Chapter 3

 

 

Thomas awoke, sunlight filtering in through the curtains. He lay in bed, enjoying the warmth beneath the comforter, a sharp contrast to the chill he had slipped into the previous night, after showering.

But now it was luxuriously warm, so soft he felt as if he were floating. The lack of an alarm clock was delightful, as was the sunshine across his face. Years of climbing numbly from his bed at four in the morning, Michelle yet asleep and coffee the only aphrodisiac that could awake him to the day's pleasures, had made such mornings a rarity. To be appreciated. Enjoyed. He stretched, rolled onto his side and arched his back, groaning and grimacing with pleasure. He relaxed and turned back to look up at the ceiling, and then suddenly, terribly, missed Michelle.

It was a near physical ache, acute and numbing in its power. She should be lying next to him, her black hair a web of interwoven darkness against the pale of the pillow. Her eyes half closed, her smile present in the deepening laugh lines around her mouth, betraying her amusement at his overdone stretch, awaiting his smile in response, for him to take her hand and ask how she had slept.

He looked at the empty pillow. Michelle. Was she lying in her childhood bed, gazing at the ceiling, feeling, thinking the same things? That feeling of helplessness washed over him again, provoked by an image of her face from that night, battered, one eye nearly closed from the swelling. How she had been unable to cry when he held her. Could he just call her and tell her he loved her, sweep aside all the arguments and misunderstandings and inability to connect in one clear clarion call of love, as pure as the sunlight, as beautiful as her eyes and her lips? In the morning light it seemed possible, simple, and he almost reached for the telephone right there and then.

But no. It wasn't so simple. Not after she had left with such finality for her parent's home yesterday evening, a departure following on the heels of yet another argument, one that had prompted his own drive to Buffalo in order to avoid their empty apartment. She'd been going to her parent's home a lot since he'd taken the promotion last summer, but the amount had nearly doubled since the incident. Heading out there "to think," to recover. To ride her father's old motorbike up and down the back roads, wearing those ridiculous aviator goggles she loved. Running with Mags in the morning along the tidal wrack, the dog too old now to really keep up. Sitting on the porch with a mug of tea and a book as the sun set, enjoying the stillness. The solitude. A quiet certainty suffused him: things weren't going to last much longer. Change was coming, an end. He could practically hear the ice that had built up between them groaning and cracking under the strain. Back in college she had always said she wanted to do pro bono work. Since the incident, her desire to do so had caught fire once more. Maybe now she was finally going to make the jump.

He frowned, and the image of Michelle faded from the far side of the bed. Nothing was simple anymore. He sat up with a groan, rubbed his face, and decided to shower again before reviewing last night's stocks and heading out.

The Campus Center wasn't hard to find. The early morning sun had been beaten back by a battalion of sullen clouds that had drifted in from the west as if summoned by his dour desire. They hung oppressively low in the sky, the color of dishwater. The air felt close and the snow that lay everywhere failed to gleam or glitter. Driving up toward the University, Thomas had seen a massive building rearing up like a fist of brick from behind a screen of trees: the building from Henry's video. He had slowed down, looked at the twin stocky towers, at the verdigrised caps, old and stern and baleful. A chill had washed over him, and he'd accelerated faster than he had strictly needed to.

Ten minutes later he had entered the large and modern looking Campus Center, a light butter yellow on the outside and looking like a minimalist mall within. Three floors, accessible by elevator and hosting innumerable meeting rooms, auditoriums and the like. Young men and women walked to and fro, holding books, shouldering back packs, talking animatedly or simply striding forward through the open spaces, heads bowed, intent on their destinations. Thomas felt old. He pressed on.

The coffee shop was located on the ground floor with a small fan of tables and chairs spread before it. Most of the tables were empty, and Thomas quickly spotted Julia sitting by herself, chewing gum and reading a magazine set on the table before her. She was slouched to one side, base of her palm was pressed against her left temple, skewing the side of her face so that her left eye and cheek were pulled up. But it was her, unmistakably her, wearing a thin black sweater under a bright red and puffy sleeveless vest, something that looked to Thomas like a fashionable life jacket.

He walked over and stopped before her table. It took her a moment to register his presence, and then, using her palm as a pivot, she swiveled her head up to look at him. Her eyes were hard and stared at him with unabashed appraisal that discomfited him. In the harsh light of the campus center he saw that her hair held red highlights within its auburn depths.

"Julia?" He placed his hand on the back of the chair across from her, waiting for a nod before pulling it out and sitting down. She stared at him in silence, chewing her gum slowly. After a moment he cleared his throat and continued, "I'm Thomas. It's nice to meet you."

She raised an eyebrow at this, as if openly disbelieving him. Tough customer, decided Thomas.

"I wanted to talk to you about Henry. You guys were dating?"

At this she straightened up, closed her magazine and slid it aside, and leaned back in her chair to gaze at him levelly. "We weren't dating. We were fucking."

"Oh," said Thomas. "How adult."

She snorted and looked away, the muscle over the joint of her jaw leaping into relief and then subsiding and then appearing once more.

"When did you last see Henry?" asked Thomas, leaning forward. He felt almost amused; her tough act might fluster boys her age, but it left him feeling paternal. Almost.

"Listen, how about we cut to the chase, all right?" Her voice was cold, controlled, and when she looked back at him, her expression verged on the furious. "I don't know where he is. I don't know why he left. I've got nothing to tell you that I didn't tell the cops. If you're looking to learn about his life, you should have asked him while he was still around. Got it?"

Thomas pursed his lips and nodded slowly, digesting that. She glared at him, daring him to drop his gaze. He didn't, so she eventually looked away again.

"Why are you so upset? Did I offend you somehow?"

She didn't react at first, simply continued chewing and staring out at nothing. Thomas waited, letting her figure out what she wanted to say. Clearly she hadn't expected him to remain so calm. To not rise to her provocations. She looked down, a certain tension left her shoulders, and when she spoke it was with a great weariness.

"Listen. Thomas. I told you. I don't know where Henry is. I haven't seen him in over four months. We weren't close toward the end. I don't know who told you I could help you, but they were wrong. I wish I could help." She looked up and met his gaze, and he saw her eyes suddenly tear up. This girl's wrung out, he realized. "But I can't. Okay? I'm sorry, but I can't."

Thomas stood. She followed him with her eyes, and he looked down at her, expression neutral, compassion welling up within him. "I'm going to get an espresso and some sort of sandwich. Maybe a slice of cake. Can I get you something?"

Something fragile hung in the air. Something tenuous and brittle, and for a second he thought it would break, and that Julia Morrow would stand up, her eyes raw, her face hard, and walk away. He held her gaze, and finally she looked away and said, "A hot chocolate would be great, thanks." Thomas nodded and stepped over to the cafe counter where he examined the contents within the glass display case while waiting for the serving lady to notice him. She turned, took his order, and then busied herself preparing it.

Thomas turned and looked at where Julia sat facing away from him. She was sitting still, slightly slumped, gazing out at nothing in particular. Thomas was struck by a sense of tenuous fragility. It was so at odds with her athletic frame, with the confident and sensuous smile of that intimate photograph. She must have been hit much harder by Henry's disappearance than she was letting on.

"Seven-fifty," said the woman behind him, and Thomas turned to see the drinks and cake set out on the counter. The espresso smelled amazing. Smiling, he handed her a ten dollar bill and took the change with a nod. He debated carrying all three items at once, and then simply took the drinks over first, smiled politely as he set Julia's hot chocolate before her, and returned soon after with the cake and two forks.

He sat and fished a handful of sugar packets free of the little well in the center of the table, and then ripped off their heads and shook them into his coffee. A quick glance showed that Julia was holding her hot chocolate, not drinking it but simply holding it with both hands, absorbing its heat into her palms and fingers. He studied her face for a moment, and then looked back down at his espresso. A quick stir, then a sip, cautious of the heat. Perfect.

Setting the little cup down, he leaned back and, gauging her still unready to tell him what she knew, began to talk. "I accompanied Henry when he first enrolled here back in 2004. He had to attend a whole bunch of orientation meetings with the other students, and I had to go to a series of meetings with all the other parents and professors. Everybody else was in their fifties or so, and there I was looking like a kid. I got some funny looks." He smiled and shook his head slowly. "You could see the mothers gauging me, wondering if I was possibly old enough to be his dad, and how scandalous that would be. Anyway." He forked some cake into his mouth, and washed it down with some more espresso.

"The President gave a speech. I think he was trying to be funny, but he told us that all the kids were going to be treated like adults. Which meant attendance would not be taken. Nobody would check to make sure they were eating their salads. Nobody would notice if they decided to take a week off to go to Mexico, or New York City. It was up to them to invest in their futures."

Julia was looking at him over the brim of her hot chocolate. It was like being stared at by a cat. "I thought that was great at the time; Henry could get into all sorts of trouble with girls and whatever without having people yelling at him. I didn't realize how bad it could be till the landlord contacted me over the missing rent."

"Why did he call you?" Her voice was controlled, almost disinterested. He took another sip and sat forward, as if she had asked a very interesting question. It was like coaxing a recalcitrant investor into becoming engaged with the deal, encouraging their gestures and participation.

"I was the co-signer on the lease. When Henry failed to pay the first month, Materday simply billed him for both months on the second. When that didn't come, he called me. That's when we all realized that Henry had been gone for some time. I couldn't get hold of him or anybody who knew where he was, and when I called the school they told me he'd stopped coming to class in mid-December. Just before finals."

He stopped speaking, and slowly sat back, taking his espresso with him. This is where he'd wait, go quiet and let the silence build till Julia spoke, even if only to fill it. He sipped his espresso.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said at last. "I wasn't lying when I said I don't know where Henry is. I haven't seen him in ages. Since the end of last November. We had a fight, and that was the last I saw of him."

Thomas nodded, "All right. Can you tell me what you guys fought about?"

Julia finally sipped her hot chocolate, and then set the mug down before her. "Eric. It was--it was complicated. I don't even know how things got to where they did, but things moved quickly and then Henry was demanding I pick between them. He was always so dramatic." She shook her head, her gaze focused on something internal, some memory. "I told him I didn't want either of them, and he left."

"Were you dating--involved--with both of them?"

"No. Well, yes. I was seeing Eric at the time. We'd been dating off and on since the end of our junior year. I got involved with Henry in late October. We fought in late November, and I broke up with Eric a few days later."

Thomas nodded again, and realized that he had finished his espresso. College kids and their relationships. He remembered how intense and important his own romances had seemed back then, running across the campus in the middle of the night to confront or explain or declare something absolutely vital.

"What about your late-night hobby?"

Julia didn't start. "What about it?"

"What's up with that? What were you guys doing?"

She fixed him with a neutral gaze. "It was an art project. Just school work."

"Uh huh," said Thomas. "An art project. Is that what you told the cops? Sorry, but I'm not buying it. I've seen some of the videos Henry shot. Let's try again. What were you guys doing?"

Julia glared at him, annoyed, and then raised an eyebrow. "Breaking into buildings late at night to explore them."

Thomas smiled and shifted in his seat, "No, see, it's not that simple. You can make it sound simple, but it's not. Come on. How did Henry get involved?"

It was her turn to gauge him. "You going to tell the cops?" She was half joking.

"Of course. I'm wearing a wire. There's a team of FBI agents in an unmarked van outside listening in right now."

She snorted, "Fine. Henry got involved through me. It's hard to hide a late-night hobby from someone you're sleeping with. So I told him. He said he wanted to try it out, so I introduced him to Eric."

"Did he know you were dating Eric?"

"Yep."

"Did Eric know you were sleeping with Henry?" Thomas was having trouble fathoming all this.

"Not at first. Anyways, this was all Eric's idea. He picked the buildings, told us what to do and bring and so forth. He and Henry really got along. He let Henry come with us a couple of times, and then made him a full time member. Henry was going to put up a website where we'd document our trips."

"A website? Wouldn't that be a bad idea?"

"Not if you kept it anonymous. Look online. There are tons of them." She leaned forward and forked a chunk of cake, and sat back, chewing slowly on it. "So Henry explored with us from... the end of October onward. I stopped going when I broke up with them both, but I think they kept it up. I haven't really spoken to Eric since we broke up though, so I can't tell you any more than that."

"And you didn't think to come forward and tell anybody about all this?" She met his gaze and held it, and then shook her head.

"What was I going to say? That he might be somewhere in the city in any number of the hundreds of abandoned buildings? As of last November? Or December? What good would that do? I decided to talk to Eric instead."

"Yeah? And?"

"When I tried to find him I found out that he hadn't come back this semester. I had trouble finding him. He'd moved out of the dorms." She saw Thomas' expression, and quickly shook her head, "No, he hadn't disappeared. He's still in Buffalo. I left a bunch of messages on his cell, but he never called back. I was going to go over to his new place and talk to him, but..." She trailed off.

"But what?" Thomas looked at her, and then understood, "But you're not sure you want to know, do you?" She nodded reluctantly. "What was it you guys found down there? In those tunnels?"

Her mouth tightened and she looked away. He sighed. "All right. I have to leave tonight to go back to New York, but I need to talk to Eric. If he's the last person that saw Henry, I've got to find out what he knows. Can you tell me where he lives?"

"Eric wouldn't have done anything to Henry," said Julia. "There's no way."

"That's what I need to know," said Thomas. "I should probably just have the cops go over and talk to him, but maybe he'll be more willing to talk to me. What do you think--can you help me out?"

She hesitated, her eyes moving from side to side as she frowned at nothing, and when she looked back at him he could tell she'd reached a decision. "All right. Come on. I'll take you myself."