Fair Game (5 page)

“Right,” Elliot soothed. “I realize that. The truth is, violence can happen anywhere.”

“Exactly!” Charlotte exclaimed. She sounded quite pleased about it.

On his walk back to the Administration offices, Elliot phoned Tucker.

“Lance,” Tucker answered crisply following the second ring.

Like that, it was as though he stood in front of Elliot, all aggressive masculinity, and Elliot’s heart started to pound hard in that fight or flight reflex. It irritated the hell out of him, but there was no denying his physical response to Tucker.

“It’s Elliot.”

A pause. “Elliot.” Tucker’s tone was neutral. “What do you want?”

“I have new information for you. Another student, a kid named Gordie Lyle, has apparently disappeared.”

“Apparently?”

“I haven’t had a chance to look into it, but his aunt reported him missing to Tacoma PD.”

“What makes you think there’s a connection?”

“Gut feeling mostly. It’s one hell of a coincidence.”

Silence. Tucker said, “I don’t put a lot of stock in gut feelings.”

“Do you put a lot of stock in coincidence? Because this is a big one.”

Elliot’s daring to contradict him seemed to be the signal Tucker was waiting for. He said flatly, “Give me a break. It’s a college campus, for God’s sake. Don’t tell me you’re doing bed checks every night. I know better.”

“The Lyle kid has been missing four days. According to his aunt, that’s not typical. And, as we both know, Terry Baker has yet to turn up after three weeks.”

“That’s it? That’s your connection? Two boys from the same college campus don’t show up to class for a few days?”

Elliot understood what Tucker was saying. And fair enough. Boys will be boys. Had Lyle been female, then sexist or not, the rules were different. Even so, given the lack of progress in the Baker case, was there a valid reason not to acknowledge a possible link?

Elliot lowered his voice to avoid the attention of students sitting nearby on the grass, engrossed in their laptops. “Are you telling me you won’t even consider a connection?”

“I didn’t say that. I said it was too soon to draw that kind of conclusion. I’ll follow it up. What’s the contact info on the Lyle kid?”

“I’m on the way to get it. But since you don’t think there’s anything to this, why don’t you let me talk to the aunt? It’s less likely to freak her out than a G-man showing up at the door.”

“No way. You want to play security consultant, that’s your business, but I don’t need your help and I sure as hell don’t want your interference in my case.”

“You just pointed out you don’t know if it
is
your case. Anyway, Charlotte Oppenheimer asked me to act as liaison between the university and the various investigative agencies, so I’m in whether you like it or not.”

Tucker gave a curt, disbelieving laugh. “Now the university president is dictating to the Bureau? I don’t think so.”

“She’s not dictating. She’s asking a favor. Of me.”

“Let me clarify a point here,” Tucker said almost pleasantly. “I don’t want you involved in my—”

“And I don’t give a flying fuck what you want.” That time Elliot hadn’t bothered to lower his voice.

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut an ear on.

Unexpectedly, Tucker laughed. “Okay. Well, I’m glad we’ve got that cleared up.”

Elliot realized he was gripping his cell phone so hard his knuckles were white. Nothing like a little internalized stress. He said with an effort at evenness, “You’re not my first draft pick to work with either, okay? But I told the Bakers I’d try to help. I gave my word, so that’s what I’m going to do. If you don’t want me to share information I uncover, I won’t.”

“The expectation—”

“Montgomery’s expectation is that the exchange of information will be a two-way street. You know that as well as I do, Tucker. Why do you have to be such a prick about this?”

Elliot heard the echo of his words with something akin to astonishment. They weren’t really going to have this conversation were they? That was unbelievable enough—let alone that
he
would be the one to initiate it.

Tucker said cheerfully, “I guess you bring out the worst in me, Elliot.”

It was Elliot’s turn to laugh, though there wasn’t a lot of humor in it.

“Great. Well, maybe we can put aside our differences long enough to get through this case.”

There was a pause and then Tucker said, “Tell you what. You want to talk to the Lyle kid’s auntie, you go ahead. I have my doubts this is a viable lead, but hey. I’ve been wrong before. The university is making the connection, so maybe it exists. Let me know what you turn up.”

It was a race to see who could disconnect faster.

*  *  *

Armed with Charlotte Oppenheimer’s permission, Elliot had no trouble obtaining the contact information for Jim Feder and Gordie Lyle alike, as well as permission to look through Terry Baker’s dorm room.

Unlike Baker, Feder lived off campus. Elliot left a message for him on his cell phone and then headed over to Tetley Hall, one of the upperclassmen dorms. He located the resident assistant without trouble and was escorted upstairs to the suite where Terry had shared a living room, kitchen and bathroom with five other students. From behind closed doors he could hear the pound of music, TV cartoons and burbling voices. It was a wonder any of these kids ever got anything done. But it had been the same back when he was in college. Somehow it was easier to filter the background disturbance when you were a kid. Maybe because your entire life was background disturbance.

“I think Denny’s in class right now,” the RA said, tapping on the dorm door.

“That’s okay. What was he like?”

“
Was?
Terry?” The RA looked alarmed.

Elliot said hastily, “Is. What is Terry like?”

There was no response to his knock, and the RA unlocked the door and pushed it open. “He’s…quiet. He keeps to himself. I mean, his class load is intense. I just don’t know him that well.”

Elliot looked around the room. Two beds, one unmade; two desks, one cluttered; two closets, one standing open; and a shared bookshelf. There were the usual posters on the walls. The messy side of the room was graced by Beyoncé holding a parasol and Beyoncé wrapped in something that looked like sequined fishing nets. On the wall over the neatly made bed was an anti-motivational poster of a crowded drinks tray with the motto:
Doesn’t matter if the glass is half-full or half-empty if you have a lot of glasses.

Elliot smiled faintly. “Terry’s side of the room?”

The RA nodded.

“Great. Thanks. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

Dismissed, the RA reluctantly withdrew, closing the door behind him. Elliot picked up a framed photo of Pauline and Tom Baker with a young man he recognized as Terry from the pictures he’d seen at the Baker house. He was a nice looking kid. Tall and well-built. He faced the camera with an easy-going grin.

Elliot put the photo aside and performed a quick, professional search of the room. The police would have already been through Baker’s belongings, of course, but this wasn’t the kind of thing Elliot ever left to local law enforcement.

It took him about half an hour. His search turned up nothing conclusive. No laptop, but Tucker had already said Terry had it with him when he disappeared. The scribbles on the national parks wall calendar were mostly illegible, but they indicated appointments and plans stretching beyond the night Baker had disappeared. True, those plans could have preceded the decision to kill himself—should he have come to such a decision. Elliot could find no indication.

Baker’s wallet, keys and student ID were missing, but he would have had them with him at the library.

Flipping through a book on architecture beside the bed, Elliot discovered a birthday card serving as a bookmark. He opened the card. The usual store-bought salutation signed
xo Jim.

His cell phone went off and he answered it, managing to soften his usual bark.

“Mills here.”

“Uh, this is Jim Feder.” The voice was young and pleasant. “You called me and left a message?”

Speak of the devil. Elliot tucked the card back in the book, set the book back next to the lamp and explained who he was and what he wanted.

“I don’t know,” Feder said when he’d finished. “Who did you say you’re working for again?”

“It’s more of a personal favor to Terry’s parents. They’re pretty worried.”

“They don’t need to be.”

“Really? What do you know that no one else does?”

“Nothing. I just…” Feder’s voice died away.

“Well, let’s get together and talk about it.”

“I don’t know anything. I really don’t have anything to tell you.”

Elliot had been through this more times than he could count. He said reassuringly, “That’s okay. You probably knew Terry better than anyone. It would be helpful to talk to you.” Still trying to reel him in without jerking the line, Elliot added, “If you can find the time.”

There was a decided hesitation. Feder said at last, “You’re Professor Mills? The new one who teaches history?”

As opposed to the old Professor Mills who preached overthrow of the government? “That would be me,” Elliot concurred.

Another hesitation before Feder said, “I’m getting together with friends tonight, but I guess I could meet you for a few minutes at the Wharfside in Seattle. Do you know where it is?”

“I do.” And it was a hell of a distance out of his way, but that would likely be Feder trying to avoid this meeting. Elliot didn’t intend to let that happen. “What time?”

“I could be there around five-thirty.”

“That’ll work.”

There was a sigh. Feder was definitely not happy about this. Elliot added, “I appreciate it, Jim. This will be very helpful.”

“Helpful to who?” Feder said shortly and rang off.

Elliot put his phone away, finished his exploration of Baker’s belongings and went downstairs to let the RA know he was leaving.

He had discovered nothing conclusive, but in his opinion Terry Baker had not planned to take a hiatus from his life. Elliot had found two empty suitcases stored beneath Baker’s bed and a completed essay on Sea Tac’s environmental aspects which, according to the wall calendar, was due to be handed in the week the kid had vanished. Whatever had happened to Baker, Elliot believed it had come as much a surprise to him as to everyone else.

On his way back to Hanby Hall, he called Gordie Lyle’s aunt, but after three rings it went to message. Elliot gave the spiel about who he was and what he wanted, left his phone number, and continued on to his office. He was going to be late for his Film and History: The American West seminar, but his knee didn’t like to be rushed. Rushing left him limping and in pain, something that generally only happened these days when he was very tired or had overdone it. Nothing like excruciating pain as an incentive for taking care of yourself.

He let himself into his office, gathered his notes and headed down the empty hall to the seminar room. It was a relief to find no group of students milling in the corridor. Kyle Kanza, his TA, had let them in and was taking roll.

He smiled as Elliot entered. “Hey, Professor.”

“Hey,” Elliot responded, setting his briefcase on the desk. “Thanks for holding the fort.”

He was relieved to see Kyle had the TV and DVD player set up and ready to go at the front of the room. Kyle really was the perfect TA. Smart, helpful, able to think for himself. And, despite a really awful magenta flattop and a painful-looking lip ring, he was also a nice-looking kid. An attractive mix of delicate bones, almond eyes and honey-colored skin.

Elliot turned to his captive audience and notebooks—electronic and otherwise—opened, cell phones disappeared. “Okay, just to let you know, since we’re running late, we’ll probably have to save our history versus celluloid debate till next time.”

He picked up the remote, powered on the television and walked over to dim the lights. “Though it was a commercial success,
The Searchers
received scant critical acclaim at the time of its release. It received zero Oscar nominations, however the American Film Institute has since named it the number one Western of all time.” He watched them scribbling frantically in their notebooks, although none of that was crucial information to remember. “Look for themes of obsession, miscegenation and racism. I think that’s about it. Starring John Wayne, Jeffrey Hunter and Natalie Wood…
The Searchers.
”

Elliot pressed play, flicked the lights off and returned to his desk.

“Do you want me to get started grading last week’s reviews of
Red River?
” Kyle whispered as the film credits rolled.

Elliot nodded. Kyle scooped up a stack of papers, rose and made his way across the front of the room, heading for the door. Elliot studied the faces highlighted by the television screen. In the back row he could see the glow of someone busily texting.

“Schrader, lose the phone or you’re out of here.”

The light went out, Schrader sat up straight. There was uneasy shifting around in chairs. Elliot felt someone watching him. He glanced over and sure enough, Leslie Mrachek was staring. She quickly looked away.

His cell phone suddenly rang—he’d forgotten to change it to vibrate—and there were chuckles and a few snickers as he grabbed for it.

He peered at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number, but he received few enough calls these days that he answered as he rose and headed for the door.

“Mr. Mills?” The voice was feminine, the intonation African American. “This is Zahra Lyle, Gordie’s aunt.”

“Thanks for returning my call so quickly, Ms Lyle.” The door to the classroom shut quietly behind him. Elliot stood in the deserted corridor. He could hear voices drifting from both Anne Gold’s and Andrew Corian’s rooms. He’d have preferred to take this call in his office, but unlike many of his peers, he wasn’t comfortable leaving the classroom unattended. A career in law enforcement left you with a suspicious disposition. “I was wondering if it would be possible to talk with you about Gordie?”

“Is Gordie one of your students?”

“No. Not exactly.”

“Then why?”

The hostility there gave Elliot pause. “It’s my understanding you reported him missing. Charlotte Oppenheimer has authorized me to act as liaison between the college and the police.”