The Lost Boys

by Faye Kellerman

  “Terry knows the situation. And she knows where to find me. If you talk to her, tell her that.”

  She exhaled. “Fair enough.”

  “Good. How are you?”

  The question took her by surprise. “I’m okay.” A pause. “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s weird for your little brother to ask about his big sister?”

  Rina shook her head. It was a ruse they had once used with a very bad man whom she shot in the chest. The action was completely justified and the man survived. But she still had residual anxiety. She said, “I’m not your sister, Chris.”

  “You don’t have to be related by blood to be spiritually connected. And once you pulled the trigger, that’s all I needed to claim you as one of my own.”

  Then the line went dead.

  Rina stowed the phone in her purse.

  She kept walking.

  But the mood was ruined.

  CHAPTER 15

  JACK CARLSON WORKED for the Public Defender’s office in Brooklyn. When Decker first called, Carlson said that he had to prepare for an important trial on Monday and he’d be buried in work over the weekend. Eventually, he agreed to spare fifteen minutes in the late afternoon. The meeting place was a small green space a few blocks away from Jack’s office: a disc of flat grass with a half dozen black iron benches placed around the perimeter. When Decker and McAdams arrived, the circle was empty except for a man sitting on a bench, eating out of a Chinese take-out carton. Now, in his thirties, Carlson had thinning dark hair and a slim build and wore a blue shirt and dark pants. On his feet were worn black oxfords. He stopped eating as Decker and McAdams got closer, then stood up and pitched his food into a trash bin. Introductions were made, hands were shaken, and then the trio sat down.

  Up close, it was evident that Carlson could use a shave. His cheeks and chin had too much unshaped stubble to be a statement. His brown eyes were puffy, even more inflated because his face was long. He looked down at his lap. “I … don’t know what to say.”

  “We realize it must be a shock.”

  “No, it’s not a shock. I knew this day would come. They had to be dead. But having it hit you in the face. It brings up all sorts of bad memories that I’ve tried to not think about.” He looked up at Decker. “I don’t know how I can help you any more than I could help the police way back when. I wasn’t there.”

  “It was clear that you were with your parents over the weekend.”

  “I was. About a thousand people saw me.” A beat. “An exaggeration, but you know what I’m saying.”

  “I do,” Decker said. “You were all sophomores when they disappeared?”

  “Yes. I was Zeke’s roommate. Max and Bennett lived in the other bedroom. The four of us shared a suite.”

  “If I can ask, why did your folks come for Parents’ Weekend? Isn’t that usually for freshmen?”

  “Any grade in Duxbury can participate in the weekend. Some parents come all four years. But yes, the majority of the parents are mothers and fathers of freshmen. I didn’t want my parents to come. You go to college to get away from your parents. I wanted to go camping. Afterward, I felt guilty. Like I dodged a bullet. But I also felt relief.”

  “At the time, did you suspect that something bad had happened?”

  “All sorts of things were flying through my head, and bad was certainly at the top of the list. When we first made plans, it just seemed like a cool weekend.”

  “You were planning on going, then,” McAdams said.

  “Yes. I was pissed at my parents for coming up. I tried to dissuade them, but my parents are stubborn people. Thank God for that.”

  “What had been the plan?” Decker asked.

  “As I recall—this was ten years ago—the plan was to drive to the woods in Zeke’s Beemer and spend a weekend doing hikes and rock climbing. Getting back to basics: no phones and no laptops. But we had camping equipment and fire starters and a compass and a trail map. We were also bringing food and water, although Max wanted to forage. He was into mushroom hunting, which I thought was stupid because most mushrooms are poisonous. All he had was a book. We shot that idea down pretty quickly. Max was always a tool.”

  “You didn’t like him,” Decker said.

  “No, I didn’t. He was normally shy, but with us, he always trying to be the man—an expert on something or other.”

  “What about Zeke and Bennett?”

  “Zeke and I were good friends. It wasn’t hard to be friends with Zeke. He was a nice guy. Bennett was all right—kind of a braggart, but at least he had a good sense of humor, some of it self-deprecating, which softened his arrogance. We were into physical fitness: the three of us. Not Max. He was soft and weak and lazy. Sorry to be so blunt, but it’s the truth.”

  McAdams said, “He seemed like a poor fit for your trio.”

  “He was a friend of Bennett.” A sigh. “Maybe friend is too strong a word. He knew Bennett growing up. That was the connection.”

  “Did Bennett like him?”

  A pause. “I guess it doesn’t make a difference now, but the truth was that Bennett used him. Max bought his friendship. He gave Bennett cash and things for the privilege of hanging around him.”

  Decker said, “How much cash and what kind of things?”

  “He paid for the majority of the expenses—the groceries, the cable and internet. He bought the refrigerator and stocked it with beer. He paid for dinner whenever he and Bennett went out. He paid for dinner when the four of us went out, although Zeke asked for separate checks. Whenever we went to the movies, Max paid. We would offer to pay him back, but he refused.”

  McAdams said, “Sounds like all of you benefited.”

  “Not like Bennett, but yes, that is a valid point. At least Zeke made an effort to be fair. But Max would usually insist, and we didn’t argue. Furthermore, Max would kind of flaunt it. Make a show of whipping out cash or his credit card.” Jack shook his head. “I thought it was pathetic: he was trying so hard. He was totally clueless as to how stupid he looked. I’m ashamed to say that I wasn’t very nice to him, but I wasn’t the nicest person back then. When they disappeared, that sobered me up very quickly.”

  Decker said, “How did Max and Zeke get along?”

  “They didn’t have much to do with each other. Bennett was the common link.”

  “I’ve heard that Bennett went out a lot, dated a lot of girls.”

  “More like screwed a lot of girls.” Jack looked upward. “But that was college. We all bed-hopped. That’s just what you did.”

  “Did Max have a girlfriend?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “What about Zeke?”

  Jack thought a moment. “No one special.”

  McAdams said, “Did he date?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Another pause. “I just can’t remember anyone specific.”

  “It sounds to me like Max was not only trying to buy Bennett’s friendship but also maybe he was trying to buy his affections.”

  Jack bit his bottom lip. “Max could have been gay.”

  “What about Bennett?” Decker asked.

  “Not a chance.” Carlson smiled. “Although I suppose if he were drunk enough, which was often, he’d take it from anyone.”

  “What about Zeke?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Carlson appeared to be thinking hard. “Truth is, I can’t remember him with a girl or a guy. He was into his studies.” He shook his head. “No indication of him being gay, and we roomed together. Then again, I didn’t keep tabs on his social life.” He stood. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Important case?” Decker asked.

  “More than my usual DUI.”

  Decker said, “What do you think happened to your buddies, Jack?”

  “No idea. Not that I haven’t thought about it a million times.” He sat back down and looked at the hot, blue sky. “I had lots of theories. Maybe they got lost and starved to death. Or maybe something attacked them. Or someone at
tacked them. Which, in hindsight, is probably what happened because didn’t you say that Zeke was buried in a makeshift grave?”

  “Yes, he was buried.”

  “Then you know more than I do about what happened.”

  “Did any of you boys have any enemies?”

  “We weren’t the nicest people around—well, Zeke was a nice guy. I was rude and a wiseass, but I can’t think of anyone who’d want to kill me. Max could be annoying, but not enough to inspire that level of hatred. Bennett? Who knows? He had a lot of contacts, so a few of them could have been unsavory. But following them from the college to the woods to kill them? I just can’t see anyone I knew back then doing that.”

  “Camping in late October can be cold,” McAdams said. “Why then?”

  “For one thing, it was a three-day holiday because of Parents’ Weekend. Actually, I recall the weather being nice. It was cold a few weeks before but then it had warmed up. You can look up the temperatures.”

  “We did. It was warm, but you didn’t know it was going to be warm.”

  “Like I said, we planned it because it was a three-day weekend. I was really pissed about not going. Who wants to hang around Mom and Dad when you can have a cool time in the woods?”

  “By ‘cool time’ do you mean drugs or drinking or both?” Decker said.

  “Yes, part of it was getting ripped. Maybe it was a regular occurrence with Bennett, but not me. School was demanding. Even on weekends I didn’t party all the time because I had to study. This was an opportunity to just unravel. Like a Burning Man thing.”

  “Did you guys pack up anything stronger than weed?”

  “I don’t know, Detective. I didn’t wind up going.”

  “I’m just wondering if they met someone in the woods and something went bad.”

  “Like a drug dealer?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I can’t tell you because I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Carlson checked his watch. “I really have to get back. I’m married, I’ve got a baby. I need this job.”

  “One more question,” Decker said. “Did any of you own a gun?”

  “A gun?” Carlson made a face. “I didn’t. I don’t know about the others.” A pause. “Was Zeke shot?”

  “We’re still waiting to hear on the coroner’s report,” Decker said. “But his hand was shattered.”

  “And that’s why you’re thinking about a drug dealer? Someone who might have a gun?”

  “We have to consider everything. Zeke could have been shot. Or maybe he accidentally shot himself. Or it could have been something else.” Decker thought a moment. “Is it possible that Max might have brought a firearm to show off that he was a tough guy?”

  “It’s possible, but I don’t know if he owned a gun or not.” He stood up again. “I really have to leave.”

  “Thanks for your time,” Decker said.

  “Sure.” Carlson hesitated. “You haven’t found the other two yet?”

  “No.”

  “Could they possibly be alive?”

  “Until we’ve got remains, that’s always a theory.”

  “How likely is it?”

  “Jack, I don’t postulate. I just go wherever the evidence points. It’s not glamorous. But it usually gets the job done.”

  The lawyer nodded, got up, and left. Afterward, Decker turned to McAdams and said, “What do you think?”

  “What do I think?” McAdams looked straight ahead. “I think you have a theory even though you don’t postulate.”

  Decker smiled. “And what’s my nonpostulated theory?”

  “You’re thinking Max shot Zeke because Zeke and Bennett were buddies and Max was jealous of their friendship.”

  “It’s possible,” Decker said.

  “Or even a lover’s triangle. That Max was crushing on Bennett. But instead Bennett and Zeke had something going. And Max got jealous.”

  “We have no evidence that any of them were gay,” Decker said. “Quite the contrary, Bennett seemed to be a player with women.”

  “But according to Jack, if he were drunk enough, he might try anything. We know Bennett was a horndog. What better time to experiment than in college? And there they were, ripped, stoned, high, whatever. Why not experiment—away from all your judgmental peers?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Zeke and Bennett were gym buddies,” McAdams went on. “Both of them were into being strong, buff, and looking good. Gyms are notorious pickup places for men coming on to women and also for men coming on to men. Furthermore, if Max did get jealous over Zeke’s friendship with Bennett, it would explain why we found Zeke but not the other two. Both of them took off. They still could be alive somewhere.”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no,” Decker said. “One theory is as good as another, because we don’t know anything. Finding Zeke was an accident. Now we’re actively searching for evidence. Let’s give it more time.”

  McAdams said, “You must be thinking of Max as the bad guy.”

  “Why do you say that?” Decker asked.

  “You asked about a gun.”

  “I’m going to ask all the parents about a gun. If there wasn’t a firearm, I am wondering how Zeke got a gaping cavity in his chest. It’s time to contact the other parents. I’d like to find out if they put a private investigator on their sons’ disappearances. If they did, I’d like to see what the private investigator uncovered. If they didn’t hire a private, that tells us something.”

  “I’ll see if I can set up interviews. Both the McCraes and the Velasquezes have moved from New York.” McAdams paused. “Don’t you find that odd? Both sets of parents moving after their sons disappeared?”

  “Not really,” Decker said. “Maybe they were escaping bad memories. Me? I find it a little strange that Keith and Mary Anderson have stayed put all these years with the ghost of their son lurking in every room and hallway. It would make me depressed.” A pause. “Do we know where the McCraes and the Velasquezes are currently living?”

  “Not off the top of my head, but both families are in the Midwest.”

  “In the same city?”

  “Don’t think so,” McAdams said. “I’ll call Kevin and get an exact address.”

  “I’ll call him,” Decker said. “I’ll also call the coroner and see if he’s written up his finalized report on Zeke Anderson.”

  “Boss, it’s Sunday.”

  “Kevin is still working.”

  “Yeah, we’re a pretty dedicated bunch,” McAdams said.

  “Pat yourself on the back, Tyler.”

  “No biggie. I just learned from the original workaholic.”

  “I’ll accept the title with honor,” Decker said.

  McAdams smiled. “I’d like to look up some stuff on my tablet. I’ll need Wi-Fi. That’s a problem. You certainly don’t want me working on a case in a public place.”

  “What about your step-grandmother’s place?”

  “I would except she’s out of town. No one is there.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She’s also out of town. My father is in town, but it’s very distracting at his place. There’s plenty of room but also plenty of drama. Danielle is home for the summer, and she doesn’t believe in closing doors unless she’s slamming them. Chucky is distracting in a different way. He loves to see what I’m doing. He wants to help me, and I find it hard to tell him that I don’t need his help.”

  “You don’t have your own room where you can close and lock the door?”

  “No, I don’t have my own room, because it’s not my childhood home.” McAdams seemed to turn sour. “I could probably use my dad’s office if he’s not around. No one dares to come in when the door is closed.”

  “It’s better than a coffee shop where someone could see what you’re doing,” Decker said.

  “It is, but not by much. I hate being there. You know who the nosiest of all of them is? My dad.” McAdams stood up from the iron bench. “I’ll figure it out.”

 
“Okay. Let’s meet up at dinner. You are coming to dinner with us, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, you guys are a family I can get behind: invitations to all the parties with no expectations. Well, none socially. You’ve laid plenty of expectations on me professionally.”

  “Of course I have expectations,” Decker said. “Most of our work is monotonous, but the few times it is dangerous, I want a professional at my back.”

  “I’ve proven my worth.”

  “That you have.”

  “Then no complaints.”

  “None.” Decker smiled and added, “So far.”

  He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard McAdams mutter a fuck you under his breath. He wasn’t offended. Instead, he stifled a laugh.

  CHAPTER 16

  EVERYONE MADE IT to dinner on time. Thirteen adults, three children, two babies, and a hundred opinions. The Decker clan was not shy about voicing views on politics, religion, science, medicine, economics, music and art, and anything involving anyone else’s work. Advice was given freely. Advice was discarded freely. By the time the meal was over, everyone was sated and talked out. Long good-byes, great hugs and kisses, and a lot of see-you-next-times. As they were breaking up, Rina took Gabe aside.

  “Your dad called me. He’s trying to get hold of you.”

  “I reached him. He just wanted to pump me for information about Mom. I think he’s concerned about her safety.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  “That really makes me nervous. He knows about Devek’s gambling problem.”

  “And?”

  “He confirmed what Mom said, that Devek owes a lot of money. He didn’t say how much but when Dad used the term ‘a lot,’ he meant a lot. Chris is crazy but he’s not prone to exaggeration. I’m nervous. Plus …”

  Gabe looked at the ceiling. “I can’t get hold of my mother. She’s not at the hotel, she’s not answering any of my calls or texts. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “Is her phone disconnected?”

  “No. I left messages.” Gabe looked at his foster mom. “She said she’d leave a forwarding number. Why does she do this to me?”