I carried the two boxes, back out to my SUV and drove back over to Lorain’s. I put the boxes back in the closet, in the same position and location, I found them. I did however hang onto Christine’s diary. I checked the turkey, to see if it was starting to thaw.
I dove over to the tiki bar. When I pulled into the driveway, I saw there were two dozen motorcycles parked in the lot, by the tiki bar. The tiki bar seating was surrounded, by bikers and their women.
I made my way over and around to the back side. There were no empty seats, so I stood at one corner of the bar. After Lorain handed me a beer, I stepped back and leaned against the railing that ran along the lagoon. The bikers were really putting it away, but they were no threat. I could tell by reading their minds, they were not the normal gang bikers. Most were professional people that were just out for a good time.
At 9:45, Lorain, said last call and the bikers ordered their final drinks. It was almost 10:00, by the time Lorain closed up and took the daily receipts into the restaurant, so she and Kala, could put them the safe.
I followed her home and the first thing she did was poke the turkey. She smacked it with her hand and said good, it will be ready in the morning.
The tiki bar would be closed on Thanksgiving, but Lorain would open it back up, at noon on Friday.
Christmas and New Year’s Eve was about the same as it was the year before. Lorain and Kala drank too much and I put them both to bed. I once again took the sofa and we all slept in on New Year’s Day. It was a bit chilly outside, so we stayed snuggled up on the sofa all day, with the gas fireplace on, watching movies. That evening, the three of us ran out to a local Chinese restaurant for dinner.
Several weeks into the new year, I began going through all the items, I had scanned into my computer, the day before Thanksgiving. I had written a program years ago that allowed you to sort things by categories, which made it easy to find things, easily.
I pulled up the program and made some changes, so I could label each electronic folder, and access it quickly.
Most of the things I scanned, could go into multiple folders. I spent months sorting and collating everything. Even with my intellect, some of the things Lorain saved, made no since to me, but I figure out what electronic folder, to place them in.
I was reading Christine’s diary, especially an entry dated 2/19/93. She would have just turned fifteen. The entry read. “WOW, WOW, WOW thatwas the greatest time of my life. If our parents knew what we had done, theywould just explode. I can’t waitforus to get together again.”
The next few entries gave me enough information to know, she was having sex, with someone called Aaron. They were pages of Christine’s passion, for this person. Almost every word and every page, was about Aaron. They were meeting at his house, after school.
I almost thought, reading her diary, was going nowhere, until Christine entered. “6/4/93 - I hate you. You can’t just leave melike this. I can’t livewithout you.I’ll kill myself, you’ll see andit willbe yourfault.”
Lorain told me the first time Christine ran away was June 22nd, the same year she wrote about Aaron in her diary. I was lost for answers, until I decided to hack into the Indianapolis School Systems computers. I had found report cards and other items, from Warren Central High School, in the large square box.
Once I was into their system, I navigated to Warren Central. I looked at the school student records for 1993. I found Christine, a freshman, but no one in her grade was named Aaron. I found one Aaron was a Junior and one was a Senior.
It took me a while, but I found the senior class photo for Aaron, but the photo was a female. I scanned through the next years Senior’s class photo and found a photo of the other Aaron. He was a large, over-weight geek, I was sure, Christine would have nothing to do with.
I also checked out all the male teachers and other males at the school. None was named Aaron and none looked like Christine’s type. The more research I did, the more frustrated, I became. I’m a smart guy and I should be able to figure this out.
I went back to the diary, but found no more entries mentioning Aaron. There was a gap between the last of June 93 entry and the next one in October.
Lorain thought I was spending time on military designs. She never question what I did while she was at work.
I was out on the beach meditating in the afternoon sun, when it came to me. I jumped up and ran into the house and sat down, at my computer. I looked up the female senior’s information. I downloaded everything the school system had on her. I started with that information and Google her name. I got a ton of Aaron Bixley’s. Most were male, but I found a half dozen females, who would have been eighteen back in 1993.
Two were in St Louis, in 1994. One was in her sixties, but the other, was a student at St Louis University. Now I knew the whole story and why Christine kept her friendship secret. Christine was gay and didn’t want her mother to know. This may be why she never contacted her mother, after she left home.
It took me several days to hack into the St Louis Universities servers, without them knowing I was there. I found Aaron Bixley’s records and saw she had not attended the college, after her sophomore year.
I did as much research, as I could on my computer, but I needed to go to St Louis, for more answers. I told Lorain I was going out of town, but gave her no reason why. She just assumed it was military related business, and didn’t asked specifics.
The second week in May, I flew to St Louis and went straight to the university. I first spent time looking through the universities public records. I then manage to speak to some of the professors, who were here in ninety three and four. I looked through year books from that period and found a lot of pictures of Aaron Bixley. She was popular and appeared to have a lot of friends.
I started making notes of her friend’s names and would use their names, to do more research on her. I sat in the library, connected to the Internet and Google the names, I took from the year books and journals. The sixth name I entered into the Google search, was a Vickie Wilson. She was now a book publisher in St Louis and appeared to be one of Aaron’s best friends.
I looked her up, in a digital phone directory, but could not find a home phone number for her. I called her publishing company’s office and setup an appointment telling them, who I was and that I was planning to publish my life’s story. The person I spoke to, put me on hold and finally, Vickie answered her phone.
Do you know who I am, I asked her. Yes sir, Mr. Steele. I know you. I also know that twelve years ago you dropped out of site and know ones knows what has happen to you. Well maybe it’s time to tell them, but I need a publisher.
Vickie couldn’t set up an appointment fast enough. She asked if I could meet her for dinner and I excepted. This was one of the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’ve never lied to anyone. I saw no advantage to lying. Then again I had been thinking of writing my life’s story, so maybe I won’t need to lie.
I met Vickie at Vincent’s French Restaurant at 7:00. I had researched the restaurant and knew it was not casual dress. I put on a suit, before heading out. When we were seated together, she asked if I was really Theodore James Steele. I responded, that I was. She said Mr. Steele is fifty two years old.
I smiled at her and pulled my billfold from my jacket pocket. I first showed her my Florida driver’s licenses, then my pilot’s licenses, both with my birth date on them. She also saw my American Express Black Card, in my billfold.
You look thirty, she said. Thank you, I replied. Then I said, I think we have a mutual friend. Do you know Miss Aaron Bixley. She stared at me for a few seconds and then asked, how I knew her. I started to make up something, but decided to tell her the truth. I really don’t know her personally, but was trying to find her.
So this meeting, was just to find out about an old college friend of mine, and nothing to do with a book, she stated. I nodded my head and said, yes. I told her I don’t lie and refused to make up some story about how I knew Miss Bixley.
&nbs
p; Why are you looking for Aaron, she asked? I’m actually trying to find the daughter, of my best friend. She left home in ninety five, and I think she’s afraid to contact her mother, because she may be gay.
Well I guess this is not a complete loss, replied Vickie. I did get a chance to meet the great, Theodore James Steele, she said. Vickie went on to tell me, the last time I saw Aaron. She was headed to Reno, Nevada, to be a Blackjack dealer. I think that was right after her sophomore year, but I can’t remember.
I knew now why Christine was headed to Reno. I spent the next hour, having a great dinner, which I paid for. I told Vickie a little about what I’ve been doing, since I left Steele Global, but I didn’t talk about Lorain.
The next morning, I flew back to Sarasota, and drove home stopping at the tiki bar, to let Lorain know, I had returned. I continued my search for Aaron using Reno as my main source of information.
Lorain and I spent my fifty second birthday in Hawaii. We stayed at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel on Waikiki Beach for a week. We toured the island and visited Pearl Harbor. We saw cliff divers on the east side of the island. And went whale watching.
Before we left on the Hawaii trip, I had e-mailed several people, I thought may know how I could reach Aaron.
Months had past and things were not going as I had planned. My contacts were drying up. Lorain was looking forward to Christmas, like some little kid. We had the beach house decorated again and Lorain was staying with me, almost constantly now.
Friday before Christmas, while going through my e-mails, there was one from a Las Vegas, Nevada private detective. He said in his e-mail, there is a dike, working the blackjack tables, at Harrah’s, named Aaron Bixley.
I e-mailed him back and said a good photo of her, would get him five hundred dollars. I wasn’t sure what kind of detective the guy was, or even if he was a licensed private investigator, but I wanted a photo, before I flew out to Vegas.
The second Friday into the new 2013 year, I was at the beach house, monitoring the company that decorated the house for the holidays, while they removed the decorations. When they finished, I quickly checked my e-mail. The Vegas detective had sent me a decent photo, of Aaron Bixley. I knew right off the bat, this was the same woman, I had been looking for.
I wrote a check for five hundred dollars and sent it express overnight mail, to the detective. Now I had to fly out to Vegas and speak to Aaron and see if she and Christine were together.
I told Lorain I had a meeting in Vegas next week and asked her if she wanted to go with me. I told her she could gamble, while I attended my meeting.
Lorain said she would like to go and would make arrangements with Oscar, the owner of the Kasey Key Fish House, to have someone else handle the tiki bar, for a few days. The following Wednesday we flew to Las Vegas. It was cold with light snow showers in the area.
We stayed at the Venetian Resort Hotel and Casino. I contacted the investigator that sent me the photo and asked him to find out, what days and hours, Aaron worked. He said she on the floor, in the afternoons, from noon until eight in the evenings.
I left Lorain at the Venetian and drove to Harrah’s. I met the detective in the lobby of the hotel and he took me into the casino. Once he had pointed out Aaron, I paid him in cash, for his services, and he left. There was only one person at Aaron’s blackjack table. I walked over and sat down on the stool, across from her.
I placed a few bets and the gentleman next to me wasn’t doing well. He took his chips and left. I looked at the name tag on Aaron’s light brown Harrah’s vest and read her name out loud. She smiled at me and continued to deal cards from the shoe.
I reached into my suit jacket and removed my billfold. I placed ten one hundred dollar bills on the table in front of her. These are yours, if you will answer a few questions for me.
She told me to pick up the money and she motioned for the floor manager, to come over to her table. I just sat there waiting, to see what she was going to say to the guy. I need a break she told the floor manager and he secured her table.
Aaron and I walked into a small cocktail lounge, next to the casino and sat down. I’ll take those bills now, she said. I handed her the ten one hundred dollar bills and she folded them and slipped them into her pocket.
Okay bud, what do you want to know, she asked. I said I was looking for Christine Thomason. I haven’t seen her since high school, she replied. She didn’t come to St Louis, back in ninety three, looking for you. No, but I was in college there, that year. Christine never came to see me, said Aaron.
How about the summer of ninety five, I asked. I left St Louis right after my sophomore year and drove to Reno. I worked in Reno until 2005, when I came down to Las Vegas.
While we were talking, a tall sexy blond came over and sat down next to Aaron, in the booth. This Tina my partner, said Aaron. We’ve been together since college.
Before I left Harrah’s, I told Aaron who I was and why I was looking for Christine. We talked for a few more minutes, before I left the two ladies alone, sitting in the booth.
Another dead end, I thought to myself, as I walked back to my rental car. I drove back to the Venetian and found Lorain in our room, waiting on me to return. I took her down to the casino and let her gamble. We had a late dinner than gambled some more, before returning to our suite.
We stayed in Vegas a few days, but left when we heard a snow storm, was schedule to hit the area.
The only thing I now knew for sure was Christine had gotten on the bus in St Louis, but never got off in Reno. Greyhound had sent Christine’s packed bags back to Lorain. She still has all of Christine’s clothes, stored in the attic of her little house.
Months went by without any further leads or e-mails. We were once again, into the spring and summer months. I wondered if I should just give up and drop my search, for Christine. I was only doing this, because I knew how badly Lorain wanted to know, what happed to her little girl. I have this underlying mental pressure, to keep looking for her.
I went back to the documents, I had stored on my computer. I was hoping something would spark a memory or click in my head.
I was reading a police report from Reno. It was the interview they had with the bus driver. I wrote his name down and hacked into the Greyhound’s corporate servers. The driver was named Eli Florence and he lived in Salt Lake City, Utah.
I read his employment records and saw he retired five years ago. I wondered if he still live in Salt Lake. His phone number was on his personal record. I called the number on the report and the phone rang four times. A woman answered and I asked for Eli. She said he was out walking the dog and would be back later. I thanked her and said I would call back.
I decided not to call, but to fly out and meet him personally. Maybe speaking to him in person, would help spark his memory. If nothing else, I could delve deep into his subconscious for answers.
Lorain has always accepted me taking off somewhere in my plane. She knew I like to fly and used the time to relax and think. All I would say, was I had a meeting. She never asked me where I was going, or what the meeting was about. She thought it was military related and top secret.
Lorain called me around 7:00 and asked me to run over to her house and grab her Kitchen Aid mixer from the kitchen. She said she was going to fix me a chocolate cake for my birthday, which was still a month away. Grab the mail out of the box she said, right before she hung up. I knew it was the mail she wanted and not the mixer, but I didn’t care.
I came back by the tiki bar and had a few beers, while I waited on the place to close. She followed me home and I carried the mixer into the house, while she carried her mail.
In her stack of mail was an invitation to her thirty fifth class reunion, in Marina De Rey, California on September 14th. She had not been to any of her reunions and thought it would be cool, to go to at least one. I said I thought that would be a good idea, as well. I told her we could fly out a couple days earlier. She could show me around her old neighborhood.
&nbs
p; When we got into bed that night, I told her I had a meeting at the end of the week in Salt Lake City, Utah. I would fly out on Friday and back on Saturday or Sunday.
My comments got no response from her, other than to be careful. I would also give me a chance to fly my new Gulfstream G200. It is a larger plane than my old one, with more cabin space. There was nothing wrong with my old Gulfstream, I just wanted a new plane.
I flew straight into Salt Lake City International Airport, landing at 11:30 Friday morning. I drove a rental car to 2045 Orchard Drive in Wood Cross, just north of Salt Lake City.
I knocked on the door of a one story brick home. An older gentleman came to the door. I introduced myself as TJ Steele and asked if he was Eli Florence. Yes’ he said, with some hesitation. I told him I was looking for a little information, about when he drove for Greyhound.
Who is it, a female voice came from behind him. It’s some guy, asking about Greyhound. Eli’s wife stepped up next to him and said, well invite him in. I could tell Eli was a bit nervous, but his wife was not and told me to have a seat. I sat on their sofa and Eli took a seat in a Barcalounger. I told them I was looking for a lady named Christine Thomason.
Why does that name sound familiar, Eli asked out loud. I said, back in 1995 she turned up missing and her luggage was found on the bus, you were driving. She got on a Greyhound bus in St Louis, heading to Reno. I remember that, said Eli.
I told Eli and his wife, my relationship with Christine’s mother and said, I just wanted to find out what happened to her.
I asked Eli if he could remember, any stops along his route, where Christine may have gotten off. He rocked his Barcalounger, up into a sitting position and told me to sit tight. He walked out into his attached garage, off the kitchen. While Eli was out in the garage, I spoke with his wife. She said I looked familiar to her, but she can’t remember from where, we may have met. I’ve never been to Salt Lake City before, I explained.
Alien Among Us (TJ Steele Book 1) Page 14
