Fair Game - lanyon Josh - Страница 11
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“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 Beyonce holding a parasol and Beyonce 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.
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