by Evan Ronan
“What do you drive?” he asks.
“Where is he?” I ask again.
Alpha Male shares a very interesting look with the two brothers flanking him. “I haven’t seen him.”
“Maybe you are the guy I have to talk to then. What’s your name, kid?”
“Brody D’Angelo.”
But of course you are.
“So Adam hasn’t been around.”
“That’s what I said.”
“For how long?”
“A few days.”
“A few days?” I let my eyes drift to the other two guys. They’re as still and quiet as statues.
“That’s what I said.”
“Hmm. That’s odd.”
“Free country.” Brody shrugs. “Who hired you?”
“I’m at liberty to say, but I don’t want to.”
He shakes his head. His brothers stare hard at me.
“Look, asshole, you came into our house. We’ve answered your questions. Now go fuck off before we fuck you up.”
“You’re about three guys short to fuck me up.”
Without a word or a look, the three of them step forward in unison. I’m in the danger zone now.
“Is this about Lucy?” Brody asks.
“Who’s Lucy?” I ask.
Brody’s eyes do something funny. “She’s a friend.”
“Lucy’s a friend of yours.”
“Yeah,” Brody says unconvincingly.
“Is she friends with Adam too?”
“Not really.”
“When was the last time you saw Lucy?”
Brody takes his time answering. “Last weekend.”
“Where?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything. You’re not even a cop.”
“I’m going to find out anyway.”
Brody shakes his head and forces a smile. “We were at a party.”
“Here?” I can’t see Lucy coming to Adam’s fraternity house for a party after she filed a restraining order against him.
“Nah. Somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“A couple of our brothers rent a house down the block. We were there.”
“Adam there too?”
“No.” He looks away. “I don’t know where he was.”
“Did you see him after the party?” I ask.
Brody folds his arms. He does not want to answer any more questions.
“He’s your brother,” I say. “And you don’t seem all too concerned that he’s missing.”
I’m also wondering why Adam’s sister, Lori, isn’t worried. Either she doesn’t know he’s been gone a few days, which I find hard to believe, or she knows where he is and what he’s up to.
“Like I said, I’m not his mother.” Brody steps even closer. We’re a yard apart. “Now you can walk out of here, or be carried out. Which is it going to be?”
“I’ll show myself out.” I pat his shoulder condescendingly. “I don’t think you guys are strong enough to lift me.”
Ten
Outside of the frat house, I call Bob immediately.
“Greg, what’s up?”
“Adam hasn’t been seen on campus for a few days,” I say. “His fraternity brothers don’t seem to know where he is.”
“Dear Lord. Do you have any idea where he could be?”
“No. But I’m going to ask around. Just wanted you to know since I’m not with Lucy right now.”
“Okay, I’ll let her know.”
“Just in case he’s thinking of trying something,” I say, as delicately as possible, “Lucy shouldn’t be alone right now. Is there someone with her?”
“I’ll make sure there is.”
I grab lunch at the student center. The pizza is inedible, the fries are only half-cooked, but hey, at least the bottled soda tastes alright.
As I’m forcing down the last of the pizza, wondering why I’m even bothering to finish it, who should appear before my wandering eyes but a tanned co-ed Lucy’s age. Something about her screams sorority.
“Hi there. I’m Stephanie.”
She sits across from me. She has not bought or brought any food.
“Hi there, Stephanie.”
“I heard you were looking for Adam.”
“Do you know him?”
She laughs. “Oh yes. I’m on the team with Lucy.”
“Who told you I was looking for him?”
She smiles shyly, but it’s all an act. “Word gets around.”
“I’ll bet it does.”
“Why are you looking for him?”
“I think you already know why I’m looking for him.”
She doesn’t skip a beat. “I have no idea.”
“You know where he is?”
She leans in. “Is this about Lucy?”
“I think you already know what this is about, too.”
She frowns in mock disappointment. “Adam is … troubled. I’ve talked to him before trying to get help.”
“You mean psychiatric help?”
She doesn’t answer. “He’s a passionate guy. Very focused, very intense. That’s what makes him such a great swimmer.”
“You sound like a coach as opposed to a teammate.”
“I’m captain of the women’s team,” she explains. “The captain of the men’s team tried to reach Adam before, but he had a hard time.”
“You’re talking about Brody?”
“How’d you know?”
“We’ve met,” I say. “It was a displeasure.”
Stephanie fake-laughs at my little joke. “I know Lucy well.”
“As captain of the women’s team, I would assume so.” I smile at her. “I’ll bet you know everybody on this campus really well.”
“I try to make as many connections as I can.”
“Is that what you’re trying to do right now?”
Stephanie looks up at me. “Lucy is a good friend, but sometimes she gets ideas.”
“What do you mean?”
“She can be a bit of a drama queen.”
“How so?”
“Oh.” She pretends to think hard about it. “About boys, mostly.”
“About Adam?”
She makes a face. “How do I say this?”
“However you want to say it. Then I’ll ask you a question if I don’t understand.”
She gives me a hateful smile. I must be wearing her out. Big tough guy I am, needling a sorority girl half my age. Makes me feel great about myself.
“Lucy … she doesn’t have much experience with boys.”
“What does that have to do with Adam?”
She pauses. “What did she tell you about him?”
“Sorry, Stephanie, but I’m not going to dish. So you can stop asking me what Lucy has shared with me.”
“I thought I might be able to help.”
“You didn’t approach me to help,” I say. “You came over here to get information out of me.”
“That’s not true.” She shakes her head reproachfully. “I care about Lucy. She’s a teammate and a friend, and I want to see her succeed. I think if she stopped …”
Stephanie’s eyes drift away from me. I turn in my chair and see two campus security guards approaching. They’re wearing grey uniforms and black baseball caps. Both carry sidearms.
Stephanie gets up.
“If she stopped what?” I ask her.
Stephanie smiles politely. “It was nice speaking with you, Greg. Remember, I’m here to help.”
She passes me a note with her name and number on it. It feels weird to have such a young woman give me her contact information. Then she walks away.
“Mr. Owen?” one of the security officer says. “We’d like you to come with us.”
***
The Campus Security office looks like a police department. It’s tucked away behind the main building housing the Admissions Office and Alumni Center.
The two guards escort me quietly through the building and back into an office where a
short man who looks like he spent about twenty-five years in the military is waiting.
“Mr. Owen.” He extends a hand. “I’m Glen Jarek, head of campus security.”
His grip is iron, and he dismisses his two men with a simple nod of the head. I hear the door close behind me, and Glen Jarek motions me to sit in a chair facing his desk. All around the room are different maps of the campus.
He steeples his hands and we stare at each other for a moment.
“Marine?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Army.”
I think about making a crack. Think better of it. “It shows.”
“Takes one to know one. Were you a leatherneck?”
I nod.
Again the silence.
Jarek unsteeples his hands and turns almost catty-corner to me in his seat. “Is that license you’ve been flashing around campus current?”
“Yes.”
“Mind if I see it?”
I hold it out. Jarek takes my wallet and closely examines the PI license before handing it back to me.
“I understand you’re not a full-time private investigator,” Jarek says, “so I’ll excuse the breach of etiquette.”
I chuckle. “Do enlighten me.”
“Normally an investigator will stop by to see the people in charge before diving headfirst into the pond.”
“Mr. Jarek, did I hurt your feelings?”
He smiles coldly. “Next time you want to talk to one of my students, or anybody associated with the campus, you can stop in here first. Just give us a heads-up. That’s how it’s done.”
“Will do,” I lie through my teeth.
“Fucking Marines,” he says, shaking his head. “You guys always make bad liars.”
I have to laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“For the record,” he says officially, “we looked into Lucy’s allegations and took them very seriously. When we confronted Adam about them, he was very apologetic and promised to adjust both his scholastic and swim schedule to give her some room. We take stalking very seriously, Mr. Owen.”
“I’m sure,” I say. “Which means you must not have read the same emails I did. Because clearly the kid is obsessed with her.”
Jarek eyes me warily. “If you would be so kind to pass them along, I would be happy to take a look. But like I said, Adam has distanced himself and even gone to the campus counselor from what I hear.”
“You know he hasn’t been around for a few days?” I ask.
“Yes.”
So he must have already talked to Brody.
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
He doesn’t answer. “We’ve been in contact with his parents.”
“Are you considering him a missing person?”
“Not at this time.”
“So you know where he is?”
Jarek folds his arms. “I do not.”
“Uh-huh.” I take a deep breath, wondering if I should play my card or not. “This isn’t the first time for him.”
The corner of Jarek’s mouth ripples. “I’m sorry?”
“There was a girl in high school apparently.” I motion with my hand. “I’ll bet there are other girls too. Maybe they were just afraid to come forward.”
“I am not aware of any other complainants.”
“Did you look for them?”
He stiffens. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss an open investigation.”
“I got the sense the investigation was closed, Jarek.”
He shakes his head. “Not anymore.”
Eleven
I take a different route back to the athletic center. In the far corner of campus, tucked away from everything else, is a log cabin with the name of the University etched into the wood along the front. It sits next to the entrance of an enormous nature reserve. I recall reading somewhere that Monroe University has a pretty prestigious earth sciences program.
I drive past the nature preserve, make a couple turns, and park across the street from the athletic center and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
I know as soon as I take my phone out to call Tammy back, the odds of Lori leaving the gym will increase exponentially.
But I get tired of waiting and nothing doing. It’s anathema to me. Not keeping myself busy feels like just waiting to die, so I return my daughter’s call.
“Hi, Dad,” she says, her voice curt.
“Hi, honey,” I say. “Is something the matter?”
“Why does there always have to be something wrong? I’m just pissed off, alright?”
Whoa. “Want to talk about it?”
“I’ll tell you what, Dad, I don’t know how you put up with mom all those years. I really don’t.”
“Tammy,” I say, trying to keep my patience, “I don’t like to hear you talk about your mother like that.”
“Why are you defending her?” she asks. “I mean, you guys got divorced so you have to think she’s crazy too.”
Holy shit. How did this can of worms get opened?
“Honey, you’re allowed to disagree with your mother. You can even dislike what she’s telling you to do, or not do. But I don’t want to hear you talk about her like that.”
“Oh, so now I’m not allowed to tell you how I’m feeling?”
Holy Mary, Mother of God, what happened to my sweet little girl?
“Tammy, can we talk about what’s bothering you?”
“I don’t want to do my homework before I go out.”
Is this the issue that launched a thousand ships? The timing of homework?
“Slow down, honey. You don’t want to do your homework before you go out where?”
“To youth group!” she says. “It’s ridiculous. I’m home by nine. I can do homework after.”
I did not know she had joined a youth group, but I figure discretion is the better part of valor there. “Your mother wants you to do your homework before you go out?”
“That’s what I just told you!”
She is stark raving mad about this.
“Okay, Tammy, I’m just trying to understand what is happening so I can get your perspective.”
“My perspective? It’s ridiculous! She tells me what to wear, what to eat, when I can go out, when I can’t … it’s ridiculous! I’m not a little girl anymore.”
I want to point out that she just turned thirteen, but sometimes I’m smart.
“Are you going to talk to her about this?” Tammy demands.
“Tammy, if your mother wants you to do your homework before you go out, then that’s the way it’s going to be.”
There is a long silence.
Then: “I knew you were going to take her side.”
“Homework is more important. That’s the deal.”
“But I’m home by nine, and it’s done by ten! God! None of my friends have bedtimes anymore, and some of them are still twelve years old!”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, honey, but—”
“Forget it, Dad. I thought you would understand.”
She hangs up on me.
Dumbfounded, I just stare at my phone for a moment. My first instinct is to call her back, then to call her mother, then to let it lie. Before I can decide which is the least destructive option, I get another call from a number I don’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Good afternoon. I’m trying to reach Greg Owen,” says a young woman who could be in college.
“Is this Casey Bennin?”
“No, my name is Ashlynn Margetis and I work for Lazarus Realty.”
“Lazarus Realty?” I say. “Do you raise property values from the dead?”
She laughs self-consciously. “That’s kind of the idea.”
“Well, that’s going to be a problem, because all of my properties are very alive and very well.”
She laughs again. “I’m sure they all are. That’s why I’m calling.”
I ask, “Which of my properties are you interested in?”
“The pool hall, actually. Could I set up some time to meet with you tomorrow?”
“It’s not for sale,” I knee-jerk. The sentimental attachment I have to the place is too strong. Pop opened it many moons ago, and I spent my formative years in there. And these days I’m just holding onto it. The hall makes a little bit of money, but the juice really isn’t worth the squeeze. It eats up a lot of my time relative to the return.
“My clients are prepared to make you a very generous offer,” Ashlynn says.
My head is spinning. I should probably sell the place. No, scratch that. I should definitely sell the place if the offer is as good as she’s making it out to be. That money would give me a lot of options—
Lori comes out of the athletic center carrying a gym bag over her shoulder and wearing a ball cap.
“Ashlynn, can I call you back later this afternoon?”
She gives me her direct extension at the office, lets me know when she’s leaving for the day, tries to set up some time for tomorrow, but I’m only half-listening because I’m getting out of the car and hurrying over to Lori.
“I look forward to speaking with you further,” Ashlynn says.
I put the phone away and hurry to catch up.
“Lori.”
She whips around, fist raised. It takes her a moment to relax, but then she remembers how much I ticked her off and the anger seeps back into her eyes.
“Leave me alone.”
She turns and pumps those legs. I stick to her like a sunburn.
“Do you know where your brother is?” I ask.
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Hold on. Do you know he’s missing?”
“He’s not missing,” she says. “He just went away for a few days.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he call you before he went away?”
She doesn’t answer. Just increases her pace.
“Lori, if he’s going to do something, then you need to tell me where he is.”
“He’s not going to do anything,” she says.
“How do you know?”
“He’s gone away before, alright?” She stops, fists balled. “He does this. My brother is a very intense guy.”
