Savage Lane

by Jason Starr

  “No weirder than her meeting Karen Daily there,” Larry said.

  “The problem is we haven’t found anybody who’s even suggested Deborah was fucking somebody. All I hear about is Mark and Karen. And there was nothing on Deb’s phone to suggest that.”

  “People who cheat get disposable phones,” Larry said.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Can we take a closer look at the call histories on their phones? See if any numbers are called frequently from month to month.”

  “What’ll that get us if we don’t know whose numbers they are?”

  “We can recheck the credit card info,” Larry said, “see if anybody bought a disposable phone and charged it. I worked on a case a few years ago where a guy thought he was being clever, using a disposable, but he bought it on his AmEx. Once we had the phone number we were able to pull up his texts and calls from the carrier.”

  “Sounds like a long shot, but we’ll check it out,” Nick said. “I still think our priority now has to be Mark and Karen, trying to find holes in their alibis.”

  “Speaking of alibis, there was one thing that struck me as a little odd in my talk with Karen Daily today,” Larry said. “I’m really not sure what to make of it.”

  “Okay…” Nick seemed intrigued.

  “Well, she told me her daughter’s boyfriend saw her at home Saturday night. I asked her what her boyfriend’s name is and she said, ‘Owen Harrison.’”

  “So?”

  “So I knew that name sounded familiar and I asked her if it’s the Owen Harrison whose mother is Linda Harrison and she said, ‘Yes, it is.’ I didn’t question her further about it, because I didn’t think it necessarily meant anything, but it’s still nagging at me.”

  “You lost me,” Nick said.

  “About three years ago Owen Harrison’s ex-babysitter disappeared,” Larry said. “Her name was Melanie Foster.”

  “Right, right, I was working Narcotics, but I remember that case,” Nick said. “Melanie Foster. College kid, going to Oneonta. But she was a runaway, right?”

  “That’s what her parents thought, and still think. She’d threatened to run away before and, even though her life seemed stable at the time, it seemed like the most likely scenario. There was nothing to indicate otherwise, anyway, but it’s been three years and no one’s heard a word about her.”

  “So what does this have to do with Owen Harrison?” Nick asked. “Was he a suspect?”

  “No, not really,” Larry said. “He was home with his mother at the time Melanie was last seen, that was his alibi, but I remember a feeling I got when I interviewed him, a feeling that something was off. He was, I don’t know, too slick, too cool for somebody his age. I thought he may have had a relationship with Melanie. People had seen them together, and some of Melanie’s friends suspected something was going on, but I couldn’t prove they’d had an actual relationship. Then, today, I thought it was odd when his name popped up again.”

  “Okay, so his name popped up,” Nick said. “What does that mean? So he’s dating Karen Daily’s daughter. What does that have to do with Deborah Berman?”

  “Nothing, I guess.”

  “Exactly, that’s why…” Nick looked like he was having a brainstorm. “Hold up a sec.” He opened his pad, said, “Yeah, I thought that sounded familiar. Owen Harrison’s name popped up at one of my interviews today too.” Nick was looking at a page in the pad. “At the country club today, I was doing a follow up with Jenna Frisco, the bartender at the club, and I asked her what other club employees witnessed the fight and one of the names she mentioned was Owen Harrison.”

  “I think it’s worth looking into,” Larry said. “If Owen works at the country club he could’ve met Deborah there. And if he was involved with Melanie there’s a chance he was involved with Deborah.”

  “That’s a lot of could’ves and chances,” Nick said.

  “True, but I’m telling you, there’s something off about this kid,” Larry said. “He’s a smooth operator. Deborah could’ve been lonely in her marriage, felt adventurous. Maybe he’s the one she went to meet at the high school parking lot. If we check Owen’s phone records we might find something.”

  “Hey, I love the Patriot Act as much as the next cop,” Nick said, “but we can’t go around checking phone records based on hunches.”

  Larry knew Nick was right, but said, “There’s always a way to get a warrant. If we can prove he’s a suspect.”

  “A suspect based on what? We have nothing on him.”

  “Yet,” Larry said.

  “Look,” Nick said, “if you want to check out Owen because he witnessed the fight at the club and may give us some info we don’t have, go for it. But right now it’s just a theory, like all the other theories, and we still have to focus on Karen and Mark, and to see if we can find a witness at that parking lot. I have to go take a leak.”

  Nick walked away, down the hall.

  Larry went into his office, sat at his desk, when his cell vibrated. As always, he was happy when he saw “Stu” on the display, but he didn’t have time to get into a conversation right now.

  “Hey, how are you?”

  “Okay,” Stu said.

  “Sorry, I’m swamped right now, bro, can we talk later?”

  “Actually, we can’t.”

  “Everything okay, man?”

  “No, not really.”

  Larry went over, shut his office door, and said, “Where are you?”

  “Driving.”

  The line was silent. Now Larry was seriously concerned; this wasn’t like Stu at all. “Are you sure you’re okay? Where are you driving to?”

  “Nowhere. Just driving. I told Janet I was going out for milk.”

  “What’s going on? Talk to me, man.”

  Long silence.

  “Stu, you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay… It’s just…”

  Stu was normally talkative, very direct.

  “You’re scaring me, bro,” Larry said.

  “Sorry. It’s just… well, Janet’s suspicious. She knows I’ve been out a lot, and she seemed to believe my excuses, but now she’s suddenly asking lots of questions. I don’t know, maybe because of what’s going on with Mark and Karen in the news. Maybe it put ideas in her head or some shit.”

  “Fuck,” Larry said, though he was thinking, Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe they needed openness, transparency. Maybe they needed to get this all out in the open and put an end to the sneaking around bullshit.

  “It’s bad, man, it’s bad,” Stu said. “She asked me point blank if I’m cheating on her. I said no, of course, but I’m a shitty liar. I can’t keep up a lie, not for a long time anyway. I’m afraid she’ll start checking up on me now, and I’m afraid the kids’ll find out and… I can’t deal with that kind of drama in my life, I just can’t.”

  “Maybe it’s—” Larry was going to say “for the best.”

  But Stu cut him off. “She said she’s been suspecting something for a while. What’s the word she used? Aloof. Yeah, she said I’ve been acting aloof. See, I told you I’m a shitty liar.”

  “I’m sorry,” Larry said, but he was more relieved than sorry. He was glad that the secret was getting out, that a door was finally opening to a future with Stu.

  “I’m sorry too, man,” Stu said. “You know I didn’t want it to end this way.”

  It was happening—Stu was talking about ending his marriage. The moment Larry had been fantasizing about for months was finally here. He could stop living in fear that he would lose the love of his life, and they could start building a future together. They could wake up every day in the same bed, plan trips, do the things that all couples do and take for granted. Except they’d never take anything for granted. They’d always cherish their time together.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there for you, bro,” Larry said. “I’ll help you through it.”

  “Through it?” Stu asked. “What do you mean, through it?”

  “You
r break up with Janet,” Larry said. “I know it’ll be rough, but I’ll be there for you.”

  “Whoa, I’m not talking about leaving my marriage,” Stu said. “Are you fuckin’ high? I told you I’d never do that.”

  Stu had never told Larry this, that was bullshit, a total lie, but Larry was too shocked and confused to get upset.

  “Wait,” Larry said. “What… w-hat’re you—”

  “I’m sorry man, it’s for the best,” Stu said. “We can’t see each other anymore, and you can’t call me or text me either. I need a clean break now, no contact.”

  “What?” Larry had heard Stu, but he couldn’t fully comprehend the meaning of the words. This wasn’t right—this wasn’t right at all. How had this gone from fantasizing about a life together to no contact, from life to death, in just a few seconds?

  “Sorry, man,” Stu said. “I really like you, you know that, but I have a family, I have kids. You knew this from the beginning.”

  “You really like me?” Larry said. “You really like me? What do you mean, you really like me? You fucking love me, man.”

  “I can’t have this conversation,” Stu said.

  “You can’t do this,” Larry said. “You… you don’t want this. How can you do something you don’t want? How could you do that to me? How could you do that to yourself?”

  “Goodbye, bro.”

  “Wait, Stu. Stu? Stu, you there? Stu?”

  Had he seriously hung up on him? That was it, “Goodbye, bro,” and the most meaningful relationship of Larry’s life had ended, forever?

  Larry called Stu back, but voicemail answered—the son of a bitch had turned off his phone.

  “Shit!” Larry shouted. “Damn it!”

  He knew he wasn’t thinking logically right now; he had to resist impulsivity. He wanted to go over to see Stu, talk to him in person. He knew if they were together, could see and touch each other that there was no way he would be able to leave him. Or if Stu was stubborn, or being a chickenshit, and didn’t want to tell his wife the truth, that he was gay and in love with a man, then maybe Larry should do it for him. Yeah, Stu would be upset, blame Larry for hurting his wife, and causing drama, but someday Stu would thank him, for helping him get out of his marriage, for ending the huge lie he’d been living for years.

  But Larry didn’t want to do something stupid, something he might regret big time. Fortunately, focusing on the Deborah Berman case was the perfect distraction.

  Larry remembered where the Harrisons lived and figured it would be better to show up in person, unexpected, rather than give Owen a heads up. It seemed like seconds later he was driving, replaying snippets of the conversation with Stu, I’m sorry it’s for the best… I really like you.

  It still didn’t seem real. It seemed like something he’d imagined.

  His cell rang, but hope fizzled when he saw it was Karen Daily calling and not Stu.

  He took the call on speaker. Karen was upset, like she’d been at the school earlier, and was insisting that Mark should be the focus of the investigation, and not her. Larry assured her that they were exploring all possibilities, which was true; he just hoped this trip to Owen Harrison’s house wasn’t taking the investigation way off course.

  Larry parked in front of the Harrison’s house, noticing two cars in the drive. Some lights were on in the house, so he hoped he’d at least have someone to speak to and the trip wouldn’t be a total waste.

  He rang the bell, heard footsteps inside, and then the peephole cover shifted. Several seconds passed, long enough for Larry to consider ringing the bell again, and then Owen’s stepfather opened the door. Larry couldn’t recall his name but remembered speaking to him during the Melanie Foster investigation. He was gruff, middle-aged, had seemed like an asshole.

  “Detective Walsh, Bedford police.” He showed his badge.

  “I know who you are,” the man said.

  Larry was waiting for him to go on, but he didn’t.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot,” Larry said. “Your name is…”

  “Raymond.”

  “Right, Raymond. Is Owen at home?”

  “Owen doesn’t live here.”

  “Really?” Maybe showing up unexpected had been a waste of time after all. “Where is he living now?”

  “No idea.”

  Okay, this was odd. A stepfather doesn’t know where his stepson is living?

  “Well you must have some idea.”

  “It’s not my problem anymore.”

  Still an asshole.

  “When did he move out?” Larry asked.

  “Yesterday,” Raymond said.

  This piqued Larry’s interest. Maybe there were no facts yet, but the coincidences were adding up. Owen just happened to move out the day after Deborah Berman disappeared?

  “Do you mind if I come in for a few minutes?” Larry asked.

  Raymond did seem to mind, but he moved aside anyway.

  In the house, Larry glanced around. There was a putrid odor, as if someone had been farting.

  “What’s this about?” Raymond asked. “Owen in some kind of trouble?”

  “Not necessarily,” Larry said.

  “Well, he was nothin’ but trouble when he was living here,” Raymond said. “Didn’t do any chores, was only out for himself. He had to get on in the world so I did him a favor.”

  “Favor?” Larry asked, realizing that Raymond’s breath reeked of beer and that he was probably drunk.

  “I told him that it was time to get out, fend for himself.”

  “Oh, so you kicked him out?”

  “Damn right. Kid’s eighteen years old and he was living here like a child, eating free food, waiting for meals to be cooked for him. What kind of man does that?”

  “Do you know if Owen was involved at all with a woman named Deborah Berman?”

  “You mean the one I heard about on the news?”

  “Yeah, her.”

  Raymond laughed.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Just the idea of Owen with a woman. I can’t picture that at all. If you want to know the truth, I think the kid’s a faggot.”

  Larry wanted to punch this drunk asshole in his gut, follow with a big uppercut to his jaw that would snap his head back and splatter blood.

  But, calmly, Larry said, “If you can avoid the slurs, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Slurs? What slurs?”

  “Faggot,” Larry said.

  “Since when is a faggot a slur? Is that some new political correct bullshit that’s goin’ around?”

  “Hello?” a woman said.

  Larry looked over toward the entrance to the kitchen, saw Owen’s mother, Linda Harrison, along with a young boy. That’s right, Owen had a little brother.

  “Larry Walsh, Bedford police.”

  “Yes, I remember meeting you before. Is there some sort of problem?”

  “I’m handling it,” Raymond said. “Go back to the table.”

  “No, stay,” Larry said, not letting this homophobic prick usurp him. He said to Linda, “Do you know how I can get in touch with Owen?”

  Her eyes shifted, maybe nervously. “No… no, I don’t.”

  “Is there a number where he can be reached?”

  “Yes,” Linda said and gave Larry Owen’s cell number. Then she asked, “Is Owen okay?”

  “Yes, as far as I know,” Larry said. “I just need to ask him some questions. Do you know anything about a relationship he’s been having?”

  Raymond said, “I already tol—” and Larry shouted, “I told you to shut your fuckin’ mouth, okay?”

  That felt good. Linda seemed to like it too.

  “No,” she said. “No, I don’t.”

  “I do,” the boy said.

  “What’s your name?” Larry asked him.

  “Kyle.”

  “What did he tell you, Kyle?”

  “He didn’t tell me, but I heard him talking about stuff with Elana.”

  “Elana Daily, right?�
�

  “Owen doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Raymond said. “He wouldn’t know what to do with a girlfriend.”

  “Hey,” Larry said. “I’m telling you for the last time.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m confused,” Linda said to Larry. “Why are you looking for Owen? What does this have to do with Elana Daily?”

  “It has nothing to do with Elana,” Larry said. “You’ve probably heard on the news about Deborah Berman, though. I’m just trying to find out if Owen had any involvement with her.”

  “Involvement? What kind of involvement?”

  “Perhaps some sort of relationship?”

  “Oh, really?” Now Linda was upset. “Just like the last time when you harassed us with that ridiculousness about Owen and Melanie when there was no evidence at all that Owen had anything to do with anything?”

  “That’s right,” Larry said. “And you were his alibi.”

  “That’s right,” Linda said.

  “Are you protecting your son again?”

  “Hey, what the fuck?” Raymond said.

  “Are you?” Larry persisted.

  “No,” Linda said.

  Larry looked at Linda for a few extra seconds, getting a vibe she was lying about something, then said, “Do you know where he was Saturday night from seven to ten p.m.?”

  Linda’s eyes widened. “This is harassment,” she said.

  “My wife’s right,” Raymond said. “This is fuckin’ bullshit.”

  “If you know anything,” Larry said, “you have to let us know.”

  “Yeah, we’ll let you know,” Raymond said, “with our fuckin’ lawyer we’ll let you know.”

  “It could save a woman’s life,” Larry said to Linda, “and you know what your son’s capable of.”

  “I’m gonna sue your ass,” Raymond said. “Watch me.”

  Larry didn’t see the point in staying any longer.

  “Well, thanks for all your help,” he said sarcastically.

  Then, as he was heading toward the door, Kyle said, “I saw them together once.”

  Larry stopped, turned, said, “Saw who together?”

  “Owen and Justin Berman’s mom.”

  “What’re you talking about?” Linda asked him.

  “Go on,” Larry said to Kyle, “Where’d you see them?”

  “At swim practice once, like last month,” Kyle said. “I followed Owen up to a classroom, wondering where he was going… and then I looked in and saw him and Justin’s mom, and they were doing all this weird stuff.”