Somebody I Used to Know (24 page)

By mid-afternoon, I had made good progress on catching up with my work. Instead of being two weeks behind, I was only one. I slipped out for a sandwich and came back a half hour later and had just started answering more e-mails when the phone rang. I wanted to ignore it, but I figured it was Heather. When I looked at the caller ID, though, I saw it was Mick Brosius.

“Just wanted to give you a heads-up about something,” he said. “I figured you’d want to know.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“They’ve made an arrest,” he said.

“An arrest?”

It didn’t register with me. An arrest for what?

“Emily Russell. The murder. The cops arrested a guy this morning. They think they have their man.”

It felt like I sat holding the phone for a long, long time. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling or what I was supposed to feel. I knew there were people who would have cheered or been elated over the news, but I wasn’t one of them. Emily was still dead. Nothing could change that. Nothing could change any of it.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“A local scumbag. His name’s . . . let me see. Lance Hillman. Apparently, they caught him breaking into a motel room last night. They checked his truck, and he had an iPod belonging to the Russell girl. Hillman admitted to breaking into her room and about twenty-five others around town.”

“Did he really kill her?”

“I don’t know. He clammed up. But he broke into another motel room across town and found a woman sleeping in her bed. She says he tried to strangle her too. Most burglars, if they find someone inside, they run. Not this guy. He went after this woman. He’s a real maniac.”

“So maybe they found their guy,” I said.

“The cops think so,” Brosius said. “I talked to Reece this morning. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember you exist. Closing a murder case looks pretty good in a town like this. It doesn’t happen every day.”

I stared out the window to the parking lot. It was empty, the day quiet and overcast. Was I supposed to feel nothing when the mystery was solved?

“Are you there, Nick?”

“I’m here, yes.”

“Are you okay? You got quiet on me.”

“I’m okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

*   *   *

I waited for my obligatory call from Laurel. It took twenty minutes to arrive.

When I answered, she simply said, “Did you hear?”

“I did,” I said. “Brosius called me.”

“I’ve been trying to find out more, but they’re being pretty tight-lipped about it all. I may sneak down there later.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Aren’t you trying to spend the day with your kids? You were gone Friday and part of Saturday.”

“Sure,” she said. “But I thought we’d find out as much as we could right away. To be honest, I thought you’d want to know.”

“I already know what I need to know,” I said, sounding very much like a Zen master. “The only thing I don’t really know is how Emily knew me. Maybe you were right. Maybe she wanted to thank me for helping one of her relatives.”

“Maybe,” Laurel said, unconvinced.

“Maybe she ran away in the store because she’s shy.”

“You seem pretty calm, all things considered,” she said.

“I guess I’m not a murder suspect anymore.”

“I do think you’re off the hook,” she said.

“And I guess I’ve been thinking about a lot of things,” I said. “The one thing I want I can’t have. So if I can’t have that, what does the rest matter?”

“And what’s the one thing you want?” Laurel asked.

“I want Marissa back.”

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

T
hey arraigned the man, Lance Hillman, a couple of days later, charging him with the string of motel burglaries as well as Emily’s murder. He pleaded not guilty to all of it, despite having previously admitted to at least some of the robberies.

I watched the proceedings on the local news. Hillman wore a long, scraggly beard, and beneath his orange prison jumpsuit, his arms were covered with tattoos. Those arms had supposedly squeezed the life out of Emily Russell before she could find me and accomplish whatever mission she had set herself on, a mission neither her parents nor her friends knew anything about.

Laurel let me know that things were moving slowly in Hanfort. Yes, they intended to speak to Blake Brown about the fire that killed Marissa and her three roommates, but it wasn’t a priority. I tried not to think about it. Heather’s children were staying with her that week, so we saw very little of each other. We ate lunch together once and had a couple of phone calls, but that was it, even though I would have welcomed more of a distraction.

My life brightened considerably when Gina called me one evening to ask for a favor. She told me she had to run to a meeting at work, but Andrew’s regular babysitter was unavailable.

“Can I just drop him off for an hour?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m home.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Gina asked.

“I don’t mind. We can watch the basketball game or something.”

And that’s exactly what we did. The Cavaliers were playing the Heat, and we watched the Cavs getting trounced in the early part of the game. Gina told me Andrew hadn’t eaten much at dinner, so I made sure to give him plenty of potato chips and popcorn, all the things a nine-year-old boy and a forty-year-old man loved. I didn’t know when I’d see him again. Life is short, I figured, so I encouraged him to live it up. Even Riley stirred and wagged his tail. He curled up next to Andrew on the couch and didn’t move.

“Do you think LeBron will ever come back to the Cavs?” Andrew asked.

“Not a chance,” I said.

“Really?”

“Really. Would you move to Cleveland from Miami?” I asked.

“I think he will,” Andrew said.

“Maybe you’re an optimist,” I said.

“The Cavaliers are good to watch,” Andrew said. “But I’m ready for baseball.”

“I hear you. Just a couple of weeks. Any predictions on the Reds?”

Andrew thought this over carefully, like he worked at the State Department and was being asked for a foreign policy recommendation. I agreed with the seriousness of the question.

“I think they’re a five hundred team this year,” Andrew said. “Leadoff is a question mark. So is the bullpen. Five hundred.”

“Impressive.”

“I’ve been reading the blogs online,” he said.

“I haven’t,” I said. “They depress me. I’m going to be the optimist this time and say they win ninety games and get the wild card.”

Andrew looked skeptical, but he was too nice to say anything.

“You don’t believe it?” I asked.

“No.” He looked certain, confident, a tiny wise man.

“You’re probably right,” I said. “But I’d hate to think you’re a cynic already.”

It was the fastest hour of my life. When Gina showed up, I thought only ten minutes had passed. I expected her to complain about the potato chip remnants and the bowl with the collection of unpopped popcorn kernels in the bottom. She looked them over and smiled, ruffling Andrew’s hair.

“Looks like you had fun,” she said. “Both of you.”

“We did,” Andrew said.

“Do you mind waiting in the car, buddy?” she said. “I have to talk to Nick for a second.”

“Sure,” Andrew said. He came over to me and we high-fived. “Thanks, Nick.”

“Sure thing.” I felt lighter, happier. But I knew I couldn’t tell him I’d see him soon or anything like that because I didn’t know if I would. “Take care,” I said.

When Andrew was gone, Gina turned to me. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m sorry to dump this on you at the last minute.”

“Are you kidding?” I asked. “We had a blast.”

“I figured you would. I knew you’d both like it. I can’t really talk sports with him, as you know. He misses that.”

“Doesn’t Dale talk sports?” I asked. “He looked like a healthy young lad.”

Gina gave me a warning look. “He’s not around much. And he’s not a sports guy. Not like you two.”

“I’m happy to do it,” I said.

“I know,” she said. “I hate all this shuttling around. When my parents split up, I vowed I’d never do it to my kid.”

“I remember.” I shrugged. “My parents were unhappily married, but they were always together. There’s no right or wrong way to do it. And for the record, you’re doing well. He’s a great kid.”

“Thanks,” she said. I could tell she meant it. “It seems like just yesterday I brought him home from the hospital. It’s all going by so fast.”

“Tell me about it,” I said. “I’m three years older than you. That’s three years closer to the grave.”

“Oh, Nick. You know, in the past, I’d laugh at you for saying something like that, but I have no room to now.”

“Why’s that?” I asked. “You’re passing up the chance to laugh at me?”

Her face grew serious, her brow furrowing as she thought about something. “Do you remember we talked on the phone a while ago, right after you were in the news for being a murder suspect?”

“I do,” I said. “Did you see I’m off the hook?”

“I did.” Gina shivered about something. “That guy they arrested. Ugh. To think of what he did to that beautiful girl. I hope he didn’t . . . It sounds awful to say, but I hope he
just
killed her. I hope he didn’t do more to her.”

“Me too.”

“Anyway, I mentioned to you that some guy disappeared from my dorm when I was at Ohio State.”

I tried to remember the details of the call. All I really remembered was being concerned that Andrew would see me on the news and think I was a psychopath. I’d much rather talk to him about the Reds than about what it means to be a person of interest in a homicide investigation.

“I vaguely remember.”

“Well, it’s not important,” she said, looking down at the keys in her hand. “What’s important is that it sent me into this nostalgia spiral. I started looking up old friends on Facebook. I exchanged messages with people I hadn’t talked to in years. I found out what people are doing with their lives. We’ve all become adults with kids and jobs and houses. It’s like someone hit fast-forward on everything.”

“Tell me about it,” I said.

“One of my friends remembered the missing guy’s name. Charles Blevins. Do you know they never found him? Still. His family has a website about it.” She stood with her arms folded over her chest. “I don’t know. Andrew is growing up so fast. I don’t want him to miss out on what he gets from you. I think about that guy being missing, being away from his family and the people he cares about all that time. I guess what I’m saying is . . . I’m open to more of this, the kind of thing that happened tonight. More time with you guys together. Let’s just see how it goes.”

I wanted to hug her, but I didn’t. Instead I just smiled.

“Thanks,” I said. “Really. I mean it, and I think it’s good for both of us.”

“I agree,” she said.

“If they ever find Charles Blevins, I’ll send him a thank-you.”

“We’ll talk soon.” She slipped out the door into the cool night.

It felt like the start of something new.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

A
fter Gina left, I watched the end of the basketball game. I’d had my fill of junk food and intended to stare at the TV until I felt so drowsy I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.

When I reached that point, I took Riley for his walk around the apartment complex. Since he was an older dog, it sometimes took him longer to do his business than it would with a pup. That’s what happened that night, and when he struggled to make the urine flow as quickly as he wanted, I reminded him that it happened to all of us if we were lucky to live long enough. I told him I didn’t care. It was a nice night, and I was in no hurry. He looked at me like he wanted me to shut up.

So I took out my phone. No texts. No important e-mails.

I thought about what Gina had said about nostalgia, all of it triggered by her vague memories of a guy she didn’t really know who disappeared when we were all just kids. I couldn’t fault her for feeling that way. I understood as well as anybody how both young love and young death opened the dam to a flood of memories from the past.

I slid the leash up my wrist, freeing both of my hands for typing and searching. I entered Charles Blevins’s name and found the website Gina was talking about, the one still maintained after all those years by the Blevins family. I looked at the photos of a smiling young man, his clothes and hair twenty years out of date. But he looked happy and optimistic. As I stared at the photos, I wondered what could have gone wrong to make him disappear before his life had even started. A crime? An accident? A suicide? Who could tell just by looking?

Riley finally finished. He must have been relieved, because he wiped his feet with particular gusto and then walked until the slack in the leash tightened. He looked ready to go home.

“Just a minute,” I said.

I clicked on the information page, the one that gave the details of the case. When I saw them, I tugged the leash harder than I intended to.

“Shit, Riley. We have to get home.”

*   *   *

“Gina?”

“Nick?” As expected, she sounded groggy, but I needed to talk to her. “What time is it?”

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” I said. “But I need to ask you something.”

Riley sat at my feet, staring up at me. He seemed be telling me to wait until morning, but I ignored him.

“Is something wrong? What time is it?”

“It’s midnight,” I said, “and I don’t think anything’s wrong. But I was wondering something.”

“Jesus, Nick,” she said. “Call me tomorrow.”

“I need to ask you something tonight. It’s important.”

“Is this what it’s going to be like now that I’ve opened the door to you again?” she asked.

“Come on,” I said, “that’s not fair. Now just answer me. You said you talked to people who remembered this Charles Blevins guy who disappeared from Ohio State. Did any of them know him very well?”

“Charles Blevins?” She paused while she tried to place the name. “Him? You want to talk about this now?”

“Yes,” I said. “I need to know.”

“For God’s sake, Nick, why?”

I paused. Did I want to tell her? I knew if I did, I opened myself up to all the comments and criticism I’d heard over the past couple of weeks. Not just from Gina but also from Laurel. But I had to know who might have known Charles well back then.