The Lost Boys

by Faye Kellerman

  “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Was there a front-seat passenger? Why else would she get into the backseat?”

  A pause. “I think there was someone in the front seat.”

  “Man or woman?”

  “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Young? Old?”

  “Not a child … probably not a teenager if I’m remembering correctly. Honestly, I may be making this up. I’m not observant when it comes to those kinds of things.”

  “And you talked to someone who told you she was Kathrine’s mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did the voice sound like?”

  “A regular woman’s voice.”

  “Any accent?”

  Exasperation. “I don’t remember,” Renee said. “I think the parents are expecting a call from you.”

  “It helps to have information first. You’re doing fine, Doctor.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. Let’s move on to contents. Someone told you that Kathrine was needed home for a family emergency.”

  “Yes. It was a five-minute conversation, mostly me saying ‘I hope everything is okay’ and the woman saying ‘I’m sure it will be.’ Then I hung up and went to Kathrine’s room. I told her that …” She didn’t finish her sentence.

  Decker said, “What?”

  “There was a suitcase on her bed. I thought that was odd, since I hadn’t told her she was needed home yet. I figured her mother must have called her cellphone.” A pause. “I didn’t say anything. I was intent on getting her ready because the car was coming soon.”

  “You think, in retrospect, that Kathrine was expecting this phone call?”

  “I don’t know if she was expecting it, but at the time I thought it was odd. Her suitcase was on her bed—open.”

  “Were there any clothes inside?”

  “I’m pretty sure there was clothing.”

  “Then she was already packing up?”

  “A dresser drawer was open. She could have been packing.”

  “All this helps,” Decker told her. “I’ll call Mangrove police, Dr. Forrester. As far as we are concerned, Kathrine is now a missing person.”

  “Oh my God! I can’t believe this.”

  “Her disappearance could have nothing to do with my missing person.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you.”

  “Right now, I’m just trying to get the lay of the land. In any case, I’ll coordinate with Mangrove.”

  “Thank you. Will you be meeting with the parents?”

  “Yes, probably tomorrow if they can make it early in the morning. Fridays are hard days for me.”

  “Give me a time and I’ll try to be there. It’s over an hour away and I’ve got a busy schedule—”

  “You don’t have to come, Dr. Forrester. But you should give them a call to find out how they’re doing.”

  “Of course, I’ll call them.”

  “And at some point, I’ll want to visit your facilities and look through Kathrine’s room.”

  “When will that be?”

  “Ideally, I’d like to cram everything in tomorrow. Where exactly are you located?”

  “Mangrove is just below the Massachusetts line, slightly north of Salisbury,” Renee said. “Could you call me back after you’ve spoken to the police?”

  “No problem,” Decker said. “And you’ll call the parents as well? I’m sure they’ll want to hear from you.”

  “Yes, of course I’ll call.”

  “Thank you.” A pause. “I’m sure you’re better at handling this kind of crisis anyway, being a psychologist and all.”

  “Social psychologist,” she said. “I never had a great knack for clinical work. But I’ve got good executive functioning and I am a good administrator.” A pause, then a sigh. “Or so I thought.” Her words were followed by a click.

  DECKER DECIDED TO make his calls from the road, starting with the local police of Mangrove, Connecticut. He spoke to a detective sergeant named Michael Rand, explaining who he was and giving him the reason why he was calling, laying out the details as succinctly as he could. He finished up by saying, “I don’t know if the two cases are related, but my person disappeared two days ago and so did Kathrine Taylor. They were once a romantic item.”

  “You think they ran off together.”

  “Possibly, yes.”

  “So what does that have to do with the nurse?”

  “Elsie Schulung worked at Loving Care Home until two weeks ago. While she worked there, she befriended my missing person—Bertram Lanz. When Bertram disappeared, I thought he may have gone to her house. I called up Baniff PD, and Sergeant Quay went over there to help me out. All he found is an unoccupied house. Today, we did a welfare check. That’s when we found the blood under the refrigerator. Kathrine Taylor’s disappearance may not have anything to do with my case. But her sudden departure needs to be looked into, since the emergency phone call wasn’t from her mother.”

  “Got it. I’ll get someone down.”

  “I’d like to go through her room at her facility. See if it relates to my case. The director has given me permission, but I don’t want to step on your toes.”

  “When were you thinking of doing this?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Okay. How about if you give me a time and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Can we make it in the early afternoon? I’d like to talk to Kathrine’s parents first.”

  “Our department should be doing that.”

  “I know. I promise to share.”

  A pause. “You know it’s over an hour from the Berkshires to Mangrove.”

  “I know. I could probably make it to headquarters about noon.”

  “Fine.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Rand. I’ll see you then.”

  Decker hung up. He knew he should be concentrating on cases within his jurisdiction, especially a ten-year-old cold case now that he had identified a set of remains. Two other campers were still missing. But as long as there was a chance that Bertram was still alive, even a small chance, a warm case outweighed a cold one.

  CHAPTER 10

  NO SIGHTING OF Elsie Schulung’s car from the CCTV we’ve gone through.” McAdams shuffled through his notes. He was at the station, talking to Decker via speakerphone. “She could have taken back roads or changed cars. If I was involved in something bad, I would have changed cars.”

  “If she changed cars, then we’ve got to approach this a different way.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Call up car-rental services.” For Decker, hope of finding Bertram was draining—not like a gush of water from a burst pipe, more like from a hissing radiator. “What’s new with our bones? Heard from the coroner?”

  “The more sophisticated DNA test says it’s Zeke Anderson. Do you want me to call the parents?”

  “I’ll do it. I had planned to set up an appointment just to talk to them. Now that I have definite news …” He sighed. “I’m sure this call has always been in the back of their minds, but it’s always a shock to hear confirmation. Do you want to come with me for the interview?”

  “I’ll be there, pad in hand.” A pause. “Poor people.”

  “Yes.” Silly him for thinking that police work was happy work even in small towns. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, actually,” McAdams said. “We got the full coroner’s report. Anderson’s ribs were shattered—front to back. Something blew a hole in his chest. Probably a through-and-through gunshot wound.”

  “Any bullets recovered at the dig site?”

  “No.”

  “Shell casings?”

  “No. He was probably shot elsewhere.”

  “What about his skull?”

  “What about it?”

  “Bashed in anywhere? Any signs of a fracture?”

  “I don’t think … hold on.” He shuffled through the report. “No, the skull was intact.”

  “What about arms
and legs?”

  A pause over the line. “The skeleton wasn’t complete. There were femurs found intact with scratches on them. The coroner thinks the most likely explanation is gnaw marks from animal activity.”

  “And his arms?”

  “The left ulna and radius are intact. The right arm bones were in pieces.”

  “He stuck his hand in front of his chest when he saw the gun?”

  “Could be. We found scattered finger and toe bones as well.”

  “Any idea of the caliber that shattered his ribs?”

  “Something big and probably a close-range shot.”

  “Any pellets?”

  “Nope.”

  “You said Forensics dug up his shirt, right?”

  “No, they dug up pieces of plaid fabric that look like a shirt he commonly wore,” McAdams said.

  “Do any of the remnants have something that might be a bullet hole?”

  “I didn’t see anything like that at the time, but I’ll check again as soon as the stuff comes back from the lab. We also found bits of denim material—probably his pants.”

  “Any blood on the fabrics?” Decker asked.

  “I don’t know. They’re still being tested.”

  “And the search didn’t find any personal effects?”

  “Nothing in the way of ID—no wallet, no driver’s license, no student ID card.”

  “What about other kinds of things? Business cards from a restaurant or a shop. Any kind of credit card receipt? Or maybe something handwritten like from a dry cleaner or a specialty shop?”

  “Not yet. Forensics is still searching.”

  “This question goes to the fact that the kids were up there in late October,” Decker said. “I’d like the area searched for abandoned drug labs. I’m thinking that maybe the kids saw something bad and paid for it.”

  McAdams said, “I thought you were thinking of marijuana farms.”

  “Any marijuana farms in existence ten years ago would be long gone.” Decker paused. “They may have left behind a greenhouse or growing lights and a dryer for plants. Yeah, sure, check for that as well. Take people with you. And some vests and guns. Those kinds of people don’t like trespassers.”

  “We’ll poke around, look for anything associated with labs. When do you want this search to be conducted?”

  “How many people do we have?”

  “Two or three maybe. The rest are still on Bertram Lanz.”

  “Coordinate with Butterfield and set something up for next week. I don’t want to spend too much man power looking for labs on a ten-year-old case when Bertram is still missing.”

  “Understood. What else?”

  “Tomorrow, I want to talk to Kathrine’s parents first. I’m headed out to Pittsfield, first. I told the Taylors I’d be there at around nine. I’ll need an early start to visit the Taylors and make it out to Kathrine’s residential facility. I’ll have to do all this and then make it back home before sundown.”

  “What time does Shabbos start?”

  “Late—around nine. I should be okay. You’re invited for dinner.”

  “I’ll be there. I’d like to come with you to interview the Taylors. My experience might be helpful.”

  “Sure. I’m starting out at around six-thirty in the morning.”

  “I’ll bring the coffee. What time tonight are you due back in Greenbury?”

  “Around nine. Just tell Rina you’re coming for Shabbat.”

  “Nice of you to include me.” He laughed. “The man who came to dinner—and breakfast and lunch. Like I said, I’ll treat you guys to dinner in New York. Least I can do for all the meals you’ve fed me. Thank you very much.”

  “What got into you, McAdams? You’re being downright gracious.”

  “Dunno, boss. I get in these moods every so often. But not to worry, though. Like a kidney stone, it’ll pass.”

  THE BERKSHIRES BLOOMED glorious in the summer, the highlands dotted with villages and towns and beautiful geography. The region was noted for mild temperatures in the summer, historic buildings, music and art festivals, fine museums, and lots of tourists taking up the roadways. The main highway from Greenbury to Pittsfield would take Decker northward and out of the way. The closest route was scenic but could become congested, as much of it was two-lane strips of asphalt. Starting out early allowed Decker to go through the back roads without too much traffic. It was turning into a warm day with a brilliant sun and a deep-colored sky. The air was clear and crystalline as only nonindustrial towns could boast.

  Kathrine’s parents lived a mile past highway 7, where the foliage was thick and green. Their house was a bungalow with sky-blue wood siding, white trim, and a red door. The living room was small but tidy, with comfortable furniture. Tea and coffee were waiting for them when Alison Taylor invited them inside. She appeared to be in her sixties, tall with a thin build. The lack of subcutaneous fat was evident in her wrinkled face. Her hair was silver and cut just above her shoulders. She was wearing a gray gym suit, as was her husband. He was also trim and about two inches shorter than his wife. Guy Taylor had curly salt-and-pepper hair with a bald spot and a round face with blue eyes. They sat on the couch huddled together. Both of them appeared drained.

  Renee Forrester hadn’t called Decker back. He didn’t know if she was planning to show up, but he certainly wasn’t going to wait around for her. He was anxious to get started but waited with a relaxed posture as Alison poured coffee and offered them a plate of homemade scones. McAdams shook his head. Decker took one but placed it on his napkin. “Tell me about Kathrine.”

  The woman sat and was quiet for a moment. “We couldn’t have children of our own. We were going to adopt—had all the paperwork and everything. The birth mother seemed cooperative, but … she changed her mind. It was devastating.”

  “It was hell,” Guy remarked quietly. “For me, the hardest thing was watching Alison go through all that agony.”

  “I was inconsolable.” She looked at Decker. “Do you have children?”

  “I do.”

  “How many?”

  Guy said, “Alison, that might be personal.”

  Decker smiled. “One daughter with my first wife, one daughter with my second wife, two stepsons from my second wife, and a foster son.”

  Alison smiled. “A real blended family.”

  “Except they’re more like individual components on a dinner plate than a stew.”

  “I wanted lots of children, but Guy was right. I couldn’t go through that again. I gave up and decided to become a dog breeder—Cane Corsos. They’re Italian mastiffs.”

  “Hence the deep barking we heard coming up the steps,” McAdams said.

  Guy said, “We’ve got an acre property that bleeds into the woodlands. If Kathrine would have been here, no one could have gotten close to her without my knowing. How could this happen?”

  Decker said, “From what I understand, she appeared to know the people she went with.”

  “Maybe. Kathrine could be trusting.” Alison wiped her eyes. “She was five when we got her. Her biological mother had five other children from three men and just couldn’t cope with a child with special needs.”

  “I was not in favor of taking on a child with Down syndrome. The work and responsibility were enormous. But …” Guy’s lower lip quivered. “Kathrine won me over. She was so sunny and enthusiastic about life. She’s very high-functioning. She was the one who pushed for independent living. I didn’t want to let her go.”

  Alison said, “Kathrine can be quite stubborn when she wants something.”

  “It goes with her high IQ.” Guy smiled. “She can read and write. She has computer skills. She’s a very extraordinary person. When we met with Dr. Forrester, it was as if she were heaven sent.”

  “Kathrine was homeschooled,” Alison explained. “This was not only her first venture on her own but her first venture with other adults with special needs. In retrospect, we should have been more prepared.”

  �
��Don’t blame yourself, Ali. We did everything we could.” Guy got up and brought back a picture of a woman with deep blue eyes and coiffed blond hair. She wore makeup and had a thousand-watt smile with perfect teeth. “Kathrine’s a beautiful girl. It should have been clear to us that she would attract attention.”

  “Bertram won her heart. I do believe they were truly in love. But they were just moving too fast.” Alison swiped a tear away from her right eye. “We should have never separated them.”

  “It’s a hindsight call,” Guy said.

  “Maybe, but we saw her grow depressed.” Alison looked at Decker. “We told her to give it some time.”

  “She seemed to be doing better lately.” He turned to his wife. “Am I right about that?”

  “Yes, I thought so, too.” Alison looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe she was happy because she was planning her escape.” Her eyes went to Decker’s. “I know I said that Kathrine was trusting. But she would have never left the residence with someone she didn’t know.”

  “Do you think she’s safe?” McAdams said.

  “I don’t know. Just because she knew someone doesn’t mean that someone was a good person. She was still naive.”

  “Do you think she ran away with Bertram?” Decker asked.

  “I hope that’s the case,” Guy said. “But I do know that Bertram can’t drive.”

  “He could have learned,” McAdams said.

  Alison didn’t answer. Just gave out a deep sigh.

  “I spoke to the Mangrove Police Department,” Decker said. “They’ve gone through the video from the outside camera on that day. It didn’t catch much, but she left in a light-colored car. Could be white or it could be silver. The images were black and white, so we can’t tell. We’re looking for a missing woman who drove a light-colored Ford Focus.”

  “Who?” Guy asked.

  “Her name is Elsie Schulung. She worked as a nurse in Bertram Lanz’s residential facility. She was German-speaking, and from what people at the residence told us, she got along well with Bertram. She had a snapshot of a couple in her home.” Decker saw several photos of Kathrine in the Taylors’ house. Same face, but he needed confirmation. “The man is Bertram. Do you recognize the woman with Bertram?”