Darkest Before Dawn

“Hey Bill, better wake up Tommy. My paper’s not here.”

“Morning Pat, he’s out there, probably goofing around. Don’t worry, you’ll get your paper.”

“Sounds good, thanks.”

A few bites of toast, a sip of coffee and the phone rang again.

Rose picked it up. She assured the neighbor, “He’s just running behind.”

Drink some orange juice, salt and pepper the eggs and there was the phone again…and again.

The third and fourth calls were answered by Bill. It was Sunday morning. People wanted their newspapers with their coffee.

Panic was taking hold. Rose looked at Bill. “Where’s Tommy?”

The early morning hours were being pierced and punctuated by calls of concern for the couple’s only child and son.

The fifth call went to the answering machine. No one was home.

Bill and Rose stood at the intake counter of the police department. “Your kid is missing?” The lady behind the counter seemed dubious. Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe he just went off with some friends or something. It’s only been, what? 6 hours?”

“No. This isn’t like him. He’s never done this. We’ve searched around the block. We’ve called friends. No one has seen him.” Bill knew he was speaking a mile a minute. He tried to regain his composure. He didn’t want to lose his temper, but the extremely muggy weather wasn’t helping to keep his irritability in check. The air conditioning wasn’t keeping up with the heat. Urgency was high and his temper was hot. The receptionist felt a twinge of concern. This story unsettled her. Something felt different.

“I understand. Take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.” Typing, clattering of metal file cabinets and ringing phones echoed off the tile floor in the waiting room. After an eternity, Detective Jack Bowers escorted them back to his desk.

Detective Bowers was earnest and kind. He sat down at his desk across from the anxious parents. He pulled out a notepad and pen. He listened patiently and carefully consumed every detail of information. “He’s not the type that would run away?” Even asking the question felt disingenuous. Detective Bowers knew very little of Tommy but what he did know, he didn’t sound like a kid that would run away. An only child with adoring parents and his best friend living only two houses down? No. That wasn’t the recipe for a runaway.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“6:40 this morning. He always leaves for work at that time…”

“Sorry, he works?”

“He’s a paperboy.” Bill’s voice cracked.

“Dad, I need to have my own money.”

“You’re 11 years old. What do you need money for?”

“Whatever I want! Mike’s dad said he can spend his money on anything he wants! And Mike is going to be a paperboy next fall. I can do it! We’d be on the same area. I already got the job if you’ll let me.”

Bill remembered feeling proud of his son. “Sure, as long as it doesn’t affect your schoolwork.”

“We’ll start searching.” The detective made a few calls and within an hour, Tommy’s neighborhood was buzzing with volunteers and police. The air was electrified with optimism. Scores of neighbors and volunteers searched while others manned operations. With so many hands on deck, confidence was high.

Tommy and Mike had known each other their entire lives due to the fact that their parents were very close, almost a second family. The boys were destined to be best friends. The disappearance rattled both families. The fathers scoured every area that they could think of that Tommy might be, and even areas where there was little chance that he would have wandered. The mothers waited at Bill and Rose’s home. Maybe someone would call for ransom? Maybe someone would call with a tip? Maybe Tommy would call?

The searches turned up nothing. Not a piece of clothing, sock or shoe. Not a wallet, hat or watch. Not Tommy.

The next morning, Mike didn’t go to school. His parents continued searching. The detective on the case wanted to speak to Mike.

The detective was comforting and friendly, not at all what Mike expected. The conversation began. Sadness cloaked Mike like a heavy blanket. “How are you doing?” Bowers asked. Mike began where his mind was spinning: He thought he was one of the last people to see Tommy that early Sunday morning. He had replayed that morning over and over. What had happened? Where was Tommy? It was a punch to his gut to confirm that Mike was, in fact, the last person to see Tommy.

“Anything you can remember? Anything.”

It was before sunrise. The boys gathered the newspapers, rolled them and started on their routes. Mike kept his papers in a wagon as he delivered them. Tommy kept his newspapers in a satchel over his shoulder while he rode his bike. A fork in the road: one boy turned left, the other turned right. A simple decision that carried the weight of destiny. A few houses into the route, something made Mike look back. He saw Tommy talking to a man standing by a car. Actually, the man had the driver’s door open and was leaning against the car. The morning fog enveloped the two. It was quiet. Mike strained to hear but he really couldn’t hear a thing. The sky was a deep blue tempting to turn yellow at any moment. It was so humid. Mike was already thirsty and ready to get home. He just wanted to be done with his paper route. Reflecting, a wave of guilt swept over Mike: In his selfishness, he hadn’t paid attention to Tommy. What kind of best friend was he?

“Did Tommy ever say anything to you about his route? Anything suspicious? Unusual?”

The detective’s question startled Mike into reality.

“Yeah…“ Mike’s voice trailed off as he recollected a few interactions with Detective Bowers. In May, Tommy complained of noises while he was delivering papers. He described it as whistling or low humming. Tommy didn’t know where it was coming from and he didn’t see anyone. Mike told him it was nothing. In July, he said several times that there was a car tailing him on his route. Mike remembered telling him that he was paranoid. Tommy told Mike how it made him very uneasy. Mike asked who it was but Tommy didn’t recognize the car or driver. In September, Tommy vanished.

“He thought someone was following him!? Does anyone else know about this? Did Tommy tell anyone else?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Probably not. If he had I would have heard it, we're together all the time.” Except now.

“Do you remember the color of the car that you saw that morning?”

“Maybe blue? It was hard to tell, it was so far away. It might have been grey? But definitely not dark grey, more of a light grey.”

“And the guy?”

“He…he was maybe 5’10? He was leaning on the car. Light hair. Maybe wearing a suit? He didn’t look very old, maybe around 40? I can’t remember.” Mike looked down. “I can’t remember.”

10 years later

The diner bustled. Waitresses wove in and out of the customers and the constant chirp of “Order up!” pounded in Mike’s ears. He had figured it out. Unlocked the mystery. Cracked the code. He knew what happened to Tommy. After years of manic researching, he figured out the mystery man. His entire life had been put on hold. Mike had very few friends and no social life. He acquiesced his parents and went to the local junior college. His entire time was devoted to finding Tommy. It had been his fault that he hadn’t been a better friend, hadn’t paid more attention, hadn’t listened….the list continued into oblivion.

He wouldn’t allow anything to distract him. Mike knew he could not go on with his life until he know what had happened to Tommy. This was the only way he could forgive himself. He spent hours and hours writing in a journal, everything from scenarios to suspects. Sometimes his journal looked like the writings of a madman. But he never stopped. He couldn’t. Mike would sometimes contact the detective for an update, but he was fairly certain that he knew more than the detective did about the case. He connected one piece of the puzzle after another until finally, something emerged. Mike had narrowed down the suspects to one person.

The problem was that this was Mike’s suspect, not a suspect that the police believed was responsible. Nor did the private detective that Bill and Rose had hired believed that this individual was responsible or had anything to do with the disappearance. There was no trace of Tommy. He was here one minute and gone the next. There simply weren’t any clues or leads.

The door chimed with the entrance of a new customer. There he was. Brian McKellum. He had lived a few doors down from Tommy. An odd duck, Brian lived alone and rarely socialized. Mike convinced himself that Brian’s car was the one that had been seen with Tommy. He was the driver of that car.

“Hey Mike. How are ya?”

“Fine, thanks for meeting me. I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing. How are your parents?”

“Why did you take him?”

Stunned by the sudden turn in conversation, Brian had no response.

“Look, I’ve done a lot of research. I’ve put the pieces together. I know that you…”

“I’m sorry, Mike. I know that this has haunted you for many years. I didn’t take Tommy.”

Mike stared down into his coffee.

He looked up. “I’m not going to turn you in. I don’t have any evidence, just tell me where he is so he can be laid to rest.”

“Mike, you’ve got it all wrong.”

Mike began to feel his frustration reach a boiling point.

“I’ve got it wrong?! I’VE GOT IT WRONG!?” Nearby diners looked over. Mike lowered his voice. “No, Brian, I don’t have it wrong. I have spent the last ten years thinking, writing, and dissecting every memory. Did you know that I was hypnotized?”

Brian shook his head.

“No, of course you didn’t. Feeling nervous? When I was hypnotized, guess what I discovered, Brian?”

Silence.

“I discovered it was you. You were the man by the car. It was your car. I saw the license plate in my hypnosis. I tracked it down. It belonged to you! You lived two houses down. But you didn't help search for him. What kind of 35 year old man lives alone in a neighborhood full of families? You knew him! He was abducted by someone he knew. All the statistics say that! This has been my entire life, my ENTIRE life, for the past ten years. Just tell me where he is and I’ll leave you alone.”

“I didn’t live there when Tommy was abducted.”

Mike was speechless. What an absurd statement!

“Yes, you did!”

“No, I didn’t. I moved into that house three months after Tommy’s disappearance.”

Time stopped. Mike sat in stunned silence.

“Don’t believe me? Go to the tax appraiser’s office. I’m done here. I’m not going to be accused of kidnapping a child. That’s horrible. You should be ashamed.” With that, Brian got up and left the diner.

Mike sat there, numb and confused. There was only one way to prove or disprove Brian.

Mike drove directly to the county appraisal officer. The kind lady at the front desk helped him find the tax records. Looking through the papers, Mike found the address. Reading it, he suddenly felt light headed. The room was spinning. He couldn’t breathe. Brian was right. Somehow, through years and years of research, Mike had missed the most important fact: Brian didn’t live in the neighborhood when Tommy went missing.

The room went dark.

“He’s awake.” Mike heard Rose make this announcement. Mike had passed out upon discovering his fatal error and hit his head on the corner of a nearby desk. His head was pounding. It took him a moment to orient himself. He was in the hospital.

“You can’t keep obsessing over Tommy.” Rose’s soft voice filled the room. “He’s gone. He’s been gone for ten years.” Mike slowly opened his eyes as Rose continued. “The police have no leads. There are no clues. There’s nothing we can do but pray. And believe that we will see Tommy again one day. You have to move on.” Rose walked out of the room.

Mike closed his eyes.

20 Years Later

In a constant circle of chaos, moments of absurdity can disguise as clarity, and the chaos deceives as pillars of progress. There is no forward motion, there is no clarity, and there is no progress.

After his paranoid and manic behavior had led him down a ten year road of madness, culminating in the accusing of an innocent man, Mike took a step back from his search for Tommy.

Until Rose called. “Are you free?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Please come to the house.”

Mike had never knocked upon arrival at Bill and Rose’s house. As he opened the door, he felt a heavy sense of nostalgia. Very little had changed.

“Hi Mike.” Detective Bowers greeted him from a chair that was out of view when he walked in. Mike’s heart sank. “We found him. We found Tommy.”

Mike sat down. “Where?”

“Morris Pond.”

“I’m confused.” Mike wasn’t sure he was hearing the words correctly. “You found Tommy in Morris Pond?”

Morris Pond was a local watering hole about a quarter of a mile from the very house Mike currently sat in. In the summer, it was a wonderland. A natural spring that disguised itself as a secret garden. Why would Tommy be in the pond?

“It appears that he drowned. There are no signs of trauma. There is nothing to indicate that he was abducted or harmed. We believe he went to the pond voluntarily and suffered an accidental drowning.”

“That’s it? That’s how this ends?”

Detective Bowers reflected for a moment before speaking. “Arthur Miller once said ‘An era can be said to end when its basic illusions are exhausted.’ There are no more illusions, Mike.”