Chris looked up at the wall clock that read 5:00 p.m., but his constant lack of sleep made it seem like it was going on midnight. When he heard the car pull up and what sounded like boots hitting the steps leading to his office door, he let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his eyes. It was Fridays like these he wished he had a lobby with an assistant who could claim he wasn’t here.
A brown-skinned man with wavy salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a polo shirt and trendy jeans, helped himself to the chair in front of his desk. “I need you to help find my son,” he said as he slapped a photo down in front of him.
“Good afternoon to you too.” Sarcasm bled through his tone. Without looking at the image, Chris managed to fake a friendly face he hoped was at least half-convincing. When the man failed to respond, his gaze penetrating, Chris grasped for more words. “Have you tried the police?” Not only did he already know the answer to his own question, but he could also guess how that had played out down at the station with his old buddies.
“They keep telling me there’s nothing they can do without any leads.” The man practically ground his teeth together. “And he hasn’t been missing for that long. College kids, they said, supposedly binge drink and lose track of their priorities. One officer said my son was probably sleeping it off somewhere. But that’s not like him. We talk or text almost every day.”
“Well, I guess teenagers can get a bit wild away from home. What year is your son?”
“He’s almost a junior. I think he would’ve gone wild, as you say, maybe freshman year—but not now. He’s starting to think about cracking down and getting serious about his major.”
“I see. That makes sense. You said you talked to him almost every day?” Chris wondered if that was odd for father and son, but maybe it was just a twinge of jealousy. He and Neil hadn’t been especially close lately.
“Yeah, he and I got a lot tighter after the divorce. We both didn’t like that my ex remarried right away. And Tony—that’s my kid’s name—knew I was pretty shattered by the whole thing. I think he knew our chats made me feel less alone. It probably made him feel better too. I think it was kind of healing for both of us to keep in touch. That’s why I know he wouldn’t just suddenly blow me off. Something’s not right.”
Chris thought this response was one of a guy in therapy. Good for him. Then he sensed half a dozen different emotions whirling inside of him, the strongest one being an identification with this father. You just know when the person you love disappears that there’s an explanation, and it’s not that they just deserted you forever. It’s a strong certainty that fills you. And you would bet everything you have. He wasn’t ready to get emotionally involved with someone whose life paralleled his. It was too much too soon. Biting his tongue and trying to hold on to his resolve, Chris finally nodded. “So, what makes you think that I can help?”
The potential client’s attention drifted somewhere behind Chris to the blank white wall. “I get feelings. And this is just one of them.”
Here were two grown men wrestling with their gut instincts, and Chris smiled to himself at the coincidence. The last thing he wanted was some missing person case with no leads. It was so much easier to tail a cheating spouse, or catch an employee embezzling funds, or even help the occasional old woman find her missing cat. “I don’t take these cases, but I can refer to you to a guy.” Yeah, that guy is you, he heard in his head. The notion made him want to let out a chuckle. It must be the lack of sleep making him loopy. He told himself to get a better handle on reality.
“But isn’t this kind of case the reason you started doing this work?” the man asked.
Chris squinted as he revisited the comment in his mind. Had he heard him correctly? “I’m sorry—”
“Your wife. Isn’t she still missing?”
Chris’s brow lifted, and he stared into the man’s eyes. The search for his wife and the news media coverage had died out weeks ago. Maybe he’d Googled him before coming in?
“So you know what it’s like to lose someone you love and have no idea what happened.” The man’s eyes went glassy as he picked up the photo and held it up for Chris to examine. “My son’s gone. It’s been a couple of days, and I haven’t heard from him whatsoever. Not even an email. Something’s terribly wrong.” He cupped his neck and swallowed.
Chris needed to keep his composure. He couldn’t let the profound sense of loss flood in. Not now. Not again. The pain of losing his high school sweetheart, his wife of twenty years, never dulled. He balled his fists under the desk and clamped his jaw tight.
“It’s the not knowing that’s the killer. Isn’t it?”
“Interesting choice of words.” Chris pursed his lips. Out of all the countless reasons why his Carly might have disappeared, he couldn’t decide which one plagued him the most. And who would have possibly wanted to harm a defense attorney who had rescued so many troubled youths from the endless cycle of incarceration? The lives she could still be saving. Could it have been someone she couldn’t help, someone who blamed her for their fate? Chris’s mind raced as it always did, going over all the possibilities as if for the first time. “The not knowing is definitely the hardest part,” he finally said, forgetting for a moment he was the professional the potential client came to see and not the other way around.
“Shouldn’t you be asking when was the last time I spoke to Tony? Did I notice anything strange that he said? Have I met any of his friends? That kind of thing?”
Chris couldn’t bring himself to consider the man’s words. They passed right over him like a silent wave. Instead, he tapped his finger against the drinking glass on his desk and studied the water moving with the vibration. If he wasn’t going to take the case, he didn’t really need to listen anyway. Maybe this was all one of his vivid dreams? If he packed up his things and left the office, that would be appropriate in a dream. Wouldn’t it? Then he remembered he didn’t have much control over his subconscious and what went on in his REM state.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Chris opened a drawer, took out his leather backpack, and rested it on the desk. Running from the real-life unfolding in front of him seemed the only thing to do. “It’s late, and I ought to be getting home. I’m really sorry, but I can’t take your case.”
“Look, every time I drive by your office, I keep staring up at the sign. It’s like I can’t not look at it. And I’ve seen your ad in the paper and on the bus bench—many times, in fact. I’m convinced you’re meant to help me. Please. If your missing wife doesn’t make you want to, don’t you have any children?”
Chris paused the gathering of the papers he planned to throw into his bag. “I also have a son in college. What you’re going through is awful. No one could understand more than I do. But that’s exactly why I don’t want to get involved, if I’m being honest.”
“The way I see it, that it’s exactly the reason you have to do it.”
Chris sank into his chair and leaned his head back. Would helping this father bring Chris any solace? Would it make Carly’s absence any less agonizing? He thought hard about what the right thing was to do. If the cops hadn’t been any use so far, it would be a while before they were. And Chris was pretty damn good at sleuthing, starting from when he’d been a kid. He’d found many a lost ring or valuable object of his mother’s, to the point she thought he’d hidden them on purpose. You’re the man for the job, the voice in his brain nudged again.
The next words flew out of his mouth. “Where did you say Tony goes to school?” He was thankful he remembered to use the present tense, and he prayed it was a local school. Not that he’d be unwilling to travel, but he preferred not to.
“The University of Miami. I think he just rushed for Delta Epsilon Psi. I’ve already tried contacting the organization, but no one would talk to me. They’ve gotta know something.”
“That’s typical. All kinds of shit happens during that week, not to mention at the parties. I can head down there and throw my weight around in person. Trust me, they’ll do almost anything not to get into the media. Imagine what this could do to enrollment.”
The man’s face relaxed, and he grinned. “Thanks so much for taking my case.”
“Well, there’s a lot more information I’m going to need from you.” Chris pushed a pad and pen at his new client. “Jot down your email so I can send you some questions. And, of course, there’s the matter of payment. It’s going to be $30 an hour. No telling how many hours I’m going to need.” This was a couple of bucks over his fee, but he figured it was fair since he was practically taking the case against his will.
“That’s not a problem. Zelle, Venmo, Cash App, whatever. Just let me know.”
“I prefer Cash App. Here’s all my info.” Chris took a card from the top drawer and slid it over. “What was your name?”
“Aadir Kapur.”
“Very good.” Chris grabbed the piece of paper and the photo that he still had yet to examine and tucked them into to backpack. “I’ll send you that email tonight.”
“Thanks again.” Aadir rose and fished through his pocket. “This might seem weird, but I told you I get these gut feelings, right? I’ve made a pact with myself to follow them, no matter how off-the-wall.”
Chris sucked in his cheeks and held his breath for a moment.
Aadir set a small velvet bag tied with a drawstring on the desk. “Something told me to bring this today. And now I know you need it more than I do.”
“What is it?” Feeling his nose crinkle, Chris neutralized his face.
“A friend of mine gave it to me. Once Tony went MIA, I started having nightmares. I don’t really remember them, but I was restless all night. I felt like shit the next day. Based on the bags under your eyes, I think you could use a good night’s sleep?”
“Lemme guess. I put this under my pillow, and all my problems are solved?”
“Not exactly. You just might sleep through the night. What have you got to lose? The worst thing is nothing happens.”
Chris’s sleep-deprived mind found this amusing. The worst that could happen? A demon curse. He turns into a zombie. But then again, how was that much worse than his current nightly torment? The best would be that he spent more time in dreamland with Carly, except this time, they’d be traveling the world, having amazing sex. The possibilities were infinite. “Thanks, I guess?”
“Sure. In all seriousness, you do need to put it under your pillow for it to work. At least, that’s what she told me. Just an FYI.”
Crinkling his brow, Chris snatched up the pouch and stashed it in his pocket. “Got it.” Wasn’t it rude to not accept gifts? And maybe his acquiescence would enhance the rapport with his client. It was true: what did he have to lose?
“And, hey, the more rested you are, the better you’ll be at finding my son. Am I right?”
Chris clicked his tongue and rounded the desk to shake Aadir’s hand. “Indeed.”
After they walked out of the office, and Chris locked the door, he waved at his client getting into his vehicle.
What a day, Chris thought. The new case had seemed to give him a surge of energy. It soon faded, and his exhaustion crept in again. Although his body felt as if it had been through an obstacle course, his eyelids were wide open. Maybe the velvet bag was pre-gaming already.
When Chris keyed into the front door, he saw Neil lounging on the couch, staring at his phone. “Hey, you’re home earlier than usual.”
Neil failed to glance up. “Yeah, it was slow for once, and my boss said I could bail. He didn’t have to tell me twice.”
“Cool. I need your help with something.” Unzipping his backpack, he pulled out the photo of Tony and studied it. The sight of a tan-skinned youth with untamed curly hair smiled up at him. “Here, lemme know if you’ve ever seen this kid,” he said, passing it to his son.
When Neil took the picture and peered down at it, he seemed to stiffen for a second. His eyes widened slightly. “Can’t say that I have.” He passed it back as if he didn’t want to catch any germs from the photo.
His years as a police officer and his short stint as a P.I. reminded Chris that he’d seen this reaction before. His gut tugged at him. “Are you sure? Turns out he goes to UM as well. You might’ve seen him on campus?”
Neil swallowed hard. “I might’ve seen him around.” His attention returned to his phone. “Why?”
“He’s been missing for a few days, that’s all. Hopefully he’ll turn up on campus.”
“Most likely.”
Was that flippancy in his son’s voice? Maybe it was just the trivial material on the screen? These devices have really botched our relationship with reality, haven’t they? Chris unloaded his bag on the nearby chair, then went and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “You want one?”
“Nah, thanks.”
That was a switch. “Since when?”
“I’ve sworn off drinking for a bit.”
Chris joined his son on the couch. “Something happen?”
“It’s been making feel like shit is all.” Neil scrolled across the screen in front of him. “Hey, I’ve been researching sleepwalking. Some crazy shit.”
“Oh?” Chris popped the top of his can and gulped. The intentional changing of the topic wasn’t lost on him. A mass of unspoken material hovered in the room like an invisible cloud. What’s up with Neil?
“Says here your subconscious and conscious mind are battling each other. If you don’t resolve it, you’re bound to have a serious accident.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Chris took another swig.
“Most of the sites say it’s dangerous to wake a sleepwalker.”
“That’s just an old wives’ tale, son.”
“I don’t know. This sounds pretty serious. ‘Every time you wake up mid-dream, you risk leaving your body without a soul. Or letting another entity take your place in there.’”
“Me, get possessed? I don’t think so. That’s highly unlikely.” He took a bigger swig of beer. “Besides, wouldn’t it have happened already? What’re they waiting for?”
“Not sure you should taunt the spirit world like that, Dad.”
“You’ve been watching too many scary movies.”
“Maybe. But lots of that stuff is based on true stories.”
“Which means it’s highly fictionalized.” Chris chuckled before draining the can. “Well, let’s hope you don’t have to keep waking me up much longer.”
“Does this mean you’ll get the sleep test?” Neil’s face brightened.
“Perhaps.” Neil’s lack of transparency made Chris feel justified in omitting the existence of the velvet bag still in his pocket. “Or perhaps I’ll just start getting some actual shut-eye.” One can dream, right? Chris grinned, his lids becoming increasingly heavier.