by A J Rivers
“Emma Griffin,” he says.
I’m surprised, and obviously show it on my face, because he laughs. Gesturing to the chair across the desk from him, he sets his tablet down and smiles at me.
“I don’t have that good a memory,” he says. “But I recognize your face from the news. FBI. Very impressive.”
“Thank you,” I say, sitting down.
“Can I hope you aren’t here on official business?” he asks.
“It’s not official business,” I say. “But it’s also not a social visit. I once came here to ask you about a friend of mine. Julia Meyer. Do you remember that?”
He nods. “I do. I can’t say I treasure the memory of that time very much. And now that you mentioned her, I realize it’s not just your TV interviews and news reports over the last couple of years that make me remember you. You caused quite a stir all those years ago.”
“Yes,” I say. “That was the point. Julia was missing and no one was paying attention to me.”
“I remember now. How is she? Do you still keep up with her?” the professor asks.
“She’s still missing,” I tell him. “No one’s heard from her since then.”
He looks taken aback. “I didn’t realize that. I’m so sorry. I never heard anything else about it, so I just assumed it resolved itself.”
“It didn’t have a chance to resolve itself because no one would even open a case. But that’s why I’m here. I’m going to investigate her disappearance again. I know it’s been a long time, but I’m touching base with everybody again to see if anyone might remember anything else. Or to see if something might be significant now that wasn’t then,” I say.
He thinks for a few seconds, then shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help more. This is kind of what I do. I hate that this happened right here on our own campus, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“What do you mean? Who are you talking about?” I ask.
“The criminal justice club,” he says. “It’s just a group of students who are interested in true crime. We get together and discuss different cases, investigation techniques, that sort of thing.”
“I didn’t even know such a thing existed,” I say.
“It would have been great to have you as a part of it back then,” he says.
“You led it back then?” I ask.
“I did,” Professor Harris says. “I started the club,” he looks off to the diagonal and lets out a puff of breath. “Gosh, almost twenty years ago now. I can’t believe it’s been that long.”
“And you never did anything about Julia?” I ask.
“There was nothing to do,” he says. “If I’m not mistaken, according to the police, there was never a crime. Nothing happened except that she left campus, and no one knew where she went. As you apparently know from experience, that’s not too much to go on. But if you find out anything else and need a hand, please don’t hesitate to ask. We’d be happy to help.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Thirteen years ago...
Emma was sitting on the couch in Julia’s apartment when her parents came through the door. They looked at her strangely, as if they couldn’t imagine why she was there.
“Mr. and Mrs. Meyer,” she said, standing up and taking a step toward them. “My name is Emma Griffin. I’m a friend of Julia’s.”
Her mother nodded. “I’ve heard her speak of you. It seems the two of you had formed quite the friendship. I’m sorry she’s done this to you.”
Emma looked at her questioningly. “What do you mean? Julia hasn’t done anything to me.”
“I only mean I’m sorry she left like this,” she said.
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” I said. “I’m really worried about her.”
“Don’t be,” her mother sighed. “This is something Julia does.”
“What do you mean, this is something she does?” Emma asked.
“Julia is very smart and usually seems extremely put together. But she can also be emotional and impulsive. She insists on having her way and will do whatever it takes to get what she wants.”
Emma was shocked at what she was hearing. Especially from Julia’s mother. This wasn’t at all how she expected her to react to her daughter’s disappearance. She looked over at Julia’s father, who gave her a slightly more sympathetic expression.
“Don’t misunderstand, we love our daughter very much. She is the light of our lives. But she can be extremely headstrong. As she was growing up, we always wanted to look at it as being determined. We liked that she was driven and ambitious. She always wanted to succeed and put it in her mind that if she wanted something, she would do whatever she needed to do to accomplish that goal.”
“I can definitely see that about her,” Emma said. “Which is why I’m so surprised that this is happening. That’s why I’m so worried about her.”
“Why?” Julia’s mother asked.
“Because she was just getting her life started. She was looking forward to graduate school. She wanted a career and a future,” she said.
Julia’s mother rolled her eyes. “By career, are you talking about this nonsense about cooking?”
“She was talking about taking some culinary school classes and potentially becoming a chef. But this was always alongside her goals for grad school. She’s an amazing cook. Did you know that?” she asked.
“Julia was meant for more than cooking,” her mother said. “That isn’t the type of career her father and I envisioned for her. And it’s not the type of career we were paying for her to go to school to achieve. She was always very talented growing up. Smart. Good grades. Julia has the potential to become anything, and we ensured she had all of the paths open to her. When she brought up to us that she was considering a total shift in her educational focus and career aspiration, we saw it for what it is. A silly distraction and a waste of her potential. We let her know it was unacceptable of her to consider such a change and that she needed to focus on the plan in front of her. Apparently, this is how she chose to react.”
“You think that she ran away because you didn’t want her to study cooking?” Emma asked incredulously. “Like some spoiled child? That’s how little you think of your daughter?”
“Emma, I know this might be difficult for you to understand. Julia told us you don’t have any involvement from your parents,” Mrs. Meyer said.
Emma bristled, her spine straightening so hard it hurt. She wanted to lash out, to defend her parents against the implication so heavy in the woman’s voice. But she didn’t. This wasn’t about her. It was about Julia, and she didn’t want to push away the two people closest to her. They knew her better than anyone and might be able to help find her.
“What I’m finding difficult to understand is why you’re so angry rather than being worried about her. Julia always talked about the two of you as being so supportive of her. She always said you were proud of her and so encouraging,” Emma said.
“We are,” Julia’s father said. “We always have been. But it’s also important to us at that Julia be the type of person we know she’s meant to be. There have been difficulties, and we try not to dwell on them. But we made it clear to her that she needed to stay focused. That if she expected to have our support, she needed to keep on the right path.”
Realization settled over Emma.
“You mean, if she wanted you to continue paying her way and sending her money, she would do what you wanted her to do and be the person you thought she should be,” she said.
“Were you aware that Julia changed schools?” Mrs. Meyer asked. “Or that she started at this university after some significant unpleasantness at the last one?”
“No,” Emma said, shaking her head. “I knew she was a couple of semesters behind, but she said it was because of an enrichment program she did.”
“She was accepted into an extremely exclusive study-abroad program when she first enrolled here at Alexandria,” Mr. Mey
er said, a note of pride finally apparent in his voice.
“But that was only after she left her first school and chose this one instead. We accepted the change then because she was still willing to work on an acceptable course of study and we thought it would be good for her to get away from all the distractions of the other school. The bad influences,” Mrs. Meyer said. “She has been doing well here since. But over the last several months, she’s started showing all the negative signs again. She started hinting at a relationship. She talked about this absurd career. I was concerned it would negatively impact her volunteering. A few days ago, she told us that she had big news she wanted to share with us over Christmas and would be bringing someone home with her.”
“Who?” Emma asked.
“She didn’t give us a name. We didn’t need a name. It would be unacceptable for her to bring a stranger home for Christmas, and we told her as much. It was obvious she had lost track. I was so hopeful over Thanksgiving break when she was talking about her volunteering and how well she was doing in her classes. I thought she was finding herself again. As it turned out, that wasn’t the case. And now she’s rebelling against our trying to put her back in line. I am so disappointed. And as you can imagine, hurt. And, yes, angry. But don’t waste your time with worry. When Julia is finished with this ill-fated romance of hers, realizes that cooking in a grimy, greasy kitchen isn’t as glamorous as she thinks, and wants to live a decent life again, she’ll come back.”
Now
“Hello. Is this Mrs. Meyer?” I ask.
“This is Claire Meyer. Who’s speaking?” she asks.
I know the voice. It has a new layer, somewhat as if it’s been dipped in lemon juice, but it’s the same voice. I don’t think I’ll ever forget talking to her in the days immediately after Julia disappeared.
“This is Emma Griffin. I’m not sure if you remember me,” I say.
“Yes,” she says, biting off anything else I might say. “I remember you. You were Julia’s friend in college.”
“Yes,” I say. “We spoke right after she went missing.”
“Julia did not go missing. I told you that then and I’m telling you that again now. She chose to run away,” Claire says.
“I don’t think that’s true,” I say. “Just as I didn’t then. I’m investigating her case again.”
“There is no case,” Claire says. “How dare you bring up all that unpleasantness again? Do you have any idea how difficult it is on my husband and me to know our only daughter chose to cut us out of her life completely? That she just abandoned her life?”
“Again, I don’t think she did,” I try to explain. “But I can imagine it would be almost as difficult as her knowing her parents would be willing to cut her out of their lives if she didn’t make the choices that they were trying to force her into.”
“I can’t deal with this again,” Mrs. Meyers says.
I expect the call to cut off. Instead, there’s a muffled scraping sound and another voice comes over the line.
“Hello?”
“Mister Meyer?” I ask.
“Bill,” he says. “Who’s this?”
“Emma Griffin, sir,” I say.
“Julia’s friend,” he says quietly.
“Yes,” I say.
There’s a gentler note in his voice than there was in his wife’s, and I think I might be able to get further with him.
“What can I help you with, Emma?” he asks.
“Have you heard anything from Julia over the years? Or even anything about her? People talking about her? Even new mail? Anything that might point to what happened to her?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “Nothing since the day she packed her things and left campus. Her car was never found, and the belongings that she had with her are still gone. As we told you thirteen years ago, she decided her own path in life and was going to follow it no matter what. It’s not something my wife and I like to think about.”
“I understand that,” I say. “But there is a lot about this that isn’t as it seems. Too many things don’t add up, and I have reason to believe something serious happened to her. I’m investigating her disappearance again, and I could really use any help you or your wife might be able to offer me.”
“Please don’t do this,” he says. “This has been so painful for both of us. Knowing our daughter left us and that we aren’t even a part of her life anymore is too much for any parents to bear. We don’t need a reminder of it.”
“Julia deserves for people to know what happened. I hope I’m wrong. I really do. I don’t say that very often, but this time I really mean it. I hope I am completely off base and have no idea what I’m talking about. I hope she’s out there somewhere living a glorious life with an amazing husband and wonderful career cooking in the restaurant of her dreams. I hope she has children and pets and everything she ever dreamed of. But if she doesn’t, if something stopped her from having any of that, we need to find out,” I say.
“Please, Emma. My wife is sick. She can’t take this kind of stress,” he says.
“The last time we spoke, you mentioned that a few things were left in her apartment. They weren’t in her room. Everything in there was taken out. But there were a few things in the living room. Do you have them? Can I see them?” I asked.
“We left them there,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
“We left them at the University,” he says. “I believed she would come back, and we didn’t want to have taken them. Now we assume they’ve probably been thrown away. This is very painful for us. I tried for a long time to tell myself everything was going to be fine. That she would come home, and everything would go back to normal. But over the years I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that she made her choice. I don’t like it, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Now I just need to focus on taking care of my wife.”
Chapter Forty-Three
I walk into the administration office and immediately see the desk plaque with the name Nancy Fulbright. As I’m walking up to it, I smile at the woman sitting by the computer. For a second, she stays focused on the screen, but her eyes flicker over to me. They go back to the screen for only a split second before her head whips over to look at me, as if it had taken that long for her to process what she saw.
“Emma Griffin,” she says.
I smile and nod. “Yes. And you are Nancy Fulbright. I believe we spoke on the phone.”
“Yes,” she says. She giggles almost breathlessly. “I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you. I mean, in person. I already talked to you. On the phone. But you just said that. Oh my gosh, I sound like a blithering idiot.”
“You’re fine,” I smile. “It can be a little strange to put a face to a name sometimes.”
“Oh, but I already had your face with your name. All of us around here know who you are,” she says. She leans toward me and lowers her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “Something a lot of people don’t know about me is I am somewhat of a true crime buff.”
“Really?” I ask, lowering my voice along with hers.
This is one of those moments when I feel as if I’m channeling Xavier a bit. I’m taking in what Nancy is exhibiting and offering it back to her, so she feels comfortable. I need her on my side, and this is the best way to do it.
“Yes,” she says. “I just love finding out all about different crimes and how they’re solved. I just can’t get enough of reading your cases. It’s just so amazing that you went to school here.”
“Yes, I did,” I say. “So did a good friend of mine. Julia Meyer.”
Her face darkens just slightly. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard of her.”
“You have?” I ask. “So, you know she disappeared.”
“I know she left campus very suddenly. She didn’t sit for a final exam or continue with her studies as she’d planned. I also know you caused a bit of turmoil over the whole situation,” she says.
There is a hint of laughter in her voice, and I smile.<
br />
“I might have ruffled a few feathers. The thing is, I know Julia didn’t just walk away. That wasn’t her. And I’m trying to prove it. But I need help. I spoke with her parents, and they mentioned that some of her belongings were left in her student apartment. They didn’t claim them when they came to campus after she was last seen. Do you have any idea what might have happened to them?”
“I don’t,” she says regretfully. I sag, disappointed. “But I might I know somebody who would.”
I perk up a bit. “If you could find out, I would really appreciate it.”
“Just give me one second.”
She gets out of her chair and hurries out of sight. I tell myself I’m not actually manipulating her. She’s helping me, which is exactly what she would want to do. When she comes back, she’s smiling.
“Did you find out something?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “I just spoke to the head of the housing department. I told her you’re here and looking for more information about Julia Meyer. It was a long time ago, so she wasn’t working here at the time. But, she says if anything of Julia’s was left behind, it would have been put in the storage room. We can’t guarantee it’s still there after all this time, but there’s a chance.”
“Storage room?”
“Yes. It’s in the basement of one of the administration buildings. It’s used to store personal belongings that are left in student housing or academic buildings. The only trouble is, they are personal belongings, which means Julia’s parents would have to request them,” she says.
“According to Julia’s parents, she left on her own accord. Those things still belong to her. And if she left them here and did not come back to claim them, they are abandoned property. Particularly after thirteen years, the University can do with her belongings as it pleases,” I say.
“Give me one second,” she says again, and leaves.
This time she’s gone longer, but when she comes back, she’s smiling.
