by I.B. Holder
*****
Richard Mercile was neither insecure nor possessive. His charisma came from a place that was none too bright, however honest and keenly self-aware. There was the odd person who didn’t immediately take a shine to Richard, stranger still the person that didn’t eventually grow to like him. It didn’t hurt that he was tall, chiseled, with a long stride and firm handshake, which he offered to Legacy after touching Wagner on the shoulder in a collegial fashion. His confidence and warmth made almost any gesture seem appropriately earnest.
They met in the conference room, to avoid exposing him to the barrage of images of crime scene recovery photos that plastered the walls of their office. Legacy didn’t like leaving his office. Wagner had asked him for a phone interview, but since Richard only worked two hours away, he suggested that he come to talk in person.
Legacy saw the action for what it was, a man’s desperate attempt to involve himself in the solution to a problem he couldn’t possibly solve, but equally couldn’t get out of his head. He saw the look in Richard’s eyes and thought back to an image reflected of himself - the lowest part of his own life was standing in front of him, eyes darting from Legacy, to the table, then back to Wagner. Legacy could tell that he was disappointed that there wasn’t a room full of people all engaged actively on the phones, Internet and satellite converging into some huge secret government surveillance – hunting down the people who had taken Laura.
The handshake was brief and formal. “Agent Legacy?” he asked. “Is there some movement in the case?”
“Backward.” Legacy said with a tone of finality. Robert bowed his head. He was a lawyer, not an optimist, and it took only a second to shake him down the lowest level of human expectation: futility.
Wagner shot a look at Legacy, gauging whether he was being heartless on purpose. Even when he explained later that he needed to strip away all hope from the boyfriend so that he would stop “trying” and report only honest recollection.
Wagner added, “Laura appears to be in no immediate danger.”
Robert’s frustration took a natural arc into anger, “What exactly do you call immediate danger?” Wagner looked away – this certainly wasn’t her crowning moment.
Legacy’s words came quickly, allowing Robert no time to think. “We think that she was chosen by random – on a television screen. There weren’t any television appearances scheduled in her planner, and she kept meticulous notes- “
Robert interrupted. “If it wasn’t in the book, she wasn’t there.”
“Handwriting experts,” Legacy held up his hand and waited “agree that nothing was added or changed in her book, so we’re at a dead end. We can’t think of a way that her image could get on this screen without her knowing about it.” He strummed through the pages of her planner, “And it appears like she didn’t do anything that wasn’t written down.” Legacy’s voice droned on – a calculated move to draw Robert’s attention to the sounds of the words themselves.
“She was taken from in front of my apartment – I keep wondering if I’d been at the window –”
“But you weren’t. You really haven’t had anything to contribute, even with all the chances you have had and all you’ve done is run around giving apologetic, useless statements- that’s all we have from you in the reports. You’re so concentrated on your actions –” Legacy fanned the police reports in the air, “but there’s nothing in here that will bring her back to you.” Then Legacy leveled the stack at Robert’s forehead, “I think you keep making this about yourself. It’s a waste - let’s call this interview, Wagner stamp the time.” His pronouncement, Robert knew, was final.
Robert looked like his blood was boiling under the surface of his skin. Then just as suddenly as the energy gathered, it was channeled elsewhere. “The tapes. The PSA tapes.” He looked up with the sincere expression of discovery. Legacy looked a pleased shade of smug.
An hour later Legacy and Wagner sat in their office with a new strategy developing. “Why didn’t we know about those tapes?”
“The same reason that we don’t know everything– “ Wagner didn’t let him in with a follow up question. “We don’t know everything.”
“Circular logic.” Legacy pointed out.
“Did you do that on purpose, back there? Did you manipulate him?” Wagner asked.
“You can’t force someone into anywhere in their mind.” He drank from a steaming cup of coffee, the cream he’d just added swirling to the top. “Patterns that restrict the mind break down only under the right conditions.” He swirled the cup. “Like your behavioral patterns, there’s coffee an arm’s reach away. You refuse it. Why do you have to have froth, and milk and steam and markings all over a four dollar cardboard cup concoction before you think this coffee is worth drinking?”
Wagner’s phone rang; she picked it up all the while beckoning for a sip of Legacy’s coffee. Legacy reluctantly handed over his cup. “Uh-huh” she said into the receiver. “Great.” She walked over to the drinking fountain and dumped the cup down the drain. “The PSA with Agent Laura Doorner was on the air in two cities that night. I’m going to buy you a cappuccino.”
White foam splashed up the silver lining of an oval-bottomed pitcher as it was pulled from a hissing spout of steam. Streams of specialty jargon spilled out of Wagner like a second language with a cadence of fluency. “Double-half caf two percent almond milk latte extra hot –‘
“How many drinks did you just order?” Legacy butted in.
A smirk from Wagner and she rattled off another order with a similar level of café-wise specificity. “And tonight, make it breve” She added at the last moment before losing the attention of the harried barista.
“Almond milk is the secret.” Handing Legacy a cup.
“What does breve mean?” Legacy inquired.
“It means that they use half and half instead of milk.” She purred with contentment drinking from her cup. Smooth as silk. “We’re getting closer.”
Legacy took his first drink, “Almost as good as coffee.”
Wagner’s cell phone rang, and she paused briefly as she saw who was calling on the ID. “It’s Bailey. He has been digging up some information on biker groups linked to abductions.”
Legacy always scowled when he heard Bailey’s name, but there was something more, his stare made Wagner uncomfortable.
“I’ll come by your house in an hour.” Legacy nodded, the minute that she was out the door he went up to the teen behind the counter and asked if he could trade for regular-sized coffee. The boy looked at him like he was from “planet drip.” Legacy was amused that even the words small medium and large had been banished from the establishment. In small deference to Wagner, he splashed some almond milk into the cup instead of cream, an action he immediately regretted upon taking a sip. He thought about returning the coffee again, but the line reminded him of Moscow. Everyone seemed to be talking the same language as Wagner so it was going to be a while. He decided to take a long walk home.
