Providence

Chapter 14 #3

I looked around the office. Gray hulking metal desk, a bank of filing cabinets against the wall.

There was nothing of note, no personal touches other than a framed photo of a kid in a baseball uniform, holding a bat.

I rehearsed what I would say, playing it over in my head to look for any gaps.

This fuckup with Tyler had thrown me. I was drumming my hand against my thigh, quick staccato slaps; I made a fist to stop myself.

Someone stepped into the room, already talking.

“Don’t get up.” He stood over me, looming in a gray suit. “Daniel Laurence. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

I nodded. “Mark Lausson.”

He sat and leaned back behind his desk, spilling into the space behind him.

“What brings you in tonight, Mr. Lausson? Or is it Dr. Lausson? My colleague says you’re from Sawyer?”

“Yes, I teach there. Either is fine.”

“We don’t deal with the school very much. They have their own police force now. I guess the parents figure they’re paying enough.”

“I guess so.”

“But they do us the courtesy of calling us in for the bigger matters.”

“That’s why I’m here. About the missing student. Addison Mitchell.”

Laurence bobbed his head, once, twice, like he was thinking it over.

“I understand you came in asking for me by name?”

“That’s right. I got your card from Addison’s roommate.”

Laurence tipped forward. He flipped through a small notebook. He landed on a page and scanned it, or seemed to, humming to himself.

“Got it,” he said. “Tyler Cunningham. Soccer player, right?”

“Yes. He’s on the team.”

“Tyler suggested you come in?”

“Not exactly. No.”

“Alright. What then?”

I took a breath. This was it, it was the right next move—we had no better choice. “Tyler told you he went home to North Carolina to see his parents. That he left the ski trip early for that.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, it isn’t true.”

“No?” Laurence paused, but I could tell it was not my turn to speak. He flipped around in the notebook and looked up at me. “Where was he then?”

“Tyler came right back to Sawyer.”

“But that’s not what he told his friends.”

“I know. He lied.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he was covering for me.” Another breath, and then—“He was with me. We’ve been having an affair.”

Laurence stretched back, looking past me. You could almost wonder if he was paying attention, he seemed so unbothered. Eventually, he lowered his head and spoke.

“I see. He’s a student of yours?”

“Yes. Or he was, last semester. That’s when we met. We started seeing each other in November. We stopped in January, but we started up again last week, during the break.”

“Tyler seems like a good kid.”

“He is.”

“He did get a little skittish when we asked about leaving for Charlotte. I thought maybe he didn’t want to talk about whatever trouble at home. But if I’m understanding, he didn’t want to get you in trouble. I guess particularly not with some administrator there.”

“That’s right. But when he told me, I thought—I don’t know. It would create unnecessary confusion.”

“What kind of confusion?”

“About where Addison had been. Or who he’d seen.”

“Seems like the two of them are pretty close.”

“Tyler is really worried about him.”

“Was Addison your student, too?”

“No, I’ve never had him in class.”

“Look,” Laurence said. “I understand it must have felt like a risk coming in here. I appreciate that. Whatever your relationship with Tyler, your personal business, that’s not my concern.

Tyler’s an adult, you’ve broken no laws.

And you’re right. We would have sorted the details eventually, but you saved us that time. ”

“Tyler wants to be helpful. He just—he got scared.”

“Understandable. Anything else?”

“No. That’s it.”

“Alright then. I think that’s probably all we’ll need. But let me know how to reach you if something comes up.” He turned to a blank page and pushed the notepad toward me.

“Of course.” I scribbled out my name and number and handed it back.

“One sec,” Laurence said. He pulled out a stack of printouts and scanned. He flipped a page and I caught it—a phone log.

He looked up. “Tyler’s records. I don’t see your number, though, even back here in November, December.”

They were already looking at Tyler. It was a good decision, coming in.

“I used a different phone with him. An old number.”

“I see.” He looked back at the records, running a finger down the page. “646 area code?”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

“Sawyer must seem really small after New York.”

“Sometimes,” I said. “Sure.”

“We moved here from Philly at the start of the year. My wife’s family is out here. It’s pretty quiet, comparatively. Though not this week.” He smiled and stood and so I did the same, confused by the abrupt end to our meeting. He grabbed my hand to shake it and then—“Oh, one more question.”

“Sure.”

“Has Tyler mentioned anything about a girl Addison was spending time with? From Kent State?”

They had traced the calls.

“No. I don’t think so. Why?”

He shrugged. “Seems like Addison just picked up with her during the break. I guess he’s a bit of a ladies’ man.”

When I left the station, I sat in my car and waited until my hands stopped shaking enough to get the key to the ignition. I drove home, eyes on my rearview mirror the entire way.

Tyler was still in my apartment, on the couch where I’d left him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to know what happened. Where did you go?”

“I don’t know how many times I have to repeat this. This only works if you do what I tell you. When I say go home, go home.”

“I tried to, I swear. I just couldn’t. I don’t mean to upset you. I got up and then sat down again. Like three or four times. My feet wouldn’t move.”

I closed my eyes. The story had gone over well.

The affair was just what we needed all along—a secret to distract from the true secret.

And the news about tracking down the girl at Kent was good.

A trail of breadcrumbs leading nowhere. Akron was forty miles away, in the opposite direction as the park.

They would scour the roads and stops between here and there, searching camera footage, chasing a scent that never was. Everything was still okay.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you.” I sat next to him. “I met with the detective. I said you lied about Charlotte because you didn’t want the school to know about us. And that you had been with me since you got back. That you didn’t want to get me in trouble, and that’s why you lied.”

Tyler’s face opened in surprise.

“You didn’t have to do that. Get involved like that.”

“I am involved. I don’t have a choice anymore. You know that, right? I’ve helped cover up a murder.”

His eyes narrowed and he yanked back.

“I’m not a murderer.”

“Tyler—I didn’t—”

“I’m not a murderer.”

“I’m sorry, I know. Of course not. But I need you to understand how serious this is.”

“You think I don’t? I’m not a child. And I’m not a murderer. It was an accident. I was upset about the ski trip. I’d been looking forward to it all semester.” He was getting worked up, face flush, eyes glowing. “I was really angry. But I didn’t want this to happen.”

“Okay, Tyler. I’m sorry. Listen. I fucked up.

I should have thought this all through. But it’s good, it’s better.

They know about the girl at Kent. They’re going to be tracing those leads.

And you have a perfect cover now. Us. We’re the perfect cover.

We just need to make sure our stories line up.

If they talk to you again, you’ve been having an affair with me since November.

We stopped it in January. You left the ski trip to come here, to start again.

You came back to surprise me, not Addison.

You stayed with me until Sunday morning.

You went back to the dorms and your room was empty. Got it?”

He nodded but said nothing.

“We can’t afford any more slips in the story. We get one chance to change it, and we’ve used it. They need to believe you.”

“Well, if anything, we know I’m a good liar.”

“What do you mean?”

“You bought it all, right? About my family. About the Adderall. I had you convinced.”

“You did.” He was mad at me, I could see it. He wanted to hurt me.

“So don’t worry. I know how to get people to trust me.”

“Okay, then. No more lies. Did you have something to do with Kennedy filing a complaint against Safie?”

He blinked and that was it—the smallest tell. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I wouldn’t have noticed.

“Kennedy was really struggling in her class. I mean, I love Kennedy, but she won’t do anything she doesn’t want to, and the class became one of those things.

And she was complaining all the time, just bitching about the readings and like, why did everything have to be about race.

And I was fucking around, but I was like—you should file a complaint. ”

“What were you trying to do?”

“I just—I was pissed. Addison had gotten obsessed. Kennedy was all he talked about.”

“So what? You thought she’d get in trouble? Or kicked out?”

“I don’t know, I just said it. I thought it would blow up in her face and that would be it. And I was mad about that night at the party.”

“What party?”

“When Addison and I crashed that thing on campus, the holiday thing. And I was talking to you and she was like lecturing me.”

And then suddenly I understood when Safie had confronted him at the Walton Walk.

“You mean you were trying to get back at Safie, too?”

He shrugged. “It was just a joke.”

“A joke?” I deserved what had become of my life, but Safie? I jumped up, filled with an instant rage. “That is so fucked, Tyler. So fucked. You’ve put Safie’s career on the line.”

“She’ll be fine.”

From the moment we’d met, he’d brought nothing but ruin. I hated him. I hated everything about him.

“You fucking brat.”

Tyler looked up and just leaned into the couch, an almost-smirk on his face.

“Are you going to hit me?”

“What? No.”

“But you want to, don’t you?”

“Tyler, stop. Go home.”

He got up and stepped toward me, closing the space between us.

“You can.”

“I can what?”

“Hit me. I want you to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. I want you to hurt me. Look what I’ve done.” He stared up at me, face gone blank. That face had been my undoing.

And then he raised a finger and jabbed me at my collarbone, quick and sharp.

“Shit.” I jerked back. “That hurt.”

“Good.”

He lifted his hand again but I swatted it from me. He stumbled and caught his footing, never taking his eyes from mine.

“Leave.”

He moved his head side to side. “No.”

My body clenched; a jolt shot through me.

“Get the fuck out, Tyler.”

“No.” Again, he shook his head.

And then my hand flew into the air and whipped down across his face. He reeled back and hit the floor. He looked up at me, eyes wet and wide.

“Get up.”

He started to stand and I swooped toward him, yanking him to his feet.

“Fuck—”

I seized the back of his neck, twisting his head and hissing. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes—” I tossed him backward and he slammed into a side table. Books crashed to the ground and his leg caught the lamp by the cord—it flew to the floor and shattered. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him, whimpering, to the bedroom.

“Stand up.”

He stood, cowering, terrified, electric. The side of his face was bright pink from my hand. I slapped it again, a sharp whack. He yelped. His lower lip had split, a bubble of blood darkening.

“Take off your pants.”

His hands scrambled to his jeans. He had them just to his ankles when I picked him up and threw him onto the bed. I flipped him over and yanked down his underwear. I climbed behind him and pushed his face into the mattress. I held it there and undid my belt.

“This is what you want?”

He moaned. “Yes.”

I hit him across the back of the head and gripped his neck, the tendons pushing pack.

The rest took a minute, no more. After, I sat at the edge of the mattress looking away while Tyler dressed and let himself out. Only when he was gone did I realize what he had been saying, just barely audible, prone and unresisting beneath me.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”