“Tell me about the night he disappeared.”
“The night he disappeared,” she repeats, and her eyes gloss over. “He went out to pick up Chinese and never came home. I had him on Find My Friends and tried to search for his location, but his locations had been disabled. I was told his phone couldn’t be traced, that whoever stole it knew what they were doing.”
I nod, having read the same thing on the report. Bryan Porter’s phone couldn’t be traced either. “You said you went to Delirium for Gavin’s birthday. Did you go out on his actual birthday?”
“No, the week after.”
That makes their first trip to the bar about a month ago, and Gavin was reported missing nineteen days ago.
“Was he acting weird before his disappearance?”
“No,” she says, becoming defensive. “He didn’t leave me. I already told the police this ten times and no one will listen! Somebody took him, and he’s….he’s…” Tears roll down her face.
“Francine.” I speak her name slowly, keeping my tone calm. “I believe you. That’s why I’m trying to piece things together, and I need you to answer my questions.”
She takes in a deep breath. “Okay, and no, he wasn’t. He was busy with work, and I had an exam that week. We didn’t see each other much the days before he went missing.”
I make a note of the dates and, getting all the information I need, offer my condolences to Francine and lie through my teeth when I tell her I’ll do everything in my power to find Gavin.
* * *
The guyfrom the repair company is parked in front of the house by the time I pull into the driveway.
“Sorry!” I call, getting out of my car. He steps from the van and looks at his watch. I’m only five minutes late, and I did call on my way to let him know.
“It’s all right,” he gruffs, eyes going to my gun and badge. He hesitates by Thomas and Gilbert, and the weirdest sense comes over me and I have to work hard not to burst out laughing. “Those things are creepy.”
“I kind of like them.” I fish the key from my pocket and let us into the house.
“What’s going on with the heater?” He pulls shoe covers from his bag and slips them over his work boots.
“It hasn’t been run in years, and, when I tried it, it made a weird noise and smelled bad.” I lead him to the basement, pulling the string light at the top of the stairs. “I went down to take a look and realized I have no idea what I was looking at and didn’t want to mess with anything.”
“Good idea. Old units can be tricky. Have you considered upgrading to something newer? They’re more energy efficient and would make sense in this big house.”
I hadn’t considered it because I was set on selling this place and sleeping naked on a bed of money after I collected. “If this one can’t be repaired, I guess I have no choice.”
He goes to the old furnace and gets to work. I step back, not really sure what the etiquette is in situations like this. Do I hang around and make small talk? I have no water or coffee to offer him, and I’m starting to feel weird just hanging around.
Other than looking at the furnace, I haven’t really explored the basement. It’s divided into several rooms, and packed full of shit. Old furniture, broken dishes, boxes and boxes of tattered books…I didn’t want any of it and the thought of lugging it all upstairs to dispose of it made my muscles ache.
But I don’t have to do it, not on my own. I have four very strong and very capable men living in the house. I bet they could get this place cleared out in an hour or less. Deciding to make the most of my time, I quickly flip through the boxes, making sure everything I label as junk really is junk.
My aunt used to live here, and although she and I were never close, she was family. My parents were taken from me when I was young. I didn’t get a chance to get to know the rest of my family, and it’s seared an empty hole in my heart that’s gradually grown bigger and bigger every day of my life.
I not only miss my parents, but I also miss the idea of what could have been. Had my mother and aunt been on speaking terms, I could have moved in and grown up here. She could have helped me with school, offered me friendship and guidance.
After my parents died, I was bounced back and forth between my dad’s brothers for a couple of years. Neither wanted me, and it was obvious I was a burden. Uncle Chuck, Dad’s older brother, was married for a short while before he cheated on his wife, Katie. She and I got along well, and she welcomed me into her small apartment after the divorce went through.
I was twelve then and knew it was fucked up to be living with my dead father’s ex-sister-in-law. Over the next few years, things seemed okay. Normal, even. She taught at the school I attended, and we rode to school together every morning. She was quiet, taking the divorce hard. Dad was never fond of his older brother, and to this day it’s hard not to have a seething hatred for the man who refused to raise his flesh-and-blood niece and who cheated on someone as kind-hearted and caring as Katie.
I stayed with her until college and was even in her wedding when she finally remarried. We kept in touch, but then she relocated to Texas and our communications lessened. I haven’t heard from her in years.
Dad’s family…I knew and didn’t like. But Mom’s side was a mystery, one she’d always tell me we’d talk about later. I saw pictures from her childhood and thought she must have lived the most glamorous, exciting life. My grandpa was a pilot, and my mom traveled the world with him.
Her own mother died of cancer when she was young, so it was just her and her dad, taking on the world. I’d seen a handful of photos of them in all sorts of exotic locations. I knew my grandfather only through his work. The plane he’d flown. The trouble he faced while in the air. The famous people who boarded his plane.
And that was it.
