by Amy Waeschle
Cassidy reached the highway and drove the short distance to town, pulling over at the first coffee shop she came across. She wasn’t hungry, but for some reason, she wanted to connect to the hustle and bustle of the real world, even if only from the parking lot.
She sat back, tucking one knee against her chest, and called Alice.
“Have you found her?” Alice said, not bothering with “hello.”
“Tell me about Izzy’s relationship with Professor Tucker,” she said instead of answering. Izzy had been gone for more than 24 hours now. Though progress had been made—Izzy had been okay that morning—Cassidy felt like she was back at square zero.
“What relationship?” Alice asked, sounding confused.
“The one where they’ve been sleeping together behind everyone’s back,” Cassidy said, realizing that she was too tired to sugar coat anything. She’d had, what? Two hours of sleep? And the night before, maybe five?
“Oh,” Alice said quietly. “I . . . didn’t know.”
“She never talked about him?”
“No, not with me.”
“Did she sleep with him at field camp?” she asked.
Alice paused.
“C’mon, Alice, you were tentmates.”
Alice breathed into the phone. “A couple of times Izzy didn’t come in ’til late.”
“So, it’s possible she could have been with him?”
“I suppose.” Alice gave a little sniffle. “But, jeez, Dr. Kincaid, that’s . . . intense. Even for Izzy.”
Cassidy picked at a loose thread in the hem of her shorts.
“I mean, okay, he’s crushable and all,” Alice went on, “but . . . he’s married. And, like, kind of old, right?”
Old? Cassidy thought. Charlie was probably in his early forties. That hardly classified as “old.” Though considering that Izzy and Alice were both twenty years younger . . .
“How about Dominique Gilardi, did Izzy ever talk about her?”
“Well, yeah, we all kind of did.”
“Apparently Izzy and Dominique were friends. Did you know that?”
“Izzy’s friends with a lot of people, or at least, she knows a lot of people.”
“So Izzy didn’t talk to you about her?”
“We were all really freaked out when it was going on. But yeah, now that you mention it, Izzy did seem upset. She didn’t say anything about Dominique, but I didn’t hear from her for awhile.”
Cassidy thought about this. Maybe Izzy was the kind of person to pull away from her friends to deal with her emotions. But it seemed that, according to Alice, Izzy hadn’t brought up the missing girl recently.
“The last night of field camp,” Cassidy asked, remembering the other reason she’d called. “When did Izzy come back to the tent?”
“Uh,” Alice replied. “Uh.”
Cassidy frowned.
“I’m . . . not sure,” Alice finally replied.
“Why not? Franklin told me you all left the dock together.”
Cassidy waited through a pause. “Yeah, that’s right. Only, I . . . uh . . . wasn’t in the tent that night.”
“You weren’t?” Cassidy replied, sitting up. “Then where were you?”
“I was with Franklin,” Alice said in a soft voice.
Cassidy squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. “Oh,” she replied, trying to make her voice sound neutral. I’m such a dumbass, she thought. That’s why Franklin got so weird when I asked him about why he hadn’t heard Cody and William come in to camp.
“So you don’t know when they got back.”
“No. Sorry.”
Cassidy tried to remember if Cody and William were solo campers. Then she groaned—they were tentmates. So unless someone heard the straggling threesome come in after Franklin and Alice, Cassidy had no way of knowing when they returned.
“Did Izzy have a steady boyfriend?” Cassidy asked.
“No, not that I’ve ever met.”
“Did she talk about guys she was going out with?”
“No. She met guys though.”
Cassidy paused. “What do you mean ‘met guys’?”
“On Tinder or Bumble, you know, like that.”
A group of young women exited the coffee shop, chattering. Each held a tall, clear cup full of ice and some kind of coffee drink. They were dressed in tight jeans or tiny shorts, with bright shirts and sunglasses. Cassidy had a fantasy that Izzy was one of them. Cassidy pictured herself leaping from her car and tackling Izzy right there on the hot pavement to the sound of shrieks of alarm. Izzy’s drink would hit the ground and erupt, sending brown liquid all over her friends’ legs. Do you have any idea what a mess you’ve made? Cassidy would yell as Izzy blinked away her shock.
“So, to hook up, you mean,” Cassidy finally replied.
“Yeah,” Alice said.
“Did she call you last night?” Cassidy asked.
“No,” Alice replied, sounding surprised. “I would have told you if she had,” she said, sounding hurt.
Charlie’s rattled me, Cassidy thought. “Okay. Apparently, she got a message from someone, and it upset her.”
“You mean, like Dominique?” Alice asked.
“Maybe,” Izzy said. “Or someone else. Someone who made her angry.”
“Well, Izzy’s not easily rattled,” Alice said.
Cassidy nodded, still watching the trio of young women. They were now waiting at a crosswalk, their backs to her.
“I’m still stuck on why she got off in Biggs. I mean, sure, maybe she got a wild hair when she saw that the 97 intersects there, which meant she could get to Bend. But Bend is only three hours from Eugene. Why not just finish the trip in the van and then head to Bend in her own car?” Cassidy shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“I don’t know, Dr. Kincaid.”
“None of this helps me find out where she went.”
“Do you think she might be coming back to Eugene?” Alice asked, her voice hopeful.
Cassidy leaned her head back, thankful for Alice’s help. “That’s why I’m calling. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind going over to her place. She’s not answering my calls, but maybe she’s home.”
“Okay,” Alice replied, sounding eager. “I’ll go right now.”
Cassidy hung up and watched the young women from the coffee shop climb into a bright turquoise car that sped away, music thumping.
Next, Cassidy called Richard Gorman. “No, I haven’t found her,” she explained. “But she was in Bend last night.”
“How do you know this?” Richard asked.
“She stayed with a friend.”
“Who?”
“Uh, someone from school,” Cassidy said, not sure why she felt the need to protect Charlie. “But she’s gone now. She left sometime in the night.”
Richard sighed. “Well at least we know she was okay this morning,” he replied, sounding relieved. “I’ll let Preston Ford know. He sent me an update from her ATM card records. I’m forwarding them to you now.”
Feeling impatient, she asked, “Just tell me what they say.”
If Richard bristled at her demand, his tone didn’t reveal it. “A charge for twenty-five dollars and sixty-one cents at the Chevron Travel Center in Biggs Junction, Oregon. Then an Uber charge in Bend for sixteen dollars.”
There’s Uber in Bend? Cassidy wondered. “Only one charge?” Cassidy asked.
“Yes.”
“What time?” she asked.
Richard paused. “Six fifteen PM.”
“Okay,” Cassidy replied. So Izzy had used the Uber to get to Charlie’s cabin last night. So had she left on foot the next morning? After weeks of walking at field camp, Izzy was no stranger to walking long distances. They had a saying at field camp—something they taught the students on the first day. “Field camp is powered by ‘diesel,’” Cassidy told them, pointing to her feet “Dees’ll get you in,” she said. “And dees will get you out.”
Cassidy imagined Izzy walking down t
he gravel road, her willowy figure floating through the trees.
“That’s it?” Cassidy asked Richard.
“Yes.”
Just then she received a text from Alice. Izzy wasn’t home. “She’s not in Eugene. Alice just texted me.”
“She could still be on her way.”
“I learned something else about Izzy that’s pretty scary,” she said with a huff. “Izzy and Dominique Gilardi were friends.”
“Oh,” Richard replied. “Is there any indication that they’ve been in contact?”
Cassidy filtered through the facts one more time. “No.”
“Do you think it’s possible that these two situations are related?”
“Heck, I have no idea,” Cassidy said. “Dominique’s still gone, right? And it’s been . . . what, six months?”
“Seven,” Richard replied.
“And Izzy was fine this morning. Angry, but fine.” Cassidy intentionally didn’t say “alive.”
“No idea where she was headed?”
“Not a clue.” The line buzzed with a long silence. “Can’t we get her phone records?” Cassidy asked. “Her dad should have no trouble with that one.”
“No. He already explained it. She has an independent plan.”
“So? He’s Preston Ford.”
“Apparently that makes no difference. The laws are too restrictive.”
“C’mon, what am I supposed to do now?” Cassidy groaned, thinking through all the facts. “It’s a miracle I even traced her to Bend. And now, she could be anywhere.”
Richard sighed. “I understand your frustration, Cassidy,” he said in a strained voice. “Mr. Ford seems to think she’ll surface. All we need to do is be prepared to pick her up and bring her back safely.”
“So, I’m just supposed to sit here and wait for a sign?” Cassidy asked, realizing that her voice was carrying across the parking lot. Two people sharing an outside table had turned to look at her.
“Just give it a little more time.”
“What if she’s halfway to Mexico?”
“The department will pay for your expenses.”
“That’s what you think I’m worried about?” Cassidy cried. It was getting too hot to sit in her car any longer, even in the shade, so she jumped out and stood with her back to the café. “My flight for Kilauea leaves in twenty-four hours, Richard. Plus, I have deadlines, a lab to set up.”
“I understand,” Richard said.
Her phone chirped with another call. Cassidy checked the ID—another unfamiliar number. Her stomach fluttered again. She hugged her middle with her free arm and stretched the arches of her feet against the curb. “Okay. I still have a few phone calls to make,” Cassidy finally said. “Maybe they’ll lead to something.” Why can’t Charlie give up his work to chase Izzy down? she thought, even though she knew the answer.
After hanging up with Richard, she saw that besides the call, a text had come from Franklin:
I think Izzy’s in trouble.
Twelve
“Wait, say that again?” Cassidy said into the phone. Apparently, Izzy had posted some kind of video, but it still made no sense.
Franklin coughed loudly. “It’s . . . well, I’m pretty sure it’s Izzy. I didn’t watch all of it.”
“Why not?”
Franklin made a sound in the back of his throat, almost like a whimper. “It’s a video of her, or someone who looks like her. I’m pretty sure they’re in a hotel room, maybe.”
Cassidy frowned. “They? Franklin, what are you talking about?”
There was a long pause. “I don’t . . . I mean, it’s not like I . . . ”
“Franklin,” Cassidy snapped. “What is it?”
He smacked his lips, like he was biting them or sucking on them, or some other nervous thing he did. “She’s . . . getting it on with . . . with two guys.”
Cassidy went rigid. She blinked, trying to put this new information to use, but her brain jammed to a halt. “Wait a minute,” she said as a thousand thoughts poured into her brain. “So, like . . . what do you mean, two guys?”
“Um, pretty much like it sounds.”
Cassidy tried again to put the information to use, but everything was moving too fast. “Who is she with?”
“I don’t know. It only shows her, at least in the part I saw.”
“And you . . . ” Cassidy didn’t want to sound accusing. She tried again. “I mean, did someone send it to you?”
“Yeah. Tim Hobbs, on Snapchat.”
Cassidy frowned. To her knowledge, Tim Hobbs, an average student in every way, so much so that since driving away from field camp she had practically forgotten him, had never associated with Izzy. But Cassidy knew her knowledge only went so far.
“He gave me the URL to the rest of it, but you have to pay to see it.”
“Whoa,” Cassidy said, still stuck on trying to connect Tim Hobbs to Izzy to two guys and a hotel room.
“I didn’t watch,” Franklin said quickly. “I don’t pay for stuff.”
“Wait, I’m sorry,” Cassidy said. “Back up a little. So there’s a video of a woman who may or may not be Izzy . . . and she’s . . . involved . . . with two guys. And this video is posted somewhere you have to pay to see?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Cassidy felt a dark sense of unease overtake her. She still did not fully understand but didn’t want to veer the conversation off track with questions. He’s talking about pornography, she realized, feeling repulsed. But just as quick, her mind went to: You can watch it online? She imagined how fast something as taboo as a young college student playing around with two guys would spread—like wildfire. What a mess. Cassidy grimaced at the thought of Izzy doing something so perverted.
“Do you want me to send it to you?” Franklin asked.
“No,” Cassidy said. But then she thought it through. “Wait,” she sighed. “Maybe. I guess I need to know if it’s really her.”
Cassidy’s mind cartwheeled back to an idea she realized was waiting for her deep in the back of her mind: Charlie and Izzy together at his family’s cabin. Had Charlie invited a buddy over and the three of them had . . . Cassidy had to stop because it was too much. Her mind went to the tidy guest room with the tucked-in quilt and vacuum stripes on the carpet. “Shit,” she groaned.
Her phone chirped with Franklin’s incoming text, but Cassidy decided to look later, when she felt braver. Maybe over a beer. She had a sudden pang to be home in her spacious house where she could drink her beer as slowly as she wanted and would have all the privacy in the world.
“Who else knows about this?” she asked.
“I’m guessing half of field camp by now. I don’t know who outside of that.” Cassidy heard a ping from Franklin’s end of the line. “I just got a tweet from Andy Lloyd. He’s got it.”
“Who’s Andy Lloyd?” Cassidy asked.
“Geology Club president. He’s a junior.”
Cassidy didn’t recognize the name but unless he’d attended field camp, there was no reason she should. “Is he saying it’s Izzy?” she asked.
“Pretty much,” Franklin replied, sounding deflated.
“Wow,” Cassidy said, trying to focus on the facts. She could ask the other questions later, like how does someone decide to have sex with more than one guy? and how would you record it? “Is there any way to find out when the video was made?” she asked.
Franklin muffled the phone. Cassidy could hear a female voice talking, and Franklin answering.
“I need to call Alice,” Cassidy said, more to herself than to Franklin.
Franklin came back on the line. “She just arrived,” Franklin said. “Here.”
“Dr. Kincaid?” Alice’s voice said.
“Yes,” Cassidy said, recovering from the surprise. Everything is happening so fast, she thought, trying to ground herself by rocking back and forth on her feet.
“Have you heard?” Alice asked. “Holy shit, I can’t believe Izzy would do something like this. I mean
, why would she do this?”
“Hold on,” Cassidy said. “We don’t know if it’s her.”
“I do,” Alice said, her voice sounding strange. “And I also know who she was with.”
Cassidy’s throat clamped shut. She thought of Charlie and braced herself.
“Cody and William.”
Cassidy felt the ground tilt and had to grip the side of her Subaru. “Are you sure?” she asked after the trees stopped swirling.
“Yeah,” Alice said scornfully. “I’m sure.”
“Fuck,” Cassidy breathed, feeling time slow down. The traffic humming on the road seemed suddenly louder, the scent of the asphalt and pine boughs took on a sharpness that made her feel sick. She wanted to doubt Alice, to tell her that she was wrong. Her brain just couldn’t accept it. But Alice seemed convinced, and she wasn’t the kind of person to make incomplete conclusions.
Cassidy thought back to two nights ago when, according to Alice and Franklin, Izzy, Cody, and William had walked back from the lake together. Alice and Franklin, who were ahead, couldn’t identify when the threesome returned to camp. Cassidy searched her memories of the past three weeks: Had she seen Izzy with Cody and William before—in the field, mapping, or in camp? Or in the van when they drove to and from the field area? When they took day trips, or did grocery runs? No, no, and no, Cassidy thought. I would have noticed. That last night in the resort’s bar, when the three of them danced together had been the first time.
Suddenly, Cassidy’s rational mind swam to the surface. “Wait, this can’t be right.” She tapped the curb with her toe. “Franklin said it looked like a hotel room. We’ve been in tents all summer.”
The line went silent, and Cassidy’s thoughts tumbled through a million irrelevant questions. If the video been made before field camp, why was it circulating now? If it had been made during field camp, where had they done it? Of course, there was the resort, which had rooms, but students didn’t stay in them. Cassidy mentally scanned the code of conduct each student signed when registering for field camp: NO DRUGS. NO CHEATING. QUIET HOURS 10 P.M. – 7 A.M.
