The Lost Boys

by Faye Kellerman

  Decker said, “What’s going on?”

  “Terry seems to have disappeared.” To Gabe, Rina said, “Let me know if you hear from her, okay?”

  Gabe kissed her cheek. “Sure.”

  Decker said, “Why do you think she’s disappeared?”

  “She’s not answering her phone.”

  Rina said, “Terry said that she’s moving back to Los Angeles, Gabe. She was packing up when we left to get toys for your sibs. Maybe she’s on her way to the airport.”

  “Then why would her phone would be off?”

  “Maybe she’s afraid of being tracked,” Decker suggested.

  “By Devek?”

  “By Devek or by the men to whom he owes money.”

  “Yeah, of course.” Gabe hit his forehead. “That’s it. You’re probably right.”

  “Call us in a couple of days if you’re still concerned,” Decker said. “I know she has your siblings with her. That’s reason enough for you to want to know where she is.”

  “Will do,” Gabe said. “Thanks, Peter.”

  “No problem. Keep in touch.”

  THE PROSPECT OF a peaceful long ride home sounded delicious. Rina relinquished her shotgun seat to Tyler, hoping to curl up in the back and fall asleep.

  A few minutes into the ride, McAdams said, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Rina stretched to the side and put her legs up. “I’m just bummed that Cindy couldn’t get off work tomorrow.”

  “Like father, like daughter,” Decker chimed in.

  “In all the good ways,” Rina said.

  “You could have stayed overnight.”

  “Thanks, but I’m tired. I don’t mind going home.” A pause. “It was nice that she and Koby came into town. I know it’s a schlepp for them.”

  “It was lovely seeing all the kids.” Silence. Decker then said, “I’m curious, Rina. You spoke to Terry. Why do you think she bailed on her husband? Is it that bad?”

  “Is this really what you want to hear after spending two hours in the Situation Room?”

  “You’re one voice, not many,” Decker said. “Unless you don’t want to talk about it.”

  “It’s fine with me. In a nutshell, Terry is divorcing her husband because he is a gambler and he’s in hock up to his eyeballs. He owes a lot of money, but according to her, Devek has an out. A friend of the family—a widower—is willing to give him money to pay off some of his debts in exchange for marrying Juleen. She’s eleven. Terry, not surprisingly, objects to the arrangement.”

  “Hmm …” Decker said. “That doesn’t pass my smell test.”

  Rina nodded. “In the cold light of day, it does seem a little farfetched.” She sat up in her seat. “Terry is also worried that when she and Devek divorce, she won’t get custody of the children. She claims Indian courts are biased toward Indian parents.”

  “That’s more believable,” Decker said. “Courts like consistency and stability when it comes to children. While India is a big country and the law takes into consideration all kinds of circumstances, she may not have the money for a drawn-out court battle where the odds are probably not in her favor.”

  “Her husband does have a gambling problem,” Rina said. “And he does owe money. I’m sure of that.”

  “Maybe that part is true. And I can believe that Terry wants a divorce. But Juleen being betrothed at eleven? To me it sounds contrived and a little convenient.”

  Rina thought about that. “You think she told me a story so I would take her children like we did with Gabe.”

  “Maybe. I don’t trust Terry. And I don’t trust anyone in the middle of a divorce and a custody battle. My advice is, don’t get involved. It’s not an order. It’s a request from your husband who loves you very much.”

  “I think you’re right.” A sigh. “Chris called me up. He knew that I saw her this morning. He asked me about her.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him to call Gabe if he wants answers.”

  “Good girl.” Decker paused. “Then Donatti must be your informant regarding Devek’s gambling problems?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hardly an unbiased source of info.”

  “How would Donatti know about all this?” McAdams asked.

  “He’s always kept close tabs on Terry,” Decker said.

  Rina said, “He’s a bit of a stalker.”

  “That should be the worst thing about him,” Decker said.

  “Chris is concerned about her, Peter,” Rina said. “I could hear it in his voice.”

  Decker said, “Maybe Terry is escaping something. You didn’t agree to take the kids, did you?”

  “No, of course not. I would never make that decision without you. Besides, Gabe wouldn’t allow it. But it does sound like she’s in trouble. And now Gabe says that she’s not answering her phone.”

  Decker said, “If what you’re saying is true, she’s probably gone into hiding. Again.”

  “Poor Gabe.”

  “If Chris wants to handle her mess, let him deal with it. If Devek really does owe money to the wrong people, stay clear of Terry as well. I know your heart is soft, but you can’t get involved every time the world bleeds.”

  “I am a little naive, aren’t I?”

  “You’re a trusting soul. You think everyone’s like you. They’re not.”

  “Why would Chris want to help his ex-wife who dumped him?” McAdams asked. “Last I heard, he isn’t the forgiving type.”

  “That’s prototypical Donatti,” Decker said. “He’s waiting until she’s truly desperate. Then either he’ll take her back on his terms or really stick it to her.” To Rina: “If Donatti does call you again, tell him to call me instead. I know he admires you. I know he thinks of you as the big sister he never had, but you are my wife and I need to protect you. Please. I’m asking you. Stay out of it.”

  “You’re right,” Rina admitted. “I’m done with this whole affair.” She took out a can of club soda from the cooler and popped the lid. “Your turn. What did you find out about Zeke Anderson?”

  “That he was a nice guy by the accounts,” McAdams said.

  “No skeletons in his closet?” Rina asked.

  “He might have been gay. But even ten years ago, that wasn’t an issue especially in a place like Brooklyn. Besides, it’s irrelevant. He went camping and wound up dead. No one has a clue as to why that happened.”

  “What about the other two lost boys?” Rina asked. “Did they have secrets?”

  Decker said, “We’re just starting to investigate. Next stop is speaking to their parents. The McCraes live in Saint Louis. The Velasquezes live in Cleveland.”

  “When are you going?”

  “Sometime this week. We’ll fly to Cleveland, drive to Saint Louis, and then take a plane back to Kennedy. Do you want to come, Rina?”

  “What would I do in Cleveland and Saint Louis?”

  “Visit the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and the Gateway Arch.”

  She smiled. “No. I’ll probably come back to the city and do a proper visit with the grandkids while you’re gone.”

  Decker said, “Did Elsie Schulung’s car produce anything?”

  McAdams said, “Not beyond what Kevin told us. Like I said, it’s the weekend. We’re the only two idiots working on Sunday.”

  “Welcome to Homicide,” Decker said. “Murder doesn’t respect days off.”

  Rina sighed. “I hope Gabe is okay. He would be just devastated if she abandoned him again.”

  Decker said, “What can you do?”

  “Nothing,” Rina said. “Sometimes heartbreak leaves scabs. Sometimes it leaves scars.”

  MONDAY AFTERNOON, THEY boarded a one-and-a-half-hour flight from JFK to Cleveland, Ohio. The city’s population had been dropping steadily since the 1950s, although its decline was now leveling off. As with most places in the Northeast, less cramped housing seemed to equate to more green space.

  When they landed, they
rented a car with Decker behind the wheel. As he drove from the airport into suburbia, they passed verdant parks and long stretches of wild foliage. If there was suburban decay around, he had a hard time seeing it. GPS led McAdams and him to an area where the homes were mostly two story, with well-tended frontage that displayed plenty of pride of ownership. Henry Velasquez was a thoracic surgeon: his wife, Wanda, was a social worker. They resided in a well-appointed, wood-sided home that backed up into forested greenery.

  It was Wanda who answered the door: a stout woman with short, straight dark hair dyed blond at the tips. She had smooth brown skin, a prominent nose, thin lips, and dark, sad eyes. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt with espadrilles on her feet, she stepped aside to let them in, into a living room that was tidy and generic. She offered them coffee.

  “Only if you’re having,” Decker said.

  She managed a weak smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  While they waited, they settled into a gray sofa that had little give. Decker looked around, noticing that the photos on the walls ranged from two small children—a boy and a girl—to a young woman with two girls of her own. Wanda returned within a minute with coffee and cookies and placed them on a glass sofa table. She poured the coffee from a porcelain pot.

  Decker said, “Thank you for seeing us.”

  Wanda smiled. “It’s my day off.” She sat down on a wingback chair. “The doctor is working. I told him I’d write everything down.” She held up a pad. “You haven’t found Maxwell, have you?”

  “No, we haven’t,” Decker said.

  “I figured if you had, you would have told me over the phone.” She sighed. “How are the Andersons holding up? Probably better than me.” She shook her head. “What happened to Zeke?”

  “Still being determined,” Decker said. “There were some shattered bones.”

  “From what?”

  “A number of possibilities. Unfortunately, things aren’t always neatly wrapped up, especially when so much time has passed.”

  “Okay.” Wanda took a breath in and let it out. “May I ask why you’re here? I told the police everything I know when it happened.”

  “The disappearance occurred ten years ago, Mrs. Velasquez. Police officers come and go. Memories fade. Detective McAdams and I are new to this case and we want to look at it with fresh eyes. Which means starting at the beginning.”

  “I don’t know what I can tell you.” A pause. “I suppose I should be happy that someone is doing something after all these years.”

  “Now that we have Zeke’s remains, we can reevaluate,” Decker said. “I’d like to talk about that weekend. Did you know that Maxwell was going camping?”

  “I knew he was going away for the weekend. He called and told me, but he didn’t tell me where. I had no idea he was going camping.”

  “Was he a big camper?”

  “I don’t think he’d ever gone camping in his life. No one was as shocked as I was to find out that the boys were lost in the woods. We looked for them for days. I didn’t sleep for months afterward, years actually.”

  “Where did you think he might be going if he didn’t say he was camping?”

  “Boston maybe. It was close by. He said they were still making plans. Camping was so unlike him. Max was a studious boy. The other two—Zeke and Bennett—they must have talked him into it.”

  “Why would they do that?” McAdams asked.

  “I don’t know, Detective.”

  Decker said, “Did Max have something specific to offer them on the trip?”

  “Like what?”

  “Did he offer to buy the food or bring the equipment?”

  “What equipment? He wouldn’t have equipment. He’d never been camping!” She had turned angry. “All I know is Maxwell wouldn’t have done this without some prodding. I didn’t know Zeke at all. But I knew Bennett. He was a troublemaker.”

  No one spoke for a moment. Decker then said, “How so?”

  “He was always talking Maxwell into doing things he didn’t want to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like camping, for instance.”

  McAdams said, “Why would he talk Max into a camping excursion?”

  “He just would.”

  “Okay, let me rephrase the questions,” Decker said. “What benefit would Bennett get out of having Maxwell along on a camping trip?”

  “Bennett took advantage of Max every opportunity he could. I told Maxwell to stop hanging out with him.”

  “How did he take advantage of him?”

  “For one thing, he was always borrowing money from him. I told Maxwell that it had to stop. I wasn’t supporting Bennett through college. I was supporting him!”

  “Did it stop?”

  “They weren’t around long enough for me to know.” Wanda’s lip trembled. “I suppose it is possible that Max paid for the camping equipment—for Bennett. Another so-called loan!”

  “I understand that Max and Bennett knew each other prior to college. That they went to high school together.”

  “They were in the same high school but weren’t friends. We did socialize with the McCraes a few times. Henry and Barney worked in the same hospital. Barney was a hospital administrator. They moved out of New York as well, you know.”

  “Saint Louis,” McAdams said.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you still in contact with them?”

  “No.” She looked down. “The way I saw it, the boys never seemed to hit it off. Bennett was outgoing. Maxwell was reserved. They knew each other, but there wasn’t much of a connection.”

  “Do you think it’s possible that Bennett did something harmful to Max?”

  “I don’t know!” She threw up her hands. “All I’m saying is that if something bad happened, Bennett was at the forefront.”

  Decker digested her words.

  If something bad happened.

  Something bad definitely did happen.

  She seemed to realize what she was saying. “I mean, I know that Maxwell is probably gone.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I guess Bennett is a convenient scapegoat. He’s probably gone too.” Wet trails were falling down her cheeks. “Maxwell didn’t have a lot of friends. He was different. What you’d call today on the spectrum. But he was a good, solid boy.” She wiped her eyes with her index finger. “He just wanted to fit in … to be liked.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Decker said.

  “Not at all.” Wanda stood up. “Excuse me.”

  She left the room, and they could hear her weeping. There was nothing to do but wait her out. She came back about five minutes later and sat back in her wing chair and dabbed her eyes. “Sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” Decker assured her.

  “I’ve tried to move on.” Her voice clogged up. She pointed to a picture of the young woman with two little girls. “They’re my reasons for everything, I guess.”

  “Is your daughter older or younger than Maxwell?”

  “Older by three years. Arianna was the golden child. Good student, good athlete, good social skills. When Maxwell came along, we were both thrilled to have our boy and our girl. It was pretty clear early on that he was a different kind of child.”

  “Can I ask what he was like as a child?” Decker asked.

  Wanda looked upward. “He had a great attention span. He could stick with a task for hours. But it also made him temperamental. If we needed to go somewhere and he was engaged in something, it was hard for him to stop and to change directions. He was a slowpoke. Getting him ready for school was a chore. Getting him to bed was a chore. He seemed unable to refocus on what needed to be done. In school he had similar issues. You know how it is. When math is done, you put away the book and take out the English folder. He had a hard time going from subject to subject. We put him in a private school where he could move at his own pace, but even a freer school has some schedule. The thing that saved him was that he was very bright.”

  “Duxbury is a very competit
ive school. He must have been very intelligent,” McAdams said.

  “He had a very high IQ.”

  “Then college must have been better suited to his needs.”

  “In some ways, yes. His professors really appreciated his intelligence. But socially, he didn’t seem to do much better.” She was quiet for a moment. “I hated that Bennett took advantage of him. But—if I’m totally honest with myself—at least he was including Maxwell in some capacity, even if it was for his own benefit. Which is why when Maxwell said he was going away for the weekend with Bennett and Zeke, I was actually glad that he was doing something social.”

  Decker said, “Did you know Zeke Anderson well?”

  “No. I met the Andersons when we went to Duxbury to search for the boys.” Her face darkened. “It was a hellish, horrendous, nightmarish week. Of course, the three of us—the three sets of parents—never stopped looking even after the police gave up.”

  “Did you hire a private detective?” Decker asked.

  “Of course we did,” Wanda told him. “We all did. We compared notes.” A headshake. “Nothing ever came of it.”

  McAdams said, “Do you still have the notes?”

  “I think somewhere. I haven’t looked at them in years.”

  “Is it possible to retrieve them?”

  “I have no idea where they are. They could be in the attic. They could be in the basement. It’s a real mess in both places.”

  “What’s the name of the PI that you used?” Decker asked.

  “Oliver something.”

  “You don’t remember the last name?”

  “Mendall or Mendal or something like that.” A beat. “He might be dead.”

  “We could probably contact him, but we’d need your permission to look at anything he might have found on your case.”

  “He didn’t find anything,” Wanda said. “I could probably dig up the files, but it may take me a week or so.”

  “That’s a long time,” Decker said. “We wouldn’t put you out unless we felt it was important.”

  Wanda gave out an angry sigh. “It’ll take a while for me to find them.”

  “We can wait,” McAdams said. “Or better yet, we can look with you.”

  A pause. “I’m not being obstinate on purpose. It’s just bringing up all sorts of bad memories, but that’s not your problem.” Wanda stood up. “We’ll start with the attic.”