Cemetery Girl

I kept my voice even lower. “It’s just that Caitlin didn’t answer the question exactly. She didn’t say no, so I wanted to ask you.”

“You’re asking me if I saw Caitlin during the last four years, right? Right? Is that what you’re saying, just so we’re clear on this?”

“Buster, just answer the question.”

“You’re a real motherfucker, Tom-you know that? You’re as bad as the fucking cops. Worse. I’m your brother. To ask me a question like that. .”

“Did you see her, Buster?” My voice rose. “Do you know what happened? Answer me.”

“Why don’t you ask Caitlin again? Oh, wait.” He thumped his hand against his forehead, an exaggerated gesture. “She probably can’t stand to talk to her fucked-up and crazy parents, can she?”

“Buster-”

He stormed to the front door and tugged against the lock until it came open.

“Go to hell, Tom. Go straight to hell.”

Abby was waiting for me in the kitchen, her hands knitted together. “What were you two arguing about?” she asked.

“We weren’t arguing.” I distracted myself by picking at the salad she was making.

“I heard you raise your voice.”

“I asked him if he saw Caitlin during the last four years.”

“And?”

“What do you expect? He got pissed off and yelled at me. He acted like it hurt him.”

“What was his answer?”

“He didn’t really give me one.”

“Don’t you see?” She pointed at me. “That’s how Caitlin acted. I know he’s your stepbrother, but-”

“Half brother.”

“I think we need to talk to the police about all of this, don’t you?”

“It’s not that simple, Abby. He is my brother. We grew up together. He was always there for me when we were kids. No matter how bad our home life got, Buster was with me. He stood by me.”

I opened the oven door and looked in. The cheese on the lasagna was bubbling.

“This food is ready,” I said. “Have you heard anything from upstairs?”

“She was pretty sound asleep when I was up there, but I thought I just heard some footsteps.”

I closed the oven door, then looked up. “Probably going to the bathroom.”

“Tom, I need to know you’re taking this seriously. I’ve always been nervous about Buster, with the way he seemed so. . fascinated by Caitlin, you know? Like they were two kids with crushes on each other instead of uncle and niece.”

“Abby. .”

“You’ve seen it, too. You’ve commented on it. Don’t make this all about me, Tom. You can’t.”

She was right. I’d noticed Buster’s interest in Caitlin. I’d always managed to chalk up the closeness between them to the fact that she was his only niece, so he showered her with attention whenever he was around. But still. . an older man, a younger girl. Buster’s checkered past. His absences from our lives over the past four years.

Abby jerked up her head.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“She’s moving around up there again.”

“Okay, I’ll go tell her we’re ready to eat.”

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Abby said my name. I stopped.

“This isn’t going to go away,” she said. “This Buster stuff.”

I nodded. I knew it wasn’t.

At the top of the stairs, I could see the bathroom light under the closed door. Caitlin’s bedroom door stood open. I didn’t want to stand around, hovering outside the bathroom door while she was inside, so I stuck my head in the bedroom. The covers were thrown back, the lights off. A thick, musty odor hung in the small space. I remembered Caitlin’s greasy hair at the police station, her dirty clothes. I listened for but didn’t hear water running in the bathroom. She needed to shower. She needed new things to wear. I looked at the floor. It was empty. No discarded clothes, no shoes or socks.

I went back to the bathroom door. I rapped lightly with my knuckles.

“Caitlin? Honey?”

Nothing. My heart started to thump. I knocked again, using more force.

I raised my hand to try the knob, but didn’t. I couldn’t just barge in on her, in whatever delicate state she might be in.

“Caitlin? If you don’t say anything, I’m going to open the door and check on you.”

Still nothing.

I tried the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it gave right away. I pushed in. The lights were on, gleaming off the polished surface of the vanity and mirror. The window was open too, wide open, the curtains swelling in the cold breeze. Caitlin wasn’t there. She was gone, out the window and into the night.

Abby stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“Tom?”

“Call the police. She went out the window.” I didn’t break stride. I went out the back door and into the yard, calling her name. “Caitlin! Caitlin!”

Nothing. No sign of her. The cars still sat at the end of the driveway. I looked in the windows, cupping my hands against the glass. Empty. An unbidden thought popped into my head-I didn’t know if Caitlin knew how to drive.

I turned away from the car. “Caitlin!”

I looked back at the house. She’d gone out the window and onto the porch overhang. From there, it was about a ten-foot drop to the ground. Hardly a challenge for someone young and in any kind of decent shape.

Abby came to the back door. “Tom? The police are coming.” “We should call Ryan.”

“They said they’d tell him.”