qualify as retro, dropped the bag on the Formica table, took a can of beer out of the sixer and slung the rest into the ancient fridge.
He did not offer us one.
“So what do you want?”
“Wanted to talk to you about Stephanie Mattheson,” Mason said.
“And to know how you knew he was a cop,” I added, because I thought there was something there. He didn’t like cops. It felt like he, big guy that he was, was shrinking into himself on the inside, where it didn’t show. On the outside he wasn’t revealing a thing, subconsciously making himself bigger. Like an animal in defense mode. I wondered if I could close my eyes without being obvious. My inner senses worked better when I drew the shades.
He shifted his gaze to me only for a second, then it went right back to Mason. “What about her?” he asked, ignoring my question completely.
It pissed me off a little, frankly.
“When’s the last time you heard from her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. A couple of years ago. Something like that.” Then he popped the top on his beer can and took a slug.
I felt the lie, but that was cheating. I already knew the truth.
“Her cell phone says different,” Mason told him.
I walked a few steps away, to the window that looked down onto Washington Avenue, parted the curtain like I was looking out and closed my eyes.
“If you think you already know, then why waste time asking me?”
“Because I want to hear it from you,” Mason told him.
“She’s been calling,” he said after a brief pause. “I haven’t been answering. I haven’t called back. I haven’t talked to her in a couple of years. Just like I said.”
And that was the truth. But he was nervous as hell. I could feel it radiating from him. I said, “It’s kind of important, Jake. She’s missing.” Just so I could feel his reaction to that.
And I did. I felt a pulse of something big. Shock? Surprise? Concern? Or was it fear that we were on to him?
“What do you mean, missing?”
I stayed right where I was. Mason would read his face, his body language. I was reading his emotions. And they were all over the place.
“Missing. As in, no one knows where the hell she is,” Mason said. “Unless you know. Do you?”
“She’s missing? ”
“Her father thinks she’s probably run off.”
“She’s blind. Where the hell is she gonna run off to?”
“How do you know she’s blind, Jake?” Mason asked. “Her family kept it pretty quiet.”
He walked a few steps, set his beer down. I heard all that. “We still have a few friends in common. I heard about it.”
He still cares about her, I thought. I could feel it beneath the words.
“I don’t know where she is. I wasn’t lying. I haven’t talked to her in a couple of years. And I didn’t know she was missing.” I had the feeling he was telling the truth, and then he got all tense again. “You’re here because you think I had something to do with...with whatever happened to her, aren’t you?”
“We’re not sure anything’s happened to her,” Mason told him. “I saw your name on her outgoing calls and thought I oughta talk to you, since her father said you two ran off together a few years back. It’s that simple.”
I turned from the window, ’cause my senses had given me a big clue. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
“Who?” Jake knew exactly who I meant. He picked up his beer, turning his back to me as he did.
“Stevie’s father. Judge Howie.”
He just shrugged. “I don’t have any contact with the man.”
“But you did. Two years ago when you and Stevie ran off together. Right? I’m sure he threw a fit about that.”
“Threw a fit?” He frowned and turned to look at me. I totally got that he was searching for something in my face. Then he quickly schooled his expression into a mask. “I don’t have anything to do with him. And I don’t know where Stevie is. I hope she’s okay. And I really have to get ready for work now.”
I couldn’t tell
He did not offer us one.
“So what do you want?”
“Wanted to talk to you about Stephanie Mattheson,” Mason said.
“And to know how you knew he was a cop,” I added, because I thought there was something there. He didn’t like cops. It felt like he, big guy that he was, was shrinking into himself on the inside, where it didn’t show. On the outside he wasn’t revealing a thing, subconsciously making himself bigger. Like an animal in defense mode. I wondered if I could close my eyes without being obvious. My inner senses worked better when I drew the shades.
He shifted his gaze to me only for a second, then it went right back to Mason. “What about her?” he asked, ignoring my question completely.
It pissed me off a little, frankly.
“When’s the last time you heard from her?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. A couple of years ago. Something like that.” Then he popped the top on his beer can and took a slug.
I felt the lie, but that was cheating. I already knew the truth.
“Her cell phone says different,” Mason told him.
I walked a few steps away, to the window that looked down onto Washington Avenue, parted the curtain like I was looking out and closed my eyes.
“If you think you already know, then why waste time asking me?”
“Because I want to hear it from you,” Mason told him.
“She’s been calling,” he said after a brief pause. “I haven’t been answering. I haven’t called back. I haven’t talked to her in a couple of years. Just like I said.”
And that was the truth. But he was nervous as hell. I could feel it radiating from him. I said, “It’s kind of important, Jake. She’s missing.” Just so I could feel his reaction to that.
And I did. I felt a pulse of something big. Shock? Surprise? Concern? Or was it fear that we were on to him?
“What do you mean, missing?”
I stayed right where I was. Mason would read his face, his body language. I was reading his emotions. And they were all over the place.
“Missing. As in, no one knows where the hell she is,” Mason said. “Unless you know. Do you?”
“She’s missing? ”
“Her father thinks she’s probably run off.”
“She’s blind. Where the hell is she gonna run off to?”
“How do you know she’s blind, Jake?” Mason asked. “Her family kept it pretty quiet.”
He walked a few steps, set his beer down. I heard all that. “We still have a few friends in common. I heard about it.”
He still cares about her, I thought. I could feel it beneath the words.
“I don’t know where she is. I wasn’t lying. I haven’t talked to her in a couple of years. And I didn’t know she was missing.” I had the feeling he was telling the truth, and then he got all tense again. “You’re here because you think I had something to do with...with whatever happened to her, aren’t you?”
“We’re not sure anything’s happened to her,” Mason told him. “I saw your name on her outgoing calls and thought I oughta talk to you, since her father said you two ran off together a few years back. It’s that simple.”
I turned from the window, ’cause my senses had given me a big clue. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
“Who?” Jake knew exactly who I meant. He picked up his beer, turning his back to me as he did.
“Stevie’s father. Judge Howie.”
He just shrugged. “I don’t have any contact with the man.”
“But you did. Two years ago when you and Stevie ran off together. Right? I’m sure he threw a fit about that.”
“Threw a fit?” He frowned and turned to look at me. I totally got that he was searching for something in my face. Then he quickly schooled his expression into a mask. “I don’t have anything to do with him. And I don’t know where Stevie is. I hope she’s okay. And I really have to get ready for work now.”
I couldn’t tell
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