CHAPTER FOUR

 

Jack cleaned up after their meal while Ray went to Washington Square to move his vehicle closer to the apartment. By the time he let himself back in, Jack had grabbed a couple large coffees from Wong’s and placed his old banker’s lamp back on the desk where he now sat.

"I got us some coffee and fortune cookies," Jack said without looking up.

Two folders were laid out in front of him—one containing copies of old missing persons reports he'd pulled out of one of his packed boxes, and the other was the one Ray had brought with him.

When Jack had become a private investigator nearly four years ago, he soon realized a lot of his work would come from locating missing people. He’d ended up developing a relationship with officers working in the Special Victims Unit which kept copies of the MPRs on all open cases. While it had been nearly six months since he'd updated his file, he found the old report on Tristan Rybak deep within the folder.

He compared the two reports. They were identical printouts, except Jack's was older and had a few brief notes in the margin, including, had anyone questioned the girlfriend or family about the known associates listed on the report only as Kyle and Logan?

The air shifted when Ray sat before the desk and reached for his cup. The coffee aroma wafted in Jack’s direction, instantly pulling him away from his too-much-food drowsiness compounding the after-effects of coming down off so much adrenaline and eating way too much on an empty stomach.

Curiously, he’d found a new appreciation for the simple dish of house special fried rice and beer, and now coffee and sweet fortune cookies. He wasn't sure if he should attribute his awakened taste buds to having not eaten for so long or to what Ray had interrupted at the Sunset house.

He sipped the hot liquid then cracked open a fortune cookie—Lean on your friends in time of need.

Jack’s heart thumped against his ribs. Where were the funny quotes like The fortune you seek is in another cookie and Help! I’m being held hostage in a fortune cookie factory.

He pushed the fortune aside and stuffed the half cookie in his mouth. He spun the MPRs to face Ray. "I found my old missing persons folder. Rybak was in it. That’s why his name sounded familiar. Other than the girlfriend, there were only two names listed as known contacts, Kyle and Logan. Do we know if either were located and if they’ve been questioned?"

Ray set down his cup and went through his folder. "The investigator's report is . . ." he rifled through the contents, "here." He slid the page in Jack's direction. "Based on this, the only reason the officers spoke with dorm residents and teachers at all was to appease the mother who was in hysterics.”

“Understandable.”

“Of the few who were questioned, the consensus was, aside from classes, Rybak spent a lot of time alone in his dorm room playing video games. Beyond that, most people only knew of him but weren’t friends with him. His teachers couldn’t speak to the gaming, only that he’d regularly attended classes and was getting decent grades, at least until a couple months before his disappearance. His grades started falling and his attendance became spotty. Then he just stopped attending class at all. Soon after, he was reported as a missing person."

“And Kyle and Logan?”

“Nothing indicates they’d been located or spoken with.”

Jack scanned the document as Ray spoke. What he said matched the investigating officers’ report. "Doesn't seem like much of an effort was put into this."

"You know how it is. Most adults eventually turn up. Unless it's a kid or an adult with special needs, or there's a ransom demand, not a lot of energy is invested in a search."

"It's a fucked-up system, but I suppose it keeps guys like me in business," Jack said, looking down to the investigating officers’ names. "Officers Stewart Minter and Brian Davis. We should have a talk with them and see what they remember."

"No can do unless you want to call them. They both transferred out a couple years ago. I don't know where to, but Haniford may."

"Let’s leave it as a last resort, if it comes to that." Jack looked up at Ray. "You seem to know a lot about this."

"Not really. I just remember the case. Nothing made sense. Including a strange call Rybak’s parents received telling them to stop looking for their son because he was dead. The parents hadn’t been convinced—they wanted his body. Every year, on the anniversary of his disappearance, the parents ran another appeal in the papers, but until he turned up in your house, he’d been assumed either hiding or dead.”

“Now it seems maybe it was a little of both.” After a moment, Jack continued, "What about Rybak’s girlfriend, Stacey Maguire? Was she questioned?"

"Briefly. She told investigators Rybak had started hanging out with a couple guys."

“Kyle and Logan?” Ray nodded. "If Rybak was an avid gamer, how did he hook up with Maguire?"

"I don't know, but apparently she was angry with him leading up to his disappearance because he’d been spending more time with his new gaming friends than her."

"Sounds like she was jealous. Did she ever meet the friends?"

Ray shook his head. "Maguire said she'd never met them, but they were also gamers."

"With names like those, if they were attending the university with Rybak, they should have been easy enough to look up in school records. How many Kyles and Logans could there be? I wonder why that wasn't investigated while officers were on campus."

"Got me. Now that we know something about Rybak, I can go back to the school and see if they'll open class records."

"You need to get a warrant. Even though Rybak was an adult at the time, the school probably won't want to dole out information without being compelled, especially since he hasn’t legally been declared dead," Jack said.

"I'll take care of it in the morning," Ray said, "then head over to SFSU."

"Swing by here and pick me up." Ray just stared at him. "What?"

"Showing you the reports is one thing, but you can't get involved with this."

"Why not?"

Ray counted on his fingers. "You’re not on the force. No one has hired you to investigate this. And, more importantly, you're too close. Let the department do their job."

Jack sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "You can either take me with you, or I'll go on my own. I don't need a warrant as a private investigator."

"You wouldn't diss me like that, would you?" Jack remained motionless, staring at his friend. "Come on. If I take you with me, Haniford will have my culo."

"Tell him what I told you. I either tag along or I'll fly solo."

"Jack—"

"Don't Jack me. You expected me to get in on this or you wouldn't have brought over the folder. Don’t expect me to stand down now.”

Rybak had committed suicide in his house, and goddammit he was going to find out why.