Read Online Try Darkness by James Scott Bell - Free Book Online Page A

“You don’t need to interrupt me again.”
    “You needed it,” she said. “You were going to say something you’d regret.”
    “I can handle my own commentary.”
    “Just trying to help.”
    “Well don’t.”
    “Listen.” She stopped in front of me. “I care about finding her as much as you do.”
    Father Bob, farther along, said, “Come on, now. We can settle this outside.”
    When we got back out to the sidewalk I saw Disco Freddy. He was twirling in the street, right off the curb. The old guy who’d applauded for him was there, too. He looked at me with recognition.
    I spoke out loud to everyone who could hear me. “Have any of you seen the little girl who lived in 414? Any idea where she could be?”
    A few heads shook.
    The old guy came to me and said, “I asked about her first thing. Nobody knows, man. She just up and disappeared.”
    “You see anybody around here who didn’t look like he belonged lately?” I asked.
    “Only like ever’ day. This place is looser’n goose grease. My name’s Oscar. I’ll help if I can.”
    A guy with a gray ponytail and jeans and a large gut pushing a Western-style shirt said, “She was a quiet kid. I remember that.”
    Disco Freddy shouted, “NumbuddynomakenomubbamindDebbieReynolds!”
    “Shut up, Disco!” Oscar shouted.
    “Disco Freddy!”
    “He thinks he’s doin’ a show at Candyland,” Oscar said.
    “Why’d you say Candyland?” I said.
    “That’s just the room downstairs. There’s vending machines. Cokes and candy. We call it Candyland sometimes. Disco thinks it’s a theater. Like Broadway.”

32
    I BLEW BY the uniform with a wave. He didn’t try to stop me. Only this time I went for the stairwell and down to the basement.
    It was a rec room of sorts. A few chairs and tables. Some cards spread on one of the tables. An old, warped Ping-Pong table in the middle. And against the far wall, two vending machines. One had candy and snacks. The other was courtesy of the Coca-Cola Company.
    One corner of the room was taken up with a chaos of old furniture—upturned tables, cushions, benches—half of it covered with an old paint-spattered tarp. It was like someone had once decided to clean the place up then forgot about it halfway through.
    It was also a place where a kid could make a fort or hiding place.
    “Kylie?” I said. “Are you in here?”
    No answer. I didn’t get too close to the clutter. “It’s me, Ty, the lawyer you and your mom met. Remember? Where you got a hot chocolate? And you gave me a secret map?”
    Silence.
    “I’m all alone. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. I was trying to help your mom, and I’ll help you. That’s what I do. Are you in there? You want me to help you get out?”
    A long pause. Then I heard a movement. A creaking under the tarp. Then the tarp itself moved.
    “It’s okay, Kylie. It’s going to be okay.”
    A foot peeked out of the enclosure, in a little tennis shoe. Followed by the other, then Kylie’s tiny form backing out and into the open. She was covered with dirt and dust. She had her little pink backpack on one shoulder. She rubbed her eyes. “I’m hungry,” she said.
    “Then we’ll get something to eat,” I said. “Come on.” I went over and picked her up. She let me, leaning her head on my shoulder.
    “My mommy’s dead,” she whispered.
    “Yes,” I said. “I know.”
    “Don’t let him get me.”
    “No. I won’t.”
    Then she started to cry. Softly at first. Then it grew. Her body shook and I was the only thing she had to hold on to, so she held. I stroked her hair and let her cry it out. Her warm arms squeezed my neck. As they did, a rippling heat expanded outward from inside me. It made me nervous, like I’d been hand selected for an elite team I wasn’t qualified for, some Delta Force dropping into a jungle battle zone. Then nerves melted into resolve. I’d never been a father. But now, filled with something primal, I knew what it must be like to have a daughter