Eyes Only (5 page)

“They don't care. All they care about is money. My cousin was just a name with a tuition bill. Are you here on a scholarship?”

The young student smiled. “I wish. I have some aid, and I work two jobs. My parents help a little, but basically, I'm on my own.”

“Do you get a break?”

“I do,” the girl said, looking up at the clock. “And believe it or not, it starts right now. Why do you ask?”

“Walk outside with me. I want to tell you something, but I don't want anyone else to hear, okay?”

“Sure. Hey, Sara. I'm taking my break now.”

The girl at the computer waved her hand to show she'd heard.

Outside, with students going every which way, Dennis led the girl to a bench and sat down. “Listen, I'm going to lay my cards on the table, because I don't like to lie, and I know you're not the type to fall for a lie. I'll give you ten thousand dollars cash if you can get me Gretchen Spyder's records. I need them, like, instantly. No one will ever know you gave them to me. I know you can lose your job, but if that were to happen, all you have to do is call me, and I'll take care of it for you. I can't be any more blunt than that. Will you help me?”

The girl looked at him with wide blue eyes. “That wasn't true what you said about the white slavers, was it?”

“No. It was a lie. I can't tell you the reason, but it's very important. I know you don't know me, and that's a good thing. Sometimes you have to take people on trust. Do I look trustworthy to you?” Dennis almost choked when she nodded.

“Ten thousand dollars is a lot of money. So is ten years in jail.” The girl, whose name tag said she was
BETSY AMES
, let her mind race. He did look trustworthy.
Ten grand. A fortune.
She could buy some new shorts, a few new tops, eat something besides mac and cheese or peanut butter and jelly for a change. Maybe get a manicure and a pedicure, just to see what it felt like. Maybe even get a haircut and maybe have some highlights put in. But then that would eat into the ten grand. “Make it twelve, and you have a deal. But . . . but I want your assurances that nothing bad is going to happen to Gretchen whatever you said her last name is.”

Dennis made the sign of the cross and nodded solemnly. “You have my word, Miss Ames. How long will it take you to get all that?”

“A few hours, depending on how busy it is. This time of the year, things are really slow, so I think by two I should have it all. Meet me at the Keg. Ask anyone, and they can tell you where it is. Find the bookstore and buy a black school backpack. Put the money in it, and I'll put the files in mine. We meet up, have a coffee, and then you take my pack, and I take yours. Deal?”

“You sound like you've done this before,” Dennis huffed.

“No. I just watch a lot of TV because I don't have the money to hang out at night with the girls. That's how they do it on TV. You okay with that? By the way, what's your name?”

“Do you really want to know, Miss Ames?”

“Actually, Mr. No Name, I don't. I'll see you at the Keg at two. If I'm not there, that means I got caught.”

Dennis felt guilty for all of a minute. He knew if that happened, he'd man up and take the blame. “Make sure that doesn't happen,” he snapped. “Hey, where's the nearest bank? And the bookstore?”

“Right off campus. You can walk to both of them from here.” Betsy Ames started rattling off the turns he needed to take before she sprinted for the door.

Dennis watched her go, not knowing what he felt. Ted would say, “It's all about the mission. Don't second-guess yourself. Do what has to be done, and we'll deal with the fallout, if there is any, later on.”

First, Dennis headed for the bookstore, where he bought a black backpack with the school's logo on the front. From there he headed to the First Citizens Bank, where it took him forty minutes to get the twelve thousand dollars in cash.

His job completed, Dennis stopped at a hot-dog stand, bought one with the works, along with a ginger ale, carried them over to a patch of grass, sat down, and ate while his thoughts wandered all over the place. He finished his food and soda and decided to text the others to brag that he'd gotten what he came for. Well, almost. Two o'clock would tell the tale if Betsy Ames came through for him. He crossed his fingers the way he had when he was a kid.

He watched the students, marveling at how they were dressed. Back in the day, he'd been a neat freak, wearing pressed khakis and a collared shirt. He definitely would not fit in here. Not only that, he was
old
compared to these kids, some on inline skates and skateboards as they tooled along to their classes.

Well, there was old, and then there was old.

Chapter 4

M
aggie finished up her conversation with Mona Appleby, Gretchen Spyder's class adviser, feeling dejected. While Appleby vaguely remembered Gretchen Spyder, she had nothing good or bad to say, other than that she seemed to be a loner, and she went on to say she didn't know why she thought that. Blank wall.

Maggie walked out into the warm Florida sunshine, wondering if she could ever live with perpetual sunshine and warm, muggy air. She definitely didn't like being cold, but she did love the change of seasons. No, she decided, Florida, the Sunshine State, was not for her.

Maggie stopped a student and asked for directions to the library. Maybe she could find Gretchen's yearbook and make some headway there. She looked down to read the incoming text from Dennis. The kid did have a way about him. Maybe he had gotten everything they would need, and she and Ted and Espinosa were spinning their wheels. Still, one could never have too much information. She stopped under a luscious-looking palm tree and sent off a text saying that she had bombed out with Spyder's adviser and was headed to the library in search of Spyder's senior yearbook.

As Maggie proceeded along the walkways, she, like Dennis, recalled her own college days and how carefree she'd been back then. A melancholy feeling washed over her as she stared at students, some in clusters, others alone, some laughing, some texting, while others looked somber, their thoughts miles away. Or they were thinking about the summer that was ahead of them. Sand and ocean, balmy breezes while soaking up the rays, or dreading their nine-to-five summer jobs, if they were lucky enough to find one. She herself had worked every summer of her life since the age of sixteen. Come to think of it, she'd never really done much in life except work.

Maggie stopped short when she realized she had arrived at the library. How imposing it was. She loved libraries, always had, always would. She loved books. Period. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen to libraries now with the new digital age. Would they become extinct at some point, replaced with computers and all the gadgets on the market? Well, there wasn't anything she could do about it, so she might just as well enjoy her little visit and soak up the atmosphere while she could.

Ten minutes later, with the help of the reference librarian, Maggie had Gretchen Spyder's senior yearbook in front of her. It took her another fifteen minutes to find the picture she wanted to compare with the one Ted had found somewhere and printed out for all of them.

Gretchen Spyder was a beautiful young woman. She had a pretty smile, but even in the black-and-white photo, Maggie sensed that she had sad eyes. One could smile, but if the smile didn't reach the eyes, it wasn't a real smile. It really was true.
The eyes are the mirror of one's soul,
she thought,
especially in this case.
This girl, Maggie decided in a nanosecond, had an unhappy soul.

Maggie flipped the pages, hoping for some tidbits about the young woman. They were few and far between. Twice, she almost missed a few sentences. Gretchen, it said, liked mango milk shakes. Further on she read that Gretchen liked to dance. The last thing she read was that Gretchen Spyder was going to graduate with a 4.0 GPA. A brainiac for sure. She herself had had a measly 3.2 at the end of her senior year, and that was after pounding the books 24/7. And that was the sum total of Gretchen Spyder's life in her senior yearbook. Maggie sat back and stared off into space. Who were Spyder's friends? Surely, she must have had friends. Who was the father of the twins whom she gave up for adoption? How was Maggie going to find all that out?

Maggie brought herself back into focus, whipped out her cell, and sent off a text to Myra, asking if Avery Snowden had located the Domingos and relocated them. The answering text was almost immediate, saying Annie was on the phone with Snowden, and he was transporting the Domingos to a safer location so that Nellie could take over. Maggie responded by asking Myra to find out if the Domingos knew any of Gretchen's friends or if they had a clue as to who the biological father was. Myra assured her that she would get back to her the moment she had any more news.

Maggie sat quietly soaking up the library's atmosphere. She had to leave, but she didn't want to. How weird was that? She sent off a text to Ted, but there was no reply. Maybe he was talking to some of Gretchen's professors.

 

 

Across the campus, Ted was winding down his conversation with Gretchen Spyder's political science professor. “One last question, Professor Atkins. Do you remember any of Ms. Spyder's friends? Maybe a boyfriend? Anyone she was close to, hung out with?”

The professor, a roly-poly ball of a man, frowned. “Tell me again why you're asking me all these questions.”

Ted made the instant decision to stick with the bogus story they'd all come up with, which was that Gretchen Spyder had disappeared, and they, along with the family, were trying to find her. He hoped that the professor was a true academic and wasn't interested in gossip or watching the news. “We're trying to help the family locate her.”

The professor hiked his tortoiseshell glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. “She tutored two of my students, Faye Wasserman and Gina Gilbert. I think she was friendly with Gina on a social level. She was a great tutor. Actually, Gretchen was brilliant. I convinced her to go for her master's after graduation. As to a boyfriend, I can't help you there. Gina lives right here in Miami. She teaches at one of the high schools. I just ran into her a month or so ago at a restaurant. We talked for about fifteen minutes, but that was it. I can give you her phone number if you like. When we parted, we exchanged numbers.”

“That would be very helpful, Professor,” Ted said, trying to keep the elation out of his voice. “Would you happen to know if Ms. Spyder was close to any of her other professors?”

“I do know the answer to that question, and the answer is, ‘No, she wasn't.' I know this because on more than one occasion I mentioned her name and how impressed I was with her, and they just shrugged it off as another overly bright student, which is kind of surprising since there aren't all that many of them.” He grinned and rolled his eyes at what he considered his little joke.

“Here it is,” Professor Atkins said, handing over a Post-it note. “I hope you find her. Give her my regards if you do.”

Ted assured the professor he would do just that. They shook hands all around, and then Espinosa asked Professor Atkins to pose with Ted for a picture. The professor obliged.

Then they were on the way back to visitor parking to wait for Maggie and Dennis. The time was 1:48
P.M.
An incoming text from Dennis said he was going to be about twenty minutes late since he had to meet his
source
at the local campus watering hole. Ted laughed out loud.
Source.
The kid was into the spy game for sure.

“Now what?” Espinosa asked as he wiped sweat from his brow.

“We stand here and ogle the coeds and envy those buff studs and make a vow to get in shape so we can look like them. Not. Oops, here comes Maggie, so I guess we aren't going to be ogling any coeds, after all. Is it my imagination, or are the girls' shorts getting shorter?”

Espinosa laughed out loud. “I think that's a question you should ask Maggie. She's kind of an expert. If you're afraid, I can ask her for you.”

“Do it, and you're dead meat!”

Espinosa continued to cackle and doubled over when Maggie asked what was so funny. Ted turned white as Espinosa gasped for breath. “I think Ted just had a vision of himself on a skateboard out of control.”

“I don't think that's funny, Joe. First of all, Ted would never be dumb enough to get on a skateboard. Would you, honey?”

“Of course not,” Ted said, color coming back to his cheeks.

“I think I have something, guys. A name of Spyder's friend. At least a friend in the sense that Spyder tutored her during their senior year. Her name is Gina Gilbert. I'm going to send her a text and ask if we can meet her at three thirty, when school lets out. She teaches right here at a high school in Miami. It's called New World School of the Arts. It's located on NE Second Avenue. Espinosa, track it and see how far away we are while I text Ms. Gilbert,” Maggie said.

“I'm on it.”

Maggie sent off her text. “Even if she doesn't respond, we're going to go there. Uh-oh, here's an incoming text from Myra. Oh, poop. She said the Domingos never really knew anything about Gretchen's private life. She said she knew there was a guy in the picture, because Gretchen was pregnant. Duh. Alicia Domingo said one time she heard her on her cell phone, talking to someone she thinks was named Zack. Myra says the little family is now safe and sound and for us not to worry about them, thanks to Pearl.”

“Yeah, well, that's easier said than done,” Espinosa said. “If Spyder's parents are as wealthy as we've been led to believe, then they have the juice to hire the best of the best to find the Domingos and the biological father. So don't go counting your chickens before they hatch.”

“Well, aren't you doom and gloom?” Ted sputtered.

“Snowden is the best of the best. Otherwise, Charles would never have brought him aboard. He's always come through for us. Pearl's underground railroad is secure. It's the father who is worrying me. We need to get to him first. Cross your fingers that Ms. Gilbert will have some insight on who he is and his whereabouts. I wonder if he was in her senior class or maybe going for his master's. I didn't see anyone named Zack in her senior yearbook. I think it would have jumped out at me, or at least registered, as Zack is not an ordinary name. I'm betting he was a graduate student. What time is it?” Maggie asked.

Espinosa looked at his watch. “I do believe it is 2:25. The kid is five minutes late.”

Ted grinned. “Here he comes now, and he's carrying a black backpack. He didn't have that when he started out. I'm thinking he's got something for us.”

“How come you don't have the car running with the A/C?” Dennis said, opening the door and climbing inside. “Damn, it's hot. I got
stuff.
Boy, do I have stuff. And it cost me only twelve grand! I offered ten, but she held me up for twelve. She had me over a barrel, but she could have gotten fired, so I agreed to the amount. Don't worry. It's my money. I found a bank and didn't have any trouble. Then I met her at the Keg, I gave her the money, and she gave me all of Gretchen Spyder's records. I haven't really read any of it. Just glanced through to make sure I wasn't buying a pig in a poke. It's all here,” Dennis said breathlessly.

Maggie, Ted, and Espinosa squawked in unison. “What!”

“Think about it, guys! If she got caught, she could have gotten fired. She needs the money. She's pretty much on her own, working two jobs and going to school. How else did you think we could do it? Look, it's done. I got the goods, so to speak. And as soon as I cool off, I'll tell you
exactly
what we have. Where are we going now?”

“To New World School of the Arts. Ted got the name of a friend of Spyder's who teaches there. Maggie sent a text to her, saying we need to meet,” Espinosa said.

“And Myra said Snowden has the Domingos, and they're safe. They think maybe the father's name might be Zack. No one knows for sure. We're hoping the Gilbert woman might have some information or can back that up,” Ted said.

“Can we stop somewhere for something cold to drink?” Dennis asked.

“We have some time to kill. Sure. First fast-food place we come to. We want to be on time so Gilbert doesn't leave when school lets out,” Ted said.

“You know what? We're going to have to wait on the contents of this backpack. I get carsick when I try to read in a moving car,” Dennis groused.

“Well, I don't,” Maggie said, snatching the backpack from Dennis's lap. She rifled through the files and muttered to herself as she ran her fingers down the pages. “The girl is smart. Basically, a straight A student. Four-point-oh all the way. We now have her home address on Spyder Island, her Social Security number, and I guess this last address is the one where she had an apartment. I think I heard someone say that after her freshman year of living in the dorm, she moved off campus to her own apartment,” Maggie said.

Ted pulled into a place called the Taco Shell, drove around to the drive-through, and ordered four large Sprites to go. “Fill them full of ice, please. On second thought, make that five,” Ted said, knowing that Dennis would finish the first one in one large gulp. Which he did.

They were back on the highway and arrived at New World School of the Arts by 3:15. They exited the rental and beelined to the main building, where Maggie fired off a text, informing Gina Gilbert they were in the lobby and would wait for her.

And wait they did, for a full thirty minutes, before Gina Gilbert made her appearance. They knew it was her because she kept looking around, presumably for a woman, as it was Maggie who had contacted her.

Maggie stood up and said, “Ms. Gilbert? Maggie Spritzer. These are my colleagues. Is there someplace where we can go to talk? We're here about an old friend of yours, Gretchen Spyder.”

“Really! That is a name from my past. We lost touch after graduation. Is she in some kind of trouble?”

“We don't know. She disappeared. Let me introduce you to my colleagues. This is Ted Robinson, Joe Espinosa, and Dennis West.”

Hands were shaken, and then Gina Gilbert led the party over to a corner, where there was a cluster of club chairs. “What is it you think I can help you with?”

Gina Gilbert was tall and thin. There was nothing fashionable about her at all. She had the early earmarks of becoming a spinster. She wore granny glasses, her hair was in a bun, and she wore serviceable shoes. If it were winter, she would be dressed in tweeds, but since it was spring, she wore blue-and-white seersucker.