The Forgotten Girl (19 page)

“You say he punched you more than once. Did you hit him back?”

“Sure. I don’t know how many times. At least a few.”

“Body blows? Head blows?”

“I don’t know. I was just swinging. I was mad.” Jason looked down at his hands again. He had never made them into fists that way again. Never swung at anyone, had never been forced to. And that was the only way he would do it. If he were forced to. “Are you going to tell me how he died?”

“How did the fight end?” Olsen asked.

“I hit him. One good shot to the side of the head.” A sadness crept over Jason just thinking of it. The feeling came back to him, a sense memory tingling in his hand. The rough thump of knuckle against skull. “I was crying. I know that. We both were. Like a couple of little kids. We were so worked up, so angry and distraught, we were both losing it. Logan was on the ground, and I was standing. He got up and walked away. He didn’t even look back. He just walked away from me.”

“And that was the last time you saw him?”

“Yes.”

“And he was walking and moving fine? No injuries?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“What did you do?”

“I went off walking by myself. I wanted to try to calm down. I’d been crying, so I sure as hell didn’t want to run into other kids from school. I didn’t want to be the guy who was found crying when he was eighteen years old because he got in a fight with his friend. I just walked around the park, back on one of the trails, trying to clear my head. I thought he and I would run into each other later and work it out. I knew we’d said some things, some awful things, but I didn’t think we’d have that between us. We’d been friends for too long.”

“But he was gone?” Olsen asked.

“Yes, he was gone. I didn’t see him the rest of the night. His dad called our house the next day. He asked me if I knew where Logan was. I told him I didn’t know. His dad never showed any emotion. He was stoic and distant. But I could tell by the tone in the old man’s voice that he was actually worried. It unnerved me when I heard that. I thought something might really be wrong, and the next thing I knew, the police were at my door asking me questions. That’s how the whole thing started with me and the police. But what could I tell them? All I knew was that Logan was
gone.”

“What about Regan Kreider?” Olsen asked. “You must have talked to her about Logan back then?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And what did she have to say about him? Did she see him after you did?”

“She did. He went back to her after our fight. He told her that he was done with the whole town and that he wanted to run away. He said he wanted Regan to go with him. See, that’s the thing about Logan. He was always talking about running away. He always said he wanted to go out west and start a new life where nobody knew him.”

“Why did he want to do that?”

“Doesn’t every kid want to do that?”

“Sure,” Olsen said. “Few actually do it.”

“I assumed Logan did. Regan said she wasn’t going anywhere except to college, which she did. After she told Logan that, he left. He seemed upset and angry, but he left.”

“Did she know the two of you had fought?”

“Yes. I think she tried to calm him down.”

“So she didn’t notice any injuries? Bloody nose? Swollen eye?”

“You’d have to ask her. I don’t think she ever mentioned it to
me, but I’m not sure I ever asked. Don’t you have old reports about all of this?”

“Some. The detective who investigated originally died about ten years ago. There’s not much to go on.” He stretched his back a little. “You probably have to get back to work.”

Jason looked up at the building. The light hit the front, reflecting off the windows. He squinted. “I don’t even know if I’m going back in today. I’ve missed so much time lately.”

“You’ve had a lot going on,” Olsen said. “I’m sure they understand. If you’d like, I can contact your HR department and inform them of the events involving your sister and your niece.”

“No, thanks. It’s fine.”

“If you’ll indulge me a few minutes longer, then . . . What did you do after Logan was gone and after you were questioned by the police?”

“I didn’t want to stay here. The college I was going to—Ohio University—had a summer program, something where you could arrive early and take a couple of classes. I asked my parents, and I went off to that.” Jason shook his head. “I just didn’t like the idea of being around here and being forced to remember everything that happened with Logan. It felt like a page had been turned. He left, so I needed to leave too.”

“And the girl?”

“Regan? What about her?”

“What happened with the two of you?” Olsen asked.

“That moment was gone. It just dried up and blew away. The spell was broken.”

“And you didn’t worry about Mr. Shaw?” Olsen asked.

“He started writing to his dad. It all fit. And I figured he’d come back in six months or a year. I kept expecting him to show up in my dorm someday, a big grin on his face. Or I’d come home for
Christmas, and he’d just be here full of stories about whatever bullshit he was doing out west. Working on a ranch or living in L.A. I still thought that day would come even once I moved back here.”

Olsen nodded. He seemed to be finished with Jason. “I’ll probably be talking to Ms. Kreider about this as well.”

“It’s Mrs. Kreider technically,” Jason said. “She’s divorced, but she kept her husband’s name. She has kids.”

“Got it.” Olsen stood up. He arched his back again as though it had grown stiff sitting on the bench. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”

“I will.”

“You’ll be around, won’t you?”

“Where would I go?” Jason asked. “I’m not leaving, I can’t leave, until I know what’s going on with Hayden. And now this.”

“We’ll be in touch, then.”

“What about Jesse Dean Pratt?” Jason asked. “He was with Hayden, and now Hayden is missing. If Hayden was here because of something to do with Logan, then doesn’t it stand to reason that Jesse Dean might know about all of it?”

“We’re looking for him,” Olsen said. “At this point, everything is on the table.” He pointed to Jason’s neck. “Would you like me to take a report about that? We could add it to the list for Mr. Pratt.”

“No, I don’t want you worrying about me. I told my coworkers I was mugged. It’s been getting me a lot of sympathy and questions I don’t want. I just want you to find out what’s really going on with everything else.”

“If you see him again—”

“I’ll call an expert. Don’t worry. I like being able to
breathe.”

After Olsen left, Jason remained at the picnic table. He stared down at his hands. They dangled loosely, his elbows resting on his knees. The hands felt numb, seemingly disconnected from the rest of his body.

Logan was dead.
Not Hayden. No one knew where Hayden was. But they knew about Logan. Finally. He was dead. He had been dead for all those years.

What the hell had happened to Logan after he left Jason?

An awful realization crept over him, aided by some of Detective Olsen’s words:
And he was walking and moving fine? No injuries?

How did Jason know what injuries Logan had? A healthy young guy ends up dead on the night of his high school graduation. What could have happened after he and Jason parted ways? Had Jason hit him hard enough to cause an injury that led to his death?

Olsen
knew
how Logan died. The detective said he knew the cause of death, but he didn’t share it with Jason.
Bones can tell a story,
he had said. It meant that whatever they thought killed Logan was obvious from an examination of his skeleton. Did that mean a beating? A crack in the skull or other bones?

That last punch came back to him again. Knuckle against skull. Bone against bone.

“Jesus,” Jason said. “Jesus Christ.”

He lowered his head into his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots until his scalp burned.

He spoke through gritted teeth. “Oh, Jesus. God. What did I do?”

He leaned forward, placing his head between his knees.

He stayed like that for a few minutes, his eyes closed. His teeth remained clenched so tight his jaws started to ache. He felt the pain around his ears and into the back of his skull.

For the second time he found himself a suspect in the disappearance of Logan Shaw. For the first time he wondered if he might very well be guilty.

*   *   *

At Farmers’ Bank and Credit, the assistant branch manager told Jason that Regan wasn’t in. He seemed reluctant to give Jason any additional information. Just getting him to admit that Regan wasn’t in the branch took some doing.

“Is she out for the day or is she off at a meeting or something?” Jason asked.

“I can’t say,” he said. “Is this business or personal? If it’s work related, maybe I can help you.”

Jason stood on the springy carpet while the hushed work of the bank went on around them. Phones lightly trilled and keyboards clacked. Jason swore he could hear the paper money rustling. He wanted to jump onto a desk and yell just to do something to break the intense calm.

The man was staring at Jason’s neck. He had pulled on a sweatshirt, hoping it would hide some of the marks, but the man still stared.

“I got mugged,” Jason said.

“Oh,” the man said, suitably horrified. “How awful.”

“I’ve tried calling Regan’s phone, and she isn’t answering,” Jason said. “That’s why I came by here. I thought maybe she was in a meeting.”

“If she were in a meeting, you wouldn’t be able to talk to her either,” the man said.

The man was clean-cut, his clothes sharply pressed and starched. His voice remained level as he spoke.

Jason started to turn away, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t just walk out without learning more, without taking one more chance.

“Look,” Jason said, “she and I, we’re old friends. We received some bad news about another friend of ours today. Is that why she left? Did something seem to happen?”

The man studied Jason, his face still revealing nothing. Jason assumed his efforts at making a human connection had failed as well, but the cast of the man’s face shifted beneath the bright fluorescent lights. Something softened. He blinked a few times and lowered his voice.

“I don’t know why she left,” he said. “But she got a call from someone, and then she came and told me she had to go tend to a personal matter. Normally she tells me what these things are about. We’re a friendly group here. But she didn’t offer anything up this time. She just said she wouldn’t be back today. I figured maybe one of her kids was sick, but that’s the kind of thing she would have told me before. That’s pretty common for a working mother.”

“It is. And you don’t know who this call was from?”

“No,” the man said. “But . . .” He jerked his head and started toward an office. Jason followed. When they went inside, the man closed the door behind them. It was a small space, and the desk looked amazingly uncluttered. Only a computer and a neat
stack of business cards sat on the smooth and dust-free surface. Jason wondered how anyone worked in such cleanliness.

“What is it?” Jason asked.

“I don’t want to start any weird rumors about Regan.” The man ran his hand through his short hair, and Jason saw that he didn’t wear a wedding ring. “But she’s been getting a lot of calls at work this week. Calls that seemed more personal than anything else.”

“And you don’t know who they’re from.”

The man shook his head. “I only say that because Regan is so professional, so focused when she’s here. Her kids, her babysitters, they almost never call and bother her. Her ex-husband, Tim, he comes by from time to time.”

“Still?”

“I’m sure he has to talk about the kids. When she’s in this building, it’s all about work. But this past week, she stepped out of more than one meeting to take another call. She seemed distracted, a little distant.”

“I see,” Jason said, noting the use of the word “distant.” Were the man’s concerns about Regan’s behavior extending beyond work?

“Have
you
noticed anything about her?” the man asked. “I mean, you said you’re friends with Regan. I’ve seen you here before.”

“We grew up together. And, no, I haven’t noticed anything too unusual. Like I said, this friend of ours . . .”

“I’m sorry about that,” the man said. “I’m assuming. I mean . . . does it have anything to do with the body they found on Heroin Hill?”

“Yes,” Jason said. “That’s our friend. He died the night we graduated from high school apparently.”

The man bit down on his upper lip and made a low grunt of sympathy, a sound that said,
That’s tough.

“Thanks,” Jason said. “I suspect that’s what she’s upset about. A lot of memories have been coming up.” He thought of his own fragmented memories and possible culpability, a sensation that manifested itself as a needlelike jab in his chest. Jason reached out and shook the man’s hand. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“One more thing,” the man said as he let go of Jason’s hand. “Again, I don’t want to sound indelicate.”

“What is it?”

“Yesterday, Regan left with a man. Now, I try very hard not to judge people. I try to—because I deal with all walks of life in here—I try to see everyone as worthy of my respect. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” Jason said.

“But some people just seem beyond that consideration. When I was leaving here yesterday, I saw Regan in the parking lot, and she was talking to a man who just didn’t seem to fit the kind of person Regan is.”

“What did this man look like?”

“He wore a ball cap and a flannel shirt, work boots. But it’s not his clothes that bothered me. It was something about the way he looked at me as I walked to my car. The expression on his face carried a warning, and I could see from the man’s eyes that he meant it. He seemed to want me to challenge him in some way, and I have no doubt he would have welcomed the chance to show me what he could do if it came to a physical altercation.”

“Did he have a scar here?” Jason asked, touching the skin around his eye.

The man looked at Jason’s neck again. “Yes. You know him?”

“He’s another old friend from school. You say Regan left with him?”

“She got into his truck and they drove off together.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“She waved. She didn’t look happy to be going with the man, but she didn’t seem to be in a lot of distress either. Believe me, if she were crying or something, if she’d signaled me that there was trouble, I would have called the police.”

“She didn’t say anything?” Jason asked.

“No.” A sheepish look spread across the man’s face. He blushed a little as well. “I admit I thought about the whole scene during the evening. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to call Regan and seem to be checking up on her, so I did something else.”

“What?”

“I came back,” the man said. “Around eight thirty or so I drove back here to the branch. Regan’s car was gone by then, so I assumed she was okay. I know it’s not conclusive, but it made me feel better. And then she was back at work this morning as though everything was normal.”

“Until she got that call,” Jason said.

“Exactly.”

“Thanks again,” Jason said.

“So you and Regan are old friends,” the man said.

“Yes,” Jason said. “Just friends. Always have been.”

The man looked relieved, and Jason took comfort in knowing that at least one person’s mind had been eased about something.