Romiette and Julio (26 page)

Nannette looked disappointed. “And the mothers of the two young people? How are they taking this?”

The woman was getting annoyed. “They’re doing what any mothers would do. They’re searching with
the rest of us, and praying, and believing—believing that their kids will be returned safely—but the longer we look, the scarier it gets.”

“Have you noticed any arguments between the mothers? Any racial insults or name-calling?” Nannette was insistent.

“Are you nuts? What kind of question is that?”

“I just wanted to generate some interest in our viewing public,” replied Nannette with insulted pride.

“There’s plenty of interest already. People from all races and neighborhoods are working together to find these kids. Why don’t you talk about that? Hey, the phones are ringing. I got work to do here.”

Nannette smirked as she returned to the microphone. “Well, I can see you’re busy. I’ll let you get back to your work.” The woman ignored her. Lawrence grinned again.

Nannette walked down to the edge of the lake, making sure she stayed on the cemented walkway, not the muddy edges where most of the people worked. She approached a man carrying a plastic garbage bag full of twigs and branches. “Excuse me, sir, this is Nannette Norris, and you’re live on TV News Six. Can you tell us how the lake-dragging efforts are going?”

“It’s a slow process,” he answered. “We’ve found lots of unbelievable trash, but fortunately, no bodies. But it’s a big lake. This will take all day.”

“What if you don’t find anything?” Nannette insisted.

“Well, that’s good, and bad.”

“How so?”

“It’s good, because we can be fairly sure they didn’t drown. But it’s bad, because we are running out of other options.”

“Are you sure they’re here?”

“All indications are that they were here as late as last night before the storm. That’s all we know.” The man, tired of her insistent questions, tried to walk away.

She continued, “If you find them dead, it’ll be pretty gruesome, right?”

He looked as if he wanted to yell at her, but he remembered the camera and simply said, “Excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work.” He marched up to the boathouse for more garbage bags. Nannette followed him. The room was full of bustle and action. Phones rang, people checked maps, and new volunteers arrived every few minutes, asking for assignments and leaving to search a new area. Nannette approached the table where a woman was setting out doughnuts that had been donated by a bakery.

“Excuse me, ma’am, this is Nannette Norris, and you’re live on TV News Six. May I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure, if you don’t get in my way. I’ve gotta make some more coffee here for the volunteers.”

“Goody. Make mine with two creams and two sugars.”

“Aren’t you on the air?” the woman asked wryly. Lawrence rolled his eyes.

“Oh, right,” Nannette reminded herself. “Tell me, what do you think about the names of the two missing kids? Is the closeness of their names to Romeo and Juliet, and this recent disappearance, just a little similar to the old Shakespearean story?”

“Yeah, it’s ironic, but that don’t mean nothing.” The woman poured the ground coffee into the machine and added fresh water.

“Do you think that Romiette and Julio tried to commit suicide like the lovers in the tale?”

“Why should they do that?” the volunteer asked in surprise. “From what we can tell, they were in love with each other! We’re way past the days of arranged marriages, sister. They’re in trouble, they need our help, and if you would get out of the way, we might be able to do that.” Nannette hurried away as she saw some policemen enter the room. The woman gave Lawrence three doughnuts in a small plastic bag. “Combat pay,” she whispered to him, pointing to Nannette. He laughed, thanked her, and agreed with her completely. Nannette motioned to Lawrence to hurry as she spoke to the police officers.

“Excuse me, sir, this is Nannette Norris, and you’re live on TV News Six. Officer, can you tell us anything about the reported gang connection to this case?”

“I can’t say much. What we know is that there had been some trouble at school between Romiette and Julio and some other students who had been identified as having ties with a local gang. Nothing has
been verified, however, and anything else would only be speculation.”

“Do you think the lives of Romiette and Julio were threatened or in danger? Some people say they were both involved in gangs.” Nannette motioned for Lawrence to do a close-up on her face.

“Aren’t reporters supposed to go on more than ‘some people say’? As I said, ma’am, anything else would be speculation. Excuse me.” The officer walked away. Nannette told Lawrence to cut the close-up, cut the shot completely. Lawrence the Silent smiled once more.

A flurry of activity erupted when Ben and Destiny showed up. Nannette rushed over to the crowd and pushed her way through. “It’s Romiette and Julio!” she screamed into the camera. “They’ve been found!”

Lawrence turned off the camera and said, “Nannette, they’ve been showing pictures of those kids all day. That’s not them!”

“Oh,” she said, sniffing. “I knew that. Let’s go interview them anyway. I’m sure they know something.” She squeezed through the crowd and spoke to Destiny first. “What is your relationship with the two missing teenagers, dear?”

Destiny replied, “I’m Romi’s best friend, and please don’t call me ‘dear.’”

Nannette rolled her eyes and asked, “Are you here to join the search?”

“No, me and Ben have been searching all night. We found Romi’s shoe!”

“How do you know it’s her shoe? It’s pretty muddy,” Nannette said doubtfully.

“‘Cause it’s my shoe—I loaned it to her last week,” Destiny told her impatiently.

“And you, son, what’s your name and what do you think of this tragedy?”

“My name is Ben, and right now it’s not a tragedy.” Ben turned away from the camera.

“Did you ever read
Romeo and Juliet
at school?” insisted Nannette.

“Yes, I have,” Ben replied, smiling innocently. “Several times. Have you?”

Nannette looked for others to interview, but everyone seemed to be busy working to find Romi and Julio. Nannette then tried to get interviews with Romi’s and Julio’s parents, but all of them refused. Tired, and angry at the mud on her pink designer shoes, Nannette decided she had had enough for now.

“This is Nannette Norris, reporting live for News Six from London Woods, where the search continues for Romiette Cappelle and Julio Montague. Live updates as the news unfolds.”

Luis and Cornell trudged slowly through the thick weeds and underbrush near the water’s edge. They knew that if their children had been in that lake and had somehow been able to get out, they would be somewhere on that muddy shore. The day was bright and cool, but the sun warmed them, and they had removed their jackets. They worked slowly, methodically, checking every rock and tree, grimly determined to find their children.

“Luis, you OK?” Cornell asked as Luis wiped his brow. “Hand me the flashlight. We haven’t checked this area.”

“
Sí
, Cornell. I’m fine. My lungs are strong, but my heart is becoming heavy. It’s almost noon. We should have found them by now.”

“Where are Maria and Lady?” Cornell asked, although he knew the answer as well as Luis did. Even idle conversation made thoughts of what they might find more bearable.

“They were searching on the other side of the lake. Together. Just as we are,” Luis responded.

“You’re right.” Cornell hesitated. “Luis, I … uh … I’m sorry about accusing Julio of whatever it was I said. I wasn’t thinking straight. I just am so afraid. I’ve never been this helpless, and without hope.”

“There is always hope, Cornell. The children will be found—alive and well. That is my hope. And my prayer.”

“You’re very wise, Luis. Let’s sit here on this log a minute. You got any more of that water?”

“
Sí,
help yourself. So, what is it like to work with a woman such as Miss Norris? When I went back to the central volunteer area, I heard her asking the most outrageous questions of the volunteers. How is she allowed to get away with such?”

“She is the niece of the executive producer of the show, and even he is running short of patience with her. She’s really hard to work with and she just doesn’t think before she speaks—and in a reporter, that’s a dangerous quality. So it’s rough sometimes, really rough. One day we were out together doing a story and she walked up to the mother of a murdered child and asked her where she’d bought her dress! The woman was ready to strangle her.”

Luis chuckled. “I think I might have helped her to do it.”

“So, do you like Ohio?” Cornell asked him. “Have you made friends?”

“It has been difficult. I have my job, and I have acquaintances, but no real friends. I really miss Texas.”

Cornell offered his hand to Luis. Both hands were
covered with mud and dirt from their long morning search. Cornell said clearly, “I would be proud if you’d consider me your friend, Luis.”

“Thank you, Cornell. That means so much to me. I hope that our children will also continue to be friends … unless—”

“I can’t bear to think of anything else,” Cornell interrupted. “I’ll never give up hope, but it doesn’t look good. Two young people reaching out to each other against all odds, against pressure from their peers,” he added sadly. “Luis, did you oppose Julio seeing Romiette?”

“At first, I didn’t think it was a good idea. It is always easier to stay with what is safe and known.”

“I know. I also felt threatened by your son and my daughter. When we first found out about all this last night, my assumption was that he was some kind of Internet freak who preyed on defenseless girls.”

Luis chuckled. “Ah, no, my Julio has never preyed on anyone. He just likes computers and, apparently, your daughter as well.”

They sat down together on a large log. The lake, glistening against the clear sky, showed no sign of the storm of the night before. Each father was lost in his own thoughts about his child. Luis remembered Julio as a ten-year-old, steering his uncle’s sailboat, wearing an old sailor’s cap, and grinning into the sunlight as he pretended the boat was his own. He remembered the swim meets and the band concerts, and the proud glint in his son’s eye as he mastered new skills. To end all that pride and potential in a place so far from the
home he loved … Guilt and anguish made Luis sigh and bury his head in his hands.

Cornell remembered Romi’s fifth birthday, when she rode her new bike proudly with no training wheels. He smiled, remembering the look of victory on her face that day. He thought of her part in the school play when she was nine, of her face as she sang in the choir at church, of how she would look next year when she graduated from high school. He stopped himself then, afraid to think of the future. He glanced around the woods. Somewhere in this soft green space, or that dark blue space in the distance, his daughter waited for her dad to find her. He pulled a branch from the log they were sitting on and broke it in frustration. He reached down to snap another branch when a speck of blue caught the corner of his eye.

“Luis, what is that under that log behind us?” he asked, not wanting to show any excitement in his voice.

“What? I see nothing. Where is the flashlight?”

“Look, lodged under those rocks and sticks. It’s a shirt—a blue-jeans shirt.”

“¡Oh, Dios mío!
I see it! Julio was wearing a shirt like that—but this one is torn, and muddy, and …”

“Pull it out. There’s a hand! Oh, Luis, I think we’ve found them!” Cornell’s heartbeat was like the thunder from the night before. Luis couldn’t stop shaking. He could hardly grab Julio’s shirt.

“¡Dios mío!
It is my Julio! And Romiette! Together under this fallen tree by the spillway. We’ve been
walking back and forth over this area for hours! Oh, God, she’s so cold!”

“They’re not dead. They’re very cold, and they’re unconscious. But I can feel a pulse in both of them. Hurry, send up the flare! Get the medical team over here! We have found them!” Cornell shouted to the sky in exultation.

Lawrence was tired of following Nannette with the camera, not because the camera was heavy—that was his job—but because she never knew what questions to ask, and she never knew when it was time to stop talking. None of the cameramen liked being assigned to Nannette. They’d have a lottery each day, and the loser had to work with her. Today was Lawrence’s day, and he hadn’t even lost the lottery. He had volunteered because of his respect for Cornell Cappelle. He’d had a little break earlier while Nannette left to go change her clothes. While she was gone, he’d helped answer phones and unload equipment from the various volunteers. She had returned, however, in an outfit that looked like something someone would wear on a safari. Tall leather boots, khaki slacks and shirt, with a matching hat—still not very good for walking in the mud, but at least her pink shoes would have a chance to dry out.

He sighed when he saw her return in her red Mercedes. “You’ve been sitting around for an hour doing nothing,” she accused him cheerfully. “Let’s get
back to work, Lawrence. I’m ready now.” He said nothing, but shouldered his equipment and glanced back at the other volunteers who said with their eyes that they understood.

Nannette found a man serving sodas to the searchers, so she headed over to speak to him first. She didn’t even ask what had happened during the search in her absence. She smoothed her hair, checked her makeup, and smiled for the camera. “This is Nannette Norris, reporting live for Channel Six from London Woods Lake. We are still searching fruitlessly for the bodies of Romiette Cappelle and Julio Montague. Hundreds of volunteers have come to assist in the search effort.” She pointed the mike in the face of the soda volunteer. “Can you tell me, sir, what kinds of sodas you are serving to the volunteers here—wait, there’s a commotion at the edge of the woods! I think—it looks like—they’ve found Romiette and Julio!”

She left the volunteer in midsentence, and ran quickly to where a crowd was gathering around Cornell Cappelle and Luis Montague. Each carried a large, heavy burden.