Every Waking Hour

by Joanna Schaffhausen

  “We’re trying to locate this boy,” Ellery replied as she showed off the picture she had of Chloe and the mystery kid on her phone. “He may go by the name Ty.”

  Ms. Maxwell enlarged the photo with her fingers and studied it. “Oh, sure. Tyreek Cantrell. He’s one of our junior basketball coaches. Sweet kid.” Her brown eyes grew concerned as she handed the phone back to Ellery. “I hope he’s not in any trouble.”

  “We’re definitely not out to make trouble for him,” Ellery said as a non-reply. “We just want to talk to him as a possible witness.”

  She sighed. “That no-good cousin of his got himself mixed up in something again?”

  “I can’t really get into it. Do you know where we can find Tyreek?”

  “From two to five this afternoon, you should be able to find him here in the gym. Before that, he lives with his grandma over on Sycamore Street. She’s a nurse up at the medical center, so Ty’s on his own a lot.”

  “Has he been in trouble before?” Dorie asked.

  “Here and there. Nothing too serious, I don’t think, but he came to us originally as part of mandated community service about two years ago now. It’s his cousin Darius who’s the wild one. I always tell Ty he needs to think for himself and not just follow along with whatever his buddies are doing, but…” She shrugged. “Teenagers just want to belong.”

  Dorie smiled. “As do we all.” She rapped the counter gently with her knuckles. “Thanks for your help.”

  Back in the car, Ellery called in and requested a background check on Tyreek Cantrell. “Let’s see what ‘nothing too serious’ actually amounts to,” she said to Dorie.

  “See what you can find out about the cousin while you’re at it. Darius?”

  Ellery relayed the information that they had and then waited for a reply. She spotted a man in a suit wolfing down a breakfast sandwich and wished she’d grabbed more than a donut when she had picked up Dorie’s coffee. “I don’t know what this kid’s story is, but he didn’t seem from his exchange with Ashley like he knew where Chloe was. He was surprised to see her character turn up in the game.”

  “Maybe because he has her stashed in a basement somewhere and wondered how the hell she got access to a computer.”

  “If he does have her, he’s got to be sweating bullets by now.”

  “Him and me both.” She unbuttoned her collar and squinted out the window at the hazy summer sky. “It’s supposed to be over ninety today. At least that’s something, huh? We don’t have to worry about Chloe out somewhere freezing to death.”

  Ellery hummed an acknowledgment and turned her face away. It had been hot as the devil’s breath the night she was abducted, heat radiating back off the concrete even after dark. Coben had given her just enough water to survive and she’d had to beg him for every drop, her mouth open like a desperate baby bird’s while he’d laughed as it sloshed all over her face. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Let’s not wait for background. Let’s just head over there.”

  Dorie gave her a long look as Ellery started the engine. “You okay?”

  “It’s just the damn heat.” She wiped her forehead and then fiddled with the vents to point the air at her face.

  Dorie settled back with a snort. “I hate to tell you this, Hathaway, but it only gets hotter from here.”

  They drove a surprisingly long ten blocks to Sycamore Street. Records had already revealed Tyreek Cantrell’s address, which turned out to be a double-decker apartment that had several shingles missing on the left side. The tiny yard was well trimmed, but the walkway had cracked and become noticeably uneven. A cheery wreath with purple and white flowers hung on the left-side door. Before they could exit the car, a call came through for Ellery with the results of the background check on Tyreek.

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “I see. He pled out?… What about the cousin?… Okay, great. If you could send me copies of those files, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Well?” Dorie asked when she hung up.

  Ellery cast another look at the house, which appeared quiet. “Tyreek was arrested two years ago on charges of aggravated rape of a female minor. He pled down to lewd behavior. The cousin, Darius, got three to five years.”

  “Let me guess—he’s already out.”

  “Released two months ago. Current address is in Hyde Park.”

  “Well, let’s start rattling cages here,” Dorie said. “We can progress as necessary.”

  They knocked sharply on the door of the lower unit, and when that did not produce a response, Ellery switched to pounding with the side of her fist. Eventually, the door cracked and a pair of hooded dark eyes peered out at them. “What do y’all want? It’s early.”

  Ellery showed off her shield. “Detectives Hathaway and Bennett, Boston PD. Are you Tyreek Cantrell?”

  He widened the door and Ellery saw his attire—boxers, bare feet, and a gray T-shirt. At least the kid wasn’t packing. “This is about Chloe, isn’t it?”

  “We need to talk to you for a minute. Okay to come inside?”

  “Yeah, all right,” he replied grudgingly. He scrubbed his considerable amount of hair with both hands. “I got to warn you, though—I don’t know nothing about where she’s at.”

  Ellery stepped into the house, which was already warm. Drawn shades held back the worst of the heat in the living room, but the air felt like a wet blanket. Beads of sweat formed on the back of her neck as she surveyed the property. She did not see anything amiss, but the décor was an odd mix of old and new. The dated sofa showed worn patches on the arms, its pillows dented in each center. The coffee table had a slim paperback novel under it to hold it in place, and its wood veneer had a sizable chip on one side. Meanwhile, the 60-inch projection screen television practically gleamed. Ellery noted the gaming system similar to Chloe’s, complete with expensive headphones. In the corner, she saw a pair of black Nike running shoes that she knew retailed for more than a hundred dollars. “When was the last time you saw Chloe?” she asked him.

  “Last Tuesday at the Y.” He flopped down onto the sofa. Dorie poked her nose around the corner, peering toward the kitchen. “We just said hi and stuff. She asked if I was going to be online later and I said I was.”

  “Did you talk to her online that night?”

  “Yeah, we played for a couple of hours, like regular.”

  “How did she seem to you?”

  “Like normal. She didn’t say she was planning on being kidnapped.”

  “Those are nice kicks over there,” she said, nodding at the sneakers. “Are you a runner?”

  “Kinda.” He shrugged one large shoulder. He was fit and strong—a man’s body even if he was only seventeen. Legally, though, they were questioning a minor without his guardian present.

  “Where’s your grandmother?”

  “She’s at work. Left at six. She don’t know where Chloe’s at, either, in case you’re wondering.”

  “Where do you think she is?”

  “Man, if I knew, I’d go there myself and get her. Whoever took her, they’ll catch these hands.” He held up his fists.

  “What’s that you have on your knuckles?”

  “Oh, that,” he said, sounding embarrassed as he tucked his hands away. “I was just messing around.” Ellery waited, expectant, and he reluctantly held them out to show her. One hand read: “DEATH,” but the other said: “LIFE.” “It’s just Sharpie. See?”

  “I see. Does it mean anything?”

  He looked at her like she was an idiot. “Only everything. Every day, you got to choose.”

  “You make good choices, Tyreek?” Dorie asked as she rejoined him.

  “I try to,” he said, wary now.

  “What would your PO say? Would they agree?”

  “Hey, I’m so clean I squeak, man. You can ask my PO. You can ask anybody.”

  “You weren’t so clean a couple of years ago,” Ellery answered.

  He huffed an angry breath and jumped off the couch. “I didn’t do an
ything to that girl. I was just there, you understand? I didn’t even know it was going down until she came out of the room with her clothes all ripped up. I thought she was into it, that she wanted to be with Darius.”

  “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

  He took a deep breath and held out those enormous hands. “It was a party thrown by some dudes that Darius knew. Yeah, there was drugs there. No, I wasn’t doing them. My grandma would shoot me herself if I started taking that stuff. This girl, Tre’ana, she was at the party too. People were drinking, smoking up. There was loud music playing. At one point, I look over, and Tre’ana’s grinding on D. So when he took her upstairs, I figured it was probably her idea. But they didn’t come back and it got late. I had to get home and D was my ride. I went up there to the bedroom and I knocked. I knocked a bunch of times ’fore the door opened. D had no clothes on. Tre’ana had no bottom. Her top was ripped. D laughed and asked if I wanted a turn. While he was talking to me, she grabbed her clothes and ran. She had a cut on her hand and the blood got on me when she ran by. So when the cops showed up, they thought I was in on it.”

  “The girl must’ve said otherwise, no?” Dorie asked.

  “She was high. There was other dudes in the room off and on. She didn’t know who all they were, but I was the only one with blood on him, so I’m the one who got busted. I swear to you, I didn’t touch her.”

  “She was fourteen years old,” Ellery said, looking at him steadily.

  “She looked older.” At her glare, he held up his palms. “She did! But you see, it don’t matter how old she was because I didn’t touch that girl. I’m not that kind of guy.”

  “What kind of guy are you?” Dorie asked.

  “Nowadays? I’m the kind who minds his own business.”

  “Tell us about your relationship with Chloe,” Ellery said.

  “Man, what ‘relationship’? We’re friends, that’s it. She’s just a kid, like a little cousin or something.”

  “And you met her at the Y?”

  “Yeah, about six months ago. Turns out she’s a gamer, like me.” He gestured toward the television. “That girl can shoot, let me tell you. Course I wanted her on my squad. Plus, I don’t know…” He scratched the back of his head.

  “What?” Ellery demanded.

  He shrugged. “Around here, you want to mind your own business, you’ve got to stay off the streets. I didn’t want no part of what Darius was doing—that’s his road, not mine. His crew came around a few times while he was locked up, thinking maybe I’d want to take his spot. I told them no way. After a while, they believed me. They stopped coming round. It got awful quiet in here. That’s when I got into gaming and other stuff—to keep busy, find someone to talk to, you know? I think maybe it was the same way for Chloe. Her parents are, like, insane strict. She doesn’t get to hang out with her friends.”

  “Did she ever come hang out here with you?”

  He cackled. “Yeah, that’ll happen. I sneak in some little white rich girl to hang out. Her parents would have me in bracelets quicker than you can say statutory rape.”

  “I thought you weren’t into her.”

  “I’m not,” he said, belligerent. “But I know how the world works.”

  “You said she’s rich,” Dorie said as her gaze slid to the large television that Ellery had noticed. “How did you find that out? Ever been to her place?”

  “No, I told you. We talked only at the Y and online. I know she’s rich because of the stuff she says. Like, they got two laundry rooms in her house. Why the hell do they need two laundry rooms? There’s only Chloe and her parents living there.” He shook his head, baffled. “Meanwhile, Grandma and I have to haul our clothes to the Suds-o-mat three blocks away.”

  “So Chloe’s never been here,” Ellery said. “Not once?”

  “She didn’t so much as walk by outside.”

  “Good.” She nodded with satisfaction now that she’d locked him into his story. “Then you wouldn’t mind if we took a look around.”

  “You think I got her stashed in a closet or something?” He spread his arms and made an exasperated sound in the back of his throat. “Go ahead. Look all you want. There’s nothing to see.”

  Ellery and Dorie walked the length of the stuffy apartment, the old wooden floor creaking beneath their feet. In her mind’s eye, Ellery pictured Chloe as she was on the day of her abduction, in the pink T-shirt, jean shorts, and sandals. She had diamond stud earrings and a black-and-white beaded bracelet around her left wrist. Ellery didn’t really believe Tyreek had stashed Chloe in a closet, but she held her breath each time they opened one. Their search turned up nothing but winter coats, a vacuum, and a bunch of boxes. Ty’s grandmother’s room held a Shaker-style bedroom set and another expensive television was mounted on the wall. A window fan spun lazily in the mild breeze. She had framed pictures on the dresser, including one of a young woman and a toddler who looked like he was probably Ty. The room smelled like perfume and felt heavy with memory.

  Ty’s room smelled like teenage hormones. His walls displayed posters of basketball stars like Steph Curry and Kyrie Irving. Ellery noticed a laptop computer on the bed, one that cost more money than hers did. Someone in this house had big-time disposable income. “Where did you get that?” she asked Tyreek, who had been following them around the place.

  He didn’t get a chance to answer. Dorie spoke instead.

  “Hathaway.”

  “Yeah?”

  Dorie jerked her head to indicate Ellery should join her by Tyreek’s cluttered desk. It held a stack of graphic novels, dragon figurines, mismatched socks, a fork, and a bunch of takeout menus. “Look at that,” Dorie murmured to her.

  Ellery followed her gaze to a black-and-white item peeking out from beneath one of the paper menus. It looked like Chloe’s bracelet.

  17

  When the caller ID read: “U Penn police,” Reed ducked out from his sister’s breakfast table to answer it. “Agent Markham?… It’s Jed Bolden. I got a message here this morning that you wanted to talk to me about an incident with Professor Stone’s car some years ago.”

  “That’s right. I was told yesterday that you were the one who responded to the scene?”

  “Yes, sir. It was just past ten at night. Professor Stone was working late in his office. A student out jogging saw the blaze and called it in. Someone had poured gasoline on that silver BMW Z20 and then tossed a lit match. No witnesses. At the time, we had cameras at the front of the building, but not at the back where the car was parked in the lot, so we didn’t have much to go on.”

  “You never identified the perpetrator?”

  “Professor Stone thought it might be one of his students angry about a bad grade. We do occasionally see that sort of thing. A few years ago, a failing student took a fire extinguisher and sprayed it under the door of his teacher’s locked office. Destroyed four grand’s worth of computer equipment.”

  “Did you interview the students?”

  “We talked to them. They all denied it, of course. We didn’t have anything to prove otherwise, and well…”

  “Well, what?”

  “Professor Stone didn’t seem all that eager to continue the investigation. He kept saying his insurance would write it off, but of course, they were leaning on us for answers before they’d pay up. I wondered if Professor Stone might have known more about the fire than he wanted to say.”

  “You think he set it himself?”

  “No, we ruled that possibility out right away. Computer data showed he was in his office working when the car went up. But he has a son, you know, and rumor had it that the kid was struggling with drug addiction at the time. I heard his parents had kicked him out, they were so fed up.”

  “Justin,” Reed said, musing to himself. His name kept coming up.

  “Right. That was his name. Justin Stone.”

  “Did you look into whether he’d set the fire?”

  A heavy pause came through the other end. �
�You mind telling me why you’re asking? I’m happy to cooperate, but it’s a little strange to have the FBI poking around in a property crime fifteen years after the fact.”

  “I’m not at liberty to disclose any details. However, I do appreciate any help you can give me.”

  “Right. It’s just—I work for the university. So does Professor Stone. He’s got some AI grant about teaching computers to predict economic recession that got a write-up in the papers last year. 60 Minutes came out and interviewed him.”

  “You don’t want to make trouble for him.”

  “I don’t want to make trouble for myself.”

  Ah, Reed thought. There’s something here. “You did look into Justin Stone,” he surmised. “What did you find?”

  “A whole lot of nothing,” Bolden admitted finally. “As in, he couldn’t account for his whereabouts at all. But he had a McDonald’s receipt from three blocks away just about three hours before the fire. I checked every gas station in the vicinity to see if he might’ve picked up a can. No one remembered seeing him. But no one could swear he wasn’t there, either. Between you, me, and the lamppost, I figured he did it and his father was covering for him.”

  “Okay, thank you.” Reed paused. “What, if anything, do you know about a possible complaint against Professor Stone a few years ago? One by a female student.”

  Another long pause. “I heard about it,” Bolden replied at length. “I also heard she made it up.”

  “Did you do any investigation into her complaint at the time?”

  “No, sir. The Dean of Students told me they’d handle it.”

  “What did you think about that request?”

  “What did I think? I think Professor Stone’s grant is more than a million dollars a year. That buys you your own personal investigation by the special committee.”

  “Does it also buy you a particular outcome?”

  “I don’t get to ask those questions,” answered Bolden. “But you go right ahead.”

  Reed thanked the man for his time and candor and then hung up the phone. It rang again immediately in his hands. He braced himself when he saw Sarit’s name on the screen. “Hello, Sarit,” he said through gritted teeth as he answered.