Chapter 14 #2
As I walked toward Walton Hall, I saw the first poster.
On a board alongside outdated announcements for spring break trips and a flyer for graduation gowns.
Addison’s sharp, handsome face, grinning.
The rest of the photo had been cropped, but you could see a stretch of blue cloudless sky behind him.
Addison had one arm raised, across someone’s shoulder cut from the frame.
His father, perhaps. This Addison knew nothing of what lay ahead.
This Addison’s life opened to endless possibility, clear and infinite like the surrounding sky.
Across the top of the poster: Missing. A number to call with information. A note about a reward.
The posters plastered every surface I passed—windows, walls, columns.
Addison’s face was everywhere. When Walton Hall finally came into view, I quickened my pace, willing myself not to break into a run.
I slid into a side door, up two sets of stairs.
I just had to make the copies, get to the classroom, get through class, and get out.
I stepped into the copy room. I saw the bag, sitting on a table piled with boxes of copy paper, before I noticed someone with their back to me standing over the machine.
That bag. Without thinking, I said her name.
“Safie.”
She turned. Blinked once, and then again. “I see you’ve come out of hiding.”
I was shaking all over, trying to contain it. “I needed a break from this place,” I said.
She lifted her eyebrows, two perfect lines—how had I let that face out of my life? “Don’t we all.” Next to her, on a bulletin board: Addison’s poster. I looked away, but not before she caught me. “Do you know him?”
I shook my head. “No. You?”
“No. His parents must be really important, even for Sawyer. They’ve practically enlisted the Air Force.”
And then, because I didn’t know what else to say, I asked if she was done with the copier. She looked surprised by the question, which made sense. Not because it was surprising that I was there to make copies but because it was a stupid and thoughtless thing to say.
“Sure.” She grabbed her papers from the machine. They had gotten shuffled on their way out. It was a messy stack and she was trying to be quick about it, but it only made it messier.
“I heard from Stephen,” I said. “Something about a bias investigation?”
She looked up from the papers and her face said something like We should have stuck to photocopies. “It’s a nightmare.”
“Well, I mean they can’t really do anything can they? I mean, not really—”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want it to be over. I want this year over and Kennedy out of my life.”
“Kennedy?”
“Do you know her?”
“Safie, listen.” I said, then stumbled. “Safie, I’m really sorry. I wanted to call. I didn’t know—”
She sliced her palm flat through the air, cleaving the space between us.
“Let’s not do this.” She slid past me, to the door. “Take care of yourself.”
I stood still in the empty room. The overhead light shut off and there in the dark, for the first time in these weeks, for the first time in years—how many, I don’t know—I cried, a great torrent pouring from me, my body a cracked shell that could no longer contain the raft of my despair.
I went right to my car. I would email the class when I got home, cancel it. And then a buzzing ring. I jumped at the sudden noise. Tyler. I answered.
“I got called back to the dean’s office. The police were there.”
It was starting.
“Are you alright?”
“I think so. Can I come over?”
This will all be okay. This will all be okay.
“Yes. Come.”
Tyler said I was making him nervous, pacing around. I sat.
“Okay. Go on.”
“There were two cops there, and the dean. And this time, instead of the res life person, someone they said was a lawyer. She just sat there. She didn’t say anything.”
“They’re trying to protect themselves, so they don’t get sued. What happened next?”
“At first the dean just asked me to go back over what we talked about. And then the cops asked questions. Well, just one. One just sat there. The other one, his name was Detective Laurence I think. He gave me his card, I can check. He asked all the questions.”
“Questions about Addison or about you?”
“Just Addison mostly. I said I would tell them whatever I could, whatever they needed.”
“Good.”
“They started out asking when I had last spoken to him, if anything seemed strange. That sort of thing.”
“And what did you say?”
“Same as before. We hadn’t talked since I’d left for Colorado. We texted a few times at the start, but then I didn’t hear back from him. They asked to see my phone.”
“Did they take it?”
“No, I just showed them the screen. The one who wasn’t talking scribbled some things down and asked me to tell him the dates and times. That was all.”
“Okay.”
“They wanted to know why Addison hadn’t gone on the trip. I said I wasn’t sure. And they asked about what had gone on between him and Kennedy.”
“What did you say?”
“I said it was hookups, that’s all. I was surprised when he decided to stay in the dorms, it seemed random.
I said he’d told me he wanted to catch up on some work and they asked if I thought that was the real reason.
I said I thought it was a little strange and I had wondered if there was something else. Or some other person.”
“Good.” This is what I had instructed him to say. I wanted to create some mystery around Addison’s decision to remain behind. “Did they mention anything about the girl from Akron?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Sooner or later, they would find their way to her. “What else?”
“They asked some questions about his family. I said they were great, that I was worried about them. And then they asked a bunch of questions about the trip. Who was there, what we did. Stuff like that.”
They were trying to paint a picture of Addison’s life, and maybe see if there was anyone on the trip he’d had conflict with. “Anything else?”
“Not really.” He hesitated. “Well, they asked about Charlotte.”
“What do you mean?”
“I guess they must have already talked to someone else from the trip. I don’t know who.”
“Why would anyone have something to say about Charlotte?”
“When I left Colorado, I didn’t want everyone to know I was coming back here. I was worried they would think it was weird. It’s like, when I brought up Addison on the trip they started ragging on me. Kennedy called me overprotective.”
“So?”
“So I told them I was going home. I said some stuff was going on with my mom. And I guess someone, Kennedy maybe, must have mentioned it to the police.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I said the same thing. That I went home for a few days.”
“You told the cops you were in Charlotte?”
“Yeah. I figured I should just stick to what they already knew. It doesn’t have anything to do with Addison.”
Fuck. “Jesus, Tyler.” How had I let this slip? I had gone through every detail of our plan again and again. But I had never asked what Tyler told his friends when he left Colorado. I just assumed they knew he came back to Sawyer. “They’re going to find out you weren’t there.”
“How will they know I didn’t go home?”
“When they talk to your parents.”
“Why would the police talk to my parents?”
“Are you serious? Addison is missing. There’s no evidence. And you’re his roommate. They’re going to check out your story.”
“I didn’t know what else to say.” Tyler started crying, voice shaking. “Did I fuck everything up?”
“Shit.” I stood up. “Fuck.”
“Mark, please don’t be mad. What should I do?”
“Let me think.” We needed to come up with a believable story about where Tyler had been. And a reason he had lied.
And then it came to me—it was so obvious.
“You said the cop gave you a card. Do you have it on you?”
“I think so.” He fished around in his pocket and passed it to me. Detective Daniel Laurence. Sawyer Police Department.
“Go back to the dorms. Stay there. If anyone comes by, don’t answer. If anyone calls, don’t pick up. Lie low until you hear from me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll call you later.”
Behind me, the doors to the station banged open. Two uniformed cops pushed in, gripping the arms of a woman they pulled between them. She was in her forties, maybe fifties. Bloodshot eyes and sallow skin. Her hands were bound behind her back and she was yelling.
“These fucking cuffs are too tight. You’re cutting off my circulation.”
“The cuffs are fine.” The cop who spoke was short, bulldoggish. She yanked on the woman’s arm, making her yelp. “You need to quit jerking around.”
“My fucking hands are gonna fall off.”
The cop sitting behind the front desk, a young guy with a small face, pinched in the middle, nodded at the crew. “Good to see you, Stacey. Nice of you to pay us another visit.”
“Fuck off.” They pulled her down a hall and out of view. Her shouts echoed against the low ceiling tiles, muffled and useless. I approached the front desk. It smelled like microwaved food and disinfectant. The pinch-faced cop busied himself with paperwork, ignoring me. Finally, he looked up.
“Is there something you need?”
“I’m looking for Daniel Laurence?”
“Detective Laurence?”
Fucking cops. “Yes,” I said. “That’s right, Detective Laurence.”
“Does he know you’re coming in?”
“No. Is he here?”
“Slow down. Why don’t you let me know what you need, and then we can take it from there.”
“I’m here about the missing persons case. From the college.”
A pause. “You work at the college?” I nodded. “Has Detective Laurence spoken with you?”
“No.”
“And why not?”
“He didn’t know he needed to.”
He said nothing in response, just pushed his feet and rolled back.
He got up and moved to a desk behind a low wall and conferred with someone there.
A moment passed. He took his time walking back to me.
He exited the booth and started walking down the hall.
“Come this way.” I followed him to a small windowless room.
He motioned to a chair. “The detective will join you in minute.”