Officer Finch nodded, pushing off the wall, and strode down the hallway to meet her. “Hi, Margot,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”
Margot opened her mouth to ask where her uncle was, but stopped before she could. “Oh,” she said instead. “It’s you.” It had been twenty years since she’d last seen him, but the face of the officer had just clicked in her mind. She and Pete Finch had gone to kindergarten through fifth grade together, and while their local high school was relatively big, merging students from Nappanee and Woodview with those from Wakarusa, the elementary school had served only their little town. With all of about twenty-five kids in her grade, Margot would have recognized one of her old classmates anywhere.
Pete smiled. “Been awhile. I heard you were back in town.”
“Yeah. Hi.”
Despite spending six years corralled in a classroom with him, Margot didn’t know the adult version of Pete at all. As a kid, he’d been sporty and popular, while she, in the years after January’s death and as her parents’ relationship got more and more contentious, had turned inward. Where Pete had played soccer with the rest of the boys at recess, Margot had spent the forty-five minutes by herself in a tree, reading books about kids who solved mysteries. She supposed the two of them must have interacted plenty over the course of those six years, but the only real memory she could dredge up was of him helping her pick up her books one time after Bobby Dacey slapped them out of her hands.
“Good to see you,” Margot said, hoping that was enough pleasantry not to appear rude. All she could think about was her uncle huddled in a police room, scared and confused. Meanwhile, if she didn’t get him home fast, she was in danger of missing the press conference altogether. “Thanks for picking up my uncle. Is he—?”
“He’s in that room back there,” Pete said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I was waiting with him, but then it seemed like maybe that was upsetting him.”
“How long has he been here?”
“Half an hour maybe? It took me awhile to track down your number. He didn’t seem to know it. Eventually, though, I discovered he’d had his phone in his pocket the whole time, and when I got him to pull it out, well, your number was all over it.”
Margot thought about the twenty or so times she’d called Luke over the past hour and found it unsettling to discover he’d had his phone with him all along. He must have been more out of it than she’d even realized. “Yeah. I was worried.” She glanced down the hallway behind him. “Can I?”
“Of course.” Pete turned, and the two of them walked to the room with the glass door.
When she reached it and looked through, her chest clenched. Her uncle was standing against the far wall, but instead of facing outward, he was facing in. His head was bowed, his forehead pressed against the wall, the fingers of one hand wandering gently over its surface. The red bandanna she’d given him, which was tied around his neck, looked damp and filthy. The sight made Margot want to cry.
She took a deep breath, then placed a hand on the handle and twisted. She’d expected Luke to turn at the sound, but instead he remained where he was, unmoving as if he hadn’t even heard it. She stepped into the room and walked quietly around the little table and chairs to his side.
“Uncle Luke?” she said gently.
But again, he didn’t react, didn’t move.
“Uncle Luke?”
Nothing.
She reached out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder and the touch must have snapped him out of whatever dream he’d been in, because he whirled around, flinging his arm out as he did. His hand connected with the side of Margot’s mouth and she stepped backward, clapping a hand to her face.
Behind her, she heard the door fly open. “Margot—”
But she waved a hand over her shoulder at Pete. It had obviously been an accident, and her uncle was standing in front of her now like a scared animal, his breath coming in fast pants, his eyes on her face, wide and wild.
Slowly, Margot lowered her hand from her face. “Uncle Luke? It’s me, Margot.”
Luke stared into her eyes, and after a long moment, his breathing began to calm, his shoulders lowered. “Kid. I didn’t do anything, I swear.”
“I know.”
“This guy just brought me to the station like a criminal.” He gestured angrily to Pete, but his movements had lost their urgency and panic. “But I didn’t do anything.”
“I know,” Margot said again. “I know.”
He took a deep breath and, finally, it seemed all the paranoia had seeped out of him. “Can I go home now?”
“Yeah. Of course.” She nodded, her throat tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you earlier.”
He must not have registered the last part because he just nodded. “Good, good.” He hesitated. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay, yeah.” Margot turned. “Pete, could you point us to—”
“Yep,” Pete said. “At the end of this hall, to the left.” He held the door for them both, pointing her uncle in the right direction.
Margot watched as Luke retreated down the hall and disappeared into the bathroom, then she turned to Pete. “I’m sorry,” she said, feeling a kick of betrayal as she did. Luke couldn’t help what he did or said. The chemicals in his brain were misfiring. “His sickness can make him act like a totally different person sometimes.”
Pete shook his head. “Don’t apologize. My grandpa had dementia. I get it.”
“Was he angry the whole time? My uncle. Not your grandpa.”
“No. He got agitated after a while in that room, thought I was arresting him. But when I found him, he was just upset. Like, sad I mean. He was crying.”
Margot swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “Did he say what he was upset about?”
“No. He just kept saying She’s gone. She’s gone.”
“You probably know this, but his wife, my aunt, died last year. What with that and the memory stuff…it’s been hard.”
“Listen…” Pete said. “I don’t want to overstep or anything, but things with my grandpa got pretty bad. My mom took care of him as long as she could, but it was a full-time job, and even then, it got to be too much. Have you…” He hesitated. “Have you thought about putting him somewhere?”
“He’s twenty years younger than the youngest person in any nursing home,” Margot snapped. “I’m not putting him in one.”
Pete nodded, seemingly unfazed. “I get it. Maybe you could think about a caregiver then. I obviously don’t have a dog in this fight, so I’m not trying to convince you of anything, but when my grandpa started wandering out of the house was when things got pretty bad. This was the first time I’ve seen your uncle out like this, but it probably won’t be the last.”
“Right,” Margot said, but she couldn’t look him in the eye. “Okay. Thanks.” At the end of the hallway, she saw the bathroom door open. Luke walked out, looking around. She waved to get his attention and he headed over. “By the way,” she said to Pete, “where did you find him today?”
“He was on the grass outside Community First, by the cemetery.”
Margot sighed. It made sense why Luke had been crying when Pete found him, then. That was the cemetery where her aunt was buried. Why hadn’t she thought to look there?
Back at home, Margot kept shooting anxious glances at her watch as she ushered her uncle inside, then heated up two slices of leftover pizza. Technically, it was supposed to be his lunch, but now it was more like an early dinner. She should have already been in Nappanee, working on interviews for her article, and her boss’s voice was echoing in her head. You need to nail this one.
“Aren’t you eating?” Luke asked from where he sat at the kitchen table.
“I have to take off for a bit.” Guilt gnawed at her insides. “Are you—is that okay?”
“Yeah, kid. No problem.”
“Are you sure? Because I can stay if you need me.”
“No, no. I’m probably gonna lie down in a bit anyway. Don’t know why, but I’m feeling pretty tired.”
She studied his face for a long time before nodding. “Okay. I’ll be home in two hours. Tops.” But he had already shifted his attention to his food and she couldn’t tell whether or not he’d heard her.