Sandy’s quick. “He’s got to be on my lists!! They had to talk, but I can get info through my contacts too. Give me a few minutes.”
Now there are two people in the carrels on phones. The hideaway shifts into annual PBS fundraiser mode without Blinko-glass thank-you gifts. I ask Daniel, “So how do we handle Vampy V?”
He shakes his head. “I show up or she blows everything before we get to Julia’s dealer.” Then he softly strokes the suicide indicator list. “You think Julia committed suicide, don’t you?”
I want to lie, but who does that help? “Yes, I think she did.”
He’s still not ready to agree.
“I’m keeping an open mind, Daniel. You can’t do something like that and not leave behind clues. We’ll find them.” But for lots of suicides, the family and friends never figure out why.
“I have to show up at the mall tomorrow. I can’t let this blow up before I get that drug dealer.”
“Problem guys.” Sam says from his carrel and then waits until Sandy is off the phone to talk. “One of most called numbers is dead.”
That doesn’t sound promising.
“It’s no longer being used.” Sam refers back to the date/time stamps. He takes a pen and counts checkmarks and does some quick math. “About twenty-five percent of the calls to that number are after-school hours and seventy-five percent are after nine at night. Almost all originated by Julia. A ton of them not answered because they were really short, but the others last a long time.”
Daniel’s hands tighten again. “Nine o’clock was Julia’s curfew. Do you think those were from this Greg?”
“That’s a safe bet. Lots of them were after midnight.”
I crinkle my forehead. “What can we find out about that phone number if it’s been disconnected?”
“Us? Nothing.”
Sandy says, “It’s a burner phone!!! You know the kind you buy with minutes on them and then throw away? That’s what crooks do in the cop shows!”
Sam looks again at the long series of numbers. He takes his time with the lists, looking at the data there. “Back here is another number with the same time-patterns.” He dials it and places it on speaker phone. A mechanical voice comes on saying the number is no longer in service. “That’s probably him too. He switched phones.”
Sandy says, “Yeah, well that’s not all. Everyone knew that Julia had a boyfriend, but nobody knew who he was. A lot of people thought she’d made him up. She’d been acting weird and then the drug thing, but we know he does exist.”
I say, “School records—like in the yearbook. That’s where we start next. This floor in the stacks has periodicals and yearbooks. Right next to us might be our guy’s photo.”
Sandy takes over Sam’s laptop. “Let me check the library online catalog.” It doesn’t take long. “Hey, they’ve got them.” She reads out the call number.
“Give me a minute.” I go over and crank bookcases to the right call numbers. They shift easily despite their weight. When the right bookcase is exposed, I pull out three years of our high school yearbooks; beside them are ones from nearby communities and I pull those too.
And two hours later, we aren’t any closer to finding Boyfriend with Ink. There are plenty of Greg names, but Sandy knows the local ones. They aren’t our suspect. The other nearby school districts will take longer to research.
Sam grabs Julia’s laptop and wakes it up. “We found his Facebook page last night.” He pushes some buttons. “And here it is.”
It’s the most boring page that I ever saw, and mine is the absolute worst—so I know boring. He has only one friend—Julia. Creepier yet? There aren’t any photographs of him at all. “What are the odds that there would be a legitimate Facebook page that doesn’t have one photo?”
“Nil.” Sam and Sandy say at the same time. Social Media Pro Sandy says, “It happens, but most kids have images or something posted. Funny posters or fan pics, that’s normal. This,” she points at the Facebook page, “doesn’t have a thing we can use to find him.”
***
We put together our plan for the next day. With Vampy V’s threat, we know she and her friends will be at the mall. After Julia’s great drift from Trish, the queen bees were Julia’s closest contacts. They must have info on Julia’s life before her death.
Sandy will casually run into them and extract information. We also keep Daniel out of Vampy V’s clutches. He’s to text her after Sandy’s done with them to say his mom grounded him.
Daniel hates it. “That’s stupid.”
Sandy defends her idea. “Yeah? And what’s your brainy alternative?”
Daniel fires back, “She’ll call my dad.”
Sandy returns fire. “Her game would be over. You sound eager to see her, and she’ll wait it out. I’ll write the text for you.”
Daniel: “It’s not going to work long-term.”
Feeling like some arbitration judge, I say, “But it puts it off for a bit. This is our plan—our only plan.”
Clinch. Clinch. Clinch. But he stops arguing.
It’s six thirty. My pizza slice wasn’t enough. I’m hungry again. “BeeVee for hamburgers? We need a break.” Before we kill each other.
Eighteen
At the familiar high school burger haunt, Sam glues his arm around Sandy’s waist. They laugh together like a real couple. It feels odd outside their together-vibes. We’ve been a threesome, but that will change now. After my back-of-the-bus worries, Sandy had texted about that first kiss. Sam got mad when she spent too much time talking to Nick Bateman. He’d grabbed her arm and kissed her blind, in her words. Then Sam the Embarrassed hightailed it to his next class without a word, until he had texted her as I climbed those stairs to my private sanctuary and my chance meeting with Daniel.
They are sweet. A kiss between Sam and Sandy seems far more permanent than whatever happens between Emerald Green Eyes and me—no matter how nuclear it gets.
As for Daniel? It’s amazing. In the corner booth, the guy completely relaxes, laughing at the jokes, tossing a French fry that Sandy catches in her mouth. 3J, Sally, and Ernie from pep band join us and we squash up in the booth.
One of them finally asks me the white elephant question. “What’s up with pep band?”
Daniel asks, “What happened?”
Sally states what everyone around the table already knows. “Kami missed pep band twice. She’s kicked out.”
For a minute, Daniel just stares at me, and then says, “Let me out of here.” There’s a quick shift of bodies as he climbs out and heads for the front door.
Sandy pokes me. “What are you waiting for? Go after him.”
She’s right. There’s another shift of bodies and I race after him. He’s getting into his Mustang. I go around and knock on the passenger window. At first, I think he’s going to drive off and ignore me, but he unlocks the door and I climb in.
He takes off, heading north on Highway 69. We leave the town lights behind. He says, “You were kicked out of band because of me.”
“No,” but I don’t sound convincing.
“It was those Fridays at Broken Bone, wasn’t it? You missed pep band twice because of me.” He turns onto a gravel road and pulls to the side. I envy his car’s heater. EB would have protested.
It’s quiet out here, and it’s going to be another subzero night. The moon, just coming up over the horizon, is huge. The stars are brilliant, but disappearing rapidly under the steam built up on the glass windshield and car windows.
When we finally speak, it’s at the same time.
“I’m a lousy flute player anyway—technically good, but my emotions don’t come out like a great player can do it.”
“I didn’t want other people involved. This thing with Julia…She screwed it up for everyone.”
We both backtrack to replay what the other had said. Whoa. That is big. Da
niel’s said Julia screwed up for the first time.
He’s faster on the uptake and asks, “You’re a lousy flute player? You?”
I duck my head, ashamed. “Yeah. I can play, but not good enough for jazz band, which is what I wanted to do. Mr. Duncan knew that and let me stay in pep band. It was just a social thing. At the time, it was important. All the MA kids live in Ankeny and Des Moines. I’ve got Sam and Sandy, but pep band forced me to be with people.” Dad pushed me hard to stay in band.
Then I meet his gaze. It’s a nice gaze with his robin egg blue eyes like Julia’s school photo. Julia’s hair had been blond curls; his is growing in dark, almost black, and straight. It sticks up all over his head. Daniel’ll never be Hollywood Gavin with the Emerald Green Eyes.
I confess. “I’m not popular, Daniel. I like data sets more than people. I say the wrong things in the wrong way to the wrong people at the wrong time. I’m stubborn and pigheaded.” I realize that I’m the polar opposite of suave Gavin with the Emerald Green Eyes. What does that say about a future relationship? Daniel, though? He’s comfortable like a worn coat you snuggle into.
“I figured that out when you told that fat kid in MA to lose half of his ass.”
I groan. “Yeah. I probably did. Tim’s a nice guy. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. It’s a miracle Sam and Sandy put up with me. I keep a list in my head of things that I should tell them. Things like ‘I love your new cowboy boots to Sandy, or Way to go for kissing Sandy, Sam.’ I mean to, but then my mind gets fixated on other stuff. ”
He fiddles with the radio. “Yet, you help me. You drag your friends into it. If you call that pigheaded, then I’m okay with that.”
I take a deep breath and count the fast-forming frost cracks on the windshield that sparkles with the moon behind them. “You said Julia screwed up.”
Daniel leans his head against the steering wheel like life has left him.
I quickly say, “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, we should. She was dealing drugs. Do you think she was taking them too?”
I don’t know. “Maybe.” The cracks are getting long, stringing across the entire windshield. We’re in a cocoon and no one can see in. Julia had been hiding in one too. I say, “Probably.”
He reaches out and swipes away some of the condensation on his side window, looking out into the darkness. There aren’t answers etched in it. “My life is a screwup, but Julia made life easier. You would have liked her, Kami, before...”
“I know.” I turn the heat fan up to the front defroster. Hot air blasts my face. “Let me show you something Julia did right. Drive to the stables.”
“I don’t want to shovel more horseshit.”
Like normal, I take him literally, but he stops me before stupid comes out. “Joking, Kami. Laugh.”
“Okay, but we might be shoveling manure.”
“Yeah, I figured. My shit boots are in the trunk.”
***
Daniel opens the human door for me. It’s nice that he likes that old-fashioned stuff. “Did they teach you to open doors for women at military school?”
“Nah. That was Dad. I’ve made him sound like a goon, but he’s not. He just lives by hard rules.”
The stable is a lonely place, unless you count the horses. I call out, “Trish!”
She says, “I’m back here.”
We walk down toward her. “Trish, can you do us a favor?”
“Help me feed and it’s a deal. What is it?” Daniel’s happy with no horse apple scooping.
I ask her, “Would you ride Diamond for us?”
“I can’t,” she says. “I mean I used to all the time, but when Julia died, Peggy said I couldn’t anymore. She’s afraid something would happen. Then there’d be hell to pay with her dad.”
Daniel says, “That’s stupid. Julia wouldn’t want Diamond to sit 24/7 in a stall. If it’s about permission and stuff, Dad told me to take Julia’s things. I think he’d include Diamond in that.”
Trish loves that horse as much as Julia had and she agrees to ride her. Daniel and I pull back the big arena doors while Trish saddles Diamond. The entire stable groans and echoes in protest. It’s cold, dark, and cavernous inside; my breath fog is visible from the overspill aisle lights. I flip on the overheads, but it’ll take several minutes for them to slowly light up. In the meantime, they make narrow shafts of light.
Trish leads a western-tacked Diamond in. The mare is a small, delicate-legged quarter horse. She walks with a gentle elegance, but she’s thrilled to be saddled-up. She dances around, pulling on the reins Trish holds tight. “Easy, girl. Easy,” Trish says and lays a hand on the mare’s neck. Impatient, the horse reaches back to nip at her.
Daniel jumps back into me and I remember he has a scar from a crabby pony. “She doesn’t get enough exercise.” Still, Diamond doesn’t seem as amped up as I expected.
Grabbing Julia’s leather-wrapped saddle horn, Trish leaps up on Diamond’s back, landing gently without using the stirrup. I holler out, “Okay, that’s just showing off.”
Trish grins as the mare dances. She lets Diamond go and the horse’s hooves dig deep into the sand and charges down the arena. The overhead lights are brighter now, but still create just cones of light with dark spaces between them. The wind whips over the arena’s roof, which clanks in response. Diamond bounces like a cat with yarn, all four feet off the ground. Trish the Master Equestrienne stays centered on her back. The mare would have dumped me on my butt, but not Trish. Her body is fluid and graceful—at one with the mare. If I had kept at riding, could I have that much skill?
“What exactly am I supposed to be seeing here?” Daniel asks. “Rider getting killed?”
I’m leaning against him and his arm settles around my waist. Warmth spreads beneath my new down coat. It’s nice. “Let them get the kinks out.”
Even Daniel can see when the switch happens. One moment, the mare is in charge and the next her neck arches. Her head draws in, perpendicular to the ground, as she collects her legs underneath like a gymnast before a long exercise move.
“Here we go. Watch this.”
***
The mare’s body curves and in that position Trish takes her from one corner of the arena to the farthest kitty-corner. Like a ballerina, Diamond appears to float across the arena. They do the same thing between the opposite corners.
“That’s cool. What’s that called?”
“It’s a half-pass, but you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Did Trish teach that to Diamond?”
“No, Julia did. She normally didn’t come out on Sundays, but she did once. Mom and I saw her work Diamond. She was a very good rider, Daniel. She was special; maybe even one-of-a kind. Julia the Rider with Diamond was amazing. Mom couldn’t stop talking about it. I wish I’d met her. If Julia and Mom could have met, it might have made a difference in how things turned out.”
Diamond and Trish reach the corner to our right again, executing beauty and grace in figure eights at a canter and then the faster gallop. The mare neatly and without fanfare changes leads as smooth as chocolate icing. I doubt Daniel notices, but it doesn’t matter. Soon enough, he’ll see how special Diamond is.
The overhead lights are on full now. We can see every movement, every huff of breath Diamond makes. Trish stops the mare near us and gives the horse some freedom. Diamond instantly relaxes, her head drops, and I want to laugh when the mare cocks her hip over to one side. Everything about the mare at this point is a sham. She’s only playacting at being an old cowpoke’s horse. Julia taught her that too.
Sensing me tense up, Daniel asks, “Kami?”
“Shush. Wait for it.”
I don’t see Trish’s subtle cue, but Diamond suddenly spins and leaps, instantly taking off down the arena’s long center line at a dead run. I whoop. Daniel straighte
ns beside me. Quarter horses are the sprinters of the animal kingdom and that little quarter mare can move. For the length of the arena, she’ll beat out any thoroughbred in the barn.
At the far side, the mare’s butt sinks to the ground and sand spews out as Trish asks for the brakes. Diamond’s long black mane flies forward, but her head remains perfectly positioned perpendicular to the ground. Without a single breath, the horse rolls back over her haunches on piston-strong hocks in a one hundred-eighty-degree turn and barrels back down the arena straight at us.
Nineteen
“Kami?” I clamp my arm around his waist, holding him in place. Trish applies the brakes again and Diamond slides to a stop three feet away. Sand blasts us in the face. The mare’s heavy breath fills my nose; she had sweet apple treats with supper. There’s a slight pause before she spins three hundred-sixty degrees, like a physics deviant. Then Diamond is back in cowpoke’s horse mode. That crazy hip of hers cocks again. Trish leans over and wraps her arms around the horse’s sweating neck, thumping it in approval. Diamond’s head comes up and her ears twitch back and forth as if to say, “Shucks, that’s nothing.”
Daniel applauds and I join him. Trish wears the biggest grin. Even Diamond prances. Her rider dismounts and Daniel strokes the mare’s hot, steaming neck.
I whisper to Daniel, hoping to plant a seed. “She really is in horrible shape. It’s a shame that she’s stuck in a stall with no one to ride her.”
He nods at me, catching my drift. I suspect he’ll arrange for Trish to work Diamond. Then he says,“That was freaking awesome.”
Trish says, “It was all Julia. Every bit of it. That girl knew how to train a horse.” Tears flow down her cheeks for her childhood friend. “Get out of here. I’ll feed the horses myself.”
We leave her to her grief. Daniel’s arm is back around my waist and it slips down to my hip where he latches it into a belt loop as we walk toward the trailer entrance doors and his car.
***
Sunday, I walk the mall promenade, joining the speed-walking seniors. Fifteen minutes later, Sam and Sandy come through the main entrance and join me. Sam checks his wristwatch incessantly. The small mall has twenty-some stores with a large department store at one end and in the middle. At the other end is the food court and the movie theater entrance.
Chaos Theory Page 12
