Appliances Included(3)
APhilly PD blue and white pulled to the curb with its lights going.Two officers climbed the steps and Mary had the door open for thembefore they reached the landing. They came in and listened as Maryand Lou recounted the events of that morning. The older of the two,Officer Gomez, did most of the talking. He was tall and slender anddevoid of emotion. From his sullen and world-weary demeanor, Mary gotthe impression Gomez had seen it all. His brown eyes measured her,probed for information, and weighed what she said. She couldn’tshake the feeling that Gomez thought she was lying. The other,Officer Wettle, scribbled notes on a pad while Gomez questioned them.“Which room is your son’s?” Gomez asked. Mary led them down thehall. “Do you mind if we take a look around?”“Noof course not,” Mary said. She stepped away from the door to getout of their way. Gomez gave an upward jerk of his head and Wettleleft the room. Mary heard him climb the stairs to the second floor.Gomez checked windows, searched closets and under beds. Mary waitedwith Lou in the living room already sure of the result, thoughinside, a small twinkle of hope burned.Thetwo policemen rejoined them looking grim. “Were your doors lockedlast night?” Gomez asked.Marynodded. “Dead bolted. I had to unlatch it to let you in.”“Doyou have a recent photo of your son?” Gomez asked.“Somewherein this mess,” Mary said. She sifted through the boxes stackedagainst the wall. “We just moved and haven't had a chance to unpackeverything.” She found an album and pulled a photo of Hank fromunder the protective plastic sheet. Mary passed it to Gomez.“Doyou mind if we take it with us? We’ll be putting out an Amber alertand a photo will be very helpful.”“No,of course not. It’s yours,” Mary said. “Doesyour son have any distinctive birthmarks or scars?”Maryglanced at Lou who shrugged. “He has a burn on his right forearm,”Mary said.
“Howdid he get that?” Gomez asked.“Hebumped up against the barbeque last summer.”Gomezgave his partner a look and said, “I think we have everything weneed.”“Whatdo we do now?” Mary asked.“Youwait,” Gomez said.<I>Wait</I>!The utter helplessness implied by the word crushed Mary. Her eyesstung and brimmed with tears. She managed to tough it out until theofficers left and the door closed before she started to sob. Loutried to comfort her, but there was no way he could. She ran toHank’s room and curled up on his bed. She could still smell hispresence on the sheets.Thedoorbell rang at two in the afternoon. Lou answered it. Mary sat atthe kitchen table, her eyes swollen and head sore. She felt tired andwrung out. Two men dressed in slacks and sport coats followed Louinto the kitchen. Badges hung from their lapel pockets. They wereMutt and Jeff, one tall, white, and balding; the other short,heavy-set, and black. When she made eye contact, she sensed thempractically cringe in anticipation of the question permeating theair.“Didyou find my son?”“Notyet, ma’am,” the shorter one said. I’m Detective Jackson andthis is Detective Mandell. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”Mary remained seated and kicked out the two chairs on the oppositeside of the table. Mandell glanced at his partner and they both sat.“We realize this is a difficult time for both of you,” Jacksonsaid, “and we’ll make this as brief as we can. When did yourealize your son was missing?”“Aboutseven-thirty this morning,” Mary said.“Andwhen was the last time you remember seeing him last night?”Maryturned to Lou, her face twisted in confusion. “We answered thesesame questions this morning. Don’t you guys talk to each other?”
Jacksongazed at her a moment, his face unperturbed, heavy lidded eyesunblinking. “Ma’am, sometimes when we ask the questions again,people remember something new. It also gives us a chance to reconfirmour information. That’s why we do it.”Marypropped her elbows on the table and settled her chin on her hands.“The last time I saw him was nine o’clock last night.” Jacksonnodded and Mary recognized a trend. Jackson took the lead and did allthe talking while his partner remained silent and took notes, muchlike the uniformed officers earlier that day. “Areyou both light sleepers?” Jackson asked.“Iam. Him, not so much.”“Didyou hear anything during the night or have any reason to visit yourson’s room?”“No,”Mary said.“Whatabout you, sir?”Louwagged his head. “I went out like a light and didn’t wake upuntil seven.”“Isthat true, ma’am?”“Yeah,if he gets out of bed, I know.” Jacksonpaused. His eyes shifted between Mary and Lou. Mary could feel he wasbuilding to something. “Did either of you find an unlocked windowor door first thing this morning?”Marylooked at Lou who was staring back at her. Lou shook his head. “Meeither,” Mary said. “I locked the doors last night before headingto bed. And they were still locked this morning when I let theofficers in.”Jacksonsat back and let out a heavy sigh. “See, that's where I have aproblem.” His eyes settled heavily on Mary. “How could someonebreak in here and take your son, and then deadbolt the door behindthem. It just doesn't seem possible, now does it?”Lou'smouth hung open. His eyes glazed with confusion. “What are youtrying to say, Detective?”
“I'mnot trying to say anything. It's just that unless I'm missingsomething, whoever took your son was inside this house last night. SoI figure there must be some detail you haven't told us. Maybe if wetalk it through, I can fill in the missing pieces.”“Missingpieces?” Mary smacked her hands down hard on the table. The twodetectives flinched. “What missing pieces? We told you everything.Our son is missing and instead of looking for him, you’re hereaccusing us. Out! Get out!” She felt Lou's hand on her shoulder andjerked away. She pointed to the door, “Go!”DetectiveJackson begrudgingly lifted his bulk from the chair, his mouth set ina tight line. “Maybe we picked a bad time. But we do need to talk.You'll be seeing me again, count on it.”Louled the detectives out. When he returned, Mary saw something on hisface that scared her. Doubt. “What's eating you?” she asked. “Goahead and spit it out.” “Whathappened here last night, Mary?”Sheclosed her eyes. “Not you too.” She felt weak and weary,betrayed. She wanted to cry but tears wouldn’t come. “I don'tknow what happened. The only thing I'm sure of is that you and Iwould never hurt our son.”“Butthe locks, how do you explain that?”“Doyou understand what you're saying?” Mary shook her head indisbelief and pushed past Lou to get out of the kitchen. “Whereare you going?” Lou demanded.“Leaveme alone. I can't talk to you right now.” She rushed down the hallto Hank's room and closed the door. Where was her little man? HisTeddy bear rested near the head of his bed. She sat, picked up thebear and hugged it in her arms. The front door slammed. Lou had left.She wondered if he'd ever come back. She settled onto her side andbreathed in the scent of Hank's pillow. It had only been hours andalready small details of his face were fading.
Nighthad settled over the house when Mary woke. It was dark and she wasdisoriented. When she realized she was clutching Hank's Teddy bear,it all came back. She pushed herself up and sat on the edge of thebed. <I>Lockeddoors</I>. Detective Jackson was wrong about she and Lou, they couldnever hurt Hank. But he was right too. It did seem impossible thatsomeone else took their son. How could it have happened? It didn'tmake any sense.Sheheard a voice calling to her from the hall, faint and indecipherable.Mary stood and opened the door. She waited in the hall, listening.She heard it again and recognized a single word - “Mommy.” It wasHank's voice.“Whereare you, baby?”“Helpme, Mommy,” Hank pleaded.Hadhe hidden and somehow become trapped? How long had he been callingfor her, waiting for rescue. She honed in on the sound.“Helpme Mommy, it's hurting me.”“What'swrong, honey?”“Help,Mommy, help.” Hank screamed.“Mommy'scoming,” She yelled. “Hold on Hank.” Maryrushed into the laundry room and flipped on the lights. Thebrightness stung her eyes. The room was empty. She was so sure. Hadshe been dreaming? “Hank?”she called.“Helpme, Mommy.” Hank's voice echoed from the open dryer. Mary croucheddown and peered inside. The back of the drum appeared to have beenpeeled away like a manhole cover to reveal an abyss. Hank floated inthe void with his arms outstretched. “Helpme, Mommy.”
Hankstarted to fall. Marylunged into the dryer and snatched his wrist. Something was suckingher son down like a whirlpool. “Give me your other hand, Hank.”Mary stretched out her free hand and Hank took it. The pull of thewhirlpool grew. Hank's expression changed. His fearful eyes turnedmean and a leer exposed jagged teeth. This wasn't her son. She triedto let go, but it had her. It jerked. Mary’s feet lifted off thefloor and she flew into the abyss. The dryer door slammed closed inthe empty laundry room.SadieMcFadden watched from her apartment as the police came to the loonybin - first the blue and whites, then later, an unmarked detectivecar. She’d seen the Amber alert for Mary's boy on the news. It wasso sad. The next day, Mary's picture showed up in the Inquirer. Theysaid she had fled and was wanted for questioning as a person ofinterest in her son's disappearance. The police considered her afugitive. Sadie didn't believe it. Mary didn't seem the type. Sure,she was out of sorts the day they talked, but who wouldn't be the dayafter a move with the family pet missing. Andher disappearance was so odd. They found her purse slung over theback of a chair at the dining room table as was her habit. Her walletwas still inside with all her ID and credit cards. Nothing wasmissing from her closet. If she’d run, she did so in her pajamaswithout a dime to her name. The house was to blame, Sadie knew it.Aweek later the moving van came. Men loaded up Lou Givens’ thingsand drove off. It must have been hard for him. Sadie wondered if hebelieved any of it. Did he actually think the woman he loved killedhis son and hid his body? Did he believe she had fled prosecution?Surely he couldn't. But what other explanation could he come to? Hedidn't know about the house and what it could do. Sadie wanted totell him, to explain so he wouldn't have to be so sad, so he wouldn’thave to spend the rest of his life wondering, but he left before shegot the chance.A'For Sale' sign went back up days after Lou Givens moved out. Thehouse was famous, having been the backdrop for so many news stories.Maybe infamous was a better choice of words. The price was lower thanever. Real estate agents in their bright, red blazers held openhouses and led hapless couples on guided tours. Fresh meat for thegrinder.