David Bell - Never Come Back

“I’m awake,” I said.

“Good. There’s someone here to see you.”

“Someone to see me?”

“Yes,” Dan said. “He’s being insistent.”

I still wasn’t fully awake. “But how does anyone know I’m here?”

“I don’t know. It’s some guy.”

I pictured Gordon Baxter, his heavy bulk leaning against the door of Dan’s apartment, pushing through it. Coming after me.

“Who is it?” I asked, hearing the alarm in my own voice.

“He says he’s a student of yours,” Dan said, barely concealing his disdain. “Some tall dude. He says he’s your favorite student. Elizabeth, I can get rid of him if you want.”

Then it clicked. I was surprised he hadn’t yelled “Hey, Teach” from the front door.

I threw the covers back. “I need to talk to him.”

I started toward the door, and Dan pointed at me.

“What?”

“I think you should wear pants,” he said, his voice dry.

I’d stripped down to my underwear and a T-shirt when I’d crawled into bed. I found my jeans on the floor and pulled them on. Yet Dan was blocking the doorway.

“Who is this guy?”

“He’s helping me out,” I said. “He’s doing research.”

“Is he a grad student?”

“Not that kind of research. He’s looking into Mom’s case.”

Dan looked at me without speaking, then finally moved out of the way.

I walked out to the living room but didn’t see Neal.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“He’s outside. Obviously I didn’t just let a stranger in.” Dan went to open the door, revealing the tall figure of Neal Nelson. He wore a goofy grin, as though it had been fixed to his face the entire time the door was closed.

“Is it safe to come in, Teach?”

“Yeah, come on in.”

He stepped across the threshold. As he did, he gave a sidelong glance at Dan. “Your bodyguard was suspicious of me.”

“He doesn’t know what a fine, upstanding citizen you are.” I pointed to the couch. “Want to sit?”

“Sure.”

But before he could move, I said, “Wait a minute. How did you find me here? This isn’t my house.”

Neal flung himself down on the couch. “Hey, Teach, I told you we were good at what we do.”

“But—”

“You have a boyfriend,” he said. “I looked up his address. Come on—I have more goodies for you.”

I went over and sat next to him. Dan closed the door. He looked lost, not knowing whether to stay or go.

“Do you want to sit and listen?” I asked. “It might not all make sense.”

“Do you want something to drink?” Dan asked.

Neal looked at me, then at Dan. “I smell coffee. Burnt coffee. I love burnt coffee. Can I have some of that?”

“I think I have some dregs left in the pot,” Dan said, disappearing to the kitchen.

“Nice guy,” Neal said when Dan was gone. “He really likes you. Dude, I thought he was going to fight me over getting in the door.”

“He has no idea who you are,” I said. “And I thought you didn’t drink coffee.”

“I shouldn’t. But when it gets that scorched taste, I can’t resist it.”

“Okay. Did you find something out already?”

“Of course.”

“In a day?”

“Teach, we have this thing called the Internet, and it has these things called databases. They tell us most of what we need to know. A few phone calls to some well-placed friends, and we’re there.”

“Okay,” I said. “So get to it.”

“Just like in class. All business. Which lovely do you want to hear about first? Elizabeth Yarbrough or Gordon Baxter?”

“Yarbrough,” I said.

Just then Dan came back into the room with a mug of coffee. He set it on the table in front of Neal.

“Thanks, boss,” Neal said.

“I’m assuming you don’t want any cream or anything,” Dan said.

“No, no. That would ruin it.” He leaned forward and took a gulp. He smacked his lips. “Perfect. I love that burnt taste.” He put the mug down and pulled out his phone. He tapped it a few times until he found what he wanted. “Okay, one Elizabeth Yarbrough.” He looked at me. “A naughty, naughty girl. Two convictions for drug possession and one for DUI. And, lo and behold, once she even took a fall for solicitation. You know what that means, right, Teach?”

“You mean… ?”

“That’s right,” he said. “She tried to sell her lady parts to an undercover cop.” He scrolled through the phone. “Looks like she went through some sort of rehab or diversionary program at some point.”

“Are these arrests recent?”

“Nothing in the last five years,” he said. “She must have cleaned up or slowed down. But I bet she was fun to party with when she was in her prime.”

“Does it give any other names she may have used?”

“She’s used a lot of names,” Neal said. “She’s had a lot of husbands. Three at least. She’s been known as Elizabeth Hayward, Elizabeth Fontroyal—I like that one the best—Elizabeth Stiegerwald—”

“What about Baxter?” I asked. “Elizabeth Baxter?”

Neal nodded. “That one too.”

Dan cleared his throat. “Who is this person? Did she hurt your mom?”

I hadn’t told Dan anything about Elizabeth Yarbrough. Not the will, and certainly not about her—maybe—being my half sister. I hadn’t explained it to Neal either.

“We’re trying to find that out, Dan,” I said.

“Yeah,” Neal said. “Have a seat, chief. There’s a lot to learn here.”

Dan looked at me, and I shrugged a little. Dan sat down in a chair, his body oozing reluctance.

“So she did go by Elizabeth Baxter at one point,” I said. “And did she live in Haxton?”

“Sure did.”

“So do we know that this is the Elizabeth Baxter I’m looking for?”

“We know she was born in 1960 and lived in Haxton. We know she’s Elizabeth Yarbrough now and lives in Reston Point.”

“So it is her?”

Neal shook his head; now he was the teacher. “Not really. All we know is that the woman in Reston Point is using the same social security number as the woman in Haxton. At some point, the only way to tell for sure is to go ID this woman in Reston Point. Technology can only do so much. Without a picture or DNA or something, it could just be someone using someone else’s identity. That happens, you know.”

“Sure.”

“You want to hear about this old dude? Gordon Baxter? I’m assuming these two are related, although not married. That would be sick—he’s ancient.”

“I think he’s probably sixty-nine,” I said.

“Seventy,” Neal said. “He’s been a bit of a son of a bitch too. A couple of arrests.”

“Larceny and assault,” I said.

Dan looked at me, surprised. Neal started laughing.

“Hey,” he said. “Sherlock Holmes got the jump on me.”

“The police told me about it.”

“The police,” Neal said, waving his hand. “Those guys are so slow.”

“Hold it,” Dan said. “Who are these criminals we’re hearing about? Are you in trouble?”

Neal ignored the question. “And it’s not larceny. It’s grand larceny the old man committed. That means he took control of someone else’s property, and said property had a decent value. In Ohio, that means more than twenty-five hundred bucks. Could be a car. Could be jewelry. Either way, he’s a bad boy. And not just assault—aggravated assault. That means he probably used a weapon.”

“Jesus,” Dan said.

“There are some cool people in the world,” Neal said.

“Is that it on Baxter?” I asked.

“Pretty much,” Neal said. “Last known address in Columbus. Only been married once.” He turned and looked at me. I could see what he had pieced together. “A woman named Leslie Baxter. Also known as Leslie Hampton. Now deceased.”