The Family Fang - Kevin Wilson [65]
“What did they do?”
“Excuse me?” the officer replied.
“Are they in trouble?”
“Yes, well, perhaps,” the officer stuttered, before attempting to regain control of the conversation. “I’m afraid to say that your parents are currently missing, Annie,” Officer Dunham said.
“What?”
“This morning, we found your parents’ van parked at the Jefferson Rest Stop on I-40 East, just before you head into North Carolina. Near as we can tell, the van has been there since the previous evening. We are . . . concerned about their whereabouts.”
Annie felt the slight betrayal of ruining whatever elaborate plan her parents had concocted, but she had no desire to get herself involved in police matters if she could avoid it. She was on the road to recovery. She came clean.
“Officer,” Annie began. “It’s all staged. My parents are artists of some sort, somewhat famous, and this is all some kind of performance to them. They aren’t really missing; they just want you to think that they are. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
“We know all about your parents, Annie. I did a little research and talked to the police in your county and I’m well aware of the, um, artistic nature of your parents’ actions. However, that being said, we are very seriously treating this as a missing persons case.”
“It’s fake,” Annie said, wanting desperately to save this patient man the effort of finding her parents, doing exactly what they wanted him to do. She recalled the odd, unsettling feeling that occurred after Fang events, of realizing that you might not have been in control of your thoughts and actions when Caleb and Camille were involved.
“Ms. Fang, I think we should talk in person, but you need to understand that this is serious. There is a significant amount of blood around the car, there are signs of a struggle, and we have been dealing with similar incidents occurring at rest stops around this area for the past nine months. I don’t want to alarm you, but there have been four incidents in East Tennessee involving rest-stop abductions, all ending in homicides. I know you think this is something your parents cooked up, but that is not the case. You need to prepare yourself for the possibility that this is very real and might not have a good outcome.”
Buster walked into the kitchen. “Who is that?” he asked, but Annie shook her head and put a finger to her lips to quiet him.
“When was the last time you talked to your parents?” the officer asked her.
“Yesterday morning, over breakfast.”
“Did they mention where they were going?”
“No, they didn’t say anything about a trip, but when my brother and I got home yesterday afternoon, they had left a note that said they were going to North Carolina.”
“Do they know anyone in North Carolina?”
“I have no idea,” Annie responded.
“Do they know anyone in Jefferson? Someone they might have met up with at the rest stop?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m going to give you my number, Ms. Fang, and I want you to call me if you hear from your parents. I want you to call me if you think of anything else that could be of help. I want you to call me if you think there’s something we’re missing. We’ll do everything we can on our end.”
“You think they’re dead, don’t you?” Annie asked.
“I don’t know that,” the officer said.
“But that’s a possibility,” Annie continued.
“It is one of the possible scenarios, yes.”
“I wish I could make you understand,” Annie said, growing frustrated. “This is not real. You are not dealing with anything real. It’s all made up. It’s what they do. They make something crazy happen and then they watch you try to deal with it.”
“I hope you’re right, Ms. Fang, I really do,” Officer Dunham replied, and then hung up the phone.
Annie replaced the phone in its cradle and then took the half-empty bottle of vodka from the kitchen counter. “Not yet,” Buster cautioned, pointing at the microwave clock. “Sit down, Buster,” Annie said. “What did Mom and Dad do?” Buster