Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jason
“Hello?”
“Is this Jason Lansing?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Ralph Parker returning your call. You wanted to talk about Ronny and Lindsay?”
I clear my throat. “Yes.”
“May I ask why?”
“Yeah, of course.” I clear my throat again. “I was married to Lindsay Davis.”
“Oh. How is she?”
“She’s no longer with us,” I say. “I didn’t divorce her. I’m a widower.”
Silence for a moment. Then, “I’m very sorry to hear that. We all really loved Lindsay. I’ve tried to stay in touch with everyone from our class, but she disappeared after graduation.”
“Yeah, because her old boyfriend was stalking her.”
“Right. Ronny. He was totally devoted to Lindsay. It nearly killed him when she ended the relationship.”
“That didn’t give him license to stalk her and make her life miserable to the point where she had to leave town. Her parents, too.”
“Did they?” He pauses a moment. “She did seem to disappear into thin air. I’ve kept in touch with everyone from our graduating class. Kept tabs on where everyone is, what they’re doing now. But Lindsay’s been a closed book. She seemed to fall off the face of the earth.”
“She went to Colorado, along with her parents. She and I met in undergrad. We were pretty inseparable.”
Another pregnant pause. “I hate to ask, but I can’t help myself. What happened?”
The question I knew was coming.
The question I can’t answer.
“It’s a long story,” I say, “and up until a few days ago, I thought she took her own life.”
He gasps. “Lindsay? Wow. She was always a ray of sunshine.”
“She was,” I say, “but we lost our three-year-old daughter in a tragic accident three years ago. Lindsay had a very rough time.”
“Damn, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know you, but I feel for you. Losing two loved ones like that.”
Then he stops talking, of course.
Everyone does. They all say how sorry they are, but they don’t know what to say after that.
Just as well. I don’t want to dwell on that right now.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. But there’s another reason for my call. I want to know what happened to Ronny Burgundy.”
“I was surprised when you mentioned him on your voicemail.” Ralph pauses a moment. Then, “He’s been kind of hard to pin down too. Why are you looking for him?”
“Some things have come to light recently,” I say, “and I’m beginning to believe that Lindsay did not take her own life.”
“Oh my God.”
“Right. It was off brand for her, but after the loss of Julia—our daughter—it made sense.”
“But now you think…”
“I think someone may have murdered her,” I say. “And if you know Lindsay, you know she didn’t have any enemies. She was a friend to everyone. Like you said, a ray of sunshine.”
“So you think it was just someone who—”
“No,” I interrupt. “She left a note, which I gave to the police without reading. Her death was ruled a suicide at the time, and I never could bring myself to read the note. I finally did a few days ago, and I realized that the note isn’t in her handwriting.”
“Oh my God,” he says again.
“And if it was a cold-blooded murder—someone who just broke into our house—why would they bother leaving a suicide note? Would they even know what Lindsay and I were going through?”
“Right. I totally see your point.”
“Look,” I say. “I don’t even know you. I could be talking to a complete stranger who isn’t even Ralph Parker for all I know.”
“No, I swear to you. I’m Ralph Parker. The same Ralph Parker who graduated with Lindsay and Rebecca.”
“And Ronny?”
“Yes. And Ronny.”
“I’ve already told you everything, so I guess I have to take you at your word. The only person who ever had anything against Lindsay—that I know of—is this Ronny Burgundy bastard. I need to find him. And Rebecca said you might be the key to that.”
“Last I heard he was in San Francisco,” Ralph says. “But honestly, that was years ago. He hasn’t shown up to any of our reunions or get-togethers. Of course, neither did Lindsay. I had no way of getting in touch with her.”
“You certainly can’t get in touch with her now,” I say.
“God, that was insensitive of me to put it that way. Please accept my apology.”
But I’m done accepting apologies. “Listen, Ralph. I’ve suffered a great loss. I’ve had three years to deal with it, and the guilt still eats away at me. But that isn’t why I called you. I didn’t call to get your sympathy. I called to get your help.”
“And I wish I could help you, but I don’t know where Ronny is.”
“Was he close to anyone at school? Who did he hang around with?”
He pauses. “Some of the football players might know. It’s not like we’ve talked about Ronny recently.”
I raise an eyebrow. This could be a lead. “He hung out with the football team?”
“Yeah. He was a star player until senior year. That’s when Lindsay broke things off with him.”
“I see.”
“He was never the same after that. He skulked around, started dressing goth. She did a number on him for sure.”
I grit my teeth. “I can assure you he did a number on her as well.”
“Yeah, I understand that, given what you’ve told me.”
I rub at my forehead. “So you mean to tell me that you had no idea Ronny was stalking Lindsay, making her life miserable?”
“There were rumors, but nothing was ever substantiated.”
“Rumors?”
“Yeah. I mean, it was high school, man. It was senior year. We didn’t dwell on anything that was depressing. We were excited. But yeah, we heard things.”
“Like what things?”
“Like, he kept showing up wherever she was. Always seemed to accidentally run into her. He followed her home once or twice. I mean, we knew it was a bad breakup, but Ronny was our friend too. We didn’t believe he could really be that creepy.”
“And none of you thought to intervene or say something?”
“Like I said, Ronny was our friend too.”
Anger rises in my chest.
I breathe in, out, in again.
I clear my throat once more. “Is there anyone from the football team who might know where Ronny is now?”
“He used to be kind of close with a guy named Steve Chapman,” Ralph says. “Ronny was a good athlete, but he was kind of a loner.”
“Do you have any contact information for this Steve Chapman?”
“I think so,” Ralph says. “Let me check my alumni contacts list.”
A pause. Tapping on keys. And Ralph breathing.
“Here we are,” he finally says. “Steve Chapman lives in Phoenix now.”
“Can you give me his number?”
“Sure,” Ralph says. He reads off a series of numbers, and I jot them down.
“Thanks for your help,” I say.
“You’re welcome. And Jason?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m truly sorry about Lindsay and your daughter,” he says, his voice full of sincerity and regret. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Me too,” I say before ending the call.
I stare at the number written on the notepad. Another lead to follow, another name to chase. The path to the truth is paved with painful memories and grim discoveries, but I have to keep moving. I have to find out what really happened to Lindsay.
I dial Steve’s number with steel in my veins. The phone rings once, twice, three times, and then a rough voice answers.
“Hello?”
“Steve Chapman?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Uh…no. I’m not. Is Steve there? I got this number from an old classmate of his.”
“Your classmate doesn’t keep up to date.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is Steve’s brother Tom. Steve’s dead.”