What We Saw at Night

We did go to Duluth.

Both Rob and Juliet apologized again for blowing me off. The excuse? They were just concerned given how skittish I’d been at Tabor Oaks. As if they hadn’t been skittish! (Well, Juliet hadn’t, but still.…) And yet, I let it go. I figured that if I accepted their apology and thought of us as “we,” maybe they would again, too. Besides, I’d been doing my own thing. I had a job. I was maturing, even if they weren’t.

I focused on the positives. School was out. Summer was here. We were ready to trace.

The first night, we didn’t expect to be able to do anything. But we didn’t count on the very excellent Duluth Orchestra Hall. Nor did we count on the way some hah-hah public sculptor had set up what essentially was a Parkour garden. Rob laughed when he saw it: a piano keyboard set in a series of pillars, each about ten feet long and ten feet wide and ten feet apart, pillars in a row that grew taller and taller—from a height of four feet to about twenty feet. Some were dark rough granite and others were a pale gray, almost white. Apparently, at least according to what Rob Googled on his phone, it represented piano keys. It had cost the city of Duluth more than a million dollars.

“These guys must have a convention every year where they laugh their heads off at city government,” Rob said.

Juliet said, “You think?”

“Maybe they believe it’s really art,” I said.

“I think they think it’s all a big gag,” Rob said, typing away at his phone. He summoned up a bunch of pictures, including the Detroit giant bathtub (The Heart of the Lake) and the Pittsburgh Horseshoe (called—God help me—Irony), as well as the one we dubbed the Seattle Rattle, which was supposed to represent an ancient anchor. As far as we could tell, it was a baby toy that would not have passed a safety inspection.

“Well, I’m not complaining,” I said. I made a point of looking into both of their eyes. “This is a perfect setup for a Tribe like us, right?”

BEFORE WE STARTED, we treated ourselves to a fairly lavish dinner at La Prairie Rouge. I’d found myself flush with more money than I’d ever had in my life, as Tessa insisted on paying me $12 an hour because Tavish liked me so much. Still, we shared two entrees among three: oysters and salmon with dill. Then we hurried back to Orchestra Hall. In the car, Juliet and I changed out of our long black skirts into our long black Spandex pants. We did a few long vaults over the lowest “key,” to warm up.

After that, we tried a standing jump to balance on its top, whereupon Juliet did a back flip off the second-highest key … whereupon we began to notice that a man in a dark blue uniform was more than casually interested in our abilities … whereupon we noticed him walking, then jogging toward us … whereupon we got arrested.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” said the police officer. “May I please see your driver’s licenses?”

Reluctantly, we extracted them from our backpacks. Slowly, and very respectfully, Rob said, “Please excuse me. But we are not driving.”

The cop looked at us in that measuring way certain scary people have: as though trying to decide whether it’s worth messing up their hair to bloody your face.

“I did not ask you if you were driving. I asked for your driver’s licenses,” he said.

“What we were doing is a kind of discipline, a sport called Parkour,” Rob said.

“I don’t care if it’s Parcheesi. My kid brother got caught doing it, at the parking garage, outside the Macy’s. It’s like skateboarding without the skates, and surfboarding without the surfboard, or like suicide without the—”

“Sewer?” I said helpfully.

He acted as if he didn’t hear me. Normally I would never have said a thing like that in a situation like that. I still have no idea why I did. Juliet gave me a look of such alarm and disgust that I would have turned myself into a giant granite piano key at that moment. But it prompted her to draw her trump card.

“My father would not do this,” she said with a sad sigh.

“And who is your father? The mayor?”

“No, he is your brother officer. Thomas Sirocco, deputy chief of the Iron County Sheriff’s Department but former detective in the Minneapolis Police Department.”

“He get in trouble?” the cop asked plainly.

“No, he moved to Iron County because he wanted to. Fifteen years ago.” She blinked several times and swallowed. “So that I could be treated at the Tabor Clinic.” Juliet could really turn it on when she wanted to. She was so pitiful a drama-dolly that I wanted to cry, myself. “I have a fatal illness. Xeroderma Pigmentosum.” With that, she withdrew a medical dog tag from her wallet. We were all supposed to wear the tags on chains around our necks. We preferred to pin them to our backpacks, or failing that, pretend we had lost them. I’ve often wondered what you are supposed to do if you found a person with XP in a dangerous situation … which, to any other person, would be a normal situation, like, walking down the street at noon. Throw a blanket over him? Call the vet? However, I retrieved my own poignant ID badge from my back pocket. Rob did, too. It was squirm warfare at its finest.

Now it was the police officer’s turn to blink several times. “Go on then,” he said to her after a moment. “Get home safe. You guys too.”

He turned and walked stiffly back to his car.

We turned and ran for Rob’s Jeep.

“World famous brainimus minimus!” Juliet hissed at me as I cowered in the back seat. “How could you do that? If my dad found out, I could have gotten grounded for this. I have never been grounded. That would be the equivalent of death for me.”

In truth, I wasn’t sure that she would get grounded, even if we had been locked up in a Duluth jail for a night. Many counties had been littered with warnings in lieu of speeding tickets issued to Juliet Sirocco.

“So let’s go home,” Juliet said. “We can do Tabor Oaks again.”

“No,” I said automatically. I thought of Blondie. There. Then not there. He knew his way around the property. Which meant that he probably lived there, right alongside Tavish and Tessa. People can vanish in the time it takes to start a car and drive it ten feet, yes. But people have to be very fast to vanish completely.

“I saw him again,” I said.

“The guy in the apartment? The penthouse?” Juliet asked, as casually as if I had mentioned my own mother. She sounded almost bored.

“I’m not going back there,” I said.

“You go there all the time,” Juliet replied with a patient sigh. “You spent the entire car ride telling us about how you are babysitting there.”

I glared at her. “Well I’m not going near that penthouse,” I insisted.

“What did he say?” Rob asked. “The guy? When you saw him?”

I scowled. “We didn’t have a chat. Whatever. I’m not going back there. You go for it, you little tribe of two.”

“Okay,” Juliet said. “Are you fine with that, Rob?”

Rob chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Because I can do it myself,” Juliet added.

“I’ll do it,” I said. “But just this once.”

Rob shrugged. “Obviously, I was going to do it anyhow.”

No one else said a word for the duration of the trip.

NINETY MINUTES LATER, we were up on the nearly completed building, preparing to leap onto the roof of Tabor Oaks—home both to a scary disappearing man and to my new employer.

Rob gaped at Juliet as she launched herself down and out and over. I was so pissed at his idol worship that I ran right after her. I realized midair that I had not turned on my headlamp. If I had pinwheeled my legs or done anything to break form, I would have fallen to my death. But I landed hard, right beside Juliet. I was breathless, and my cheeks were damp. I blamed the tears on the wind. Rob leaped and rolled to a stop at our feet, then hopped up. Before either he or Juliet could say a word about my stupid headlamp oversight, I growled, “It was a mistake. I won’t do it again.”

“I was just afraid for you, honey,” Rob whispered.

Honey? He’d never called me that before. The word kicked at my heart but also my brain. I wondered how it would feel if he’d called me “honey” in a way that didn’t sound like what I called my nine-year-old sister. But over any other shred of emotion, the movie reel of what I’d just done played over and over again in my mind. I fought to slow my breathing. I had one of those moments of clarity—not for the first time—realizing that what was risky in daylight was sheer imbecile business by night.

We prepared for our descent. The plan: down to the penthouse balcony, and then lache swings to the next diagonal balcony (including Tessa’s) … and all the way down with a leap to the soft ground from the second floor.

“I’ll go first,” I insisted. “I need to. I’m fine. I really am fine.”

Screw Rob, I thought, using my anger to focus. Honey? Really? Screw Juliet, too, for making me do this. Lightly, using one arm to hang and swing and the other to grasp the balcony, I lifted myself over: a perfect traverse. I stood straight. The curtains were drawn, and only one small light burned in the living room, next to the long curved sofa. Too late, I noticed … the door was open. Of course it was. This was summer. There was a nice quiet lake breeze. Cool, beautiful night. Just a screen.

Somehow I whispered, “Stop.”

Rob leaned over the side of the roof and waited for my cue.

I froze. There.

Blondie’s form hovered over a girl on a blanket. Was it the same girl? Short, dark hair? I spotted the lightning streak. The girl looked straight at me, her all-pupil eyes as motionless as a doll’s, her blue lips parted in a gasp. Her head was bent far to the left and forward. An unnatural position. You couldn’t have held your head that way, even lying down. And her neck.…

I whirled and pushed against Rob’s legs, just above me.

“Go back up!” I whispered. “Pull me!”

“What?”

“Go. Back. Up.”

It took Rob a moment to get his bearings. Breathe, I thought, breathe. Rob grasped my wrists. They slipped out of his hands. I pulled the long sleeves of my jersey down over my hands and got up, crouched, on the railing of the balcony.

Rob reached down for me again. “You have to face the door, so I can grab both of your arms,” he whispered.

“It’s okay. I can pull myself up,” I whispered back.

“Just give me your wrists, Allie.”

I looked down.

Blondie’s hands were pressed against the screen, his fingers splayed. And even though our eyes never met, he smiled.

He’d seen me, too.





I would have loved Rob, anyway. Even if he hadn’t thrown himself over the edge of the roof and then pulled himself and me, with my body almost dead weight, back up beside him and Juliet. (I still have little scars on my ribcage where he dragged me over the gutter.) I pushed myself to my feet, and there we all were: on the roof, the calm lake before us and the starry sky above us. But I was the only one hyperventilating. The things I’d seen tumbled from my cracked lips in a harsh whisper, until Juliet cut me off.

“How do you know the girl was dead?” she demanded.

“Juliet, her eyes were open!” I nearly shrieked. “Her neck was all covered with bruises and her face was all dirty or bruised. There was—”

“We believe you,” Rob interrupted. “Wait. Wait a minute. We can’t go back the way we came.”

“How do you know it was the same guy?” Juliet asked in the same monotone.

I turned to Rob. “Will you hit her in the face? Are you kidding? We find the freaky guy with a naked dead girl once and we come back and you think there’s a different guy in a different apartment with a different dead girl? He saw my face, Juliet! He smiled at me!”

Rob said, “Let’s just get down.”

“Tavish!” I gasped. “Tessa and the baby. What if he gets them?” I fumbled for my cell phone in my fanny pack, sitting down hard. Mace (thank you, Mom!), a scream whistle (THANK you, paranoid Mom!) and finally my cell phone. I punched Tessa’s number. Before she picked up, I realized it was three in the morning and snapped the phone shut.

Instantly, it rang.

For a delusional moment, I thought it was Blondie. I couldn’t bear to look at the Caller ID.

“Pick it up,” Juliet ordered.

I opened the phone. “Hello?”

It was Tessa. Of course it was. She was alive and well. She was twelve hours south with her husband and the baby, and not at all perturbed that I’d accidentally dialed her number. I wanted to sob for her to call 911, but instead I apologized for the “accidental dial” and told her I’d see her soon.

Rob saw me start to shudder. He gently rested his arm around my shoulder. To Juliet, he said, “Call your dad.”

She shrugged. “I’m thinking about it.”

I pushed Rob’s arm away. “You’re thinking about it? Call him now!”

“Chill, Allie,” she groaned. “Of course I want to call him. But I want us to get out of here first, because, if we don’t, I’ll never get out of my house again.”

Juliet started to pace back and forth, and then spotted the fire escape and raised a finger over her lips.

One by one, quiet as kittens, we descended the metal stairwell and alighted soundlessly on the gravel. Rob’s car was nearly hidden on Lakeshore Drive in a little grove of pine trees, off the road, in case anyone chanced to come by.

I don’t know why I kept silent. Did Juliet have that much power over me?

There is a moment in everyone’s life—and I guess I’d never had one—when everything stops. Time stops. Motion stops. That was the first time it happened to me. The journey of a thousand miles may begin with a single step, but the sprint to Rob’s Jeep might as well have been a million single steps through quicksand. I thought I’d fall. I thought I was being punished. For what? A life that wasn’t long enough to have piled up any serious sins, unless you counted the champagne and Mike’s Hard Ice Tea and the weed (only six times and once, respectively)? Then again, stuff happens to innocent people all the time. Just look at anyone with XP.

Rob later said I’d sprinted like an Olympian.

NONE OF US wanted to go home, Juliet included. Rob decided to take us up the old fire road to Ghost Lake—to our old hangout spot, down the shore from where we’d borrowed Mr. Callahan’s boat. I hadn’t been there in years. There was our phony metal sign, posted when we still had to bike everywhere; it claimed the property was protected by Sirocco Security. It cost us thirty bucks to make. But people stayed away, even kids drinking or screwing, figuring the alarm was connected directly to the police.

If somebody peeked through one of the boarded windows, they would think slobs lived there instead of nobody. Not all the windows were even broken. Stacks of bottled water blocked most of the view, anyway. We could always stay overnight, not that I had. I’d like to think Rob and Juliet hadn’t, either. Nicola Burns once told me that some kids at Iron Harbor High still believed that this part of Ghost Lake really was haunted.

We sat in the car, Juliet up front, me in the back.

“Where did he go?” Rob asked over his shoulder. “That night you saw him?”

“If I knew, I’d know,” I told him, exasperated. “He just disappeared.”

“Maybe he ran to where we hid the car,” he said.

“He ran in the other direction, toward the beach,” I stated.

“He must have had a car hidden,” Juliet chimed in. “It would be easy to hide a sports car.”

Had I told Juliet about the little red car that nearly creamed my mom’s mini-van? I couldn’t even remember, I was so freaked out.

Rob suddenly burst out, “What are we doing? We’re sitting here chatting and that girl could still be alive!”

“She’s not alive,” I said.

“Lots of people who are in trauma recover,” Rob said. “People shot through the head recover. It’s been twenty five minutes now.”

“How about we make something up,” Juliet suggested. “But I have to figure out how my call to 911 won’t be from me.”

Rob glared at her in a way that made me think he knew she was lying. “That’s easy. You dial 5-5 before and it blocks your number.”

I poked my head through the front seats. Of course Juliet would have known that, but she hadn’t shared it with us. “I didn’t know that,” I said purposefully.

“I read it somewhere, and not on the Internet,” he said, his eyes still on Juliet. “You know, reading? Books? It can be useful. You didn’t know that, either?”

Juliet didn’t respond. We sat silently as Rob, cussing under his breath, dialed 5-5 and then 911 on Juliet’s phone. In a phony voice, he reported a woman who was injured in the penthouse of Tabor Oaks Condominiums on Lakeshore Road. No, he said, he wasn’t interested in leaving his name. No, he said, he wasn’t interested in any reward money. No, he couldn’t leave a number.

He shut the phone and we waited. My skin writhed, as if my body were coated with stinging ants. We sat in the silence of his Jeep. We sat and sat.…

Then we heard the sirens. Had it only been a couple of minutes since Rob had made the call? First a police car, and after that, an ambulance.…

More than one car had been dispatched. The sirens blended in the kind of alternating shrieks and whoops that woke my mother up at night, making her cross herself in panicked prayer: Lord, I beg that medics aren’t scraping my daughter and her dumb friends off the highway (although Juliet’s dad would have called her or shown up if that had been the case). The sirens stopped.

Would there be shots?

For an agonizing three minutes, we sat still together, barely breathing.

Finally, Juliet broke the silence. “You think they have him by now?”

Rob said, “Of course.”

“So we can go down there and find out what happened,” she said.

Rob glanced back at me. Neither of us had thought of that. “Wait just a minute. I don’t want it to look funny for us,” he said. “We can’t just come driving by.”

“Of course we can!” Juliet exclaimed. “You’re an XP kid! I’m Tommy Sirocco’s daughter!”

Rob turned back to the wheel. “True.”

Just to be safe, we waited another interminable two minutes. One-one-thousand 120 times in a row. An MRI would have been preferable. Then Rob rattled down the hill. Leisurely, observing the speed limit, he proceeded back along Lakeshore Road. We almost overshot Tabor Oaks. There were lights, two on the third floor—but not on the top floor. There were no police cars, either, no sirens, no ambulance … no sign of life except for the cars we’d seen in the parking lot when we’d bolted.

“What the hell is going on?” Rob said, as much to himself as us.

Juliet one-dialed her dad. “What was all the excitement? It was like Law and Order down by Tabor Oaks. I didn’t see a fire truck.” She paused, listening to him speak. I held my breath, avoiding Rob’s eyes in the darkness. “Where were we? Up by Ghost Lake, fishing.… No. Nothing … shiners. I guess.” Juliet made big circles with her free hand, implying an ever-rolling spool of words. “No, Dad … no. We heard the sirens and came over to the new building.” Silence. “We thought someone lit a fire in it or something. Well, so, what did happen?”

Juliet touched her finger to her lips and put the phone on speaker. Her father’s tinny voice filled the charged air of the Jeep: “… what they were talking about. Maybe somebody heard something. Sorry, darling. Just another big night in Mayberry!”

Talking about Mayberry was a favorite joke of his, and we’d only recently figured out it referred to an old TV show. At times like these, it was clear that Tommy Sirocco missed his life as a detective down in the big city. (Listen to me. The big city! Minneapolis! Nicola once said she couldn’t die without seeing Paris. I would be lucky to see Chicago.) Officer Sirocco always maintained that he was happy, though, because there was happiness and safety for Juliet, and for his wife, Ginny, in Iron Harbor. But Juliet still managed to wander. With the state’s ski team, she traveled all over the region.

“Dad, you didn’t see anybody?” she demanded. “Why did they send like, the Marine Corps?”

“We have to send the whole crew if there’s a chance there was a victim. Fire truck. Ambulance. You know the drill, sweetie.”

“So who was it?”

“It was a prank call. We sort of knew it from the get-go. If I could get my hands on whatever punk’s ass it was.” He stopped. “Am I on speaker?”

“No, Dad.”

“You sound like you’re underwater.”

“I am underwater.” She shot us a panicked smile, then clicked off the speaker and held it against her ear. “I’m glad it wasn’t real. Thanks, Dad. Bye. See you soon.”

I held my breath. Then I shouted, “No!”

One, loud shriek from the bottom of my feet. Now, looking back, I guess it seemed like high drama. But then, it felt as though if I didn’t let loose with something ear-splitting, my guts would boil through my flesh. “I saw him! You saw him, too, Rob. Didn’t you?”

He stared at the steering wheel. He wanted to say he had. But he hadn’t. I had pushed Rob back up onto the roof too fast for him to see anything below except me.

“I’m going back there now,” I said. “I’m going to search—”

“Allie,” Rob gently murmured. “Allie-stair. The sun is going to be up in an hour.”

“But I saw him. I saw that girl. Juliet, won’t your dad’s team search the carpet for hair and fiber evidence?”

“That’s TV, Allie,” Juliet said. “There was nobody there.”

“I want to talk to your dad. We could call in a sketch artist. Someone could draw her, from what I saw.”

“But my dad was actually in there, Allie. He didn’t see anything.”

I stared at her, pleading with my eyes, my belly filled with rage, my heart breaking. “You don’t believe me. You really don’t.”

She shook her head. At the time, I was certain she truly doubted me. But she didn’t doubt me at all.