“That’s our boy, Dennis,” Mrs. Shepherd explained. And his laundry, I added silently, eyeing the duffel. Like his father, Dennis was short and thick, with closely cropped hair and a fleshy face. Although he must have been in his early twenties, he still had the soft, downy skin of preadolescence.
“Sorry,” he said, handing the bag to his mother. “I didn’t think you’d have company.”
Walton Shepherd wiped his hands on a rag. “They’re not company. They’re here on police business.”
“Police?” The word squeaked out in two distinct syllables.
“It’s about Julie,” Patricia Shepherd said. “She’s missing.”
Dennis shifted his weight to the opposite foot, slipped his car key into his back pocket. “Missing? What do you mean?”
Mrs. Shepherd explained. Throughout her recital, the young man’s expression remained flat, as though his mother were talking about nothing more stirring than her prize petunias.
“No kidding,” Dennis said when she finished. He ran his hand through the feathery tufts of hair at his forehead. “She sure keeps things lively around here, doesn’t she?”
“You know anything that might shed light on the situation?” Michael asked.
“Like what?” Dennis squared his shoulders, copying his father’s posture.
“About her interests, her habits. Maybe she said something about her plans.”
“Not to me she didn’t. Julie’s stuck on herself. Thinks she’s all high and mighty, and so much better than everyone else. She hardly gives me the time of day.”
“You didn’t see much of her then?”
“Oh, I’d see her plenty. We just never talked.”
Mrs. Shepherd cleared her throat. “We’ve tried hard to be understanding. The poor girl’s been through a lot, after all. But... well, the effort seems to be largely one-sided. Julie likes to keep to herself.”
“Except for the complaining,” Walton Shepherd grumbled. “She’s plenty willing to tell us what she doesn’t like.”
Michael turned back to Dennis. “When was the last time you saw Julie?”
Dennis looked at his mother. “Must have been Thursday, right? Wasn’t that the night I stopped by for dinner?”
“How did she seem?” Michael asked. “Anything unusual?”
Dennis shrugged. “Same old stuff. The kid is used to having her own way. Thinks she’s a princess. Like I always tell her, ‘Welcome to the real world, where not everybody’s rich and famous. And nobody ever gets the gold star.’ ”
Michael stuck a hand in his pocket. “What do you do, Dennis? You in school?”
“I’m taking some courses at the community college, but I work, too. At Macy’s.”
“You live around here?”
“Berkeley.”
Michael wrote down the address and phone number, then handed Dennis a card. “You think of anything, call me. Okay?”
Another shrug. “I can tell you right now, I don’t know nothin’.”
<><><>
“They’re a warm and friendly bunch, aren’t they?” Michael said when we were back in the car.
I slumped down in the seat, too depressed to do more than nod. Julie was someone genuinely liked. Maybe it was her artistic talent, or the fact that I understood what it was to feel like an outsider. Whatever the reason, I’d taken to her instinctively. And I knew from Libby that she wasn’t happy living with the Shepherds. Yet, I’d made no overture to help. No attempt to discern what was really going on. In fact, I’d admired the maturity with which she seemed to be handling a difficult situation.
And now I felt the weight of my failure.
“You think she ran away?” Michael asked as he pulled the car into the street.
“I can see why she might want to.”
“Amen to that.”
“She’s never been in any trouble at school, though. Do kids who are responsible and conscientious suddenly just up and run away?”
Michael nodded. “Sometimes.”
“I’d heard she wasn’t thrilled living where she was, but she seemed so even-tempered. The only time I saw her upset was Friday.” I told him about the featureless self- portrait. “And she came to class early. I think she wanted to speak to me.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know.” I tried to recall what her reaction had been when Mario showed up at the door. Could they have gone away together? Or was he part of the problem? “She left with a friend before we had a chance to talk. It was that boy, Mario, that the Shepherds were so displeased with. We were going to talk after class, but then I had to, uh, run off.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “What’s Mario like?”
“He’s a nice kid, though not much of a student. Only shows up for classes when he feels like it. Kind of cocky, but good-natured. He doesn’t hang with the troublemakers that I know of.”
“Doesn’t hang with ...” Michael grinned. “You’re picking up the lingo, Kate.”
“When you’re surrounded by teenagers, it’s hard not to.”
He scratched his chin. “So this Mario’s not a bad kid, just something of a nuisance as far as Julie’s concerned.”
“I’m not sure what Julie’s feelings are.”
Michael pulled up in front of the house but didn’t turn off the engine.
“What’s the next step?” I asked. “Do you think we’ll know anything soon?”
“We’ll get Julie’s name and description out there, talk with people who might have seen her Friday night. Hopefully get some television and press coverage.” He touched my knee. “You wouldn’t know it to listen to the news, but most teens who are reported missing turn out to have left on their own.”
I crossed my fingers and said a silent prayer that Julie was one of them. That she didn’t end up like Cindy Purcell, her body discarded in the underbrush of a nearby park.
Chapter 6
Faye and Anna were already home by the time I returned. The remnants of chocolate ice cream dotting Anna’s shirtfront attested to the success of the outing. Anna is a devout chocoholic.
“How was the movie?” I asked.
“Wonderful,” Faye said, wiping her hands on her apron. “It’s simply amazing what they do with special effects these days.”
Anna was lying on the kitchen floor, scratching Max’s ears. “It was okay,” she mumbled, “for a kid’s movie.”
Faye smiled. “What do you mean, a kid’s movie? I enjoyed it and I’m hardly a kid.”
“It was rated G, ’’Anna sniffed.
“G for good.”
Anna gave her head a quick toss, a gesture she’d picked up from Libby. “G means no swearing and no sex. The couple in the movie were practically engaged and they didn’t do anything but hold hands.”
“I should hope not.” Faye looked at me, no longer amused.
I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, and made a quick mental inventory of the movies Anna had watched recently. Certainly none had been aimed at adult audiences.
I glanced at Faye and shrugged. Her expression of disapproval didn’t soften.
I nodded at Anna’s shirt. “I see you had ice cream.”
“And a whole carton of popcorn,” Anna said. “With extra butter.”
“Your grandmother is a soft touch.”
“A box of red licorice, too.”
I looked back at Faye, who gave me the same sort of helpless shrug I’d given her moments earlier. We both laughed.
The front door opened, then slammed shut. There was a second loud thunk as Libby dropped her backpack on the floor near the front hallway.
“I’m home,” she yelled.
We’d have to have been deaf not to know.
She swept into the kitchen, where she made a beeline for the refrigerator, poured herself a Coke, and flopped into the nearest chair.
“Did you find what you needed at the library?” I asked.
“Sort of.” She took another swallow of her drink and frowned. “Have you h
eard about Julie Harmon? She’s disappeared.”
Anna looked up. “Disappeared? You mean like vaporized?”
“Like lost,” I explained, wondering how you related something like this to a six-year-old. “Her family doesn’t know where she is.”
“Kidnapped,” Anna said knowingly. “By bad guys.”
“Or killed,” Libby added. “Like that girl in the park.”
Faye cleared her throat.
“It’s creepy,” Libby continued, “thinking there might be a murderer out there walking the streets, just looking for his next victim.”
Faye made a show of removing her apron and hanging it on the hook. “Anna, honey, why don’t we go read a story.”
By way of response, Anna gave an exaggerated snore, eliciting a like response from Max.
“Then how about we finish that game we were playing this morning.” Faye reached for Anna’s hand, not about to take no for an answer. With a sigh, she added, “You can invite Max to come along, too, if you’d like.”
“Sorry,” Libby said when they’d left. “I keep forgetting Anna has big ears.”
“I think Faye may be overly protective. She doesn’t realize how much kids are exposed to these days.” But it was a question I grappled with often, especially given Michael’s job. There was a fine line between innocence and ignorance.
“Anyway,” I told her. “It might not be as bad as it sounds. Julie’s family thinks she’s run away.”
“Nu-uh. No way.” Libby’s tone was adamant. “She wouldn’t have done that, not now.”
“Why not? You told me yourself that Julie didn’t get along with her aunt and uncle.”
“She didn’t. But something big was going to happen in the next couple of weeks. Something that was going to make everything better.”
“Better? How?”
Libby shook her head. “That’s all I know. Julie wouldn’t tell me the details, but she said it looked like everything might be okay, after all.”
I was perplexed. “When was all this?”
Libby sucked on an ice cube while she thought. “She’s been dropping hints for a while. Then last Wednesday she said it looked like she was saved.”
“Saved?”
“I don’t think she meant in the religious sense.”
I got up and put the kettle on for tea. “I got the impression Julie and her uncle had a fight last week.”
“So?” One of the hundred most common words in a teenager’s vocabulary.
“So that might be a reason she would run away.”
Libby’s hand swept the air, brushing aside my logic. “They were always fighting.”
“Maybe there was a different reason, then. Something about school, or boys, or friends...” I tried to imagine the kinds of things that would drive a fifteen-year-old out on her own. “Aside from the situation at home, was anything troubling her?”
Libby ran her finger up the side of the glass and around the rim. “I think she was lonely. She didn’t really fit in at school yet.”
I nodded. I’d seen that even in my classroom.
Libby kept her eyes on the glass. “She missed her mother.” The words came out softly, almost like puffs of breath on a winter’s morning, and I knew that she was speaking not only to Julie’s loss, but her own, as well.
I wrapped an arm around Libby’s shoulder and gave her a hug.
“Julie’s aunt and uncle cut her off every time she tried to talk about her mother,” Libby continued. “And most of the kids at school . . . well, I mean, you talk too much about your mother and they think you’re weird. Julie said I was the only one who understood.”
I gave another nod. This was the reason the school had asked Libby to take Julie under her wing and help her learn her way around.
“I feel so bad, Kate. Half the time I tuned her out and didn’t even listen.”
“But the other half the time, you did. And you helped in other ways, too.”
“Not as much as I should have. She’s only a sophomore and I didn’t like her always hanging around. Maybe if I’d been a better friend, this wouldn’t have happened.” The words sounded like a lament. She looked at me and tried for a smile that wouldn’t come.
“We both know Julie,” I said. “Maybe we can think of something that will help the police find her.” I thought the effort might allay my own sense of guilt as well.
The kettle whistled. I took down a bag of black currant tea and made myself a cup. I’d never been much of a tea drinker until recently when my friend Sharon saw the lite, so to speak, and took up the cause of healthy living. In a burst of enthusiasm for spreading the word, she filled my cupboard with an assortment of odd- sounding and equally odd-tasting brews, most of which I tossed as soon as she stopped checking my supply. But in the process, I discovered the comfort of an occasional afternoon cup of tea. Of course, the teas I drank made no claims to promoting health beyond the fact that they were calorie-free. A benefit I reversed by adding a heavy dose of sugar.
“You want a cup?” I asked Libby.
“I think I’ll stick to Coke.” She poured herself a second glass and grabbed an open bag of potato chips.
“Who are Julie’s closest friends?” I asked, taking a tentative sip of tea. It was so hot it burned my mouth.
“She didn’t really have any. She gets along with people, but she keeps her distance, too. Like I said, she doesn’t really fit in yet.”
“What about clubs, activities, that sort of thing?”
“There’s newspaper, but she doesn’t contribute much. Only thing she seems to care about is the project she’s working on. Mr. Melville is so impressed with the fact that her mother was a famous news reporter, he lets her get away with it.”
I ignored Libby’s pique. “Any other activities?”
“She was going to try out for the school play, but her aunt and uncle wouldn’t let her. They’re really strict. And kind of weird.”
That was my take on the situation, as well. “What about boyfriends?”
Libby gave a sarcastic laugh. “You think they’d allow her to go out with boys?”
“But around school, does she ...” I looked for the right word and settled for the only thing that came to mind. “Does she pair up with anyone in particular?”
“At first, because she was new, there were a lot of boys who were interested in her. But mostly they’d talk about her rather than to her.” Libby paused and the tenor of her voice changed slightly. “The only one I know of who actually asked her out was Brian Walker.”
The same young man Libby had been in deep conversation with at the library that afternoon. “She went out with him?” I asked.
“They went off campus for lunch a couple of times. Sophomores aren’t supposed to leave without written permission from their parents, but nobody ever checks.”
Libby covered her mouth with her hand. “You won’t say anything, will you? I keep forgetting you’re part of the faculty now.”
“I won’t say anything. Technically I’m not even part of the faculty.” But I did tuck the information away to pass along to Michael. Brian had his own apartment, after all. In the eyes of a lonely and unhappy young woman, that might have considerable appeal.
“What about Mario Sanchez?” I asked.
“What about him?”
“Are he and Julie friendly?”
Libby laughed. “Mario is everybody’s friend. He’d make a good politician.”
“There’s nothing special between the two of them, then?”
“Julie and I didn’t talk about stuff like that.”
“You knew about Brian, though.”
Libby’s face reddened, although she did her best to act nonchalant. “I guess I must have heard it somewhere.” Remembering the adoring look Libby had given Brian outside the library, I was willing to bet she’d been keeping fairly close tabs on his social life. Certainly closer than she kept on Mario’s.
Libby finished her Coke. “Why’d you ask about Mario?”
“He and Julie were having what appeared to be a rather intense conversation Friday morning. I thought it might be important.”
“It’s funny you should mention that. I saw them arguing a couple of days ago. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Mario angry about anything. Usually, he’s really laid back, and like ‘Hey, whatever happens is cool.’ ”
I laughed. She did a good job of mimicking Mario’s tone, which seemed always to be laced with droll geniality.
“I’ll ask some of my friends,” Libby said. “See if anyone knows if they were going around.” She paused, shifted forward in her seat. “I’ll ask about Friday night, too. Maybe I can find out who Julie sat with at the game.” She stopped suddenly and rocked back. “Assuming she made it there.”
<><><>
By Monday, there was still no word on Julie’s whereabouts. Fliers bearing her picture began appearing in store windows and on telephone poles. The local papers and television stations carried news of her disappearance. But despite the publicity, there were no leads, no sightings, no real developments of any sort.
“Do the police know anything more than what’s in the papers?” Yvonne Burton asked, pouring herself a cup of what passes in the faculty lounge for coffee.
I shook my head. “They haven’t found anyone who remembers seeing her at the game Friday evening. But that leaves open the question of whether her absence was voluntary or forced.”
“Which do they consider more likely?”
“I don’t know that the police have an opinion on that. Libby thinks she wouldn’t have run away though.”
“How come?”
“Julie was unhappy at home, but she was expecting some change. Libby says she was pretty excited about it.”
“Change?” Yvonne asked. “What kind of change?”
“I don’t know. Libby doesn’t know either.”
A furrow formed in her brow. “I didn’t realize Libby and Julie were close.”
“They’re not really, but because Libby lost her own mother last year, someone in the administration got the idea that the two of them would have a lot in common.”
Murder Among Us (A Kate Austen Mystery) Page 5
