The Forgotten Girl

by David Bell

  Colton lifted his glass. “That’s good,” he said. He smacked his lips after putting the glass down. “You know my dad started our firm. He still comes in and piddles around. Gets in the way mostly.”

  “I remember your dad.” The drink helped Jason. It brought an ease and a lightness to his mind. He hoped it would help him stop thinking about Hayden.

  “Sure. A good man. He’s been handling wills and estates for a lot of families here in Ednaville for many, many years. Some of the biggest and richest families in town. He’s passed some of them on to me now. They deal with me, of course, but a lot of them, I can see the way they look at me. They’re thinking, ‘He’s not really as sharp as the old man, is he?’”

  “I’m sure it’s tough in a town like this,” Jason said. He wanted to be sympathetic, but he couldn’t see where Colton was going. Jason’s drink was good, and he swallowed more of it, hoping it wouldn’t cause him to doze off at his desk in the middle of the afternoon.

  “My dad passed one family off to me, and they’ve proven to be a little thorny. The father’s sick and old and getting ready to . . . well, you know. Move on.”

  “The big move on,” Jason said.

  “Exactly. He’s divorced, never remarried, and he only has one child. Everything is supposed to go to that child, but there are some complications.”

  The liquor had loosened Jason up enough that he simply said, “Colton, what the heck does any of this have to do with me?”

  Colton picked up his glass and rattled the ice, but he didn’t drink. He put it back down, then leaned forward and spoke with his voice lowered. “You understand I really shouldn’t be discussing this with you.”

  Jason looked around the restaurant. The lunch crowd was starting to thin, and there was no one close by. Jason leaned in closer to Colton. “So don’t tell me, then.”

  Colton smiled without showing his teeth. “You were always a little bit of a wiseass. Most creative people are.” His face grew serious. “I figure if I can get this sorted out, my old man will get off my back, the other clients will see that I can do the job, and my life will hum along just a little more smoothly. And that’s what we all want, right? A smoothly humming life?”

  “Sure,” Jason said. He thought of Nora and the progress they were making on their marriage. “Sure.”

  “My client, the old man who is sick and dying, is Peter Shaw. His son, the heir we can’t locate, is of course—”

  Jason finished the sentence for him. “Logan.”

  Colton was nodding. He finished the rest of his drink. “Logan Shaw. Your best friend from high school.”

  Jason felt his face flush. Not from the drink, but from the unexpected surprise of hearing Logan’s name mentioned again. He hadn’t expected the conversation to end up at that place, but he understood that Colton had wanted it to go there all along, that the summer festival was really just a pretense to get him out to lunch. Jason swallowed what remained in the glass.

  First Hayden? And then Logan?

  “You want another?” Colton asked. He waved to the waiter. “Two more here.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  Colton dismissed the waiter, then turned back to Jason. “I’m sorry to spring this on you.”

  “No, you’re not,” Jason said, trying to give Colton a dirty look but also feeling the temptation to laugh at his brazenness.

  Colton didn’t blink. “Okay, I’m not sorry. I hoped the subject would naturally come up while we ate. We’re talking about the summer festival and graduation and high school. I figured we’d get there, but when it didn’t . . .” He shrugged. “I had to go for it.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to do for you,” Jason said. “You’re trying to find Logan, right?”

  “He’s in line for a lot of money,” Colton said. “A lot of money.” Colton shook his head and licked his lips as though he could taste the paper currency and silver coins. “Well? Can you help me?”

  “You want to know if I know where Logan is?”

  “I know there was that unpleasantness between the two of you on our graduation night. I know you fought up there on the Bluff. It was over a girl, right? Regan . . . what was her name?”

  “Regan Maines. Now she’s Regan Kreider.”

  “Did she marry Tim Kreider?”

  “Divorced.”

  “I know the cops got after you a little when they couldn’t find Logan.”

  “A little?” Jason asked. “Have you ever been a murder suspect?”

  “You probably weren’t really a suspect,” Colton said. “You were questioned. You were one of the last people to see him.”

  “A fine point, I guess. It wasn’t pleasant.”

  “Anyway, I know you had that happen. But the two of you were best friends since grade school. Have you ever heard anything from him? Have you seen him? A letter? An e-mail? A Christmas card? I figure he’s got to be in touch with somebody from his old high school crowd.”

  Jason leaned back in his seat and looked out the window again. The clouds shifted above, obscuring the sun and casting a portion of the square into shadow. Jason reached up and scratched the back of his neck, his movements causing the leather of the booth to creak.

  “I haven’t seen him since that night, Colton. As far as I know, he kept his promise. He told Regan he was leaving town, and he did. He and I said some things to each other when we fought, things we shouldn’t have said. I can understand if he wanted to put that night in his rearview mirror. I wanted to.”

  Colton looked at Jason with sympathy. Jason almost believed Colton regretted bringing it all up.

  Jason said, “He always wanted to go out west. He didn’t really care about his dad’s money. He used it in school, but he wasn’t hung up on it.”

  “Really?” Colton said.

  “Did you have a different impression?” Jason asked.

  “I didn’t know him very well.”

  “But?”

  “You knew him better,” Colton said.

  Jason decided he’d never know exactly what Colton meant, so he asked something else. “Couldn’t you just hire an investigator to track him down?”

  “They’ve done that,” Colton said. “There were always a lot of rumors about what happened to him. You heard some of them, right?”

  “Some. I went off to college.”

  “People said the craziest stuff. That he joined a religious cult, for example. Others said he knocked a girl up, a poor girl in another county, and his father wouldn’t let them get married, so Logan ran off with her.” Colton shrugged. He lifted his glass and looked into the bottom wistfully as though he wished a drop of the scotch still remained. “Of course, some people just think he’s dead. Maybe he walked out to the highway and got picked up hitchhiking and whoever picked him up did him in. Maybe he got robbed and killed. You know, a rich kid might be a target. Maybe he had amnesia and wandered off. Lots of nonsense.”

  “What happened when they hired an investigator?” Jason asked.

  “The old man has done it a couple of times. Once, they got close. Must have been about fifteen years ago. Guy followed a trail to Arizona and then lost it across the border in Mexico. He found someone out there who swore she knew Logan, that some guy she dated told her the truth about leaving his hometown and his rich family and heading out west.”

  “Really?” He felt hope rising, although he couldn’t have said why.

  “The investigator could never pin anything down. He showed this girl a picture, and she couldn’t be certain it was Logan. Of course, time had passed. A photo of Logan at eighteen may not be what he looks like at thirty-five or so. And you never know with some investigators. They see an old guy with money desperate to find his son, and they figure they can string him along. It’s a gravy train. We’ll
do it again if we have to. I just thought you could save us some time.”

  “Sorry.” Jason looked at his watch. He had a meeting in thirty minutes, and the drink seemed to have settled in the back of his neck, creating a tightness there. “I have to be getting back.”

  “Sure. Thanks for tolerating my questions.”

  But Jason didn’t stand up. Thoughts of Hayden and Logan ran through his mind, two almost ghostly presences. He asked, “The family hasn’t heard from him at all over the years?”

  “The old man’s gotten some cards and things from time to time. Nothing much. His parents split up when Logan was just a kid. I’m sure you remember that.”

  “That was before I met him.”

  “His mother doesn’t have much to say about it. She’s remarried and lives in Barker County. I’ve talked to her, but she says she hasn’t heard from Logan or Logan’s father, and she’s moved on. I’m sure she got a nice piece of the old man’s money when they split. So, other than those few cards in the mail, the family’s heard nothing.”

  Jason slid to the end of the booth. “Well, if you do track him down, tell him I said . . .”

  “Yeah?”

  Jason paused, thinking it over. What would he say to Logan after all that time? Nothing came to mind. Nothing seemed adequate.

  “I guess just tell him I said, ‘Hey.’”

  * * *

  Jason walked to his car, the keys in his right hand digging into his flesh. The sun had reemerged, and Jason slipped his sunglasses on. He scanned the faces he passed on the sidewalk, looking for Hayden again. A grimy guy with a long beard played guitar outside a coffee shop, and across the street, in the square itself, two mothers jogged while pushing strollers. He unlocked the door and tugged the handle, taking one more quick glance around.

  He saw the woman again. Over in the square, momentarily obscured by the two jogging women. Jason took a step in that direction, moving away from his car, but two vehicles passed, forcing him to stop and wait. When the cars were gone, so was the woman who looked so much like Hayden.

  * * *

  Jason watched Nora cook. Two pots gurgled on the stove top, and Nora wielded a large knife, chopping vegetables with machinelike efficiency. Jason knew his role in the preparation of dinner—stay out of Nora’s way when she got going. He leaned back and absorbed the cooking aromas. The smell of onions . . . and maybe something tomato-based.

  “How long have we lived here now?” Nora asked.

  Jason knew she knew the answer. But she wanted him to say it. She was about to make a point, and again, Jason understood his role. He was the setup man, feeding her the lines she needed to complete her argument. He liked the ritual. It made him feel closer to his wife.

  “Five and a half years,” he said.

  “Five and a half years, right?” she said, continuing to chop. “And I still can’t get used to the people asking me if I have children. Today it was the woman in the bank. I’m forty-two, I’m married, but no, I don’t have children. It’s a choice some people make. Some people put their careers first, right? Is that so hard to understand? Why do people feel like they can ask such things?”

  “You want me to explain the social customs of small-town Ohio?” Jason asked. “Again?”

  “It’s like the religion thing,” Nora said, ignoring him. “Why do people still try to get us to go to church with them? We don’t go to church, right? Big deal. Was the town like this when you were growing up?”

  “Probably.”

  “Do people ask you these questions?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  “It’s because I’m a woman, right? They think they can ask me these things because I’m a woman.”

  “You’re an idealist,” Jason said.

  “What?”

  “You’re an idealist,” he said again. “You think people will change for the better and act reasonable if you just talk to them enough.”

  “So? Is that wrong?”

  “I like that about you,” he said.

  “Don’t jerk my chain.”

  “I mean it. I like that quality.”

  She threw several things into one of the pots and wiped her hands on a towel. Jason continued to watch her. She still looked good, better than he did, in his opinion. Only a few rogue strands of gray had invaded her red hair, and those were only visible on close inspection. Her fair, freckled skin remained wrinkle-free. She kept in shape, ate well, worked at the public library. He wondered if she’d ever get used to the fact that they lived in Ednaville, Ohio, instead of New York City, where they’d met.

  “What about you?” Nora asked. “Did anything interesting happen to you today?”

  Jason swallowed his beer. He wasn’t going to mention Hayden. He’d thought about it all afternoon, sifting through his memories of what he saw on the square. He decided it wasn’t her, that his mind ran away from him when he saw a woman who happened to look like his sister. No need to stir things up.

  Nora sat at the table and took his hand. “Hey? What’s on your mind?”

  “You did ask me about my day, didn’t you?” He squeezed her hand back. Her skin felt cold, probably from handling produce.

  “I did. It’s what married couples do. They talk. Open lines of communication.”

  “You sound like that marriage counselor in New York.”

  “You wanted to see her as much as me.”

  “I know,” Jason said. He squeezed her hand again. “No complaints from me.” He swallowed more beer. “You asked about my day. Well, I got complimented. I went to that meeting with Colton, the guy from the festival committee, and he told me I’d hardly changed since high school. Looks-wise, that is.”

  “Well, that should make your day,” Nora said, squeezing his hand back. “Is this Colton guy handsome?”

  “No, he’s fat and bald.”

  “Well, we take our compliments where we can find them. Are you doing the work for him?”

  Jason nodded. “He’s thrilled. He thinks he’s getting a big-time New York advertising guy to make the poster for the summer festival.”

  “He is, isn’t he?”

  “Just like the Ednaville Public Library is getting a former supervisor from the New York Public Library system to work at their circulation desk?”

  “It’s your hometown. We could have moved anywhere.”

  “I know,” Jason said.

  “You regret coming back?”

  “When I see all these people I knew growing up, I start to think Anchorage sounds nice.”

  “We all do what we have to do, don’t we?” Nora laughed and let go of his hand. She went back to the stove and stirred both of the pots. “I was thinking maybe we should go away the weekend of the festival this year. Between that and high school graduation, the town gets so overrun. And Rick and Sheila have been begging us to come back to the city for a visit.”

  “I know.”

  “We haven’t been back in three years.”

  Jason finished his beer. He started picking at the label.

  “Rick says the economy is doing well there. People are really hiring again—”

  “I’ve been out of that game a long time,” Jason said. He knew he sounded short, and he regretted it.

  “Not that long,” Nora said.

  “It’s been almost seven years since I got laid off,” Jason said. “Rick didn’t say it, but I bet all the people they’re hiring are twenty-two. I look young here in Ohio but not in New York.”

  “Well,” Nora said. “It was just a thought. I know getting laid off still stings. You’ve done good work for America’s Best, and we have a lot of friends in the city.”

  “People come and go,” he said.

  “Jason, listen, this was supposed to be a temporary move. Remember? Until we got our feet back on the ground financially. And
we both thought if we came here, if we were away from the craziness of the city, we’d get closer too. Our marriage would get stronger. And it has, hasn’t it?”

  “It has,” he said, softening his tone. “And you’re right. If I promise to think about it . . . can we eat? I’m hungry. And everything smells so good.”

  Nora turned the burners off, her movements quick and confident. “Sure,” she said. “We’ll talk about it another time.”

  Chapter Two

  Jason met his high school friend Regan Maines Kreider in Burroughs’ Coffee Shop. He needed the midafternoon jolt of caffeine—and he needed to talk to her. He’d slept poorly, his dreams full of images of Logan. Logan on Thompson Bluff the night of their high school graduation. Logan drunk and emotional, lashing out, ready to fight. And the two of them coming to blows, wrestling each other to the ground and swinging their fists, both of them angry and verging on tears.

  Jason could still feel the last blow, the one he delivered to the side of Logan’s head, the one that put him on the ground and ended the fight. He flexed his hand under the table.

  Regan settled in across from him a few minutes later. She sipped her coffee, her eyes watching Jason over the rim of the mug. Regan had had two children and worked full-time in the mortgage department of Farmers’ Bank and Credit. They met this way, maybe once a month, and talked about their lives—job worries, movies they’d seen, the changing face of the town.

  “Well,” she said, “you’ve got me curious. Normally we just shoot the shit, but now, out of the blue, it sounds like you have something serious on your mind. I’ve spent the morning wondering what it could be.”

  “I didn’t mean to be mysterious,” Jason said.

  “It’s okay. I’m a divorced mom of two. My life could use some mystery. What’s on your mind?”

  “The past,” Jason said.

  “The past?” Regan said. She looked around the room. “Do they serve whiskey in this place?”

  Jason laughed. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Do you remember Colton Rivers from school?”