“C
ome on,” Morgan said. “What could they possibly be up to out there?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to help Nick find out.”
“I thought you said he told you to stay out of it.”
“What if he’s right? What if there really is something going on? What if he’s in danger?”
“What are you planning to do, Robyn?”
“I’m going to keep working on my story. Mr. Hartford told me I had to be objective. So I’m going to talk to people in town. Maybe someone knows something.”
“Why don’t you talk to the police chief? He’s your dad’s friend. I’m sure he could answer your questions.”
“Maybe I will,” I said, even though Nick had told me not to. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my father, it’s that there are many different ways to ask questions. It all depends on who you’re talking to and what you want to know.
. . .
I left Morgan sitting at a patio café with a large latte and a couple of new magazines. She had offered to go with me, but “Reporters don’t take their friends on assignment, Morgan. Besides, you don’t want to traipse all over town on those crutches.”
“Do I look like I could traipse even if I wanted to?” she said irritably.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Be objective, Mr. Hartford had said. Larry Wilson had given me one side of the story—his side. But it was obvious that he had a lot of detractors in town. I decided to talk to some of them, starting with someone I was sure would have a strong opinion.
“Excuse me, Mr. Kastner?” I said to the man in the record store who was putting price stickers on a new shipment of albums.
“How can I help you?” he said. His smile was warm and welcoming. He didn’t look anything like the angry man who had chased Lucas out of the store. Not until I told him why I was there. His smile vanished and his warm eyes turned cold. “Thugs,” he said bitterly. “Not the kind of kids we need around here.”
“Have they given you a lot of trouble?”
“Those two who were in here the week before last—I had my eye on them from the minute they walked through the door. I knew they were trouble. Although, if you ask me, they’re not too smart. Especially that one I caught.”
“What do you mean?”
“He went straight to the new releases and started pawing through them. The whole time he kept glancing at me, like he was trying to see if I was watching him or not. It was obvious he was up to something. He didn’t even get his friend to try to distract me—I’ve had some kids like that before, in pairs or groups, a couple of them trying to distract me while the others lift the merchandise.”
I remembered what Nick had told me about Lucas. “But the kids who were in here a week ago didn’t do that?”
“While the guilty-looking one was going through the new releases, his friend was studying the flyers on the wall. He didn’t check even once to see what I was doing.”
“Then what happened?”
“While I was watching, the kid who was going through the DVDs slipped a couple of them into the back of his pants under that big T-shirt he was wearing. I’ve never seen such a clumsy attempt at shoplifting. Then he ran out of the store. Even if I hadn’t been watching him, that would have tipped me off.
“I yelled at my wife to call the cops—she was in the back of the store—then I chased him and caught him. Then out comes his friend, yelling at me that the kid hadn’t done anything.” He snorted in contempt. “I should have made the police throw the book at that thief. Next time one of those little thugs comes into my store, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“So they’ve given you a lot of trouble?” I said.
“Like I just told you.”
“Before that, I mean. Have you had trouble from some of Mr. Wilson’s other kids?”
“Well, no,” he said. “Not Wilson’s kids personally, I mean. But plenty of other people around here have.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Last summer they used to come into town in a big group and muscle their way into the ice cream shop. Intimidated the other customers.”
“Intimidated them? How?”
“Well, they’re delinquents,” he said, as if the answer to my question was perfectly obvious. “Bert Olafson, the owner, had to ban them from the place.”
It sounded to me like people were intimidated because they knew that Wilson’s kids had been in trouble before, not because of anything they did in the ice cream shop.
“You know who you should talk to for your article?” Kastner said. “Al Duggan at the marina. He had some real trouble with one of those kids. He’ll tell you a story or two.”
I thanked him for his time and went back to the café to find Morgan, who was sharing her table with a cute, shorthaired guy she introduced as Chris.
“Chris’s dad is a contractor. He builds those big luxury cabins you see on a lot of the lakes up here.” Before Chris could say anything, she added, “Chris has a Sea-Doo.” She smiled at him.
“Too bad you can’t get that cast wet,” I said. She scowled. “I’m going down to the marina. You want to come?”
She gazed across the table at Chris. “No. I think I’ll stay here.”
“I’ll come by and get you when I’m finished.”
I headed down to the marina and asked around for Al Duggan.
“He’s in the restaurant,” a kid at the gas pumps told me.
On my way inside I passed Al Duggan’s daughter Colleen, who had helped me dock the first time I crossed the lake on my own. She was writing the daily specials on a menu board outside the restaurant and nodded at me as I went by. I found Mr. Duggan inside, behind the register. When I introduced myself and told him why I was there, he reacted the same way as Kastner at the music store.
“I’m surprised Rob Hartford is wasting ink on those punks,” he said. “I’m not sure his advertisers will want to open the paper and see their ads next to a story on Larry Wilson.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” I said. “Mr. Hartford wants me to cover both sides of the story, and I heard you’ve had problems with some of Mr. Wilson’s kids.”
“No respect for anyone else’s property,” he said. “One of them stole some DVDs from George Kastner’s store last week.”
“What kind of trouble did you have with them?”
“One of those thugs destroyed a pay phone over there.” He nodded toward the door. “Cracked a window, too—I had to have it replaced. I pressed charges, but Larry sweet-talked the chief of police into giving the kid a warning. I told him the next time any of those kids set foot on my property they’d be asked to leave. If they didn’t ...” His grimace made his intentions clear.
“Have they given you any other trouble?”
“They used to come in here, a whole bunch of them all at once. They’d shove a bunch of tables together, order some fries and soda, and hang around for an hour or more, annoying the other customers.”
“They weren’t any worse than J.C. and some of the other kids from school,” someone said. We both turned toward the door. Colleen had a bucket of chalk in her hand. It was obvious that she had been listening to us.
“J.C. doesn’t have a criminal record,” Mr. Duggan said.
“You don’t have to have a criminal record to act like a bunch of jerks. Which J.C. and his friends do all the time when they’re in here,” Colleen said. “But when they act up, you just tell them to knock it off. You don’t threaten to call the cops.”
“That’s because I don’t have to worry that J.C. is going to pull out a knife or that he’s going to come back in the middle of the night and trash the place.”
“Steven would never have done anything like that,” Colleen said.
Steven? Who was Steven?
“The lunch rush starts in half an hour,” Mr. Duggan said. “Everything had better be prepped back there, or your mom’s not going to be happy.”
Colleen glowered at her dad for a moment before disappearing into the kitchen.
“Do you know of any storeowners in town who have had a positive experience with Larry Wilson’s kids?”
“Not a one,” Duggan said without hesitation. “Nobody wanted those kids to move up here. Nobody wants their children hanging out with them. One way or another, this town is going to shut that place down.”
I thanked him for his time. I was beginning to understand that this was going to be a hard story to write. So far the townspeople I had spoken to came off sounding worse than Mr. Wilson’s kids. Okay, maybe they had some grievances—Lucas had shoplifted, albeit clumsily, and another kid had done some damage at the marina restaurant. But Mr. Kastner and Mr. Duggan talked about those incidents as if they were crimes of the century.
When I got back to the café where I had left Morgan, she was alone.
“Where’s Sea-Doo Boy?” I said.
She gave me a sour look. “With his girlfriend, who, by the way, has obvious self-esteem issues. The way she acted, you’d have thought I was trying to steal Chris. I guess these local girls aren’t used to competition.”
“Competition?” I said. “You mean you were trying to steal him?”
“We were just talking, Robyn. It’s not my fault that he was enjoying himself.”
I stared at her.
“What?” she said.
“Billy,” I said.
“I have the cutest, most comfortable pair of boots at home,” she said. I knew the ones she meant. She practically lived in them when the weather got cold.
“Relevance?”
“Those boots are irreplaceable. Nothing even comes close. I wouldn’t sell them or give them away—ever. But that doesn’t mean I can’t go window shopping just for fun. Anyway, I was doing you a favor.”
“Me? I’m not in the market for new boots either, Morgan.”
“But you are in the market for information about Larry’s kids. When I told Chris why you were going to the marina, he said you should talk to Colleen Duggan.”
“Did he say why?”
“Colleen went out with one of those kids. The guy’s name was Steven. And Robyn?” Morgan’s expression was somber. “Chris said that he’s dead.”
“Dead?” Lucas had told Nick that Alex Richmond wasn’t the only one of Mr. Wilson’s kids who had died. “Did he say what happened?”
“He got lost in the woods. He died of exposure.”
“When did this happen?”
“Last winter.”
I frowned. “Are you sure? I went through all the back issues of the Lakesider. I saw a story about Alex Richmond’s death, but I didn’t see anything about a kid dying of exposure.”
“I’m just telling you what Chris said. And I didn’t get the impression that he was making it up.”
“Come on,” I said.
“Where are we going?”
“I hear they make a good burger down at the marina restaurant. And we haven’t had lunch.”
. . .
Al Duggan hadn’t been kidding about the lunch rush. By the time Morgan and I got back to the marina, the restaurant was jammed. Colleen was one of only two waitresses, but she wasn’t ours. Morgan and I ordered and lingered over our lunches. Gradually the place cleared out as vacationers headed out to one of the nearby beaches, climbed back into their boats, or strolled into town.
“Can I get you anything else?” our waitress said.
I glanced around but didn’t see Colleen anywhere.
“No, we’re good,” I said. After she left, I told Morgan I would be right back. I headed for the washroom but peeked through the kitchen door. No Colleen.
We paid for our meal and left the restaurant, then started toward the dock.
“Hey!” someone called.
I turned.
It was Colleen. She was behind the restaurant, beckoning to me.
“I want to talk to you about something,” she said. “I have a break in twenty minutes. Meet me at the bandstand on the beach. You know where it is?”
“I do,” Morgan said.
It took us almost the whole twenty minutes to get there. It turns out it isn’t easy to walk over sand when you’re on crutches.
“Three more weeks,” Morgan grumbled. “And then this stupid cast comes off.” A little later: “There’s sand in it. I can feel it. It’s going to drive me crazy.”
“You don’t have to come, Morgan. You can wait for me at the marina.”
“Stop babying me, Robyn. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m fine.” She didn’t sound fine. “Besides, we’re almost there.”
Colleen showed up a few minutes later.
“I heard you talking to my dad,” she said. “You’re doing a story on Larry’s kids?”
I nodded.
“Are you going to write what my dad said?”
“About Steven, you mean?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I heard he died, Colleen.”
She wiped her hand across her cheeks and drew in a deep breath.
“He was nice,” she said. “Sweet, you know?”
“Your dad said he vandalized the restaurant.”
“I know what he said. He tells everyone the same thing. But that’s not what happened. Steven came into the restaurant last fall. The marina slows down after Labor Day. By Thanksgiving it closes. But Dad keeps the restaurant open year-round. There’s a lot of winter sports up here—ice fishing, snowmobiling, cross-country skiing. That keeps us afloat. I usually have to help out after school and on weekends. Dad likes to keep as much money as possible in the family. Anyway, one afternoon I was there. The place was practically deserted, and this guy came in.”
“Steven?”
She nodded. “He was looking for a phone. There’s an ancient pay phone just inside the door. I was sitting in a booth, doing homework. My dad was in the kitchen. I saw Steven, but I don’t think he saw me at first. He was making a long-distance call. I know because he tried to reverse the charges. But whoever he was calling refused to accept. I heard him arguing with the operator. He kept saying it was important. But it didn’t do any good. He hung up, but he didn’t leave. He just stood there. He looked kind of sad, you know? So I got a bunch of change out of the till and I gave it to him so he could make his call.
“At first he didn’t want to accept it. But he finally took the money and made his call. I couldn’t hear what he was saying at first—he was hunched over the phone, and I was sitting in a back booth, you know, to give him some privacy. But I guess the call didn’t go the way he wanted, ’cause he started to talk really loud.”
“What was he saying?”
“He wanted to go home.”
“You mean he wanted to leave Mr. Wilson’s place?”
She nodded again. “What my dad said, about how he broke the phone, then the window? He makes it sound like Steven just came in and started smashing the place up. But it wasn’t like that. Steven was begging whoever he was talking to to let him leave.”
“Did he say why he wanted to go?”
“If he did, I didn’t hear it. But I did hear him promise that he’d be good, that he wouldn’t make any trouble, stuff like that. Then all of a sudden he was just standing there, staring at the receiver like he got hung up on. Then he slammed it down—hard. I guess he was really upset, because he did it again and again. My dad came out of the kitchen to see what was going on, and just then Steven slammed the receiver down so hard that it broke.
“Dad grabbed him by the collar. Steven fought back. I mean, wouldn’t you if someone grabbed you all of a sudden and started screaming at you? Dad was shouting, getting really scary. Even I wasn’t sure if he was going to hit Steven or something. Steven tried to get free of him. I guess he pushed my dad, because Dad slammed against the window—it got this huge crack in it. But Steven didn’t run away or anything like that. He tried to help Dad up. But Dad shoved him away. Steven tried to apologize. My dad wouldn’t listen. He called the cops.”
“What did Steven do?”
“He didn’t do anything.”
“He didn’t take off before the cops came?”
“Nope. He just stood there while my dad called him a loser, told him he was going to be sorry he ever set foot in the restaurant, stuff like that. Then Chief Lafayette showed up. He handcuffed Steven and took a statement from my dad, and that was it. It wasn’t the way Dad told you. I wanted you to know. I didn’t want you to write what my dad said.”
“Your dad told me that Mr. Wilson got the charges against Steven dropped,” I said.
Colleen nodded. “You can’t believe how angry Dad was when he heard. He made banned the rest of Mr. Wilson’s kids from the place. He said he had half a mind to ban the police from the restaurant, too.” When I looked puzzled, she said, “The police station is right across the road. Chief Lafayette and his deputy are regulars. One comes in on chicken night, the other comes in whenever my mom makes her special meatloaf. My dad liked having them around. He still does. He says when people see cops eating there, they know it’s a good place. A place where there’s no trouble. But he was pretty mad when Chief Lafayette let Steven off with a warning.”
“It sounds like a lot of people in town don’t like Larry’s kids,” I said.
“That’s for sure. Maybe some of those kids are trouble, I don’t know. But Steven wasn’t bad. A little while after he was in the restaurant, I was walking home from school and I saw Steven on the road. He was waiting for me. He wanted to pay back the money I had given him from the till. He said he was sorry for breaking the phone. If he was such a punk, he wouldn’t have bothered apologizing.”
Steven sounded a lot like Nick—sure, he had a temper, but apart from that he was a decent person.
“Did you see him again after that?”
She looked away.
“I won’t put it in my story, Colleen. I promise.”
“Then why do you want to know?”
I hesitated and glanced at Morgan, who shook her head.
“I went out to Larry Wilson’s place a couple of times,” I said. “It seems like a good place. The guys out there seemed well behaved. They’re learning all kinds of things. They work hard. But when I talk to people in town ...”
“If I tell you, you have to promise you won’t write about it,” Colleen said.
“I promise.”
“Mr. Wilson lets the guys come to town once a week—usually Thursday afternoon. They mostly have to stay in pairs or groups, and he’s really strict about the time. Steven said he’s strict about everything. But—the guy Steven used to pair up with would sometimes let Steven go off on his own. Steven said he thought the guy was seeing someone in town. So Steven would come and see me.”
“At the marina?”
“You kidding? And take the chance he’d run into my dad? After that first time, when he paid me back, I told him I would be at the library on Thursdays. We’d meet there and then find somewhere more private where we could talk. Steven was nice. He just wanted to go home—not that he had much of a home to go to.”
“Did he have problems with his parents?”
“He didn’t have parents. He didn’t have anyone. No brothers or sisters. No uncles, aunts, grandparents, not a single person in the world. Can you imagine what that must have been like?”
After knowing Nick for as long as I had, I sort of could. “What kind of home did he have?”
“He was in foster care with some other kids. He was talking to his foster parents on the phone that day. But they didn’t want him back. Steven said they weren’t the greatest people. He said he thought they just did it for the money. They told him they had no room for him, that he was better off where he was. I think he felt like nobody wanted him.”
“Then why would he want to go back?” Morgan asked.
“He said he didn’t like it out at Larry’s place.”
“Did he say what he didn’t like about it?” I asked.
“He didn’t want to talk about it. He just said he didn’t like what was happening out there and that he’d rather be back in the city, even if it meant trying to make it on his own.”
“We heard he got lost in the woods. Do you know how that happened?”
“Yeah. He told me he was going to leave. He said he’d get in touch with me as soon as he got settled in the city. After that, I didn’t hear from him for weeks. I was so worried. Then I heard someone say that one of Larry’s kids had run away. By the time they found him he’d frozen to death. He was such a city kid. They said he wasn’t dressed right to be in the woods in the middle of winter. And it can be confusing out there if you’re not used to it. All those trees look pretty much the same, and everything was covered with snow. They said he’d been walking in circles.” A tear trickled down her cheek.
“I didn’t see anything in the paper about it,” I said after a few moments.
“At first Mr. Wilson didn’t tell anyone that Steven had run away. I heard he was afraid how people would react. You know what they think of those kids. And then when he was found—” She wiped away a few more tears. “He was found on Mr. Henderson’s resort.”
“The ski place?” Morgan said.
Colleen nodded. “One of the trail groomers found him. My dad knows Mr. Henderson really well. My dad said he freaked when the cops told him what they’d found. He pressured Mr. Griffith at the newspaper not to mention it. He said, it’s not like anyone cares—and that it could be bad for business, you know, all those city people hearing that they found a body at the resort ...” More tears ran down her cheeks. “Do you believe that? It’s like Mr. Henderson was right. Nobody cared.”
“You cared,” I said.
“For all the good it did.” She wiped her tears away with the palms of her hands. “I have to get back.” She stood up. “Remember,” she said. “You promised.” She started to walk away.
“Hey, Colleen?”
She turned.
“The guy Steven used to come into town with—the one who used to let him go off on his own. Was he meeting a girl?” If he was, maybe I could talk to her.
“I don’t know. Steven never said, and I never asked.”
“Do you know the guy’s name?” It might help Nick if he knew that one of Larry’s kids had been breaking the rules. Maybe he could get the guy to talk to him.
Colleen shook her head.