Бентли Литтл - The Disappearance

He wished he knew more biographical details. The Los Angeles police were going to ask him the same sorts of questions that these cops had. Maybe more, since he would be filing an official missing persons complaint.

Kara .

Yes.

Her roommate, Kara. Though it hurt him to admit it, she might know more facts about Joan than he did. Gary tried to call the dorm again as he walked, secretly hoping that Joan might answer the phone, although he tried to fool himself into thinking he was not thinking that. But once more, it rang without answer, and when the operator’s your-party-is-not-answering recording came on, he hung up.

He strode across the Dairy Queen’s unpaved parking lot, gravel crunching loudly beneath his sneakers. Reyn, Stacy and Brian were seated at an outside table, eating chili fries and hamburgers by the blue light of a bug zapper.

“What happened?” Reyn asked, hurrying up to meet him.

Gary shook his head. “Brian was right. Forty-eight-hour waiting period. I told them everything and they wrote it down, but…” He shrugged.

He’d reached the table. Stacy held out the box of chili fries, offering him some, but the food smelled bad and looked worse, and he shook his head.

“So what do you want to do?” Reyn asked.

“Go back,” he said tiredly. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she’s there. If not, I’ll tell the LA police.”

“Have some food,” Stacy suggested. “It’s a long trip.”

“I’ll get it.” He walked up to the restaurant’s window and ordered a hot dog and an extra-large Coke. He probably wouldn’t need the caffeine to stay awake, but it couldn’t hurt. The food arrived moments later. He ate quickly—they all did—and then they got in the car and took off.

They drove all night, taking turns, arriving back in Westwood by midmorning. School had been in session only for the past week, and things had not yet settled down to normal. UCLA was teeming with students who were going to classes, dropping classes, petitioning to get into classes or just hanging out. The crosswalks of the streets flanking the university were so crowded that in the right-turn lane only one vehicle could get through per green light.

Parking was a bitch, as usual. Someone had stolen Reyn’s designated spot by the dorms, but after fifteen minutes of circling around the student lot on the north side of campus, they were lucky enough to spot a red Jeep pulling out. Stacy, who was driving, swerved around a waiting Prius and nabbed the spot. The Prius driver honked at them, yelled something out his open window, but Stacy merely flipped him off as she pulled into the space. “Rich asshole,” she said.

They got out of the car. None of them had bathed for four days, and being first drugged and then sleep-deprived had done little to enhance their appearance. Gary glanced down at himself. The dust of the Black Rock Desert still clung to his clothes, and he made an effort to brush off his shirt and pants in order to look slightly more presentable. He looked over at his friends. Brian’s long hair was often tangled and disheveled, his clothes typically wrinkled and worn many times before their perfunctory washings, so the difference with him was much less pronounced, but Reyn’s short hair was oddly clumped and his clothes were stained, a far cry from his usual fastidiousness. Stacy, too, looked dirty and disheveled.

Sartorial etiquette was the least of their problems, however. Joan was missing, and they needed to find her or report her disappearance. Gary took out his cell phone and tried once again to call first Joan’s cell, then her dorm room. There was no answer from either.

It worried him that he could not get ahold of Kara, but her absence was easily explained. While the fall semester was still young, Gary already knew her schedule almost as well as he knew Joan’s, since he and Joan needed to be aware of the hours Kara would be in and out of the dorm room. This was Tuesday, which meant that she was in class until twelve. After that, she usually ate lunch somewhere on campus or in the village, then hung around or went to the library until her next class at one thirty, finally returning to the room around three.

Of course, that only explained why she wasn’t there now .

Why hadn’t she answered the phone last night?

He told himself that she was a heavy sleeper or she hadn’t wanted to be disturbed. On the off chance that she was skipping class and simply not answering her phone, he decided to check out the dorm to see whether she was there. She wasn’t, and when Teri Lim, who had the room next door and was one of Joan’s and Kara’s friends, saw Gary in the hall, she told him that she hadn’t seen Kara this morning or, now that she thought about it, yesterday. Teri looked at the four of them oddly, as did the other students who wound around them and passed by, but Gary explained that they’d just this moment come back from the Burning Man festival and hadn’t had time to change. Reluctant to go into too much detail about what had happened—Teri was an acquaintance at best—he told her that they’d “lost” Joan and that they’d been hoping to find her back here.

“I could ask around,” Teri offered, “see if anyone has seen her. Or Kara.”

“That’d be great,” he said, smiling, though smiling was the last thing he felt like doing.

“I’ll be back.”

Joan had given him an extra key for her room. It was something that was not strictly allowed, so he waited until Teri was gone and the corridor clear before quickly putting the key in the lock, opening the door and ushering Reyn, Stacy and Brian inside.

He immediately closed the door behind them.

Right away, something seemed wrong. On Kara’s desk, her computer was on, Brad Pitt’s face smiling out from her screen saver, and the door of her closet as well as the drawers of her dresser were open. Kara’s bed was unmade, and her entire half of the room was in disarray, as though she had left in a hurry.

Did Kara have something to do with Joan’s disappearance?

Or was Kara a victim, too?

Either way, Gary thought, her absence was a bad sign.

In contrast to Kara’s disordered living space, Joan’s half of the room was characteristically neat and tidy. While he doubted that there were any clues to be discovered here, he poked around anyway, scanning the items on the top of her dresser and small desk. There were two crumpled yellow Post-its lying on the floor at the foot of Joan’s narrow bedstead, and when he picked them up and smoothed them out, he saw that both contained short messages written in pencil. He read the first one. “Friday 11 p.m. A man called. No name. Said he’d call back.” Gary felt uneasy. What man would call Joan at eleven o’clock at night, trying to determine her whereabouts? And why wouldn’t he leave his name? Gary read the second note. “Saturday, 6 a.m. Man called back. Asked where you were.”

Who could it have been? A friend? A relative? A co-worker? An ex?

Brian had been reading over his shoulder. “You think Kara gave it up? Told some sicko where she was?”

The same thought had occurred to Gary, though he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, but hearing the idea expressed aloud gave it a concreteness that chilled him to the bone. He could only shake his head no, hoping he was right.

“What is it?” Stacy asked. “Did you find something?”

“A strange guy was calling and looking for Joan,” Brian said.

“We need to tell her parents,” Reyn said, looking at the notes. “They need to know she’s missing. Besides, maybe they can help.”

“Maybe she went to visit them,” Stacy suggested hopefully. “Maybe she got spooked and ran home.”

Gary shook his head. “I don’t think so. Joan isn’t that close to her parents. And I don’t even know where they live or how to get ahold of them.”