Providence

Chapter 16

I had learned a lot over the years working on my book.

Those stories had shown me the banal underside of murder, so that gruesome and unimaginable acts could be held close and understood.

The research had prepped me to love Tyler no matter what he had done.

(And, of course, the reverse was also true: My love for Tyler meant I would accept whatever he brought me.) I knew inside and out the machinations of these men’s acts, including the ways they had hidden their deeds.

The moment we left my apartment and returned to the dorms, and each step since, I calculated against what my research had shown me.

The fake text from Tyler to Addison, how we moved Addison’s body, what we told the police.

I had been taught how to do this by those I’d studied.

And we had done well, covering our tracks.

An odd thing to take pride in, I suppose.

I understood one more crucial thing. I had hidden this from Tyler and did my best to hide it from myself.

It was a necessary obfuscation that allowed me to keep going, to get through the days without losing my mind to second-guessing and paranoia.

I pocketed it away but it was there all along, pressing duly, then sharp against my side.

This knowledge I possessed but did not want: I knew that we would, in all likelihood, be caught.

I flew back in the morning and when I walked up to my building, the cops were there.

Detective Laurence was on his phone. Next to him stood a shorter man stuffed into a blue suit.

He looked familiar, probably from the station.

In any case, he recognized me and said something to get Laurence’s attention.

Well, I thought, there goes any chance for tenure.

Laurence spoke some last words into his phone and put it away. “Dr. Lausson,” he said. “Good to see you again. This is my colleague, Detective Mike Hoffer.”

“Nice building,” Hoffer said. “My cousin used to live here.”

“That idiot cousin? What’s his name?”

“Not Patrick. Anne, on my mother’s side.”

“Go figure,” Laurence said. His eyes lingered on my overnight bag. “Have a good trip?”

The two of them stood thickly planted in place, smug and certain of themselves and their belonging to the moral order of the universe.

“What can I do for you?” I asked.

“We were hoping you might come over to the station to talk.”

I tried to stay calm, and spoke slowly. “Alright. My car is in back. I can meet you there.”

“If you don’t mind,” Laurence said, “we’ll give you a ride.”

“Oh.” My heart jumped, my breath caught, my throat went dry. Was I under arrest?

Laurence smiled, maybe guessing at my thought, maybe satisfied with himself at putting it there. “It’s just to talk.” He pointed at a gray sedan parked at the curb. “Shall we?”

I got into the back seat. We pulled away, my face turned to the window. The building I’d lived in for almost two years—Hoffer was right, it was beautiful, how had I never noticed?—shrank and disappeared from view.

They brought me to an over-lit room: faded linoleum floors, yellowed walls slapped with cheap, shiny paint.

“Go ahead and grab a seat.” Laurence pointed to one side of a metal table and sat opposite.

There was a low cabinet against the wall and Hoffer hopped on top, as if he were just hanging out, curious to watch what might unfold.

Laurence picked up a small device from the table and turned it on.

He gave his name and badge number, the precinct and date.

He referred to me as the interview subject and asked me to state my name. I did.

“I’ll be recording this. That’s okay with you?”

I nodded.

“I’ll need a verbal ‘yes,’ if you don’t mind.”

I should say no. I should ask for a phone call. I should stand up and walk away from this room and never come back.

“Okay,” I said. “Yes.”

“Great.” He set down the recorder. “We had a couple questions for you.”

“What about?”

“We’re just trying to piece together the days before Addison disappeared.”

“Okay.”

“Was there anything else you remembered about Addison that you thought we should know?”

“I don’t think so. He was majoring in economics? But I’m sure you know that.”

“He probably inherited an interest in money from his parents. That family is pretty well-off. Although I guess that’s not unusual at the college, is it?”

“No, it’s not.”

“Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“I see.” Laurence looked over at Hoffer and Hoffer gave a small frown in reply. “When we spoke, I asked if you knew Addison. And you said no, isn’t that right?”

“I said he wasn’t my student. But I’d seen him around. It’s a small campus.”

“It is. Feeling smaller every day, to be honest with you. But we heard you spent some time together. With his parents in fact. And Tyler. Back in November.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yes. I ran into them after an event at school.”

“Right. A bartender remembered you. We confirmed with his parents. They had nothing but nice things to say about you.” A beat. “And then after that, there was a party in January. Down in Columbus. Did that take place as well?”

I nodded.

“Sorry to be a pest,” Laurence said, “but again, can I get a verbal reply?”

“Yes.”

“So you did spend time with Addison. But when you came to see me the other day, offering your help, you implied you hadn’t.”

“I guess that’s right.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure.”

“We were able to get over to Columbus and find a few kids who were at that party. Talked to a couple girls who recalled speaking with you. Met you on the porch?”

“I remember them.”

“They said they had a good time with you.”

“Actually,” Hoffer cut in, “they said they really enjoyed talking to someone who wasn’t a brain-dead meathead.”

“That’s right,” Laurence said. “But then they saw you again, later in the night. Out in the street, having some argument with Addison. They said it got pretty heated. Do you remember that?”

“I do.”

“Do you remember what you fought about?”

“It was nothing.”

“It was enough to draw some attention.”

“I decided to leave and Addison didn’t want me to drive. He said I needed to sober up.”

“Did you drive home that night?”

“No. I took a cab. I came back for my car the next day.”

Laurence raised an eyebrow. “Good on Addison.” A pause, and then, “I’m sure you’re wondering how we came upon this information in the first place.”

“No,” I said, “I’m not.”

“Come on, now. You must be a little intrigued.”

“Not really.”

“Fine, then indulge me. We saw your friend Tyler again.”

“Okay.”

“He’s a real talker once you get him going, isn’t he?

Anyway, we just wanted to follow up with him.

Since you tipped us off that he’d been in town after all.

See if he remembered hearing anything about this girl from Kent State.

Or anybody else Addison spent time with off campus.

Townies, right? Anyhow, Tyler got pretty jumpy pretty quick.

He seemed rattled. Started stumbling over his words, cutting himself off, backing up.

It was clear enough there was something he wasn’t saying.

So I asked him what it was. And then do you know what he told us? ”

He was toying with me, a cat batting a mouse. But he was waiting, so I answered.

“No, I don’t.”

“Any idea?”

“No.”

“Tyler said we aren’t going to find Addison because Addison is dead.” I held my body still, keeping my eyes on his. “Does that surprise you?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“It’s the question I’m asking. But never mind—wait until you hear this next part.

Tyler said you had gotten stressed because Addison knew what was going on between you two.

You and him sleeping together or whatever.

And you started worrying Addison was going to rat you out.

That’s what the fight in Columbus was about, not how much you did or didn’t have to drink.

And that during spring break the three of you had been in the dorms together and you got in another fight with Addison.

Things escalated. You pushed him, not really meaning to hurt him, but he fell and hit his head.

Some kind of bad luck fall and he died on the spot. ”

Tyler had done exactly what I’d taught him: bring your lies as close to the truth as possible.

“That isn’t true.”

“I’m not finished,” Laurence said. “So Tyler says that he wanted to come to us, but you made him swear not to. Pressured him to help dump the body. But he was having second thoughts, feeling guilty.”

“He seemed really upset,” Hoffer said.

Tyler was scared and I wasn’t there to reassure him. The cops had shaken him, freaked him out. He was unraveling, grasping at straws. He didn’t mean any of this.

“And he says this Thursday,” Laurence continued, “he tried to get you to turn yourselves in. You told him to keep his mouth shut. You threatened him. And smacked him around to make the point. He was looking pretty banged up.”

“Definitely,” Hoffer said. “The side of his face was going purple.”

“And a swollen bottom lip. You roughed him up pretty good.”

“I didn’t—”

“That wasn’t you?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

Laurence considered this, tipping his head side to side. “Regardless, it’s not very nice to hear, is it?”

“It’s not.”

“I’ll be honest. I’m not sure that’s how it all went down. It was too pat, all of a sudden this convenient story. A handsome professor taking advantage of an impressionable kid. I don’t think Tyler’s telling us the truth. Or not all of it.”

“Okay,” I said.

“But you know, I thought—it’s kind of interesting, isn’t it, that Tyler ended up with you? Maybe he’s into professors. I think that’s a thing.”

“I think so,” Hoffer said. “It’s probably exciting for them.”

“But of all the professors, strange that he found you.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

Laurence took his time opening a thick brown folder. He slid a sheet across the table. A printout of my faculty bio page from the English Department.