Thread of Hope (The Joe Tyler Series, #1) (36 page)

“Should I go with you?”

“No.  Stay here.  I want you to recreate the forty-eight hours before Meredith disappeared.”

“Recreate?”

“On paper,” I explained.  “Everything you can remember from two days prior to her disappearing.  Try to account for every second of each of those days.  Nothing is too immaterial.  What time you woke up, what you ate, exact conversations you had with her, what she was wearing.  Every detail of every second, as best you can.”

He nodded slowly, probably already trying to line up details.  “Alright.”

“I’ll call you after the game,” I said.  “We can go over what you’ve got.”

I said goodbye and found my way back outside.  The evening air was settling in, cooler than normal for that time of year.  Fog hung at the edge of the sky and I could smell the dampness working itself down to the grass and the pavement.

The forty-eight hour diary was to keep Jordan busy.  Most likely, it wouldn’t do a damn thing to help us find Meredith.  But it would occupy him, give him a task, help him push forward, mute the pain of not knowing where she was for the moment.

Someone–I could no longer recall whom–had given me the same exercise during the first week of Elizabeth’s disappearance.  I had scribbled furiously, recording every detail I could remember.  It kept me busy, occupied, made me feel like I was doing something toward finding Elizabeth.

As I got into my car, I hoped that I could provide Jon Jordan with a better outcome for his efforts than I had received.

SEVENTY-TWO

Athletic Director Robert Stricker was standing near the entrance to the gym when I arrived at the high school.  He raised his eyebrows.  “Wasn’t sure if you were coming tonight.”

“I told Kelly I’d be here,” I said.  “You seen her yet?”

He tilted his head back toward the locker room.  “She’s been here for awhile.”  He held a hand up and waved at someone as they passed in behind us.  “Anything on the Jordan girl?”

“Nothing right now.”

“Her father driving you nuts?”

“He’s just worried about his kid.”

Stricker nodded.  “Understandable.”

“You think of anybody, anybody here at the school who might know something?” I asked him.  “Someone who you saw her with that seemed out of the ordinary?”

“Why?”

“She just had some things going on in her life that were definitely not ordinary,” I explained.  “I’m just wondering if there was a connection here or if it was all outside of school.”

“Not ordinary how?”

“I can’t really say right now,” I said.

He nodded, then shrugged his large shoulders.  “I can’t recall seeing her with anyone other than her boyfriend and teammates.  Pretty tight group, you know?”

“Yeah, okay.  Thanks.  I’m gonna go find Kelly.”

“Good luck tonight.”

“You said she was in the locker room, right?”

He smiled.  “I meant good luck with the game.”

“Oh.  Right.  Thanks.”

I saw Megan entering through the far door at the end of the hall and hustled to catch her before she entered the locker room.  She saw me coming, gave a half-wave, took a step as if she was unsure of what to do, then waited on me.

“Hey, Coach,” she said.

“Hi Megan.  You alright?”

“Yeah, sure.  Why?”

“Just asking.”

I wasn’t just asking.  Megan was normally as laid back as was humanly possible while being awake.  But her shoulders were bunched, there was no smile on her face and she was clutching her backpack like her hand was glued to it.  The tension in her face, body and actions was tangible.

“You hear anything from Meredith?” I asked.

She looked down at her shoes and shook her head.  “Nope.”

“You sure?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes now filled with something other than tension.  “What?  I mean, yes I’m sure.  I haven’t seen her.”

“Talked to her?”

Color flushed in her face.  “No.  Why?”

Going through Meredith’s phone records had shown me more than a couple of unidentified phone numbers.  Every day, without exception, Meredith and Megan spoke by phone and texted one another, to the point that it was unnecessary to count how many times.  Sorting the calls and text messages by the hour would’ve been more effective.  I knew they were good friends, but those phone records demonstrated how close they were.  I was no longer buying the idea that Megan didn’t know what was going on in Meredith’s life.

“You told me the rumor about Meredith being a hooker,” I said.  “Why?”

She pulled harder on the backpack and licked her lips.  “Because I thought it might help.”

“No.  You knew it wasn’t a rumor.  Meredith was involved in prostitution and you knew.”

The pink in her cheeks glowed into a red.  “Why would I do that?”

Goose bumps popped on the back of my neck, as I felt like I was getting close.  “Because you wanted to help her.  You didn’t want to come straight out with it and betray her.  I get that.  So you fed it to me as if it was a rumor so I’d look at it.  I know what she was doing, Megan.  And so do you.”

She’d slipped a fingernail into her mouth and was gnawing on it, her eyes darting from me to her feet and back again.  She looked to me as if she was trying to make a decision.  I stayed quiet and let her make it.

“Can we talk after the game?” she finally asked.

“I don’t wanna wait, Megan,” I said.  “Meredith’s been gone too long and I don’t want to waste anymore time.”

She mumbled something, but I couldn’t understand her.

“What?”

“She’s alright,” she whispered.

“You’ve talked to her?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

The goosebumps popped harder and my heart rate spiked.  “Do you know where she is?”

She started to say something, then glanced over my shoulder and something in her expression changed.

I turned and followed her gaze.  Kelly Rundles was talking to Stricker at the other end of the hall.  She looked up and waved.  I waved back.

“After the game,” Megan said quickly.  “Not now.  We can’t do it now.”

I turned back to her.  “Why?”

She started backing away from me, toward the locker room.  “After the game.  Meet me on the other side of campus, near the admin building.”

“Megan, come on,” I said.  “Talk to me.”

“After the game,” she repeated.  “Just trust me, please.  And don’t tell anyone yet.  Please.  Don’t tell
anyone
.”

I didn’t want to let her go, but there was something in her voice and in her face that made me realize I didn’t have a choice.  And I didn’t want to push her to the point that I lost her.  Plus, I knew I’d be sitting on the bench and she wouldn’t be out of my sight for the next two hours.

I nodded in her direction.

The tension drained out of her face and something close to a smile found it’s way into her expression as she disappeared into the locker room.

SEVENTY-THREE

The girls were out of it and so was I.

It was nearly halftime and we were down by fifteen.  It should’ve been more.  They couldn’t shoot, they couldn’t pass, they couldn’t defend and they couldn’t execute.  It looked as if they had never played a game together before.  Everything that Kelly tried failed.  When she wasn’t screaming herself hoarse, her jaw was set in a concrete mix of frustration and anger. 

Megan, the best player on the team in Meredith’s absence, was atrocious.  Throwing the ball away, taking ridiculous shots and letting opponents drive by her as if she was nothing more than a turnstile.  Kelly had called her over to the sideline several times, alternately coaxing and berating her, Megan nodding at her with an absent expression, then returning to the floor to continue her ugly play.  She was now at the far end of the bench, a towel draped around her neck, her eyes glued on the floor.

I was no help, either.  I was watching the game, but my mind was on Meredith and Megan.  And Kelly Rundles.

The phone calls bothered me.  A few phone calls would’ve been normal, maybe a few text messages.  I could recall calling my coach in my high school several times, but they were nothing more than short courtesy calls.  Times had changed and relationships between players and coaches had changed, as well.  If Meredith was being recruited by top notch colleges, it was likely that Kelly would’ve acted as a filter between Meredith and recruiters which would’ve meant regular phone calls and communication.

But the sheer number struck me as odd.  They were nearly every day and many were late into the night.  That just seemed abnormal, particularly after Kelly herself had cautioned me about how the relationship between coach and player could be construed differently if the adult wasn’t careful.

As I watched the seconds tick off the clock in the second quarter, though, something else was bothering me.

When I spoke to Megan before the game, her demeanor and voice changed when Kelly showed up at the opposite end of the hall.  Was it just a player shrinking beneath the gaze of her coach?  Or was there something else?

Every time I glanced at Kelly stalking the sideline, I wasn’t thinking about the game.  I was thinking that maybe she had lied to me.

The horn sounded ending the quarter and the girls jogged out of the gym toward the locker room.  Several glanced anxiously at Kelly, no doubt anticipating an ass-chewing over their horrendous play.

Kelly snatched her whiteboard off the bench, her jaw still locked in place.  She walked over to the scorer’s table, took a look at the scorebook, shook her head and came back in my direction.

“It’s like they don’t even give a shit tonight,” she spat.  “Sixteen turnovers.  In the first half.  Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah.”

She walked past me, still talking.  “I’m thinking we just go straight man, full-court, press the rest of the way.  See if that shakes them awake.”  She bounded up the steps that took us from the gym floor to the hallway that led to the locker room, her feet stomping against each stair.  “They wanna lose, fine, but they’re gonna run their asses off doing it.”  We stopped at the door to the locker room and she turned to me, sweat on her forehead and the skin around her eyes pinched tight.  “What do you think?”

I massaged the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger.  A trace of a headache was forming in my skull, as if my brain hurt from everything I was putting it through. 

“Joe?” Kelly asked.  “Are you alright?”

“You were talking to her,” I finally said.  “To Meredith.  A lot.”

Her face screwed up with confusion.  “What?”