No Trace

by Brenda Chapman

  Evan and Cheri had been unusually silent during the meal. I could tell by the way Dad was watching them that he was trying to figure out what was going on. I got up to make tea and Evan came with me to help. I could hear Dad asking Cheri her plans for the week.

  Evan rubbed against my arm. “Mommy has a new boyfriend,” he said.

  I looked down into his worried face. “Maybe he’s just a friend.”

  “No. He sleeps over when I’m at Dad’s. Some of his clothes are in Mommy’s closet.” Evan picked up the mugs I’d set on the counter. He whispered, “I found his toothbrush and shaving stuff in the bathroom cupboard.”

  I glanced at Cheri through the open doorway. She was looking at me with a questioning look on her face. But I knew she couldn’t have heard what Evan had said.

  “How do you feel about that?” I asked my seven-year-old nephew. I knew how I felt and it wasn’t happy.

  “I was hoping we could move back in with Dad.”

  I bent down and pulled him into a hug. “We all want that, kiddo. But it’s between your parents. You and I can’t change things just because we want to.” I pulled back. Evan’s big blue eyes, so like my sister’s, looked into mine without blinking.

  “At least Mommy doesn’t cry all the time anymore.”

  I pulled him to me again.

  After the tea, Cheri and Evan left, and I cleaned up the kitchen. Dad went to read in his bedroom. It felt as if the grey November days had worked their way into our home. I was happy to have a case to take my mind off my family’s problems. I’d begin interviews in the morning and would hopefully lose myself in the mystery of Ryan Green’s disappearance.

  It was going to take a lot of long hours at work to get the look that I’d seen in Evan’s eyes out of my head.

  . . .

  The sun took its sweet time rising on these November mornings. I jogged the side streets in darkness at six a.m., a brisk wind making me fight to catch my breath on the way home. A hot shower followed by two cups of coffee warmed me up. While I waited for Dad to get out of bed, I spread Ryan’s file out on the kitchen table and read through the rest of the documents. At eight thirty, I made some phone calls to set up interviews. Dad finally came into the kitchen in his housecoat and slippers as I was putting on my coat.

  “Did you eat breakfast?” he asked.

  “I’m still full from supper. I’ll pick something up later.”

  “Fast food.” He spit the two words out as if trying to clear a bad taste. He crossed to the counter and poured a cup of coffee. “I must have been tired. I can’t remember the last time I got up this late.”

  “You’re allowed. This weather makes me want to crawl into bed for a week.” I took a cap from my pocket and pulled it over my hair, which was still damp from the shower. “I’m not sure if I’ll be home for supper. I hope Betty can eat my share.”

  “Not unless I airlift the food to Florida. She’s rented a condo and should be halfway to Miami by now.”

  I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “I was getting used to seeing her here for meals. When will she be back?”

  “Not sure.” Dad frowned at me. “Shouldn’t you be getting a move on?”

  I wanted to stay and find out how he felt about Betty leaving, and about Cheri . . . being Cheri. But he was right. I had to get moving.

  “I’ll try to get home for supper, Dad,” I said.

  He rewarded me with a quick smile before his face returned to its normal stern default. “Well now,” he said, sitting down at the table with his iPad. He put on his reading glasses. “Let me just see if I can rustle us up a new recipe.”

  I stepped outside into the pale morning light. If I managed to get all the interviews over early, I’d have time to look into buying a gym membership on my way home. That or invest in a bigger pair of jeans.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ben Draper was a tall, skinny kid with curly brown hair and a shy smile. I liked him right off but I knew that everyone had secrets and Ben would be no different.

  He invited me into the kitchen and we sat at the table in front of the patio doors. The Drapers had a big back yard with lots of oak trees. Nobody had bothered to rake up the brown leaves that covered the ground like a thick blanket.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” I said.

  “I have half an hour before I have to leave for class.”

  “We should be done in lots of time. You were best friends with Ryan. What can you tell me about him?”

  “He’s a great guy. We met in grade nine, the same year that the Greens moved into Ottawa South.”

  “I see they live three blocks over from you.”

  “I met Ryan playing soccer and then we started hanging out. He said they moved around a lot before his dad took a desk job here.”

  “His mom works from home, according to the police file.”

  “Yeah, she’s an artist and kind of emotional. She’s over the top crazy when it comes to Ryan and Travis.”

  “How so?”

  “Like, she’s really involved in their lives. I mean to the extreme. Poor Travis can’t make a move now. She’s always phoning him and checking up. I don’t know how he stands it.”

  His comment opened up a new line of thought for me. “Do you think Ryan would take off to get away from his mother?”

  “I would have.” Ben laughed. “Ryan seemed used to it, though. He was always calling her when we were out and leaving early to make curfew. He said keeping her happy was easier than dealing with her hundred and one questions later.”

  “How about his dad? Did they get along?”

  Ben shrugged. “From what Ryan told me, his dad wasn’t around a lot when he was a kid. The last few years, his dad came out to our soccer games but he never said very much to us before or after the game.”

  “Before Ryan went missing, was there any sign that he was planning to leave town?”

  “No. He was happy to have a few hours open up when soccer practice was cancelled. He didn’t tell his mom it was cancelled, though. I know that.”

  “Why not? Where was he going?”

  “He never said.”

  “You must have had an idea.” I stared at him until he couldn’t stand it any longer and started talking.

  “If I had to guess back then, I’d have said he was meeting a girlfriend. Nobody came forward, though, so who knows?” Ben checked the clock on the wall. “I should get moving. Do you have any more questions?” A red flush had spread from his neck up his cheeks.

  “Yeah. Did you go straight home after you left Ryan?”

  Ben blinked as if he hadn’t expected the question. He took his time answering. “I met some friends in a study group in the library.”

  “Names?”

  “I can’t remember now. Is it important?”

  “Maybe not.” And maybe yes.

  I stood when he did. I was curious why he was suddenly so eager for me to leave. But I couldn’t make him late for school. I said, “That ought to do it for now. Here’s my card if you think of anything that might help.”

  Ben took the card and put it into the back pocket of his jeans. “I have no idea what that would be, but I’ll call if anything comes up.”

  He followed me to the front door and shut it after me with a solid bang.

  . . .

  My next stop was Brookfield High School. I’d booked some time with the principal and was sent straight into her office when I arrived. It wasn’t the first time that I’d been sent to the principal’s office, but happily, the other times were well in my past. Even so, I felt sweat forming on my forehead and around the collar of my jacket.

  Mrs. Gibbons stood and shook my hand. We took seats at a table loaded down with files and textbooks. She was tall with intelligent brown eyes and red hair pulled back into a bun. She poured us each a cup of hot coffee from a thermos.

  “Ryan Green has caused me many a sleepless night,” she said. “When he first went missing, I kept wondering if we’d done something different
. . . well, maybe he’d still be here.”

  “What do you think happened to him?”

  “I’m not lying when I say that I have no idea.” She took a sip of coffee. “I carried on my own investigation soon after he disappeared. Nobody saw him after he left school property. He might have gotten into a car with somebody. We just don’t know.”

  “What kind of student was Ryan?”

  “Not too engaged, except when it came to sports, shop class, or girls. He was polite, well liked, and respectful. A good kid, I’d say.”

  “Did he have any problems? Was something or someone bothering him?”

  Mrs. Gibbons shook her head. “Nobody noticed anything, if that was the case. And none of my teachers could think of any reason he’d run away. I’m completely at a loss as to where he could be . . . I pray every day that he’s still alive.”

  There was a knock at the door and Ryan’s brother, Travis, stepped into the office. Mrs. Gibbons stood and patted him on the shoulder. Her voice became loud and jolly. “There you are, Travis. Good of you to take this little break from class.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I’ll bet you don’t. I imagine your teacher was about to check homework. We’ll have you back in no time.” She laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Take my seat. I have to go speak to a grade nine class before letting them loose on a field trip. Nice meeting you, Ms. Sweet. If I can be of further help, don’t hesitate to be in touch.”

  “Thank you.” I waited until Travis was seated and took the time to look him over. He had the same good looks as his brother, although he was slimmer with darker hair and eyes.

  “Thanks for meeting me,” I began. “I’m sorry to hear about Ryan and know how hard this must be for you.”

  “Yeah, it’s been tough.” Travis slumped back in the chair. “I have no idea where he could be,” he shrugged, “or why he left.”

  I took a second to watch him. Something felt off. The sad frown on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. “Did you get along with Ryan?” I asked. I studied him while I waited.

  “Sure, we got along. He didn’t tell me he was planning to leave, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “So, you had no idea that something might be wrong?”

  “Nope.”

  “Were you close enough that he would have told you?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Travis ran a hand across his jaw. “But he didn’t.”

  Man, this kid was going out of his way to tell me that he didn’t know anything. His denials were making me curious. Time to shake him up a bit. “Have you heard from Ryan since he left?” I asked quietly. “Because you don’t seem as upset as I would have thought you’d be.”

  Travis shook his head and glared at me. “You’ve got it wrong. I’m as worried as my parents about Ryan.” He jumped out of the seat. He was halfway to the door when he turned and said, “I’ve got to get back to class. You can talk to my parents if you want to know anything else about my brother.”

  I let him go. It was clear that he wasn’t going to tell me anything more, even if he had something to share. When I left the office, Mrs. Gibbons was nowhere in sight. I exited the school by the front door and decided to grab some lunch and review my notes before making it to my next meeting.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ryan had worked some evenings and Saturdays at the Frankie’s Ford dealership on Walkley Road at Bank Street. It was a fair distance from the school but could be walked in forty minutes or so. Had Ryan started out in that direction the day he disappeared?

  I drove the most direct route before cruising around the side streets near the dealership. The Bella Vista Restaurant was a block over in a strip mall with a grocery store at one end. I tried to put myself in Ryan’s shoes. Had he stopped to eat at the Bella Vista between school and work? I pulled into the parking lot. The hunch was worth checking out.

  I took a seat in a booth and a pleasant-looking woman soon approached. She was in her fifties, with curled white-blonde hair and a trim shape under her gold uniform. The place was a family-run restaurant, known for its pizza, but I ordered a cheeseburger platter and coffee. Eating another cook’s pizza would have felt wrong, as if I was two-timing on Gino.

  I looked around while I waited. The decor was cream and black with rust-coloured wood in the floor and ceiling beams. Nothing fancy and no need to feel out of place in my jeans and plaid shirt. This was the kind of place where a teenage kid would grab a bite to eat.

  The woman came back with my coffee. I read her name tag as I pulled a photo of Ryan out of my jacket and held it out to her. “Do you know this young man, Jeannie?” I asked.

  She glanced at the photo and then held it closer for another look. She smiled. “Why, that’s Ryan. He used to come in here after school before his shift at Frankie’s. He hasn’t been in for a while, though.” Her face changed from friendly to suspicious. “Can I ask why you’re showing me his picture?”

  “His family hasn’t seen him in about six months. They have no idea where he could be. You hadn’t heard that the police were looking for him?”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t follow the news much because it’s always so depressing. The police never came to the restaurant. I hope Ryan’s okay. He’s a nice kid.”

  “Was he ever with anybody when he came in to eat?”

  Jeannie squinted at me through her glasses. “Who did you say you were again?”

  “I’m private investigator Anna Sweet. Ryan’s parents hired me to find him.”

  She glanced down at my ID card and back up at my face. Her mouth settled into a straight line, turned down at the ends. “I didn’t see him with anybody. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .” She turned without waiting for me to answer and disappeared into the kitchen.

  A few minutes later, a young man served my food. Jeannie didn’t come out of the kitchen again, which seemed odd. I finished eating and paid my bill, still with no sign of her. Was she avoiding me or had she gone off shift? I had no way of knowing, but the curious feeling that started with Ben and Travis was starting to grow.

  . . .

  The front lot of Frankie’s Ford took up a city block, showing off the latest shiny new cars and trucks. The back of the property was reserved for used models. I found a parking spot near a row of garage doors where a team of mechanics serviced Ford vehicles. It was a large operation and the leather couches in the waiting room made it clear Frankie’s was making money. There was even an expensive coffee maker in the corner under a big screen television with a sign that said to help yourself.

  I walked up to the counter. I pictured Ryan Green standing here when he worked after school and on weekends. A white-haired man in navy work clothes was on duty. His name tag said Carl. He took his time getting up from his chair behind the counter to shuffle over to me.

  “Yeah, can I help you?”

  “I hope so. I’m private investigator Anna Sweet and I’ve been hired to look into Ryan Green’s disappearance. Did you know him?”

  “Of course I did, young lady. If he hadn’t taken off without a word, I’d be working in the garage where I belong. We’re short-staffed in there too. Too many people just up and leaving without giving proper notice.”

  I leaned on the counter and tried to look friendly. “Any idea why he took off?”

  “Who knows? Kids these days. Heads always bent over some electronic gadget. Don’t know how to hold a conversation or the meaning of a good day’s work.”

  “It seems odd the owner hasn’t replaced Ryan by now.”

  “Nothing odd about it. You’re looking at the owner.”

  It took a minute to compute. “But your name’s Carl.”

  “That’s right. I’m Carl Montana. Frankie Montana was my father. He handed the business down to me and my son Bobby gets his turn when I die.” He looked toward the door. Through the window, I could see the garage and mechanics working on cars and trucks. Carl moved closer. “Bobby thinks he’s in charge now and he will be soon enough. H
e can have the headaches. Letting your son take over is one of the perks of getting old.” He grinned and his brown eyes twinkled.

  I found myself liking him. “So you work on the cars?”

  “I do. Never much enjoyed the business side. As to replacing Ryan, Bobby’s daughter Maggie usually works today, but she’s got exams. She’s a student at Carleton University. Smart girl.”

  The door banged open and a younger, more muscular version of Carl entered, wiping his hands on an oil rag. By the bit of grey in his black hair, he looked to be in his fifties. “Hey, Pops. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, son. This here’s Anna Sweet, PI. She’s trying to find out what happened to young Ryan.”

  Bobby’s eyes went from me to his dad and back again. His eyes were deep green and his stare was piercing. He laughed. “I’d offer you a hand to shake but mine are a bit dirty.” His face went serious. “We sure are worried about Ryan. I wish we had something to tell you that could help bring him home. Let his parents know we’re here if they need our help in any way.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be sure to tell them. Did he come by the garage the day he went missing?”

  “No. The police asked us the same question.”

  “I’m going over the facts, trying to retrace Ryan’s steps that day. Here’s my business card if you remember anything, although I know it’s been a while.”

  Carl picked up the card where I’d put it on the counter. “Thanks, young lady. How did you get into this dangerous line of work, anyhow?”

  “Dad, that’s none of our business,” said Bobby. His voice was sharp and Carl looked down at the card in his hand.

  Bobby smiled widely at me. “Please forgive my dad. I’m afraid he comes from a time when women were secretaries, teachers, or home with the kids.”

  “Not really all that long ago,” I said. “Well, thanks for your help.” I started toward the entrance but stopped and turned with my hand on the door. Both men were watching me. “Did Ryan ever talk about his new girlfriend?” I asked.