The Cliffs, page 3
“I’ll be right back,” Robert called.
Robert ran into the kitchen and picked up his phone. The voicemail icon popped up, and he clicked on it. It was a recorded message from a sketchy-sounding company trying to sell him homeowner’s insurance he didn’t need. He deleted the message and headed back outside.
The sandbox was empty.
Fear gripped Robert’s heart. “Tyler!” he yelled. “Tyler!”
No answer.
He ran up to the sandbox. He could see the indentation in the sand where Tyler had been sitting, but no Tyler. Tyler’s Tag-Along Freddy still sat on the edge of the sandbox. Clearly Freddy had not been “watching.”
Robert looked at the open gate—it had been closed before, hadn’t it?—and saw a white van he didn’t recognize driving away. Could Tyler be inside that van? It was the absolute worst thing he could imagine.
Robert felt his Tag-Along Freddy Time wristwatch vibrate. The watch’s screen announced, A message from Freddy. He tapped the icon. A one-word message appeared on the screen: Gone.
“Gone?” Robert screamed. “Gone? How is that supposed to help me?” He kicked the stuffed bear as hard as he could, sending it sailing across the yard.
“Tyler! Tyler!” he yelled some more. He ran out into the street, yelling. Neighbors came out of their houses to ask what was wrong, but no one had seen his son.
Could someone have opened the gate, come into the yard, and snatched his son in the few seconds it took him to go inside the house and grab his phone? It seemed impossible, and yet you saw that kind of thing on the news all the time. Those people had probably thought it was impossible, too—the kind of thing that happened to other people, but not to you.
Until it did.
His phone. He had forgotten he was still holding his phone. Time was wasting. He called the police.
* * *
They arrived quickly, he’d give them that. There were two officers, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a young, dark-haired woman.
“So at what time did you notice your son was missing?” the younger officer asked. Her demeanor was professional, but Robert could still hear genuine concern in her voice. Her badge read RAMIREZ.
“Maybe twenty minutes ago?” Robert said. He was so panicky he couldn’t get his breath. “He was in the sandbox, I ran into the house to get my phone, and when I came back, he was gone.”
“And there’s no chance he could’ve come into the house while you were getting your phone and then hidden somewhere? Some kids get a kick out of hiding,” the older officer, whose badge read COOK, said. “You’d be amazed how many kids I’ve found hiding under beds or in closets, giggling like crazy about how bad they’ve scared their mom and dad.”
“No, I would’ve heard him if he had come back in the house,” Robert said. “Also, the front gate was open when I came back—I’m pretty sure it was closed before. And I saw a white van on the street. I know it doesn’t belong to anybody in the neighborhood. Maybe he was abducted by someone in that van.”
Officer Ramirez was taking notes furiously. “Did you get the van’s license plate number?”
“No. It drove away too fast. I’m sorry.” In fact, Robert hadn’t even thought of trying to get the van’s license plate number. You would think I’d never even seen a cop show on TV, he thought. I’m incompetent. I’m too incompetent to be a parent, and now Tyler is paying the price.
“That’s okay,” Officer Ramirez said. “I know this is upsetting. I just need to go through all of these questions so we’ll have the information we need to find your son. Now … does your son’s mother live with you?”
“No. She died in childbirth having Tyler.”
If she weren’t dead, Robert thought, Tyler probably wouldn’t be missing because he at least would have had one competent parent.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Officer Ramirez said. “Could you give us a physical description of your son?”
“He’s two years old,” Robert said. “Hazel eyes. Dark hair. He’s about three feet tall, and I think he weighed twenty-eight pounds on his last doctor’s visit.” Conjuring up a vivid picture of Tyler made his disappearance all the more painful. Three feet tall and twenty-eight pounds—he was so tiny, so helpless. “H-here—I can send you a picture of him.” He fumbled with his phone.
“Can you tell us what clothing Tyler was wearing at the time of his disappearance?” Officer Ramirez continued.
What clothes had Robert picked out for Tyler this morning? He hadn’t paid much attention because he wasn’t anticipating being quizzed on them. “Play clothes. Blue shorts, I think, and a T-shirt with Freddy Fazbear on it.” Saying the bear’s name made him think painfully of the message on his wristwatch: Gone.
He had to pull himself together. For Tyler’s sake. “Red sneakers,” he said. “And he’s still in diapers if that matters.” Tears sprang to his eyes. Tyler was still just a baby.
“Thank you,” Officer Ramirez said.
“So … what are you going to do to find him?” Robert asked.
Officer Cook, who had seemed content to let his partner ask most of the questions, finally chimed in. “Sir, when a child this young is missing, you can be sure it’s not something we take lightly. We’ll scour the entire area. We’ll see if we can get any info about that van. And we’ll be in touch. Right now home is the best place for you to be, with your phone close by.”
“Are you going to put out one of those alerts for missing children?” Robert asked. He couldn’t remember what the alerts were called, but he got them on his phone with some frequency and always found them upsetting. He couldn’t help imagining the frightened children, the frantic parents. Now he was one of those parents.
“An Amber Alert?” the older officer said. “We will if we don’t find him quickly and if we feel like he’s in any immediate danger.”
“Of course he’s in danger!” Robert shouted. “He’s two years old, and he’s either run off by himself or has been abducted by a maniac. How could he not be in danger?”
“We understand you’re upset,” Officer Ramirez said, patting his arm. “This is every parent’s worst nightmare. But we’re going to do everything in our power to get Tyler back to you as quickly as possible, safe and sound.”
* * *
It was 5:00 p.m., and there were still no leads. The police had assured him that they were asking around about the suspicious white van but hadn’t received any useful information yet.
Robert sat on the couch, staring ahead in a daze. He had never felt so useless, so worthless. He only had one job that mattered, and that was to keep his son safe. He had failed miserably. Everyone he loved died or disappeared. He couldn’t protect anyone, and now he was all alone. It probably served him right.
Robert’s wristwatch vibrated. He felt a sudden small flutter of hope. Maybe the watch had some information about Tyler’s whereabouts. He tapped A message from Freddy. A text appeared: Why don’t you go to the Cliffs?
Robert shivered as though the temperature in the room had dropped by forty degrees. Jumper’s Cliff. His own thoughts had been headed in that direction—without Anna, without Tyler, what reason did he have to keep on living? Apparently he was so worthless that even a child’s toy thought he was a waste of good organs.
Stop, Robert thought. Tyler hadn’t even been missing for eight full hours. If he was still alive, Robert had to be there for him. He wasn’t much, but he was all Tyler had. He would try to do better, try not to fail his son the next time.
He looked over at the mantel where he had set the Tag-Along Freddy when he brought it back into the house. He knew it was ridiculous, but he felt like the bear was mocking him. Judging him. Robert wasn’t a superstitious person, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the toy was somehow bad luck. He grabbed it, holding it between his thumb and forefinger as if it were a dead rat. He carried it outside, lifted the lid on the garbage can, and dumped it inside.
Back in the house, Robert sat back down on the couch. Normally at this time, he’d be thinking about what he and Tyler could have for supper. Usually on Saturdays, he made something simple—hot dogs or grilled cheese sandwiches. Sometimes he’d order a pizza and they’d watch one of the movies Tyler loved, the kind with cartoon animals being heroic.
Robert wished he could be heroic.
His phone rang. He answered before it had time to ring twice.
“Mr. Stanton? This is Detective Ramirez.”
“Did you find him?” Robert’s heart was pounding in his chest.
“Not yet, sir, but we have officers out all over the city. We also have use of a dog that has a tremendous track record when it comes to locating missing persons. I know this seems like an irregular request, but do you have some piece of clothing that belongs to your son that we could give to the dog to sniff? An unwashed shirt of his that’s in the laundry hamper, maybe?”
“I’m sure I do, yes.” Robert was always behind on laundry. He counted it as one of his many failings, but in this case, maybe it could actually be helpful.
“Well, if it’s okay with you, I may come by and get it.”
“Yes, of course,” Robert said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “Anything that might help you find him.”
Once he was off the phone, Robert went into Tyler’s room. He looked at Tyler’s little toddler bed and thought about all the nights he had peeked into the room and seen Tyler there, sleeping in that deep, peaceful way that only small children can sleep. He would give anything to see Tyler lying there right now. Anything.
He reached into the laundry hamper and pulled out the blue-and-white-striped shirt Tyler had worn just the day before. When he held it up, it seemed impossibly small, like doll clothes. He held the shirt to his nose and inhaled. Playground dirt; apple juice; a sweet, hay-like aroma he thought of as little-boy smell. His little boy’s smell.
Robert sat down on Tyler’s bed, put his face in his hands, and sobbed.
By the time Detective Ramirez arrived to pick up the shirt, Robert had calmed down a little, but his eyes were still red and swollen.
“I know this is hard,” Detective Ramirez said. “Probably the hardest thing you’ve ever been through. But I promise you we will do all that we can to find your little boy. Try to get some rest, okay?”
After the officer left, Robert sank back onto the living room couch. This was probably the hardest thing he had ever been through, but losing Anna had been terribly hard, too. He knew everybody had some bad things happen to them, but he certainly felt like he had had more than his fair share of suffering.
His phone vibrated. He clicked on the message icon. The text read, Why don’t you go to the Cliffs?
Robert’s anger flashed white-hot. Maybe it wasn’t so crazy to think the bear was judging him. After all, it was urging him to commit suicide. Well, he wasn’t going to have it. He stomped outside to the garbage can where he had dumped the thing.
He brought the bear back into the house. Somehow it made him less nervous to have the thing where he could see it.
He hoped he wasn’t losing his mind. He was under an unthinkable amount of stress, of course, but he needed to keep it together for Tyler.
Rest. Detective Ramirez told him to get some rest. Instead of going back to the couch, Robert walked down the hallway to his bedroom, carrying the bear.
He set the bear down on the bed. Looking at it, he felt such a surge of hate for the toy that his stomach roiled. He ran to the bathroom and retched into the toilet, though not much came up. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Breakfast seemed like years ago. Everything had still been normal at breakfast.
Everything had been normal until he had brought Tag-Along Freddy into the house.
Back in the bedroom, Robert glared at the offending bear. He drew back his fist and punched it in the face again and again. It quickly became apparent that the punches weren’t at all effective. The bear’s face would cave in when Robert’s fist made contact with it, but then it sprung right back into place. Robert wasn’t doing it any harm, and the one thing he wanted, other than getting Tyler back home safely, was to harm the bear.
Robert grabbed Tag-Along Freddy by its ear and carried it downstairs. He went into the kitchen and retrieved the box of matches he kept on a high shelf in a cabinet out of Tyler’s reach. He carried Freddy outside to the trash can and threw him back in. He struck a match and held it to the bear, waiting for it to catch fire.
The bear’s foot smoldered a little but refused to burst into flames. It was probably treated with some chemical, Robert thought, to make it flame-retardant. A safety feature. Well, he’d put a stop to that. He grabbed the bottle of lighter fluid he kept near the grill.
Robert doused the bear with lighter fluid. Then he struck another match and threw it into the garbage can. Tag-Along Freddy went up in a satisfying whoosh of flames. Robert watched it burn for a few minutes, then used his garden hose to extinguish the fire. He didn’t want to accidentally burn the whole house down.
Once the fire died out, he felt a small amount of relief. He knew it didn’t make any logical sense, but he still felt as if destroying the bear would somehow help find Tyler.
At the very least there wouldn’t be a voice that kept telling Robert to kill himself.
Now he could rest, just like Officer Ramirez had ordered him to. After he made sure the last of the fire was extinguished, he went back to his bedroom, undressed, and crawled under the covers. He was pretty sure there was no way he was going to sleep, but it was still a relief to lie down. He was so exhausted that every bone and muscle in his body felt heavy as lead. He didn’t lose consciousness but lay there in a sort of stupor, his eyes open but not really seeing.
The vibration of the Tag-Along Time wristwatch startled Robert.
But that was impossible. He had destroyed the bear. It couldn’t send him messages anymore. Maybe he really was asleep and this was a dream. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all of this had just been a really bad dream?
Robert slapped his own face and felt the sting. He wasn’t dreaming.
He lifted his arm and looked at the watch. A message from Freddy was flashing. With a shaking hand, he tapped the icon. Why don’t you go to the Cliffs?
“No!” Robert yelled, clapping his hands over his ears. “No! This is impossible! The bear is practically just ashes now! It can’t still be telling me to kill myself. It can’t be telling me anything!”
Robert ran outside and lifted the lid of the garbage can. The Freddy doll was charred, but it was still grinning. He reached inside the can and pulled it out. The bear stank of smoke and lighter fluid and was singed and blackened in some places, but it was still intact.
Robert knew that he spent too much time without adult company since Anna died, and sometimes he felt so sad and lonely that he wondered if he should see a therapist. But now, it seemed, he had moved beyond the need to just talk to a caring professional. The trauma of losing Tyler after losing Anna had caused him to lose something else: his mind.
But he had destroyed the bear. He knew what he had seen.
When Robert had first seen the bear in the store, he thought it was cute—a nice, cuddly friend for his little boy. But now the bear’s once-charming smile looked malevolent. Its black eyebrows seemed to slant downward in a classic cartoon depiction of evil. It was all clear now: Robert had brought the bear into the house, and Tyler had disappeared. Tyler’s disappearance was the bear’s fault.
The bear could not continue to exist.
Robert fished his car keys out of his pocket. He placed the bear in the driveway in the direct path of his car’s left front tire, and then got into the car and started it. He felt only slight resistance as he drove over the bear, then put the car in reverse and backed over it. He then ran over it one last time, leaving the bear’s body trapped beneath the tire, a furry Freddy pancake.
Going back inside the house, he heard his phone ringing. How could he be so stupid as to leave his phone inside? This was the exact kind of stupidity that got Tyler kidnapped in the first place. He ran to answer it. “Yes?” he panted, out of breath.
“Mr. Stanton, this is Detective Ramirez. Are you okay?”
It was such an absurd question that he almost laughed. Of course he wasn’t okay. His child was missing, and he had just spent the past five minutes intentionally running over that child’s favorite stuffed toy. These were not the actions of a person who was okay. He decided her question didn’t deserve an answer. Instead, he asked the only question that mattered, “Did you find him?”
“Not yet, Mr. Stanton, but I wanted to let you know that the dog has his scent now and is searching for him. We also have the tag numbers of every white van in the metro area, and we’re running them to see if any of the owners have a history of criminal activity. We’re working hard to find your boy. I’ll call you in the morning and update you.”
Morning seemed like years away. How was he going to make it until morning without Tyler, without even any information about Tyler? “Is there anything I should be doing?”
“Stay close to the phone. Get some rest. Pray, if you’re the praying sort. And stay hopeful.”
“Thank you,” Robert said. But really, other than destroying the bear, there was nothing he could do. He was a helpless, hopeless case.
Just as he hung up the phone, his wristwatch vibrated.
“How?” he yelled. “How?”
He knew what it was going to say, and he was sorely tempted to run it over just like the bear, but there was still a tiny chance—wasn’t there?—that the watch might have some connection to Tyler, that it might help locate him some way. He gritted his teeth and tapped A message from Freddy.
Why don’t you go to the Cliffs?
Broken, Robert sank to his knees and cried.
The more the bear told him to go to the Cliffs, the more suicide seemed like a welcome relief from his pain. Sure, it would be terrifying, standing on the edge, looking down at the jagged rocks below, and willing himself to jump. But the fall would be so fast he wouldn’t have time to think or feel anything, and the force with which he’d smash into the rocks would be so hard he would die instantly. Even if there was some physical pain, it would still hurt less than the emotional pain that was ripping him apart. Without Anna and Tyler, what reason did he have to live?
