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“It was months later. Not until he came after me in Georgia. I lost my job while he was still in the hospital. My employers—they weren’t—they didn’t fire me. Not quite. But I can still see the horrified and disgusted look on the face of Rob Scott, my immediate supervisor, the day I went in to talk to him about it. ‘Wait—hold up. What are you saying? You were brawling with the cops?’I didn’t stay there long after that. It was such a shock, you know. I quit a few days later, and I think my boss and I were both relieved. My dad had passed away by then too, so I decided I had to pack up and go home.”
“And Malone? What happened there?”
“I just left. I knew he was still being treated in the hospital, so…he was in good hands. I felt as if we’d broken up that night. That’s was part of what caused the fight.”
His words from that night rang in my ears.“Fuck you! I’ll make you sorry!” His eyes were red rimmed and furious. His face was streaked with tears. “You don’t get to leave. Not ever!”
When I finished talking, the sound of Logan tapping his pen against the notebook brought me back to the present. Logan stared at me for a long time. I could hear the clock on the wall ticking, and I wanted to look away from him, but I couldn’t. His lips were set in a grim line, like he was angry, and his eyes were flashing at me.
“And yet, after all that, you still went back to him.”
“Not at first. Not for a long, long time. I know it sounds crazy, but he stayed away from me for a while after that, and I quit my job and moved back home. I sneaked out of town like a thief in the night. I had never told him where I was from so I hoped he wouldn’t find me. But the police or somebody must have given him my address. He followed me here to Atlanta, and he said he’d been in a rehab for the drinking. He said he’d been given drugs that night and he didn’t know what he was doing. He made me all kinds of promises and…” I sighed. “He could be very persuasive.”
“Apparently,” he said, his voice dry as dust.
He kept tapping and staring at me. “You understand his friends tell a different story, don’t you? They say that you started that fight. That it was you who’d been cheating and that you assaulted him and then left town soon after to avoid him because you were so ashamed. He was devastated at the loss of the man who was only his good friend and he got a good job offer in Atlanta and came here, even though he hoped he could find a way not to see you again. But you found out he came to Atlanta to work in a play, and you followed him. Stalked him. Bothered him. Called him all the time, begging him to get back with you. They say you threatened to kill yourself if he didn’t come back to you.”
“Those are all absolute lies.”
“But Malone was the one who told them those lies. Why do you think he did that?”
Because he’s a consummate liar.Because he can’t help himself.
“I have no idea. Maybe there was a misunderstanding.”
“That seems to happen a lot with you and him.” He stood up abruptly and put his pen and notebook in a breast pocket. “I’ll go out and check on your mom and my partner. Let me know immediately if you happen to hear from Malone, and I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions.”
I stood up to go check on Tyler, and I followed Logan out of the kitchen. He turned back to say something to me at the door, and suddenly we were only an inch or so apart. I started to take a step back, thinking he’d be uncomfortable with another man all up in his space, but he put a hand on my waist to stop me and stared down into my eyes. I thought for one crazy second that he was going to take me in his arms. Or even kiss me. I think he might have thought so too. But in the end, he just brushed his fingertips gently along my bruised jaw, shook his head and turned to go.
Chapter Seven
The weather was interminably dreary outside my cubicle window, though typical of late fall days in Atlanta, with a cool wind blowing out of the west, bringing rain to glisten on the wet streets, snarl traffic and make everything dismal.
I was shocked on that Monday morning when two men identifying themselves as detectives came to my office saying they needed to ask me some questions about Dylan’s disappearance. They said they were from the Major Crimes Division of the police department. When I told them I had already been interviewed by Homicide detectives, they seemed surprised and said no one from the police had been to see me except them. They said there were no “Homicide” detectives, but only the Major Crime Division and Homicide was part of that. They said I was misled and asked for names and descriptions. When I gave them, they said that no one like that worked for the police in any capacity.
They didn’t seem to know what to make of it and neither did I. I gave them the card Will Logan had given me and they said they’d look into it. They asked me a lot of questions but not nearly as many as Logan and Conway had done. They didn’t seem to suspect me, though they said they would check my alibi. They said if it checked out, I’d be in the clear.
Totally different from Logan and Conway, who had interrogated me like I was a Russian spy and they were the CIA. They could have been from some other agency, but who? And why?
I didn’t hear anything else from either Detectives Logan and Conway or the other detectives from Fulton County for the next few days, though I wanted to hear news of Dylan and yet dreaded it at the same time. There was nothing though, and the reports on the news began to wane. Instead, they were now all about the police being consumed with looking for some kind of serial killer who was targeting homeless people around Atlanta.
The Golden Pets Foods project was done and approved, and the company declared itself happy with my work, which I thought was probably something of a disappointment to Mr. Atkins. I was assigned another project and Suzanne started plans for a Thanksgiving potluck luncheon in the breakroom.
In other words, life went on as usual, as it always tends to do, no matter how unready we might be for it. It didn’t seem right for everything to go on like nothing had happened if it turned out to be true that Dylan was really gone.
Suzanne and some of my coworkers I was friendly with had seen Dylan’s picture on the news and heard about his disappearance. They expressed their shock and concern and asked if I knew anything about the investigation. I lied and said I had no idea. They already knew the police had questioned me. Werestillquestioning me, because they’d come to my workplace. I didn’t say anything about the other two detectives, or whatever they were, the men who had questioned me at my home. They’d make a big deal out of it, and besides, it was embarrassing not to mention unnerving.Sometimes I felt like I was going crazy.
I had told Will Logan everything, and some of my story had been intensely personal. If he hadn’t been from some police agency, then where the hell had he come from? And what should I do if they came back? The second set of detectives had said to call them immediately if they showed back up.
On Friday of that week, Suzanne suggested I go with her and some of the others to a bar across the street called Mick’s. She said I needed to relieve a little stress. Since that was certainly true, I agreed to go.
During the week, the bar served great sandwiches at lunchtime, and in the evenings, they had appetizer and drink specials during Happy Hour from four to seven. I didn’t go often, because of my responsibilities at home, but Tyler had improved a lot since he’d been back home and more time had passed since Dad’s death, plus my mother was feeling more able to cope with his behavior after Mrs. Anderson went home for the day. My mom encouraged me often to “get out some and meet new people.”
There was nobody new to meet atMick’s,but it had been a long week and I didn’t quite feel up to facing the traffic yet, so I took Suzanne up on the offer and joined her and the others for one or two beers, after calling home and to make sure it would be all right.
“Take your time, honey, and enjoy yourself,” my mother said.
“May and I are taking Tyler to Bingo at her church.”
