6. New Evidence
Everyone came by the house on Wednesday night, Steve trailing after Soda when they both got off work and Johnny coming over with Dallas. Two-Bit came on his own with a twelve-pack of beer he'd half finished before he got the house. He'd been drinking too much lately...ever since they took Pony. I had a feeling he blamed himself somehow...something about those socs. I should probably talk to him about it. I didn't know what to say though. He was my little brother...I should have done a better job looking out for him. I shouldn't have hit him. I should have run after him. Regardless, I had no idea how to tell Two-Bit it wasn't his fault…that it was mine.
It was the first time in a while the whole gang had been at the house...well, except for Pony. But I couldn't think about Ponyboy...not if I wanted to function normally. Glory I missed my little brother so much. He'd usually be doing his homework about now, or have his nose in a book. I swore as I stared at the TV that I'd never get on him for reading too much again. He could read all he wanted. Or draw. Or go to the movies. Hell, I'd take him myself and sit through the damn thing myself if I could just get him back. It hurt so much to think of him...and every time I thought of him, I thought about my hand on his face, how he'd fallen back against the door. How he'd looked at me...my little brother had never looked at me like that before. I never wanted him to look at me like that again.
Two-Bit changed the channel, and I was pulled from thoughts about Ponyboy and into thoughts about Sodapop who sat on the sofa, his cap over his eyes, barely paying attention to the card game going on between him, Dally, Steve, Johnny, and Two-Bit. I'd opted out, grabbing my newspaper and trying to focus on that...it didn't really hold my attention like I'd hoped though. Soda wasn't doing too great, and I couldn't blame him. He couldn't focus at work, and every week that passed without us hearing anything about Pony had him lower and lower. I mean...it was killing both of us, but everyone could see that it was hitting him harder. Or maybe I was just better at hiding it. Soda and Pony were close...closer than me and Pony had ever been. Everyone knew it.
As I stared at the TV, I made another vow...that we'd be close again. We had been, when we were kids. I mean, not like him and Soda. Those two were best friends and brothers too, but I had always been the older brother, looking out for him, making sure he didn't get into trouble. If I could just get him back, I swore we'd be friends too.
I'd spent the day on the phone again, on my lunch, my breaks, and as soon as I'd gotten home. The social worker didn't seem to care that my little brother was missing. Hell, she didn't seem to care about us at all. Glory I hated that woman. Patty Jones. I didn't know why she'd been assigned to us, or why she seemed to want to keep Ponyboy away from us, but I hated her, and I couldn't wait until he was finally home. There was no reason that we couldn't see him...especially not for six months, and this court date we were so lucky to get was just to review our case. We might get visitation, or they might say he couldn't ever come home. And as soon as we get a court date, he goes missing. I turned the page of my newspaper, trying to think about anything else. It didn't work too well.
The knock came at nine, long after anyone other than the gang or the police would come visit...and the gang was all there. My eyes immediately found Soda's and he sat straight up, glancing around at everyone else who were slowly dropping their cards on the table. Dal kicked Two-Bit a little, and he turned the TV down. Placing the newspaper on the coffee table, I stood, taking a deep breath before I pulled open the door and found the same police officer from a few days ago. Officer...something or another. Somehow I hadn't really remembered his name.
"Good evening, Mr. Curtis," he greeted me softly, nodding, but there was something wrong.
"Hi, officer. What's going on? "
He sighed, struggling to meet my eyes. Charlton, I remembered suddenly. Officer Charlton.
"May I come in?"
I didn't want him to come in. Once he came in, I would find out whatever was wrong and I had a sinking feeling that it would change everything. Had he found my brother? Was he hurt? Or was it something worse?
"Sure." I stepped back, gesturing him inside, and he paused as he noticed the guys all sitting around the table. Soda stood, shoulders slumped as he watched the cop enter the house. He was scared.
"You...you find him?" he asked, the hope barely there in his voice, the defeat already in his eyes. "You find Ponyboy?"
"I think it might be best we speak in private, Mr. Curtis." The cop glanced around the room, his eyes landing briefly on Dallas. I wondered if they knew each other.
"Anything you got to say, you can say in front of them," I told him shortly. I didn't want to talk to this guy alone. I didn't even want him there, but he had something to tell us, something about my brother, so I invited him to sit. He nodded, and Steve hopped up from the sofa, gesturing for the cop to sit. He did, moving slowly and eyeing Dallas once more, then turning back to me as I sat in the recliner. Soda sat on the floor beside Two-Bit and Steve joined him, all of us waiting.
"Mr. Curtis? I wanted to speak to you before you saw it on TV…"
Beside me, Sodapop tensed, glancing over at me and then back at the cop on our sofa. I was glad the others were here. This wasn't looking good…I couldn't have spoken if I had wanted to.
"Your little brother's foster sister, Lianne, was found today."
"Found? Is she alright? Can we talk to her?" Soda demanded.
My heart was lodged in my throat, and I couldn't breathe. Found. She was found. That didn't sound right. Steve clenched his jaw hard and put his hand on Soda's shoulder, obviously picking up on it too. Two-Bit was leaning in, his shoulder against Johnny's, his eyes dark and almost scared.
The cop took a long, deep breath, then shook his head, speaking more gently this time, looking up and just barely managing to meet my eyes. "Her body was found...buried behind a bar about a mile from the high school." He looked around at us, sorry, like we'd known her, or like he'd done something wrong. But I couldn't feel anything. Everything was muted, like I could hear the words just barely, and nothing he said made any sense. Soda made a noise in his throat, eyes huge as his hands clenched into tight fists. "We also found your brother's jacket...it was a few feet away from where she was buried."
"How do you know it was his?" I forced myself to ask. I didn't want to know, not really. The cop pulled out three photographs and placed them on the table, Soda the first of us to move forward to get a look. I watched him rather than leaning in myself, feeling the blood drain from my face at his reaction.
Soda dropped his head into his hands and Steve scooted in, his hand on my brother's back. He caught a glimpse of the photograph and swore, shaking his head and looking away, and I moved in to get a look myself. The first crime scene photo was of the jacket itself on a table, probably in a police station somewhere, the rust-colored stains covering the fabric made more obvious by the harsh overhead lighting. There was a rip in the side, the bloodstain more prominent around the frayed edges. The second photo the cop had dropped on the table was the same, but next to the jacket on the table was a snapshot of Sodapop and another one of the whole gang.
Our mom had taken the photo in our living room...right before Christmas the year before they died. In it, we were all gathered around the couch, Steve, Soda, Pony, and Johnny squished together on the sofa, with me, Dal, and Two-Bit behind them. We all smiled at the camera…she'd asked us too. I could still hear my mom's voice.
"Dally, honey, smile. This isn't a mugshot." That had made us all laugh, our dad chuckling behind her. My hands were on my brothers' shoulders, and Soda had an arm around Ponyboy. In the corner, I could see our Christmas tree...Mom had used the photo for our holiday card. Sent it to her friends and everything. She always called us her boys...all of us. Our mom wouldn't have let this happen. Glory if she'd have caught me hitting Pony like I had, she would have skinned me herself.
The third police photo had been taken where the jacket had been found. It was half buried in fresh dirt, the grass around it bloody. I thought I might throw up, my stomach churning. It looked like a grave.
"You think…" Soda whispered, not finishing his sentence.
"We believe your brother and Lianne were on their way to school when they were...attacked," the cop told us softly.
"You said she was buried behind some bar," Steve broke in, sounding suspicious.
"It's possible they were taken there...or they could have been cutting school. This bar is only about a mile from the school...you can pass it on your way to the school from their house."
Ponyboy wasn't really one to cut school...well, he hadn't been before. He probably knew it could get us in trouble, and our parents would never have put up with it. Why would he cut school? As far as I knew, he actually liked school well enough. Well...he'd liked the school he went to here well enough. Who knew what kind of school he went to now...how they treated him.
"But you haven't found him?" That was Dally, and we all looked at him with mild surprise. Or maybe it was just me who was mildly surprised...Sodapop looked like he was on the verge of panic, but I couldn't feel anything much for some reason. That kind of worried me. Dally sounded mad. The cop hesitated, then shook his head in answer to Dal's question. "You ain't found the kid and you're coming here acting like he's dead!"
"We haven't found a body, no. But we found his jacket covered in blood by the grave of his foster sister. We're currently searching the area. There are several acres of wooded land behind the bar and around the high school..."
"This is bullshit! The kid ain't dead. He can't be!" Dally snapped, glaring at the cop.
"Dal…" Two-Bit muttered, giving him a reproving look, but our friend just shook his head, turning and pointing at me.
"Your kid brother is smart. He wouldn't go down without a fight! He would have gotten away."
I felt a surge of gratitude when Soda nodded, wiping his eyes and sitting up. "Dal's right. Pony's tough. He wouldn't just…" Soda trailed off, leaning against the recliner I was sitting in, and I stood, going to sit beside him on the floor and putting an arm around him. It seemed like the right thing to do. I seemed to be on autopilot, the roaring in my ears making it hard to think.
"Mr. Winston, while I appreciate your optimism, why wouldn't Ponyboy have come to the police after seeing his foster sister killed?"
"Easy. Maybe he don't trust you idiots won't get him killed."
"Excuse me?"
"All I know is that kid's foster parents were beating the shit out of him."
I felt every drop of blood in my body turn to ice, my stomach dropping. There was absolute silence in our living room as we all turned to stare at Dally, and the roaring in my ears got louder.
"What?" Soda choked out. "They were...what?"
"Mr. Winston...are you saying you had contact with Ponyboy Curtis while he was in foster care?" The cop was almost whispering, leaning in and staring at our buddy.
"I looked the kid up. Found him at his school a few months ago." Dally shrugged. "The kid looked like a walking corpse. Had a black eye I'll bet he didn't get at school, 'cause that girl, Lianne, had one too. By the way, he was moving, I'd say he had more bruises under his clothes."
We all stared at Dally, wide-eyed and silent, and the cop's shoulders dropped as he stared at our buddy in honest surprise. After a few seconds, he sat up, seeming to shake it off, and was pulling out a notebook from his pocket. "Mr. Winston, I'd like to ask you a few more questions."
"Then ask 'em," he told the cop, leaning back and crossing his arms, firmly ignoring my gaze. He almost looked bored. My little brother was missing. His bloody jacket had been found by the grave of his foster sister. And Dallas Winston looked like he was being forced to watch Mickey Mouse with Two-Bit.
"You said you 'looked him up.' When was this?" he asked, the pen poised above his notebook. I was glad he wasn't gonna get on Dal for not telling us this earlier...he could leave that to me, but later, after the fuzz was gone. Right now I needed answers as bad as the cop. Hell, we all did.
Dallas spoke slowly like he was choosing every word. "A few months ago...a little while after you put him in that place."
The cop didn't bother correcting him on that. "And did he say anything about the family he was with?"
"Nope. I picked the kid up at school. Gave him a ride back to the house and a buck to buy himself some food." He glanced at me but didn't meet my eyes. "It was all I had." He seemed to be directing that at me, and I wondered if he was trying to earn my forgiveness or try to assure me he'd tried to take care of my brother.
As angry as I was at him for not telling me he'd found Pony, I knew he'd have done anything he could to look after my brother. But why hadn't he just told us? Not that I could have done much, but at least I could have brought it to the state's attention. If he had a black eye...hell the state would have had to do something! He could have been put somewhere safer. Through the roaring in my ears and the numbness in my body I felt fury at Dallas, and that made the other things recede some. His next words didn't help much.
"The kid looked like he was starving. Lost a bunch of weight. That's about it."
He'd been starving. They hadn't been feeding my little brother. I wanted to slam my hand into another wall, but seeing as a cop was here, I figured making another hole in our house wouldn't be my best option.
"The 'kid' being Ponyboy?" the cop clarified, and Dal rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, the 'kid' being Ponyboy." He was just short of mocking but got serious again quick. "He was wearing long sleeves when it was warm out and had a black eye. When we got to his house, his foster sister, the Lianne girl, came out with a black eye like his. She told him he had to hurry and get inside."
"Did she say why?"
"Nope. I figured it was something to do with the foster parents. I drove off...circled the block, and the guy...I guess it was his foster father, showed up, so it must have been him she was talking about."
"Did you see this man hurt Ponyboy?"
"Nope. He went inside, and I didn't exactly try to peek in the windows," he told the cop dryly, and I could have strangled him.
"Have you seen him since that day? Ponyboy?"
Dally hesitated for just a second, eyes dropping, and I knew whatever he was about to say would be a lie. "No."
I fought not to slam my fist down on the coffee table.
"Dallas!" I snapped, in hand tight in a fist at my side, the other arm still slung around Soda who leaned against me. I wondered if he was even hearing any of this. "I swear, Dal, if you don't tell us…"
The cop looked warily between us for a moment, like we were gonna rumble in front of him in our living room.
Dallas glared at the floor, nodding slowly and seeming to think. "I saw him one more time," he admitted, glancing over at me, then back at the cop. "I drove by every once in a while, by that house...trying to see if I could keep an eye on him. I didn't run into him or anything, but I saw him on the porch one night, about a month ago..around Soda's birthday" I remembered that day. None of us had acknowledged Soda's birthday, or mine either. I'd tried to, but he'd just smiled a little, shaking his head and telling me we could celebrate when we got Pony back. The same had happened on my birthday.
But Ponyboy's birthday had been the worst.
"Where was he?"
"On the porch. He was by himself...it was almost dark. He was holding his arm, like it hurt. Had his head on the porch beam, like he was crying or something." Soda dropped his head into his hands beside me, and I squeezed his shoulder, torn between comforting him and killing someone. "I just drove by. When I circled the block and came around again, he was gone, or I would have stopped and talked to him." He glanced at me again, but I just nodded, my jaw tight. We could talk about this later.
"And that's the last time you saw him?"
"Yepp." This time he didn't hesitate, so I could only guess he was telling the truth. I caught his eye and he nodded a little. He was telling the truth. "Any more questions?"
"Not at this time, Mr. Winston." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card, leaning across the table and handing it to me. "If you have any questions...or if you can think of anything else, let me know." He hesitated. "We will be searching the woods and the areas surrounding the bar and the high school."
"You...you really think they...whoever it was, got him?" Sodapop asked, his voice hoarse.
The cop gave my brother a grim smile. "It's possible he could have escaped. He could still be hiding around here somewhere...or he might have run away. We are going to speak to some of his classmates, and we'll meet with his foster family again tomorrow." He met my eyes. "Just...prepare yourselves for the possibility."
I glanced down at the card I held in limp fingers. This wasn't real...it couldn't be real. How the hell could we prepare ourselves for something like that? My hands shook and I did my best to still them. "Thanks Officer Charlton. Um...let us know if you find out anything else."
"I will." He reached out, and I shook his hand, my head spinning. He seemed about to try and shake Soda's, but my brother was apparently beyond talking, so he just left, nodding to the others and heading out the door, leaving all of us in silence.
I stood, walking over to Dallas who pulled himself to his feet, barely making eye contact. I opened my mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Around us, everyone watched in wary silence.
"Look, man, the kid asked me not to…"
My fist smashed into his face before I'd even decided to punch him. He was thrown back into the chair, dropping down and bringing a hand up to his mouth which was dripping blood through his fingers and onto his shirt. He pulled the hand away from his face and looked up at me, his lip busted open. He wasn't scared though. I was glad. If he'd have been scared, I might have thought of Ponyboy staring up at me that night and I didn't know if I could bear that.
Turning, I stormed out of the living room and into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me as hard as I could and listening to a picture frame fall off the wall with a crash. It felt good, using my strength for something instead of just sitting around, waiting for someone to show up and tell me my brother was gone. They'd found his jacket covered in blood out behind a bar by the grave of his foster sister. As I sat on the bed, I heard Soda in the other room, his voice bordering on hysterical.
"You found him! You found him and they were hurting him...and you didn't tell us! What the hell is wrong with you!?"
I wanted to go to him...I wanted to hold him and tell him it was okay...that we still had each other. Instead, I dropped my head into my hands, my fingers clenched in my hair.
"If something happened to him…"
I wanted to tell Soda that he was too late...something already had.
The door opened and shut, and I wanted to deck whoever was trying to talk to me while I was like this, but the person just sat on my bed, a hand hesitantly touching my back. Soda was still berating Dally, so it couldn't be him. I didn't bother looking up, though. Couldn't get any damn privacy in my own house. It didn't matter, because my brother was gone and they'd found his jacket in a field covered in blood and that could only mean one of a few things. None of them were good. But I couldn't even start to think about the worst possibility...that he was in a makeshift grave somewhere behind a bar far away from his home...from us.
"I'm sorry, man." Two-Bit spoke almost too quietly for me to hear, and I shook my head.
"This is my fault," I told my hands, refusing to look up at him. He gripped my shoulder, trying to get me to look up. "Beat it, Keith." I snapped, the sob taking the sting out of my words.
"Hey, you can't do this." He snapped, shaking me a little. "Soda needs you...so does Ponyboy. You can't give up now."
"I hit him." I was sure he already knew that, since nothing stayed a secret in our gang. I hadn't told him though...hadn't said the words to anyone. Couldn't get myself to say the words. What kind of coward hit his fourteen-year-old brother then couldn't even own up to it? "The night he ran off and got into that fight...he came home late and I yelled at him, then when he tried to explain himself, I hit him. That's the only reason he was in the park...in the fight." I was still crying like a baby, but I figured I had a good excuse.
He kept his hand on my shoulder. "He knew you were stressed out, Dar. He knew you didn't mean it."
"No he didn't," I snapped, finally looking at him. "He thought I hated him. Thought I wanted to send him to a boy's home...get rid of him."
Surprisingly, he didn't argue, just nodded. "Yeah. Suppose he did." I paused, wiping my eyes and staring at him in the dim light of my bedroom. "Told me and Johnny as much after we left the movies with those girls."
I snorted without humor. "Right. Of course he did. Because I was such a shitty guardian! He thought I hated him, Two-Bit. My own little brother. And he couldn't talk to me about how damn awful our relationship had gotten because he was scared of me, and then I hit him!"
"Yeah, that about sums it up."
I shook my head, dropping my head into my hands once more. "Now he's gone. They were hurting him in that place...Sodapop suspected it, but we couldn't do anything. They were beating him and starving him...and now...now someone…"
He put both hands on my shoulders, shaking me again while I cried. "Look, you don't know that. You don't know that he's...gone." My friend couldn't even say the word. "He could have gotten away. Hell, he probably did. Pony learned to rumble from the best. Right?" He shook me again when I didn't answer. "You and Soda taught that kid to fight. I gave him a few lessons myself, and so did Dallas. He's tough, Darry. He probably got away."
I forced myself to nod, too scared to really believe it, but desperately needing to. Maybe my brother was okay. Maybe he'd gotten away. I wiped at my face, shaking my head, the image of the jacket flashing in my mind. "What if he didn't?"
"You can't think like that, Darry. Look, we all love the kid. And I know you didn't mean to hit him...I'm sure he does too. You screwed up, and you know it. You're gonna get the chance to fix it. We're gonna find him. He's probably hiding out. Whatever happened to his foster sister...it probably scared the hell out of him, and he's hiding somewhere. We're going to find him, and then we'll bring him home. Okay?"
I didn't know. I didn't know if he was right, or if my little brother was alive. But Soda needed me...if I gave up, he would too. And if Ponyboy really was out there somewhere, hiding out or something, then...well, I certainly wasn't giving up on him. Not ever. I owed him that much.
