Page 17 of The Night I Lost Him

He kept trying to get away, but I didn’t want him to. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t just run to tell on me. I needed him to just listen to me. It made me angry.

That one was just foolish. If you didn’t want someone to try to run away from you and try to find help, then you shouldn’t take them against their will.

His mother asked him what he’d done, who he’d taken, but he wouldn’t give her a name. He wouldn’t tell her where he’d gone, or where he was, even though the police easily found his location. I knew he wasn’t there the whole time. He hadn’t been in that motel for long.

He just wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t listen. I tried to tell him. I was so upset…he hit me. He ran. Mama, I don’t know what to do. Now he’s gone. He’s gone forever, and I did it. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I…he was cut, cut deep, so many times. Blood was everywhere. I just wanted to…I didn’t mean to…now he’s dead. He’s dead because of me. And now he’s in pieces, no one will ever find him. I need help, Mama, I need help. They’re going to take me. I need you to help me. Blood, you know I don’t like blood, but he just wouldn’t listen, and I don’t know what to do anymore. He was cut and cut and cut. In pieces, in pieces. Hid in different places. They won’t find him but they’re going to try to find me. What do I do? I want him back, but he’s gone…he’s gone.

I knew why they believed him. His words put the nail in the coffin my heart had been placed in. But after he was caught, he denied everything, even in light of the evidence. There were no answers. There was something missing, I was sure of it. I closed my eyes as I remembered the words, remembered crying as I stood in the police station with the detective who looked like he regretted his decision to let me hear the recording. They were the hardest words I’d ever had to listen to.

I tried to compose myself in the dorm, because my friends were right in front of me and wanted to hear me out. When I felt like I could speak without crying, I said, “They searched his apartment. They searched the motel room. They didn’t find any knives besides some kitchen knives in his kitchen. There were no traces of DNA on them. They didn’t find any blood in the apartment or his car.”

Caitlin looked thoughtful, but doubtful. “Caden, don’t you think he’d have gotten rid of the murder weapon? And maybe he didn’t use his car. He said different locations, but he never mentioned driving to them.”

“He had to have, though. There was no sign Jamie was ever in either location. They didn’t find any DNA in the motel or the apartment. Not a hair, not a drop of blood, not a fingerprint. Even a tarp wouldn’t hide the fact that you’d cut a body into pieces, not with a forensic team searching every inch. Even the best serial killers miss something. And I’m going to be clear, I don’t think Wally is that good at it. I don’t think this was even that well thought out. It might have been something he’d thought about, but I think he just wanted Jamie so badly he couldn’t stand it, so he decided to take Jamie and try to force him to love him back. I don’t think he’s a seasoned killer. I think he’s a severely disturbed man who wanted someone so badly he was willing to do anything for it.”

“Ok,” Caitlin said, “So it seems he didn’t take Jamie to his house. He took him somewhere else, which could be where the weapons are. But his neighbors said his car was there every time they looked. They just assumed he was home because they rarely saw him, anyway. So what are you saying? You think he never had Jamie?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not saying that. I think parts of his story are true, but I don’t think we understand it completely. It’s hard to when he didn’t give us that much information. The cops are looking for Jamie’s body around here, not wherever they actually were. He wasn’t at his apartment. Jamie was somewhere else, somewhere no one has looked yet. Somewhere no one knows about. We won’t find anything around here. It’s pointless to keep looking. The areas around here have already been exhausted. Wally is denying it now, refusing to admit he killed Jamie. He said that he was misunderstood and claims he’s innocent.”

“Well, most people would take it back when they are caught, Caden. He knows he’s in big trouble now,” Amber said. “His own mother betrayed him. He knows he has nothing to cling to but his innocence. Of course he’s denying it.”

“Denying what, though? He never actually said outright that he killed Jamie. He said he was cut repeatedly. There was blood, he was in pieces. He didn’t say the words. He never said he stabbed him or even that he cut Jamie. He didn’t really say what he’d done. It was all so vague and partially incoherent.”

“Maybe he didn’t say it in case someone else was listening. Because they were,” Caitlin suggested.

“Maybe, but he seemed to trust his mother. He was begging her to help him, to tell him what to do because they were going to be coming for him. He was desperate for her help. I don’t think he ever thought she’d call the cops on him.”

“So what are you saying, Caden?” Amber looked at me. “You don’t think he killed Jamie? You think, what, Jamie got away when he ran? It sounded like he ran, but Wally stopped him, cut him, and he bled.”

They hadn’t actually heard the call, but I’d told them, word for word, because as much as I wanted to forget all the words, I hadn’t forgotten a single one. “It sounded like it, yes. That’s why they called off the search and rescue. It’s why we had a memorial. It’s why Wally was in court and they’re going to try him for murder. But they don’t have a body. They don’t have a murder weapon. They don’t even have a location. They have no idea where he was because he wasn’t home. They don’t have a solid confession. They have a denial that he murdered Jamie. They have a panicked phone call that Jamie was cut, bleeding, and in pieces, and that no one would ever find him. But he never said he cut Jamie. He never even said he hid him."

“Ok,” Caitlin said again, shaking her head, “Say you’re right. Jamie got away. Wally didn’t catch him, but something happened. If he trusted his mother like you’re saying, then he was truly upset, he was distraught. It doesn’t sound like Jamie just got away from him. It sounds gruesome. Bloody, in pieces? Caden, I’m not sure which version I like better, yours, or Wally’s.” She looked horrified.

“How about the version where Wally doesn’t actually know what happened, either? He didn’t go into detail. He just kept saying cut, blood, pieces. What did he see? He never actually said. What if that’s because he doesn’t even know? What if Jamie did get away? What if Wally didn’t find what he thought he found? What if Jamie is out there somewhere, hurt, and no one is even looking for him? They’re all just assuming that psychopath was right. What if he’s waiting for someone to help him, but no one is even looking anymore? What if Wally was wrong, and Jamie outsmarted him? If that’s the case, then we could be running out of time. Until I find him, either way, I won’t be able to rest.”

They were both staring at me. They stared for a long time without speaking. Then they looked at each other with odd expressions on their faces. I was pretty sure they were about to have an intervention after all, to explain to me how delusional I was being, how ridiculously hopeful I sounded. But then Caitlin stood from Jesse’s bed and came over to mine. She moved some of the papers out of her way. “Caden, let me see your phone. I want to see the messages from Wally that Jamie sent you.”

Amber came over and sat on the other side of me. “You do have a point,” she said softly, “Maybe we gave up too soon. There isn’t any concrete evidence, and the cops don’t know how smart Jamie is. Have you picked up any clues in any of the screenshots he sent you?”

Finally. Someone was listening to me. It felt better than anything had since before I lost him. I handed my phone over to Caitlin and she started scrolling through it as Amber leaned over me to see for herself.

Chapter 9

September

“Conner! Get your head in the game!” Coach was pissed. He was looking at me like he wished he could hit me. I just nodded and got back on the ice. He had every right to be upset, but it was hard to keep my head in the game when there were other places I’d much rather be. Like on the floor of a darkened planetarium.

I started out off my game. Despite my best efforts with plenty of water, coffee, and healthy-ish food earlier in the day, I could still feel the effects of a hangover. My head wasn’t pounding, but there was a dull ache in the background. I was slightly queasy while simultaneously feeling like I could eat the entire dining hall. Gorging right before a game, though, would have been even worse.

Besides all the physical maladies, I was dealing with my own head, as well. I still had some conflicted feelings and some uncertainty rolling around in my brain. I’d never, ever wanted to let the Caden I used to be out of that box. I still felt the urge to force him back in there and lock it up, while that part of me was fighting to stay out. Visions of teenage kisses and a gun in my face were now mixed with pinky tag and the most amazing kiss on the floor under the stars. Then a “See ya round,” that I wasn’t quite sure how to take. The goodbye that had sounded like a, “Well that was a fun one-time thing, see you in class but never talk to you again.” And honestly, that thought hurt worse than trying to release young Caden from the box he’d been stuck in for five years.

With all the things I had going on, I was having a little trouble focusing on the game. But then, then I caught a glimpse of curly black hair and a gold sequined shirt in the stands. On my double-take, I saw the face that I suddenly realized I wanted to see more than anything in the world. He was wearing black pleather pants and sitting next to a girl with straight brown hair who wore a black t-shirt and jeans. It could have been a coincidence that his clothes were our school colors, but not with the glittery black and gold stripes he’d painted on his face. He was there, in the stands, and he was rooting for us. For me.

I tried to tell myself that I could be reading more into it than what was there. Maybe he went to all the games. I never would have seen him in the crowd under normal circumstances, especially when I was usually focused on the game. Perhaps he’d always had school spirit, and I just hadn’t noticed. Maybe he wasn’t actually there for me. But when I noticed him and it made me pause just like my presence had made him pause in knee-high platforms the previous night, he winked at me. And that little smile, the sincere one, was still there.

I felt like I was skating on air for the rest of the first period. He was there to see me. He was there to root for me. Maybe that “See ya round” hadn’t been as nonchalant as I’d thought it was. The thoughts mixing around joyfully in my brain with everything else going on in there did nothing for my game, though. We were down much more than I was happy with when I came back to reality as the buzzer signaled that it was time for intermission.

“What the hell is wrong with you, dumbass?” Brad asked me as I passed him. I moved to hit him, because I just wasn’t in the mood, but Jeff grabbed my arm and pulled me away from him.

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