Fatal Footsteps

by Brenda Donelan

  “Ruling out shape-shifting and UFOs, right?” Jasmine joked.

  “Yes, only thinking of realistic scenarios,” Marlee said, relieved that Jasmine was in a good mood again.

  “If he was kidnapped or killed, God forbid, who would have done it?” Jasmine asked. “Unless it was some deranged person who kidnaps and kills for fun, like a psycho or a serial killer or somebody like that.”

  “You know what I’m starting to think?” Marlee asked, but not waiting for Jasmine to reply. “I think Tim is alive and well. I think he’s hiding out somewhere and doesn’t want the cops or anyone else to know where he’s hiding.”

  “Are you serious,” Jasmine asked, peering at Marlee over her pile of blankets. “Why would he be hiding?”

  “I don’t know, but it seems the only likely conclusion right now. Tim wasn’t killed in the fire. He’s not in the hospital. No one knows where he is. I assume the cops have talked to his family and friends here in town and elsewhere to see if any of them have heard from him,” Marlee ticked off the reasons for her theory.

  “If Tim’s hiding, that means he must know something he doesn’t want everyone else to know about. Or he did something and doesn’t want to get caught,” Jasmine said. “You know him better than I do. I just met him the night of the party.”

  “I don’t know him very well. Most of our conversations were in class or at parties. Tim’s nice, but doesn’t offer up much information about himself. I always thought he was a bit shy around girls.” Marlee said. “Now, I’m not so sure. Maybe he was hiding something all along.”

  “Did you hear anything about him doing anything illegal, like selling drugs?” Jasmine inquired.

  “No, I never really heard anybody talk about him other than to mention a party at Stairway to Hell. We were put in a group together in western civ class. After that, we would chat before class or when we would bump into each other around campus,” Marlee reported.

  “Other than his roommates, who are his friends? Who does he sit with in class?” Jasmine asked.

  “I never see him sitting with anyone in particular in western civ, and I don’t know any of his other friends,” Marlee replied. “I guess he’s a bit of a loner, now that I think of it. Anytime I saw him, he was by himself, even downtown at the bars. We need to talk to his roommates.”

  “And maybe his family here in town,” Jasmine suggested.

  “Good idea. If anybody can tell us more about Tim, it’s family.” Marlee pulled the local telephone book out of her desk drawer and began to search for DeWitts. After finding four, she jotted down all of their names, phone numbers, and addresses. Tomorrow, she would track down Tim’s family members to see what they revealed about him. Then, she would track down Tim’s three roommates, wherever they were now staying, and talk to them. She was certain there were answers to be uncovered, and it would just take some elbow grease to get it done.

  Marlee felt she had no choice but to skip classes again the next day. This week was shot to hell due to her amateur sleuthing and the stomach flu. No sense in getting too involved in classes this far into the week. Jasmine, on the other hand, had a group presentation due and could not miss her class.

  Right after a quick shower and breakfast, Marlee got down to work. She referred to the list of Tim’s potential family members and their contact information. The first call she placed was to Betty DeWitt, which she thought sounded like a kindly grandmother. After identifying herself and her reason for the call, Marlee was on the receiving end of a string of harsh words and profanity.

  “You and all the other reporters can go to hell!” Betty shouted before hanging up.

  Even though Betty didn’t answer any of her questions about Tim, Marlee knew Betty must be a relative. No one would get that worked up over a phone call unless they had some direct connection.

  Call number two was to Edgar DeWitt. Marlee made no assumptions about this man before she placed the call.

  “Hallooooo?” yelled the man.

  Marlee went through her spiel again, this time emphasizing that she was just a college student and not a reporter.

  “Sure, come on by. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about Tom,” Edgar said, sounding excited to have company.

  “No, it’s Tim that I want to talk about. Tim DeWitt. Are you related to him?” Marlee asked.

  “Sure, we fought in the war together. I’d never forget him, but I haven’t seen him in over thirty years,” Edgar said.

  “Oh shoot. You know what, Edgar? I’m not going to be able to make it over today after all. I’ll call if I can come another day. Thanks.” Marlee ended the conversation quickly when she realized Edgar was a lonely old man with a faulty memory.

  Call number three was placed to Bernie and Nicole DeWitt, who Marlee suspected might be Tim’s parents. She let the phone ring twelve times before hanging up. Probably both at work, she thought.

  The fourth call was to Pam DeWitt, who lived within the county but outside of town. Pam answered on the first ring, out of breath.

  “I guess I could talk to you. My brother and I aren’t very close anymore, but I want to find him, and I hope he’s alright,” she said with some degree of hesitation. Pam gave directions to her farm a few miles outside of town.

  “I’ll be there in an hour,” Marlee promised, although she had no idea how she would get there. The temperature was even colder than the previous day. The total distance was around five miles, which was too far to walk in frigid temperatures.

  She placed another call, hoping that Barry was at home. A roommate answered and said Barry was sleeping because he’d been working the night shift.

  “It’s an emergency,” Marlee said, even though this technically was not a dire situation.

  “Whaaaaa?” said a groggy voice amid the clatter of dishes.

  “Barry, it’s me. I need you to give me a ride to see Tim’s sister. She lives on a farm outside of town. Hurry up! We need to be there in an hour,” Marlee said.

  “I’ve had two hours of sleep. I’m not taking you anywhere,” Barry growled.

  “Really? I thought you were serious about making detective. I guess it was all just talk,” Marlee said, twisting the knife.

  A tremendous sigh was followed by, “I’ll be there, but you’re taking me out for lunch afterward.”

  “It’s a deal,” Marlee said. Not only was she without a car, she was without money. No matter, she would worry about that later. Right now, she needed to concentrate on talking to Tim’s sister.

  Barry was in a sour mood and barely talked during their drive to Pam’s farm. He balanced an enormous plastic glass between them on the front seat. In it, he’d poured four cans of Mountain Dew. Marlee felt confident that he would perk up once caffeinated.

  Pam DeWitt was short with the sturdy build of a farm gal. Her dishwater-blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore jeans, work boots, and a heavy winter coat. She looked to be in her late twenties, which would make her around six years older than Tim.

  “Come inside. It’s cold out here,” Pam said as they exited the car. “I just finished with chores, and I’m ready to warm up.”

  The farm house was quaint and kitschy with mismatched chairs at the kitchen table, a collection of Hummel figurines scattered throughout the front room, and a rusty tin coffee pot on the gas stove. “This used to be my grandparents’ place. I took over when grandma died, and they moved grandpa to a senior home,” Pam said as she moved a stack of bills and letters from the table.

  “Is your grandpa Edgar DeWitt, by any chance?” Marlee asked. When Pam nodded, Marlee gave an overview of their conversation.

  “Yes, his memory is slipping. He’s in good physical condition, but he gets confused easily and is very forgetful. Grandma took care of him, but when she passed away we had to make sure he was being watched. Before we put him in the home, Dad found him walking down the road looking for Speedy. That was his dog when he was a kid.”

  Over cups of hot cocoa, Pam tol
d them about Tim, a brother with whom she had become estranged in the past few years. “I always loved the farm and spent a lot of time here as a kid. Living out here and raising animals and crops was all I ever wanted to do. He wanted to take over the farm, but he was too young. Tim was still in high school when everything happened with our grandparents. The only ones interested in the farm were me and Tim. I never had any intention of going to college, and I wanted to take over, so it only made sense for me to move out here and continue what Grandma and Grandpa started fifty years ago.”

  “Tim held it against you?” Barry asked.

  “He’s never gotten over it, even though I told him after he finished college he could take over the farm if he wanted. Tim’s always been a bit suspicious, and he probably thought I was lying to him,” Pam continued.

  “Did Tim stay in touch with your parents and your grandpa?” Marlee asked.

  “Not really. He’d be there for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. Those were always big celebrations in our family, but he wouldn’t stick around. It was like he couldn’t stand to be around any of us for very long,” Pam said with a hint of sadness in her voice. “And now we don’t know where he’s gone. The police have been by every day, and they don’t know any more than we do.”

  Barry had not identified himself as a cop. He wasn’t wearing his uniform, so there was no reason to think that he was with the police force. “What are the cops asking when they come here?”

  “It’s always the same questions. They want to know if Tim’s been here, if I’ve heard from him, and if I have any new information on where he might be. I think they believe I’m hiding him, but I don’t know why,” Pam said.

  “What do you think happened to Tim? Where is he?” Marlee asked.

  “I wish I knew. A detective came by earlier this morning and told me Tim hit his head the night before the fire. That was the first I’d heard about it. Now I don’t know if he’s wandering around delirious, if he’s been kidnapped, or something worse.” Pam was working herself into an emotional state, and she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her ratty sweatshirt.

  “Is there anyone Tim might turn to or anywhere Tim would go in a time of crisis?” Barry asked.

  Pam shook her head. “I don’t know of anyone. Since we’ve been out of touch for so long, your best bet is talking to his college friends.”

  “Was he close with anyone in high school?” Marlee asked. “Maybe someone who still lives here in town?”

  “He used to hang out with a neighbor kid we called Elvis when I still lived at home. Tim would have been around ten years old then. Of course, I have no idea if they remained friends throughout high school or after. Elvis’s dad and mom still live here in town, just across the street from my parents.” Pam took a napkin and jotted down their names and address.

  “Will your parents be willing to talk to us if we stop by?” Marlee asked, admitting that she had attempted telephone contact with them that morning.

  “Probably, if you can catch them. They both work during the day and have all kinds of activities going on at night. Dad goes to the Elks Club twice a week, plus he’s on a bowling team, and he coaches kid’s basketball. Mom sells Mary Kay and Tupperware, so she’s gone most nights for parties.”

  “Maybe I can catch them on the phone and set up a time to meet,” Marlee said, more to herself than anyone else.

  After they left, Barry suggested they swing by the neighborhood where Tim’s parents lived. The DeWitt house was cool blue in color with white shutters. The two-story home was well-maintained and in a middle class area of town. Noticing a car in the driveway, they decided to stop.

  A nervous woman in a brown polyester skirt and blazer answered the door. Her hair was mussed and her make up smeared. She only opened the door a crack, deciding if she would allow them into the house. After Marlee made a brief introduction and casually mentioned that Barry was with the police department, Nicole DeWitt invited them inside.

  Her voice, which was quiet and timid at first, had now become loud and boisterous. “Please follow me into the kitchen,” she yelled, walking through the house with heavy footsteps. “I can only talk for a few minutes because I have to get back to work.”

  “Where do you work?” Barry asked.

  “Downtown at the First Bank of the Dakotas.”

  “And your husband? Where does he work?” Marlee inquired.

  Nicole blanched at the question before regaining her composure. “He works at Thompson Manufacturing, but he’s out of town today. He has a conference in Fargo and won’t be home until tonight.”

  “Do you know where Tim is?” Barry asked.

  “No, I don’t. I wish he would contact us and let us know he’s okay.”

  “What do you and Tim’s father think happened to him?” Marlee asked.

  “We’ve discussed it over and over, and we can’t come to any reasonable conclusion. We’re just so thankful he wasn’t found in the house he rented. At least we think there’s a strong chance he’s still alive.”

  “Where do you think he might be?” Marlee asked.

  “We don’t see much of him, even though he lives here in town. Tim likes to keep his business private, so we really don’t know his college friends,” Nicole said.

  “What about Elvis, who used to live across the street? Are they still friends?” Barry inquired.

  “Sure, but nobody calls him that anymore. His name is Blake. He’s one of Tim’s roommates.

  Here come the lies… one after another.

  Chapter 16

  “Looks like Mrs. DeWitt was entertaining a guest while her husband was out of town,” Barry said as they got back into his car.

  “What? How do you know that?” Marlee asked.

  “I caught a glimpse of movement reflected in a mirror in the bedroom when we walked by. I guess she was having some afternoon delight.”

  “She did seem nervous when we were there. And she was a bit disheveled,” Marlee observed recalling Nicole’s mussed hair and make-up.

  “Okay, you owe me some lunch. Where should we go?” Barry asked as he started the car.

  “Before lunch, I think we should go across the street to Blake’s parents’ house to see what they know,” Marlee said.

  “Okay, but just so you know; I’m starving!” Barry said as they got out of the car and walked over to a white two-story house that looked much like the DeWitt home. It was obvious that someone was home because the curtain moved as they neared the house.

  Thomas Rikers confirmed that Blake was his son and that he and the other roommates were staying at Blake’s cousin’s place north of town. He gave them directions to the rural home. “Sorry I can’t invite you in. I’m battling some type of a stomach bug.” His sunken eyes and pallor led credibility to his self-diagnosis.

  A half-hour later, Barry and Marlee were seated at the end of a long table in the Student Union. Since she didn’t want to waste what little cash she had on dining out, Marlee used her student meal card to buy them both the lunch special, which was spaghetti and meatballs.

  “It’s good, huh?” Marlee was slumped over her plate shoveling in pasta.

  “It’s alright,” Barry said, as he poked through the entrée with a plastic fork.

  “What’s the matter? Is this not up to your standards?”

  “I was really hungry earlier and now I don’t feel that great. I need to go home,” Barry said. Marlee finished her meal and took her Styrofoam cup of Diet Pepsi with her. He left everything behind, virtually untouched. Barry had to stop to throw up in the parking lot. He hadn’t eaten much food, but several cans of Mountain Dew emptied from his stomach.

  “It’s a stomach bug that’s going around. Jasmine and I already had it. It will only last a day or two, that’s the good news. The bad news is that you’ll probably throw up about ten more times, and you’ll ache all over.”

  Barry handed Marlee the keys to his car as he crawled in the passenger seat and rested his feverish face against the
cool glass window. On their way back to the dorm, Marlee got a great idea.

  “How about if I drive you home to your place since you’re sick,” Marlee suggested.

  “Then how will you get home?” Barry asked, always looking for the most practical answer.

  “I could bring your car back to campus and then when you feel better, I’ll bring it back to your house,” Marlee said.

  “And in the meantime, you’ll drive all over asking questions about Tim’s disappearance?” Barry was not as out of it as she thought.

  “Well, I suppose I could do that. If it would be alright with you.”

  “Okay, just don’t wreck it. My insurance rates will go through the roof,” Barry muttered.

  After delivering Barry to his home and getting him settled inside, Marlee drove north of town to talk with Blake, Adam, and John. Not only did she want to talk to them about Tim’s possible whereabouts, but she had questions about the fire.

  The rural ranch-style house sat upon an acreage complete with a garage, a small red barn, and a leaf-barren orchard. The buildings were in good repair and had been recently painted. Marlee found herself making an introduction and going through her spiel for the umpteenth time in the past few days.

  “Sure, the guys are staying here. We have plenty of room in the basement, and they moved in down there,” said a man in his mid-twenties who introduced himself as Ben Rikers. “When my wife and I heard about the fire, we let Blake know he and his friends were welcome to stay here. It’s not ideal, but they have some privacy in the basement. They’re not here right now. John and Adam are in class, and Blake is at work at Shafer Printing.”

  “Will they be around this evening?” Marlee asked, knowing she needed to do as much sleuthing as she could manage while she had possession of Barry’s car. He would likely be feeling better by tomorrow or the next day, and then she’d be at his mercy for transportation.