Hold Me Close Read online

  Time for Plan B.

  “Nothing,” John Kervic told him that afternoon. “Not yet.”

  “What do you mean, nothing?” Alan shoved back in his desk chair, stood up, and began to pace. “Did you check the pawnshops again? It’s been more than a week. I said urgent. What the hell have you been doing? I told you how serious it is. She’s been going downhill for months, and who knows who she went off with or what she’s doing? She’s in a bad place, and the kid’s in a worse one. And you’ve got nothing?”

  “Calm down,” the detective said. “Yeah, we checked. As a favor to you. And there was nothing.”

  Alan put both hands on the desk, leaned across it, and looked Boise’s finest straight in the eye. “It’s not a favor, though, is it? It’s payback. And you haven’t paid me back. You haven’t even come close.” His voice was soft, but the message behind it wasn’t, and he knew Kervic got it.

  “Hey.” Kervic put up both hands in a placating gesture that did nothing to soothe Alan. “I told you. We checked the pawnshops, did everything we could. The whole thing sucks, and I feel you. But there’s nothing I can do until we get a ping on it. She gets picked up for anything, gets a jaywalking ticket anywhere in Idaho, signs up for food stamps, gets in the federal system anywhere at all, I can find her for you. Otherwise—” He shrugged. “We don’t, and that’s it. You know how it works.”

  “I don’t think so. She’s in danger, and so is Eli. I don’t want excuses. I want results, and I want them now.”

  He’d almost convinced himself it was all true. He needed to get her back. Everything else was a technicality. “And I’ve got another lead for you to check out, since it seems you need me to do your job for you.”

  Kervic eyed him warily. “What?”

  “There’s a restaurant where she used to work, The Iron Skillet. A waitress there who was a friend of hers. Isabel Sanchez. Kayla was sleeping on her couch when I met her, before I took her out of that. Best-case scenario, the thing I’m hoping for, is that she’s run back there, because if she has, I can get her back and get her some help.” He stopped, ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. “I’m half out of my mind here, man. I need to find her.”

  “If you know where she is, why not just go check it out?”

  Alan shook his head. “She’s not working at the restaurant. I’ve asked. Even hung around some outside, and around Isabel’s place, too, and I haven’t seen them. But I think that’s where they are.”

  “She took all that money, is in that kind of shape, and she’s on her girlfriend’s couch?” Kervic was leaning back in his chair now, looking relaxed. Looking like they were passing the time of day, like it didn’t matter, and Alan’s blood pressure was rising. “Doesn’t sound too likely to me. Anyway, you watch yourself. Leave that hanging-around stuff to us. I know you’re upset, and I’m not saying I blame you. You can’t be harassing innocent citizens, though. The DA doesn’t like you as it is, that’s what I hear. Get yourself a restraining order, and you’ve just flushed your job down the toilet.”

  Alan gripped the edge of the desk. God, he hated stupid people. “Leave it to you? Sure, if I want it done next year. If I could trust you to think of it at all. But you haven’t, have you? And I know there isn’t any more I can do. That’s why I’m asking you to do it. I want you to go on in there and find out.”

  “Yeah. Well, see, here’s the deal. Little thing called probable cause.”

  Alan laughed. Actually laughed. “You’re telling me you need probable cause? Since when? You know how to do it, and you will. You get in there and check it out. I need to find her.”

  “And if nobody’s home? What am I supposed to do then? I’ve got a job to do, man.”

  “Well, see, here’s the detective part of it. Pay close attention. The Mexican chick is fat, and Kayla’s a tiny little thing. And she’s got a kid. You find a pair of pants that aren’t XXL? She’s there.”

  Kervic eyed him dubiously. “And then what?”

  Alan sat down again, picked up a stress ball from the basket on his desk, and began to squeeze. “I take her home, of course. I get her the help she needs to turn herself around, even if I have to force it down her throat. That’s what love is.”

  COWBOY Up

  Eli dropped his towel on the concrete pool deck and jumped in at the line of floats separating the kids’ area from the deep end. The cool water felt great after the long, hot walk over from the apartment, and he swam down, touched the bottom, and crawled his way along it for a few strokes just for fun.

  He was getting a little better at swimming now, after a week or so of doing it again, because one of the ladies who’d helped them move had come by to give him a season pass and a pair of trunks.

  “Everybody goes to the pool around here,” she’d told him. “You’ll want to meet some of the other boys before school starts anyway.”

  Eli had looked at his mom and held his breath, because he knew she didn’t want to take more stuff from people. But she’d just said, “Thank you,” so it had been all right. He’d been able to spend his afternoons at the pool since then, which was a lot better, because he didn’t have anything else to do. But being in the shallow end with the little kids was getting boring.

  He eyed the kids jumping off the diving board. Almost all the boys his age were down there. Maybe he should just go hang out for a while until he got used to it, and then he could try the diving board, too. Once he got used to it.

  He ducked under the floats and started to edge his way down the side of the pool. About halfway there, though, he chickened out. He’d tread water a little first, and get used to being in over his head. He swam a few strokes out from the wall and tried it.

  “Boy in the red trunks.”

  The male voice rose over the shrieks and shouts and splashes around him. One of the lifeguards, on his megaphone. Eli looked around to see who they were talking to.

  “Boy in the red trunks,” the voice said again.

  Eli had red trunks. He froze for a moment, then had to kick his legs again, because he almost sank.

  It was the lifeguard at the other side of the pool, and he was looking straight at Eli. “Yeah, you. You need to be able to swim across the pool to be in the deep end. If you can’t do that, get back in the shallow end.”

  Eli didn’t know what to do, so he kept treading water.

  “Get out,” the booming voice said. “Come over here.”

  Eli got out, and then he had to walk all the way around the pool to get to the lifeguard stand. He didn’t dare look at the diving board.

  The lifeguard didn’t use the megaphone, at least. “You have to come to me if you want to go in the deep end. You have to show me you can swim across first. Don’t you know the rules?”

  Eli wanted to ask how he was supposed to know, but he knew better than to talk back, so he just said, “OK.”

  “Either get back in the shallow end, or swim across.”

  Eli swallowed hard. “I’ll swim across.” He didn’t think he’d ever swum that far, but he couldn’t get back in the shallow end. Everybody would laugh.

  The first part was all right. He’d made it halfway already, probably. But then it got harder, because he was getting really tired.

  If he could just take a rest, he could do it. Or if his dad had been there. One day that last summer, his dad had gone to the pool with him and his mom. Eli had just learned how to dive, and he’d wanted to show his dad. But he’d messed up and belly flopped, and it had hurt. He’d wanted to swim to the side, but he hadn’t, because his dad had been in the middle of the pool.

  “Come on,” his dad had said. “You can do it.” And Eli hadn’t turned around. He’d swum to him.

  “Good job,” his dad had said when he’d got there, and he’d held on to Eli until he’d gotten his breath back, and then had swum to the side with him. His dad had said, “Way to
cowboy up, buckaroo,” and his mom had hugged him, and Eli had felt brave.

  He was more than halfway. He’d swum that far to his dad that day, and he’d been six. He was nine now. He could do it.

  He swam, and he swam, and every time he looked up, the side wasn’t there. He kept saying it in his head. Cowboy up. Cowboy up. Cowboy up. And he kept swimming, too, even though his arms felt like spaghetti. And finally, one time when he looked up, the wall was almost there, and then his fingers brushed it, and he hung on and tried not to cry.

  “OK.” The voice came loud across the pool. “But if you’re going to swim in the deep end, you need to practice.”

  Eli didn’t look at him. He just hung on and waited, his chest burning, his hands shaking on the edge of the pool. He was glad his face was wet, but then even that wasn’t good enough, so he ducked down under the water and stayed there for a while.

  He had to come up, finally, but at least he wasn’t going to cry anymore.

  “What an asshole.”

  Eli turned his head to see a blond kid about his age.

  “He thinks he’s cool,” the kid said “You new?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You ever go all the way down and touch the bottom? Like this?” The kid shoved up off the edge with his hands, then plummeted down. Eli looked down and saw him, distorted in the water below, and then the kid was shooting back up again. “Try it. It’s fun.”

  Eli did it, but he didn’t make it to the bottom. He had to swim up again, because he needed a breath.

  He was afraid the kid would say something mean, but he didn’t. “Want to go off the board?” he said instead. “What’s your name?”

  “Eli.”

  “Cody.” The boy jerked his head of buzzed blond hair in the direction of the diving board. “Come on.”

  Eli didn’t tell Cody that he’d never jumped off the diving board before. He didn’t tell anybody.

  A little kid with buzzed blond hair like Cody’s was going up the ladder when they got there. He was only six or so, but he didn’t seem scared at all.

  “That’s my brother,” Cody said. “Jesse.”

  Eli waited in line, trying to breathe and not be scared, until Cody was climbing the ladder, running to the end of the board, bouncing, and jumping, grabbing his knees on the way down and yelling, “Cannonball!” He hit the water with a huge splash, and the lifeguard said, “Watch it, jumper on the board,” and all the kids laughed.

  The other kids hadn’t done any fancy tricks, though, so Eli didn’t think he had to. He climbed the three steps, his feet dragging a little. He wanted to, but he didn’t want to. And he had to.

  Cowboy up, buckaroo.

  He didn’t look, because he knew that if he looked, he’d get scared. He just walked to the end and jumped off.

  His stomach did a horrible flip on the way down, and then he was hitting the water hard, going down deep, panicking for a moment down there because his ears hurt and he’d gotten water up his nose. He kicked and flailed with his arms and, when he thought his lungs would burst, he was at the surface again, heaving in a breath.

  “Out of the way!” He heard the shout from the board and headed for the side of the pool. His legs were wobbling while he climbed out, and he felt like he was going to throw up again. But he’d jumped off. He’d swum across the pool, and he’d jumped off. The other kids were still lining up to jump, so he did, too. And the next time, it wasn’t quite as bad.

  They stayed for a long time, until Eli was getting worried that he wouldn’t get back home before his mom left for work, and she’d be scared. He didn’t want to leave, though, not when he’d found some kids to hang out with.

  Finally, Cody said, “Let’s go,” and about five of them headed for the locker room, changed, and went out into the park outside the fence.

  “Let’s get snow cones,” Cody said, and Eli stood in line with everybody. When he got up there, though, he said, “Nah. I decided I don’t want one,” in a way that sounded pretty normal, he thought. Then he sat on the grass with them while they ate and tried not to think about how hot it was, and how good a snow cone would taste.

  When Cody finished, he rolled over onto his back. “I wish summer would last forever. School sucks.”

  “Yeah,” Eli said, even though he kind of liked school. It was quiet at school, and the rules made sense. The other kids were OK as long as you were good at four square and tetherball and things, and he was pretty good.

  Did they play four square here, though? Maybe it was different here. Maybe you had to know how to do some other game, and he wouldn’t know how. He’d been a new kid in third grade, when they’d moved to Boise, and then again partway through, after they’d moved in with Alan. But at least they’d had the same games as in Wyoming.

  “Which school are you going to?” Cody asked.

  “Mary Whitman.”

  “Cool,” Cody said. “Us too. If you live near there, you can ride home with us.”

  “I don’t have a bike.”

  Everybody stared at him, and Eli could feel his ears getting red. “I mean, not yet,” he said. “We just moved.”

  He’d had a bike in Boise. Alan had bought it at the beginning, when he was being nice. But they hadn’t brought it with them.

  It was still better, though, because when the guys rode off, Cody said, “See you tomorrow.”

  He was even hotter by the time he finished walking up the Pine Street hill. He wished he’d had a snow cone. But he forgot that when he saw Daisy.

  The minute he’d made it past the side of her house, she was bursting out the dog door at the back to meet him like always, like she’d been listening and waiting for him. Like she was his dog. She ran up on her side of the fence, her tail wagging like crazy, and he laughed, dropped the towel with his suit rolled up inside, and leaned over the low fence and scratched her behind the ears.

  “Hi, girl. Did you have a boring day? Nobody to play with?”

  She twisted her head around to lick his hand, her entire rear end wriggling with the force of her welcome, then shot off up the stairs to the deck and picked up the tennis ball she’d had in her water bowl, which made Eli laugh again. She came running back down and dropped it just on her side of the fence, then sat and looked up at him, every black-and-white bit of her tense with anticipation.

  “You’re like me, huh?” he said after about the tenth time he’d thrown the ball for her. “You don’t have any friends to play with. Too bad we can’t hang out all the time.”

  She wagged her tail a little at his words, but she was staring at her ball, so he threw it again. He messed up this time, though, and it hit a tree and ricocheted hard onto the deck. He held his breath when it hit the sliding-glass door, but it didn’t break the glass. Instead, it bounced off it and rolled under the barbecue, and Daisy got there a split second too late. She stuck her nose down under it, then ran around to the other side and tried, and then she was pawing beneath it, whining frantically.

  He’d just go into the yard for a second. He’d get the ball for her, and then he’d leave right away. Nobody would know. The guy was never home. He wouldn’t find out. It would be OK, just for a second.

  He was on his stomach next to the barbecue, fishing the ball out while Daisy watched eagerly, bowing down with her sharp little nose shoved as far under as she could get it, her tail still wagging, when he heard it.

  “Hey.”

  The guy was on the deck, looking at him, and Eli backed out fast, taking the ball with him, and scrambled to his feet. He didn’t answer, because he was turning and running the second he was up, dropping the ball as he went. Across the yard and through the gate, grabbing his towel and running down the hill, not stopping until he was through his front door.

  His mother looked up from where she’d been fishing in her purse. She had her work clothes on: jeans, T-shirt, and
tennis shoes from the thrift store, and Eli stood and tried to get his breath back.

  “Oh, good,” she said. “I was getting worried.” She came over and kissed him, then smoothed his sweaty hair back from his forehead. “You OK?”

  “Yeah. I just ran because I was late.” She’d be more worried if she found out he’d been in the guy’s yard.

  “Did you have a good time at the pool?”

  “Yeah.” He always said that. This time, though, it was true. “I met some kids.”

  “Really.” She stopped frowning and looked a little bit happy. “That’s great. Are they nice?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I made lentil stew with carrots for dinner,” she said. “I think it turned out pretty tasty. There’s cornbread, too. Use the microwave.”

  “I know, Mom.” She always told him that. She didn’t want him to use the stove, even though he was nine. She was afraid there would be a fire, even though the only way he could’ve caught the house on fire would have been to light paper towels on it or something.

  “And Doreen’s home.”

  She always said that, too. Every day this week, ever since she’d started the job.

  Doreen was the babysitter. Well, sort of. She lived in the apartment next to them, and to Eli’s total embarrassment, his mom had bought a used baby monitor and put the listening part in Doreen’s apartment. Doreen wouldn’t come over and stay at their house, because they didn’t have a TV, and his mom didn’t want her to smoke, and smoking and watching TV were what Doreen did at night. And besides, his mom couldn’t pay her. Which was why they had the baby monitor.

  “All right. I’ll see you later,” she said. She bent and kissed him, held him close for a minute, and he hugged her back, because she liked him to hug her. She thought he didn’t know that she cried sometimes at night, but he heard, although he pretended he didn’t. He wished he knew how to make her feel better, but he didn’t.

  She left, and he heard her lock the door behind her.

  Usually, he got his library book then. But today, he sat on the floor under the window instead with his back against his dad’s saddle.