finish packing her bag for the lake. It was on her bed and had the type of stuff you’d expect to see for that type of trip: bikinis, shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops. Her makeup was in her bathroom. Her iPod was in its dock next to her computer. There weren’t any unusual emails, or really any emails, for the past week. She has a lot of clothes, so I can’t be sure if some of them are missing, but there was one detail that the police found kind of puzzling.”
“What? What detail?” Buddy stopped fussing with his paperwork to focus on her answer.
Pam’s eyes welled up again.
“That her cell phone was here. In the charger.” She fought to stop herself from sobbing.
“They...the police...said that that’s...unusual. For a girl her age, to leave it behind. If she ran away, she’d have taken it. If she was going somewhere else besides the lake, she’d have taken it. They asked me if she might have taken my phone, or anyone else’s in the house, or if she might have gotten herself another one without our knowing about it.”
“Well? What did you tell them?”
Pam began to moan.
“I don’t know, Buddy...she could have done all sorts of things, I just never noticed anything out of the ordinary...”
“Credit card activity? Her bank account?”
“Nothing. Well, I did give her $300 for the trip, but she couldn’t get far on that...” Pam collected herself.
“You pay her credit card bills, Buddy...have you looked at the statements? Maybe they need to look further back.”
Buddy swivled around in his seat and opened a filing cabinet drawer in his credenza. “I’ll just check, I keep the statements right here...” He pulled out a manila file and began to leaf through its contents.
“I seem to remember something about buying stuff for college, because there was a sale or some such...” He brought out a statement from March and perused it.
“OK, that’s...that’s not what I remember.”
“What? What is it?”
“She told me she was going to buy a new laptop and printer and other college things and that the bill would be high one time because of that.” Buddy let the page drop to his desk.
“Did she ever bring any of that kind of stuff home? Is she using a new computer or anything?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“No new wardrobe? Or jewelry? Hell, I don’t know, y’all are insane about shoes...”
“No, no, I haven’t seen anything like that. I mean, she’s barely worn anything but jeans and t-shirts for months now.”
“Maybe there’s something going on here. Something she’s in on.”
“What did you see on the statement?”
“She maxed out her limit. Five thousand. On a cash advance.” Buddy ran his hand through his unruly hair.
“I just never thought about it. Just paid the bill. She told me it’d be high, I didn’t bother to see what it was for...”
“Well, that...that could mean she planned this. That she meant to...disappear. Right? So maybe nothing actually...bad...has happened...”
Buddy closed the file with the flat of his hand, planning on sending a fax of the bank statement to the detective.
“Actually, I don’t take much comfort from that, Pam. She’s not here. She’s not with us. That’s bad. And who she might be with...I don’t even want to think about it.”
Pam was silent a moment.
“You know...I never thought about this before...”
Buddy’s sales manager was trying to get his attention from the floor.
“Wha...what?”
“She’s been on the phone a lot lately. On her cell. Long conversations. I asked her once if she was going over her minutes, and she told me not to worry, she’d pay me back if she did. I think I asked her who she was talking to and she said ‘Tyra,’ which, I have to tell you, I wasn’t sure I bought even then...”
Buddy’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.
“Don’t tell me they’re friends now. That’s hard to swallow.”
Pam whipped the dishwasher door closed, rattling its contents.
“Really, Buddy? I don’t know why on earth you’d say such a thing. Such lovely women, those Collettes.”
Buddy managed to keep from spewing the ugliest invectives back at his ex by pulling up a risque picture of the latest object of his affection...not a woman, surprisingly, but a mega-dealership in Arnett Meade that was for sale. Buddy had designs on it that kept him well occupied, though nothing could go forward until after the divorce was final. It would be the sweetest of pleasures to have a new source of income entirely out of Pam’s reach.
“Now Pam, let’s not drag up old laundry...” He was smiling to himself, looking at the the sales numbers on the other dealership, almost relaxed about things. “I think we need to do some more askin’ around, to see who Lyla’s been spendin’ time with lately. You can talk to Tyra, if that gives you some sense of control. No problem here.”
“No problem? No problem for you, maybe. Actually, I’ll leave that conversation to you, Buddy, since you enjoy the ladies so much. I’ll check with some other people who might know some things.”
“You do that, Pam, thanks. I’ll put the pressure on the boys down at the station. They need to get a little more proactive, seems to me, and they need to check on those long calls you mentioned, since it doesn’t sound like you pressed that point with them.”
Pam refrained from taking the cordless phone out of her hand and pitching it across the room. “You work all the angles there, Buddy, since this is your FIRST BORN we’re talking about here! And don’t think I don’t know about Nugent’s dealership. I’m gonna wait you out on that one.”
Buddy’s pause on the other end confirmed what Pam had thought: he’d had no idea she had kept her ear to the ground of late and had heard of this deal brewing.
“Well, Pam, a pleasure, as always. I’ll be in touch.” Buddy pressed the End button on his headset.
“Damn her for bein’ just like a woman.”
***
In the coming days, the police met with various staff members from the school about Lyla’s disappearance, including Tami, but none of them had much to offer. Lyla had been a student only in the most perfunctory way that spring semester: fulfilling what few credits she had left for her diploma, and keeping very much to herself. There was little to comment about.
After conducting their canvas, the police came to a separate conclusion, one which they didn’t share with Lyla’s family or friends. In truth, Lyla had few people in her life who would notice any changes in her lately. What had occured by happenstance when she was Jason’s girlfriend and presumptive life partner, that her life had been seemingly full of friends and activities and plans, had virtually disappeared overnight once she and Jason were history and she’d worn her Panther cheerleader outfit for the last time.
That she hadn’t developed a network of relationships beyond those roles became a possible easy cover for her now that she was gone.
Of course the subject of foul play came up in concert with the uncertainty about Lyla’s possible disappearing act. The attack on Tyra had as yet not been solved, and there had been a kidnapping of a young girl in Arnett Mead, the next town over, during the spring. The detectives on those cases shared their information and compared their leads to what was known of Lyla’s associates and activities. But no patterns or commonalities came immediately to the fore.
“We had some conversations back in the fall, after what happened with Jason,” Tami remarked when the police came by the house one afternoon, “but she hadn’t been in to see me except about her college acceptances.” She smiled weakly. “She got into every school she applied to. You’d think that would have made her happy, but she was not at her ease.”
“Why do you say that, Ms. Taylor?” asked the detective.
“She said it seemed...what was the word she used...’hollow,’ now. All that work. But I do remember she also said that at least it would get her out of here, out of Dillon, and that was the best thing about having to go through this year.”
“Who did she spend time with at school? Did you know her friends?”
Tami shook her head. “After she gave up cheer, I hardly saw her with anyone. Tyra, sometimes, which was a bit of a shock initially, but girls sometimes find they have more in common than they think.” This remark generated a mental note for Tami: she had to ask Julie about Lyla. Tyra may have brought the three of them together. It wasn’t an impossibility.
Later, after the detective had left, Tami tried to plumb Julie’s depths on the Lyla issue. Since the end of school, Julie had spent most of her days on the couch, watching TV or reading. Her job at the local pool would start in a few days.
“So what do you think happened to Lyla, hon?”
“Mom, you seem to think I knew her or understood her or something. I barely knew who she was. And she barely knew me.”
“Well, everybody knows you, sweetheart...”
“Yeah, and why is that, exactly? Because of YOU. Because of DAD. Even because of Matt. They don’t know me, and they don’t actually want to know me.” She scrunched further down into the couch pillows. “Can’t say that bothers me, though.”
“I just thought, maybe, since you and Lyla are both such smart, talented girls...you might understand what she’s been feeling this year. She and Tyra had mended fences, I think...”
“You mean I might understand Lyla, as in, having my life turned upside down by what’s going on in my boyfriend’s life, and having to deal with annoying stuff going on with my parents, and maybe trying to figure out who I want to hang out with and what I want to do with my time...” Julie stopped to consider.
“OK...weird. Maybe...maybe we do have a few things in common.”
“See, that’s what I’m saying...” Tami brought a large tumbler of iced tea over to the couch and plopped down next to Julie. Her ankles were swollen-tender. She was retaining more fluids now that she was only two months from her due date. Her whole body was round, burgeoning ripeness, soon to pop. Or, that’s how she felt. Like an over-pumped water balloon.
“Just bear with me here...” Tami took a long sip of her drink and placed it on the coffee table. Her hands raked through her hair as if that might help clear her mind.
“Somehow this doesn’t feel like an accident to me, like she was kidnapped or...” She now wondered if this was the right tack to take with her sensitive daughter. “Or something worse. What might she be trying to do? Where would she want to go?”
Julie closed her book, deciding it was time to absent herself from this all-too-boring analysis of someone she had no interest in. “It’s not that big a stretch, Mom. I think she’d just want to get as far away from here as possible.” Julie gathered her book and stood up. “I know that feeling. It sucks. Hard.”
“Honey, that’s an ugly way to put it.” Tami finished her tea. “My question is...would she really leave her parents to worry about her like they must be? She wouldn’t be so cruel. I can’t believe that about her.”
Julie stepped over her mother’s propped-up legs and headed to her room.
“I don’t know, Mom...I never knew Lyla, but she never struck me as being all sweet and sensitive and concerned about others. I mean, she’s Buddy’s daughter.” Julie pulled a face. “Ugh, I can’t imagine someone ever having SEX with him, let alone having kids with him. Lyla should be happy she looks like her mom, even if she got some of Buddy’s heinous character flaws.”
“Julie, stop! What is this Lyla hate? I never understood it. It’s...beneath you.”
“I don’t know, Mom, I think you’re the one who cuts her too much slack. If she wanted to disappear from Dillon for a while, it makes sense to me, but that’s just based on what I know about her life. I say, she should take Buddy’s money and run.” Julie made her way back to her room.
Tami sat alone on the couch, musing over Lyla’s possible motives to leave town.
“Well, she might just have done that, Jules,” she said to herself. “Maybe she’s giving Buddy a taste of what it’s like to have the upper hand.”
She made her way back to the kitchen for more iced tea.
“I hope that’s all it is.”
***
Jason met Tim at Ruby’s late one afternoon the week following graduation. Tim had yet to complete several classes and didn’t graduate with his class. He’d be starting summer school in a few days and might be able to get his diploma by December.
To his considerable annoyance.
He was sitting in a booth near the TV when Jason wheeled up.
“I already ate, Street. You slowin’ up, ‘cause of the heat or something?” Tim pushed a greasy paper plate with uneaten fries across the table. “Don’t say I never gave you nothin’. Saved some for you.”
Jason shook his head, declining the fries.
“I’m not hungry.”
Tim took a long draw on his soda.
“Where were you, man?”
Jason looked up.
“The police called me in. To talk about Lyla.”
Tim said nothing.
“I’d already told them a hundred times that she and I weren’t speaking, we didn’t see each other, we hadn’t spent a minute of time together since before Christmas.” Jason shook his head. “I mean, our break-up was practically front-page news back then. Wouldn’t they know if we’d gotten back together or something? It’d be all they could talk about at the barber shop.”
“Yeah, I think you flatter yourself, man,” replied Tim, trying to keep the mood light.
“Did they talk to you?” Jason looked at him with keen interest.
Tim finished his drink and dropped the cup on the table top.
“Yeah, they called me. I told them I didn’t know anything. Told them she thought I was nothin’ better than a piece of shit on the bottom of her shoe. Besides, I was out of town all weekend, at Bradley’s place.”
Jason almost smiled.
“What’s her name again?”
Tim smirked.
“Y’know, I don’t rightly remember...” He pulled out his wallet, preparing to return to the counter to buy a shake. “But she was more’n happy to call the police back and make sure they had my alibi. They didn’t seem to have any more questions for me after that.”
Jason shook his head.
“I should be so lucky to have that kinda alibi.”
Tim’s brow furrowed.
“What’dyou mean?”
“That’s the thing, Timmy...I didn’t need an alibi. The chair is my alibi. It’s like my alter-ego...as long as it’s around, Jason Street can’t do any number of things.”
“You can do a lot, Street. A lot.”
“Ironic, huh...the thing that allows me to be most like a normal person on a daily basis actually does the opposite in situations like this. It makes me exactly what I am...a quad in a chair.” Jason popped a wheelie. “Walkers can’t do that. But truth is...why the hell would they want to?” His head dropped to his chest.
“They just dismissed me after a couple of questions. Because they know I couldn’t overpower somebody while I’m in the chair, and especially not while I’m out of it.”
“That’s...that’s what they think happened? Somebody...grabbed her up?”
“Maybe. Happens every day.”
“So what you’re saying they’re saying is, you’re not man enough to be a suspect?” Tim looked at Jason.
He nodded his head.
“That’s fucked up.”
Jason gazed into the middle distance, an enigmatic look on his face.
“They asked me something weird, too,” he said, as if thinking it over. “About some...blog she was writing.” He turned to look at Tim.
“Did you know about that? It doesn’t sound much like Lyla.”
Tim slid across the booth’s seat. “Naw, never read it. Damned if I’m gonna spend one extra second in the computer lab if I don’t have to.” He stood up. “And who the hell would want to read that stuff, anyway? ‘Dear Diary...Today I wore my cutest new outfit, and that guy in Math totally checked me out...’” Tim held his hands to his neck and pretended to strangle himself.
“Dude, just kill me if I ever date a chick with a blog.”
Jason smiled. “Yeah, well, I’d probably have to. ‘Cause all the ladies who’ve enjoyed your attentions would start comparing notes, and that just wouldn’t be good for ANYbody.”
Tim made his way to the counter. “Very true, Streeter.”
Jason followed him, wanting a soda.
“But I think I need to check it out. Why else would she write it, if she didn’t want people to see it?”
Tim sauntered back to the booth.
“So, what’s her screenname?”
Jason chewed his lip. His face demonstrated his discomfort.
“I think it says...well, it says a lot.’”
“Yeah?”
“It’s...’SoOuttaHere.’”
Tim frowned.
“That doesn’t sound like her, either.”
Jason nodded.
“None of this does.”
***
Tyra was going to be studying all summer. Studying, and working. She thought it unlikely that she’d have the time or energy to bother with much else. It was almost a relief to consider how little she’d have to fuss with all the usual social bullshit.
Landry was, rather inconveniently, deaf to her protestations regarding concerts, road trips, mini golf...his list of potential summer-specific activities seemed boundless.
As was his enthusiasm.
“You have to take a day off once in a while, and all I’m sayin’ is that we should plan some things, maybe go to Austin, there’s that music festival I told you about, and Crucifictorious is an alternate band in the line up, so we’d need to go overnight...”
“Whoa, whoa...hold up, Axl. I never said I was gonna do any of this stuff with you.”
“Well, I know you can’t do all of it, but it’s summer. It’s required that we do stuff like this. You’ll regret it later if you don’t explore all of these opportunities.”
“Opportunities? Opportunities to get sunburned and dehydrated while surrounded by fifty-thousand smelly, noisy, ugly people who crap in inconvenient places and scream all the time? I think I can miss out on that kind of ‘opportunity.’”
“OK, then, maybe...maybe we could go up to Bradley’s lake house. Matt got it that time for him and Julie, so he could probably hook us up...”
Tyra chuckled. “There’ll be no ‘hooking up’ of any kind, Landry. Julie told me about that place, and truth? I’ve done my time in dark, stinky, uncomfortable places so I could be alone with somebody who wouldn’t even buy me dinner first.”
“I’d buy you dinner first. Where do you want to go? There’s a new Chinese place in Arnett Meade...”
“Landry! You...are unbelievable.”
“Yeah, I know.”
They made their way out to Tyra’s truck. She was giving Landry a ride back to the gas station where the wagon was getting a tune-up.
“Ever wonder if mean that in a good way?”
“But...it IS a good thing. Right?”
Tyra opened the door to the truck and turned back to give Landry a quizzical look.
“Really...I don’t know, Landry. I never know what to say when you run off at the mouth like you do, with a million crazy ideas and plans and, everything...” She held the door open for a moment. “...except, maybe...” She slid into the driver’s seat and swung the door closed behind her. “Chill?”
Landry nodded as he made his way to the passenger side. “OK, sure, I get it. You know where I stand, you don’t need to be reminded...”
“...every other minute...” Tyra amended.
“...every other minute, that I’m here and available and...and...” He opened the door and dropped his bag on the bench seat.
“Yes, Landry...I know, I’ve always known, I will always know...” Tyra swung her head to and fro with each phrase, rolling her eyes. “Thanks, very sweet, appreciate it...now knock it off.”
Landry bobbed his head. “Sure, right, got it. Just want to be clear, in case there’s ever any doubt...” He closed the door.
Tyra put the truck in gear. “You don’t have to stop, entirely. Just give it a rest now and then.”
He belted himself in. “Message received.” He paused a moment. “Speaking of messages...Did you get that email I sent you about the party on Saturday? I only ask because if we’re gonna go, I need to tell my parents that I can’t go see my grandmother with them that weekend...”
“Look, I know you’re all geeked out at home, with your computer and all those hand-held, goofy little game systems...”
“I haven’t played any of those in, well...a while,” said Landry, a bit chagrined.
“Yeah, but the point is, I don’t have a computer at home and I’m not gonna go to school to pick up emails from you about parties and BS like that! It was bad enough that I had to be in the computer lab so much for English this year. That blog-writing shit was a nightmare.” She took a turn down a side road without slowing down.
“That was the best class I’ve ever had!” Landry exclaimed, bracing his feet against the floorboards with practiced nonchalance. He’d become accustomed to taking steps to ensure his survival when Tyra was behind the wheel. “I mean, I’ve been keeping a blog on my own for a while now, especially since Crucifictorious burst on the scene...”
Tyra chortled. “I know you’re doing a screamin’ side business with all your CDs and t-shirts...”
Landry shook his head. “All that stuff is just to support our road shows. We’re all about live performance, being in the moment, responding to the will and desire of our audience, not selling out on mechandising rights...”
“Yeah, well, I think selling out might be the only way you actually bring in any cash, if the attendance at your last show is any indication...”
He looked pained. “It was a Sunday night. Our core audience was probably at church.”
At this Tyra laughed with full-throated delight. “Landry, there is just no keepin’ you down, is there?”
He turned his face away to look out his window. “Ain’t it the truth.”
“Look, if you need to ask me something, just call me, OK? We don’t need to communicate in cyberspace. I never understood why some people get off on that so much. I mean, how sad is that, spending all your free time in a dark room in front of a computer, trying to ‘relate’...” She used air-quotes. “...to people you’ve never met and would actually never want to meet. I guess it just allows you to be as weirdly yourselves as you want and nobody cares.” She turned down the street to the station. “Tell me, really, why that’s even the least bit appealing?”
Landry gathered his things together. “You know, not everybody can be as...” Landry searched for the right word. “...’outspoken’ as you are in person, but they still have a lot to say and want someone to listen to them. Some of those blogs we did for class were pretty intense. I learned a lot of stuff about people I never knew before.” Tyra pulled to a stop. Landry opened the door and stepped out to the curb.
“Like Lyla. She was always beautiful and smart and talented, but the whole thing with Jason and Riggs and...and...” Landry stumbled a bit, not having ever directly referred to the Triangle while Tyra was within earshot...”Well...she’s had a lot of stuff to deal with this year. And she talked about it on her blog.” He leaned back through the window.
“Maybe you should read it sometime.”
“Please!” she scoffed. “If I hadn’t had to write one for class, I wouldn’t even read my own blog.” She revved the engine, impatient to move on. “There’s really nothing she could say that would surprise me.”
Landry blinked.
“You know, not for the first time...but you’re wrong about Lyla. She’s really suffered, and she wrote some beautiful stuff about that.” Tyra was evidently unmoved by this direct appeal. “And for what it’s worth...I read your blog, too.” He looked Tyra in the eye. “It was good. Really good.”
“Landry, go fuck yourself! You’d say anything, I swear...”
“No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t scam you on something like that. I take that stuff seriously.”
Tyra was shaking her head in disbelief.
“This is what I get, hangin’ out with you arty types. You, Julie and Matt just tire me out.” She dropped the truck into drive. “OK, goodbye. Call me tomorrow, call me later, call me whenever. I might need a ride to that party on Saturday...” She pulled the truck away just as Landry called out with delight:
“Great! I’ll figure out a place we can go get something to eat first...”
The grit of dust in his face from Tyra’s back tires was his only reply.
***
Matt was going to be working almost daily at the Alamo Freeze all summer, covering shifts for the other workers who’d be taking vacations or doing summer school or going to band camp. All the sorts of usual summer activities that high school kids participated in.
Unless they were Matt Saracen.
“Matty, when was the last time you were out of town?” asked Smash one afternoon as they cleaned out the fry traps. The rank, heavy odor of burned grease would have made most people gag, but being seasoned, as it were, to the scents of fast food, these two hardly noticed.
Matt was scraping down the grill with steel wool.
“You mean, other than to play Gatlin, and for State?” He wiped his hands on his apron. “Uh, well...I think it was to see my mom. Yeah, that’s got to be it.”
“When was that?”
Matt considered. “Maybe...five years ago?”
Smash stopped working.
“You tellin’ me you ain’t seen your mom in five years?”
Matt shook his head. “No, ‘course not. That’s just the last time I went on a trip. She came here...I think it was three years ago.”
Smash shook his head. “Damn, Matty...that’s...that’s so pathetic, I can’t even let myself take shots at you about it.”
Matt stiffened. “What do you want me to say? I don’t get out of town much.”
“Naw, man, I mean, it’s...it’s too bad, that you don’t see your mom more often.”
Matt continued to scrape off blackened pieces of burger with forceful passes of the brush. “Yeah, well, I guess I have to agree with you.”
Smash reached for his soda and took a long pull. “Well, does it have to be that way?”
Matt rinsed the brush off in the sink.
“You know we don’t have a car, Smash, and we don’t have extra money for something like a trip...”
“Well...can’t she come here? I mean, have you asked her?”
“I...I think I mentioned something a while back, but she didn’t seem to pick up on it.”
Smash smiled. “Yeah, well, Matty, you ain’t the most assertive dude I’ve ever known. Maybe you need to ask her straight up, something like this: ‘Mom, you ain’t been to Dillon in a while, and I’d sure like to see you, show you around Panthertown, watch the State tape n’all, I’ll even treat you to a first-class Alamo Family Pack for dinner if you want. What do you say?’”
Matt nodded his head, a broad smile on his face. “You know, when you put it that way, it doesn’t sound half bad.” He seemed to consider something, and his face fell.
“I don’t know though...I’m working so much this summer, I might not have the time...”
“Matty, don’t give up so easy, man. When I get back from my trip to San Antonio, I’ll cover for you so you can have some time with her, show her around, do it right.”
“But I’m working, like, every day, Smash, so with your shifts and my shifts, you’d be here round the clock...”
“Would you just take advantage of me while I’m offering, QB1? The Smash don’t do this kinda thing for just anybody.” He put down his cup and picked up two bags of trash, which he began to walk to the back.
“You call her when you get home tonight, you make a real good case about how long it’s been, how much great stuff has been goin’ on with you, how you want to spend some time, all that family bullshit...” He tossed the bags out the back door. “And she’ll be buggin’ you with dates and times and gettin’ in your head about everything, like a mom should.”
Matt found himself smiling. “Well, if you think we can cover things here...”
Smash threw a towel at him. “Are you deaf? Didn’t I just lay it all out for you? Maybe I need to get Julie to talk sense into you, since you can’t seem to handle the man-to-man approach...”
Matt put up his hands in mock surrender. “OK, OK, I’ll call her tonight.” He turned back to the grill.
“Thanks, Smash.”
“Just git ‘er done, Matty, before you drive me right out my mind.”
***
The police detective who had searched Pam’s house for clues about Lyla’s disappearance called her a few days later with some news.
“We’ve found something, ma’am,” he said, his voice low and neutral.
“Wh...what? You found...you found some...thing...” Pam could barely speak coherently. A body? Please, God, not a body...
“Yes, ma’am, something belonging to your daughter.”
Pam found a seat in the nearest chair to preclude falling in a heap to the floor.
“What was it?”
“Her purse, ma’am. Wallet, IDs, credit cards. No keys, though. And there’s been no sign of her car since we posted the alert on Monday.”
“Where did you find it...find her purse?”
“In the trash at a gas station out on I-10. About twenty miles out of town.”
“So...”
“She’s gone, ma’am. She may not be dead, but she’s a long time gone.”
Somehow, this information only made Pam feel worse.
“And...there’s the blog.” The detective paused to let Pam calm down.
“’Blog’? What’s a ‘blog’?”
“It’s an online journal. She’d been keeping one for several months. Seemed like it was something a bunch of kids over at the high school were doing for an English class. She started out with one blog under her real name, like the other kids, but at some point, she created another one with an alias. It’s going to take some time to track down all her contacts. Most of them we’ve seen, though, haven’t been from Dillon.”
“I don’t understand...”
“She’d post an entry, and people would respond by leaving messages. She was on some boards, too, various topics.” The detective cleared his throat. “One was about divorce. Some were about student life at various colleges...”
“She’s going to Tulane in the fall,” offered Pam.
“Yep, I think that was one of them.”
“So...what...what has she been writing about?”
The detective seemed to be talking to someone on the other end.
“What...yeah, OK...Mrs. Garrity, I need to get going. We’re going to work through some of these online contacts and see if anything pops. We’ll be in touch.”
“But wait...how do I...where is this...‘blog’...?” Pam frantically searched the kitchen for a pen that worked so she could take down the information.
“Uh, right...” The detective put his hand over the phone and said something indistinguishable, then came back on the line. “Do you have a pen? It’s at: ‘soouttahere’...” This he spelled for Pam. “...dot blogspot, one word, dot com. You can check it out yourself. Bye now.”
“Oh, OK...I guess I can do that...” Pam replied absently, not noticing that the detective had already hung up. She looked at the web address she’d just written down, wondering what she’d find when she pulled it up.
Many people would later find themselves surprised by what they read there.
***
In the following weeks, despite a county-wide canvas and a state-wide alert, Lyla’s car was not found.
It had been carefully arranged not to be.
On a lot on the far edge of Westerby, a few towns over from Dillon, a dumping ground had taken hold in a brush-lined field off a major thoroughfare. Abandoned vehicles and appliances had been accumulating there for decades, marking the passage of time by degrading incrementally into the ecosystem. Lyla’s car was left behind a rusting R/V and an ancient school bus. Her Honda had been prepared like a body for mummification: drained of all its fluids, the air let out of the tires, battery disconnected and plates removed. It was grafitti-ed with orange spray paint, and the VIN number was filed down so as to be unrecognizable.
But if anyone had thought to look beyond the obvious cosmetic damage, they would have noticed that the car was still driveable. The last person to operate it wasn’t sure if they would need to use it again. It was haphazardly covered with a stray piece of tarp and was left ready for anything. Or nothing.
It would be some time before he’d know for sure which it would be.