Hard to Swallow

“George, get in here.” 

“What is it?” I asked, following him into his office. He shut the door before heading behind his desk, sitting down. He tossed a file my way, and waited for me to open it before speaking. 

“This isn’t much information to go on…” I trailed off, and he shrugged, though I had a feeling he agreed. Typically, depending on the person who hired me, there could be pages upon pages of preliminary information; but in this folder there was just one page. 

“Kid went missing, 30 years ago” my boss began as I scanned the piece of paper. “Parents haven’t given up hope. Police closed the case years ago; he’s presumed deceased” 

“Thirty years. That seems like a long time to wait before hiring an investigator, don’t you think?” I questioned why he would have agreed to take on this case. 

“Look,” he began, the stress marks becoming increasingly visible on his face. The years of long days, long nights, and stressful situations were beginning to wear on him; but as he always said, finding the truth is sometimes a lonely journey; he has been divorced three times. “You’re the best we’ve got around here. You’re able to bring more justice, gather more information, than anyone. If there’s someone who can do this, it’s you” he spoke very gruffly. 

I bit my lip, as I often did when I was in deep thought, when I noted the expression he bore on his face. It was… different; I couldn’t quite place it. There was something off about this case, but I didn’t voice my concerns. 

“I’m on it” I grabbed the file that I had placed on the desk, and exited his office, ready to begin the impossible task. 

                ************ 

My first stop was to meet with the parents. Usually I would have met them at their home, but when I had called they were just down the street from me, so we just met at a local coffee shop. 

When I arrived I noted them immediately. They sat in a corner, nervous looks on their faces. They too, had looked aged from the stress of the last thirty years. I tried to put myself in their shoes, but it was difficult. I was unmarried, no children. Hell, I didn’t even have any siblings. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Hall” I caught their attention almost immediately. There were looks of relief, disbelief, and terror on their faces. I couldn’t say I blamed them. If successful, I would be able to determine what happened to their son all those years ago. 

“Mr. Hallaway” he greeted me, getting up from the table and shaking my hand. “Thank you so much for coming… I know these are a little unusual of circumstances” he spoke softly, looking to his wife to continue. We both took our seats and I took out my notebook, ready to begin.  

“Let’s start from the beginning” I urged, wanting them to be the ones to start our conversation. I found it was easier, and you got your most accurate information. It was all in the wording of your questions. 

“It was a hot, summer day in July” Mr. Hall recounted. “Judy had just gotten home from the hospital. Our son- Eric, had just been born a few days earlier.” 

“July 9th, 1981” Judy interjected, and he nodded. “That’s when he was born.” Despite the emotion I could hear in her voice, her facial expression lacked any sort of emotion. 

“It was incredibly warm that night, trying to sleep was impossible, so we had a couple windows open to let some breeze in.” He took a moment to pause. 

“Next thing we knew, he was gone” Judy piped up, shrugging her shoulders, her eyes still empty. 

“Uh- Yeah. I woke up to check on him around two a.m. I had gotten up to use the bathroom and thought it was strange we hadn’t heard him crying” he explained, averting eye contact. “Maybe if I had have checked on him earlier he wouldn’t be missing” he added, expressing his guilt. That was normal. Most parents often question their parenting after a child abduction; that was normal. Typically, blame shifted from parent to parent, often resulting in the end of the relationship. The fact that they were still together, after thirty years of wondering what happened to their son, was to me, quite interesting in itself. 

“Did you notice anything when you went to check on him?” I asked a question I’m sure he had been asked a million times before me. 

“The window was open, but we didn’t open his…” he trailed off, closing his eyes. “But there were other windows open. No signs of forced entry. No ransom… nothing” he blew out a sigh. Judy reached into her purse and grabbed another file. This one had stacks of paper in it, and I could only assume it was a copy of the original case file. 

“It this the original case file?” I asked, as I took it from her hands. She nodded solemnly, and her husband looked shocked. 

“Where did you get this? How did you get this?” He inquired, truly confused. He looked from me, to her, awaiting a response. 

“One of the detectives gave it to me when they closed the investigation” she confessed. “Obviously it was wrong, but he gave it to me. And I kept it. For this very day.” Her confession shocked me. I was of course, saved a bit of work from having to get the case file, but that detective- and I’m sure I would be finding out who that was soon- should never have released that sort of information- especially to the victim’s family. 

“Look, I know it was wrong, but you have to understand. I was- we were desperate. And I know you’re probably wondering why after all these years we decided to hire you- we just couldn’t do it ourselves anymore. We finally came into some money, when my mother passed, and we heard you’re the best around.” 

We sat and chatted at the table some more, with her confession still lingering in the back of my mind, even on my walk back to my apartment. It was a strange case, right from the start. From the actual abduction, which the police had absolutely no leads for. There was no DNA left at the scene. No signs of forced entry. No call or note for ransom. What did the person do to the child? Who broke into someone’s house, stole a child, and the blanket the child had been wrapped in, and fled? Leaving behind no trace evidence? 

I had to admit, it was looking like this case wasn’t going anywhere fast. What could I do that the police didn’t? They canvased the neighbourhood, followed up on every lead, which happened to be thousands, but they all led to the same thing; no Eric Hallaway. 

               ************ 

“George, we’ve hardly seen you in the last couple of weeks” 

“She’s right, you haven’t been around. What’s been going on with you?” My dad echoed my mother’s statement. 

Since I was an only child I felt almost an obligation to go to my parents for dinner at least once a week. They knew my work took over most of my life. Being a private investigator took its toll. It occupied a lot of my time and was mentally and emotionally exhausting. This particular case had been weighing on me, because after a month I had just as much as I had when they handed me over the case file; and that was nothing. 

“I’m investigating a child abduction” I confessed, putting my fork down. I didn’t divulge into my cases typically with my parents, but this one was hitting different. It happened where I was born and raised; if alive, Eric would be my age. 

“I haven’t seen anything on the news lately?” My mom questioned, looking to my dad with a strange look I couldn’t place. 

“It’s not recent, it happened thirty years ago” I informed them, picking up back my fork, shoving a mouthful of potatoes into my mouth as I skillfully watched my mom and dad’s interaction. They say that people in law enforcement are the most cynical people in the world. After years being a private investigator, I could say I felt the same. To me, everybody had something to hide; even my parents. 

“Oh- oh I do remember that case, yes” my mother finally spoke up, after careful looks towards my father. 

“You do?” I asked, though by the looks on their faces I already knew the answer to that. 

“Awful time, those poor parents” my dad commented, regaining his composure. 

“What happened? That you remember” I wondered if they knew more than they let on. Could something they remembered about the case ignite a spark? 

“Just that they had their baby boy- Eric was his name? Was take from them in the middle of the night” my mother whispered softly. “We had just had you, so it hit real close to home.” 

“It scared the neighbourhood. Everyone started locking their doors, making sure the windows were closed, actively checking on their babies in the night- nobody knew if their baby was next” my dad told me sternly. “But thank heavens nothing happened to you” he smiles gently, and I nodded, taking in the information. 

“I knew Judy, you know” my mother informed me. “Our friendship fell apart after that night. Everything in her world sort of fell apart that night. Not that I can blame her” she rambled, getting up from the table to start clearing off the dishes. I let the topic go, wanting to clear my head for the rest of the evening. However tomorrow, I knew where I was going to start. 

               *********** 

For whatever reason my parents struck me as odd. Their behaviour from last night only heightened my curiosity. From the strange looks they were giving each other, to the way they answered my questions; there was something they weren’t telling me, and I was determined to figure out what that something was. 

Heading to the library I went to the archives to see all the newspaper stories that covered the abduction. Even though I had looked through them, I this time was looking for something different. My mom had indicated she had known Judy at the time of abduction; there was no record of my mom being talked to by police, nor interviewed by any reporters. 

The police upon their initial search, had conducted interviews with each and every member of the family of the Hallaway’s, and the friends of the family as well. If my mom knew Judy like she had indicated, there should have been record of her police interview. 

Upon looking a second time through my case files and through the archives, I found nothing. In fact, when I searched for my mother, nothing came up at all. 

Birthing announcements. People back in the day loved to share too much in the newspapers. It was a wonder more crime wasn’t committed with the information people let anyone have. No different than social media, I thought to myself, aimlessly scrolling through the announcements. I came across Eric’s announcement and frowned. That poor family didn’t know what they were in for, just a short two days after the announcement was put in the paper. It struck me as odd when I didn’t see my own birthing announcement; why wouldn’t my parents have done that? Considering there was no record of my mother anywhere I looked, I had hoped it was because they were private people. Hope being the key word here. 

But there had to be something else. Were my parents hiding something? A strong feeling inside me indicated if I wanted to get any answers, I’d have to do some snooping when they weren’t around. 

               ************

I’m not proud that I tricked my parents into taking a day and heading upstate for a nice getaway day, just so I could snoop through their things. Of course, what person would be proud of such a thing? 

But it was easy; almost too easy, getting them out of my way. The first place I started was of course the attic; lots of people kept their dark secrets there, didn’t they? 

I was disappointed to say the least when there revealed to be nothing but boxes of Christmas decorations, Halloween costumes, and baby photos. I took a moment to look at pictures of when I was a baby. The one of my mother and I in the hospital, and one a few days later, sitting on the couch in the living room. I remembered that chair. I laughed at the memory of spilling my juice box all over it; mom was furious. But here we were, sitting on the couch, as she adored her new baby boy. 

I flicked through the book some more, adoring the various photos of us I saw. One where I looked to be about four, learning to skate on the frozen pond that sat behind my house. We spent many hours out there, on cold, unforgiving winter nights. Many beers were had with friends in the future, as we played games of pond hockey. It was a nice trip down memory lane.

When I went to close the book I got a glimpse of the photo of us in the hospital, shortly after I was born… something was different. I quickly went to the picture from a few days later; I took it from the album and flipped it over; July 10th, 1981. But that’s not possible, I thought with a frown; my parents had told me my birthday was July 11th. 

                 **********

The truth is always hard to swallow; at least, that’s what I tell my clients. But now, faced with my own words, it was a truth I was unwilling to accept. It could have been a mistake, I had reasoned with myself. People mixed up dates all the time! Especially with a new born son? Well, it was entirely possible my parents were sleep deprived, and trying their best to be new parents. But when confronted with the photo, their demeanours changed; they had been lying to me my whole life. 

“George, you have to understand something,” my mother had tried to reason. I shook my head, holding my hand up to her face. 

“You didn’t tell me I was adopted. You lied to me about my birthday. What else have you been lying about?” I seethed, seeing nothing but red. 

The truth, as I had told many others, is sometimes hard to swallow. But another thing about the truth, was that it had the ability to shatter reality, and upset the very lives of many. 

[….. to be continued]