Springvale
(c) KES
Chapter Three

It wasn’t until the following morning that I realized I was the last person to see Brad Waverly. Springvale was in an uproar. Brad hadn’t returned home after a long day of work. His wife had called Waverly Corp. early in the morning, expecting that her husband had worked himself so hard he’d fallen asleep. When she realized he wasn’t in his office, she immediately called the police. Since then, breaking news broadcasts had been all that was available on television. Reporters were already speculating: most believed it was corporate espionage to the extreme. No one, it seemed, believe that Brad Waverly would have left of his own accord.

It didn’t take long to realize that I was the last person to see him before he’d gone missing. One of the local news stations had his administrative assistant live on air, an assistant who looked more like a model than a secretary, I fumed again. She stated that he had left the office at eight and after an hour or so. She was believed to be the last person to see him.

“Oh crap,” I mumbled to Oliver, realizing that I was going to have to talk to someone. I contemplated for a moment not doing anything at all; I was still not pleased with Springvale’s new king, but I knew that my anger was no reason to not go to the authorities. I wondered for a moment why the cashier at the supermarket hadn’t called about him, but I blew it off. Maybe she was still sleeping.

I picked up the phone and dialed the non-emergency number for the police that I’d found in the phonebook. It took a few rings before anyone answered. “Springvale Dispatch,” a woman said in a clipped voice, as if I was wasting her time.

“Yes,” I said, “I have some information about Brad Waverly.”

“What kind of information?” it was suddenly a man’s voice, as if he was waiting for this phone call.

“Who am I speaking to?” I inquired.

“What kind of information?” he repeated gruffly.

I paused for a moment. I was already regretting making this call. It was very clear that this man thought I was somehow involved in the disappearance. “I saw him late last night,” I said and repeated, “Who am I speaking to?”

There was a pause. “This is Agent Derrick Mulroney. I’m with the FBI.”

“FBI?” I thought aloud, “Doesn’t someone have to be missing longer than twelve hours for the FBI to be called in?”

There was no response and I realized that if it hadn’t been Brad Waverly, normal rules would have applied.

“Who am I speaking to?” he repeated my question.

“This is Lisette Vendre.” Wanting to get this over with, I added, “I ran into Brad Waverly at the supermarket on Fourth Street at midnight last night.”

There was another pause. “Miss Vendre, I think this would be better addressed at the police station downtown. Can you come down here as soon as possible?”

I was caught off-guard. “Can’t we do this over the phone? I have an infant son.”

“Call his father home from work; this is extremely important, Miss Vendre.”

“His father, Agent, is in Virginia. Even if I did call him, which I don’t plan on doing, I doubt he could do much,” I spat. Normally I would have just ignored a comment like that; they happened frequently in Virginia and I knew that wasn’t going to change in Springvale. It was just that I felt like I was being treated like I had done something wrong.

“I apologize,” he said, sounding sincere enough. “If you’d like, I could come to your house.”

“No,” I responded immediately, knowing I did not want this man or any member of a government organization in my house or around my son. “I’ll find a babysitter. I’ll be there within the hour.” I hung up without another word, fuming again. I wondered, for what would not be the last time, if coming to Springvale was the best idea.

I knew May and Justin would be at work and not able to leave for babysitting duty. I picked Oliver up and walked next door, hoping that either Bill or June was home.

I found June weeding in her extensive flower garden. She smiled warmly, leaving her spade and removing her gloves, reaching for Oliver without asking. “Well, look at you,” she said and Oliver gave her a big giggle, causing me to smile despite my situation.

“June, I hate to ask,” I started, but she already waved me off.

“Honey, watching this little fellow is a treat,” she told me, her gray braid gleaming in the sunshine. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a young one around.”

“I shouldn’t be long,” I said, hoping it was true. “I think I just happen to be the last person who saw Brad Waverly last night.”

“Oh, poor girl,” she laughed, “You’re probably going to be down there all day. You know how seriously this town takes Mr. Waverly.”

“Great,” I muttered. “I can get you a diaper bag or…”

“I know where Pearl kept everything in that house,” she smiled again, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to find a diaper or two.”

“Thank you so much, June,” I said sincerely. I kissed Oliver on the nose, causing him to giggle again. “I’ll try to make this as quick as possible.”

I got to the police station a half hour after I hung up with Agent Mulroney. As soon as I entered, everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at me, mostly distrustfully.

It was then that I realized the thing about being the new girl in town and the last person to see Springvale's most prominent businessman before he went missing was that everyone seemed to think I stuffed the poor bastard in the trunk of my car.

I didn’t have to ask for Agent Mulroney. He was the first person to reach me. He was both leaner and younger than I’d imagined; his gruff voice made me think he would be a big middle-aged man. He was wearing the typical neutral-colored suit I expected. He led me to a room that didn’t look too different from interrogation rooms I’d seen on the crime TV shows my mother liked to watch when I was young. The idea that I was about to be interrogated put me on edge.

If it was out of the ordinary to be in this room for a simple statement, Agent Mulroney didn’t acknowledge it. Two men followed him in, both wearing the Springvale Police Department uniform. The older man I recognized as the sheriff. He had been for as long as I could remember. The second man I did not recognize and he was not regarding me in a particularly nice way.

“Lisette,” Sheriff Frank Adams smiled at me. “It’s been a while. I’m sorry about your grandmother.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, not expecting my grandma to be a topic of conversation today. I turned to Mulroney, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d like to make this quick if possible. I had to ask my neighbor to watch my son.” I made it clear that this was an imposition.

The younger officer answered before Mulroney could. “It’ll take as long as it takes.”

“And you are?” I asked, unable to reign in my temper. The officer looked younger than me and frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with being treated like a criminal.

Sheriff Adams answered before the young man could. “This is Deputy Francona,” he made quick introductions before letting Mulroney take over.

“Tell me everything you remember, Miss Vendre. In as much detail as possible, if you could,” Mulroney requested.

I did. I was interrupted almost immediately by Deputy Francona. It made me immediately aware that this was going to take a while. “You say this was around midnight?”

I looked at him for a moment. “Yes. I did just say that, didn’t I?”

“Can you be more specific?”

I sighed. “I left my house at ten to; it took maybe five minutes to get there, five more to grab the diapers and leave the store. So yeah, I’m going to say midnight is right on.” I continued before he could interrupt me again.

It didn’t take long though. “Brad said he was coming from the office? At midnight?”

“That’s what he said,” I sighed again.

“But Brad’s assistant said he left at eight,” Francona said, unable to keep the accusatory tone from his voice.

“Yes, well, that’s what he told me,” I insisted. “There was a cashier at the store; you can ask her if you don’t believe my story.”

“Of course we believe your story, Lisette,” Sheriff Adams responded quickly, shooting a look at Francona. “Do you remember what the cashier looked like?” he asked. “I’d like to know why she hasn’t come forward.”

“Redhead, about my height. She had a tattoo on her wrist,” I recalled.

“That’s Lucy Collins,” Francona interrupted.

“Okay,” I said. “He left going west down Fourth Street.”

“West?” Mulroney asked. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely. He went the opposite direction of me.” All three men looked concerned. “What is it?”

“His house isn’t too far from yours. If he was headed home, he should have gone the same way you did,” Sheriff Adams explained.

“Did he have anything on him?” Mulroney asked suddenly, as if the question hadn’t occurred to him until then. “Anything from the store?”

I nodded, “Shampoo, toothpaste, and a box of condoms. Flavored, actually.”

“That’s a pretty good memory you’ve got,” Francona stated, again unable to stop from sounding accusatory.

“Are you serious?” I asked, sick of his attitude. “Are you really upset because I have too much information?” Francona looked like he was about to interrupt, but I didn’t let him. “I remember because he didn’t have a bag, because I notice details, and because, honestly, I thought the condoms were funny for such a big shot guy to carry around.” I turned back to Mulroney and Sheriff Adams. “Are we done here? I really need to get back to my son.”

Mulroney nodded, “We’ll call if we have any questions, Miss Vendre. Thanks for your time.”

“Thank you, Lisette,” Sheriff Adams added. “We really appreciate it.”

I didn’t wait to see if Francona had anything to add. I left quickly, ignoring the glances of the clerical staff as I walked through the police department. For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, I was shaking with anger. I took a couple deep breaths before starting my car. I knew I wasn’t going to go home immediately. I didn’t want Oliver to see me so wound up and I knew June wasn’t expecting me back just yet, so I drove to one of the many places I’d been avoiding since my arrival in Springvale—the cemetery.

It didn’t take long to get there and I got out of the car before I could think too much about it. I wasn’t sure I was ready for this, but I didn’t know that I ever would be. I needed to see it, though it wasn’t bound to help anything.

It was a familiar path I took to get to her grave. She and I took that same trip many times a summer to visit my grandfather’s grave. When she told me that she’d already bought the spot next to him, it felt morbid to me. I hated the idea that she was so comfortable with death, even years before it actually happened. I knew it was supposed to make things easier on me and Mom, but I just thought her matter-of-fact tone was unnatural. It took me years to understand that she wanted to be close to her husband, in life and in death. The in-between years without him were much harder.

I sat on the grass in front of the flat stone. Without looking at the years, you could see that Grandma had died much more recently than Grandpa. His stone was weathered, chipped away, while hers was still gleaming. The marble still reflected the sun, making it even harder to look at.

“I miss you,” was all I could think of to say. I wanted her advice, but I was still so angry at her for not being honest with me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to stay in town anymore, knowing that the anger I’d been feeling was spreading into other parts of my life. Oliver deserved to live with someone who felt better, who was happier than I was. I said a prayer, more for my grandma than for myself, and turned to leave, not feeling any better.

The drive home was short. I found June on the porch with Oliver and a couple of his favorite toys. He was giggling away and I found my bad mood lifting. I patted his back lightly and joined June on the porch swing.

“How’d it go?” she asked, her eyes still on the baby in her lap.

I sighed, “They basically accused me of being involved. One of the deputies is a real piece of work.”

She smiled faintly, “Welcome to Waverly,” she said. “This town starts and ends with that family. I’d be willing to bet this is a long way from over.”

I didn’t reply to that, knowing she was probably right. “I stopped at my grandma’s grave on the way back,” I admitted. June raised her eyes to meet mine. “I was hoping it would help. I was hoping… I’m not sure, that something would feel different. That I would get…”

“Why she’s gone?” she supplied.

Why she didn’t tell me. I sighed again, “Something like that.” There was a long pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, sweetie,” she said.

“Did she seem okay, you know, before?”

Her eyes landed back on Oliver. “She was as full of life as ever,” she assured me. “Out in the garden until the end.” Her eyes met mine and I was certain she knew; that she’d known my grandma was sick.

There was so much I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t figure out how. I didn’t know what I wanted to know. What if Grandma had a really good reason for not telling me? What if she truly didn’t care that I didn’t know? I couldn’t handle knowing that just yet and it was clear that June understood it.

“I should’ve come around more,” I said quietly. “I should’ve been here.”

“She should have told you,” June corrected, but said nothing more.

I sat with her for a few more minutes, staring into the cloudless mid-afternoon sky, before standing up. “Thanks for being here, June,” I said and meant it in more than one way. “I’m gonna put Oliver down for a nap and maybe try to take one myself. It’s been one hell of a day.”

She nodded and squeezed my hand before lifting Oliver off her lap and onto mine. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “Bill and I are here for whatever you need.”

“Thanks,” I said again, bringing Oliver inside. He yawned dramatically, leaning his head against my shoulder.

I headed towards the stairs, turning Hour Six of the Brad Waverly Disappearance off as I passed.

Sorry it took so long for this chapter. I haven’t had much time to write anyway, but then my computer went and died on me and now I have to try to figure everything out with Word 2007, which is about as annoying as anything I’ve ever seen. I apologize for the wait. I’ll try to get the next chapter out quickly. Review, pretty please.

Thanks to MZ PEACHESZZ, Shixa Goddess, and michibun for reviewing.