Land of Entrapment (8 page)

“When was the last time you checked it?” I asked, still not looking at Melissa.

“Last week.”

“Did you see anything that seemed out of the ordinary?”

“No. She’s kept a lot of the e-mails from Cody but I haven’t read them.”

That did make me look at her. “Why not?”

She shook her head and sighed. “Here’s the thing.

I got her password and log-in because I was worried that she might fall in with the wrong crowd after her last rehab. But I promised myself I wouldn’t use it unless I had a reason to. So I actually didn’t use it until she left.” She chose the euphemism carefully, pausing slightly before she said it. “I feel really guilty about it.”

“Don’t,” I said gently. “I mean, you had a good reason to do it. She’s not where she should be and because of her history, well...” I shrugged and turned my attention back to the screen. There were five new e-mails. Three were from Amazon—updates about books she might want to read for her psychology classes. One was spam about paying off your mortgage that had made its way past AOL’s filters and the other was from one of her friends whose name I recognized from the photos. Allison. I clicked on that one. It was barely three sentences long. She was just checking in because she hadn’t heard from Megan in a while and wanted to know how things were going.

“Do you know Allison?” I glanced over at Melissa.

“Yes. She’s local.”

“Do you have her number?”

“No.”

“Then e-mail her back from your account and CC

me. Tell her you need to talk to her about Megan and you’d appreciate it if she’d call you.” I wrote Allison’s account address down on the legal pad.

Together, we scrolled through Megan’s e-mail from the past month. Almost all of it was junk mail.

Amazon, Barnes and Noble, UNM student events and news. I clicked on the Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Just innocuous updates. Three others from Allison, two from another friend named Bill who was home in California for the summer. Melissa vaguely recalled him. Fifteen from other friends who were just saying they’d see her in the fall. I hoped fervently that they would. I printed out all the personal e-mails.

“Does Megan have a MySpace page or anything on Facebook?”

Melissa thought for a bit. “She did say she was going to set up a MySpace page and she was working on some of the graphics for it. She said she’d let me know. I don’t know if she ever finished it.”

“When did she start?”

“Toward the end of May, I think.”

“I’ll check her files and see if I find anything like that. Ask Allison about it. She’d probably know if Megan has a page.”

Melissa seemed to relax. She looked at me and managed a tired smile. “You should have been a cop.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I meant it as one.” She stood then. “I already feel better knowing that you’re here.” She said it quietly, without looking at me.

I logged out of AOL and shut down the various applications. My heart was beating a bit faster than it should have. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what Chris finds out. I’m going to try to see Judy at the ADL, see if she’s heard anything. Let me know what Allison says.” I stood up and ran my fingers through my hair. I tend to do that when I’m nervous and Melissa obviously recognized the gesture.

“Do you think—that is—”

I interrupted her. “Yeah. I think maybe we should talk. Just not right now, okay? I don’t think I’m quite ready.”

She nodded and managed a tight smile. “Are you all right for dinner?” She made it sound like she was just checking on my welfare, like she would do with an acquaintance or a coworker.

“Fine. Thanks. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I forced an answering smile and watched her leave. As an afterthought, I moved to the door and watched her as she walked to her car, which was just visible from my vantage point. She got in and pulled away from the curb. I felt strangely empty.

“YOU OKAY, CHICA?” Chris was worried about me. I switched the phone to my right ear and checked my watch. Nearly nine. Melissa had left around seven-thirty and I had gone for a run at eight, appreciating the evening cool, and then did my requisite push-ups and sit-ups. I was just opening Megan’s door when Chris called.

“Yeah. This thing with Megan has me kinda worried.”

“And?” Chris’s tone was patient.

“And yeah, it’s weird being around Melissa.”

“I thought it might be. You wanna come and stay here?” There was only concern in her voice.

“No, being at Megan’s isn’t the problem. It’s the—

”

“Past,” Chris said wryly. “So why don’t you talk to her? Get shit out in the open?”

“What do you mean?” I said cautiously.

“Come on, Kase. When things ended with her, you pretty much slammed the door.”

“Well, what the hell else was I supposed to do? I busted her going at it with Hillary.”

“Hey, I’m not saying what Melissa did wasn’t shitty. But leaving the way you did—I’m saying that maybe you need some closure. For your own sanity if nothing else. Put those ghosts to rest.”

I didn’t respond. Chris was right, but I didn’t really want to talk about Melissa.

“Think about it. It’s not healthy to hold on to things like that.” She paused, then continued. “Okay, next topic. About your Mister Sorrell. Turns out he does have a record. Basic stupid juvie shit. He’s from Denver originally and got into trouble there while he was in high school. Vandalism of school property—

I’m waiting on the incident reports—petty theft.

Sounds like your garden-variety candy bars and beer from the convenience store stuff. Comes from a broken home and grew up with his dad. No word on where his mom went. He moved here in 2003 after completing his GED and enrolled in a few classes through UNM continuing ed. He does have an aunt here in town, whose address is the same as what’s listed for his. You might want to have a chat with her.”

Chris provided the aunt’s address, which was on Albuquerque’s east side. I had an image of what the neighborhood looked like. Run-down suburbia, filled with bored teenagers who sat on front stoops at night smoking and drinking cheap beer, talking about who was doing whom, who was pregnant, and who might be running with gangs.

“Thanks, Chris. That’s a huge help.”

“No hay problema. I’m working on the others and should have some more info about Cody in the next couple of days. I can also get you in with our gang division. They’ve got files on tattoos and for the past few years at least, they’ve been tracking racist groups, too. They might have a line on the artist who worked on Cody’s back.”

“Jesus, Chris. You are a total godsend.”

“That’s a lot of spiritual talk for one sentence, esa,” she said teasingly. “Let me call somebody down there to see if they’ll let you have a look. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“I so owe you.”

“And I will so collect.” She laughed. “You’re a good friend and it’s the least I can do. You okay tonight?”

“Yeah. I’m tired. I’ll crash here and check in with you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. Buenas noches.”

“ ’Night.” I hung up and used the remote to turn the TV on. With some inane reality show on in the background, I made a list of all the angles I wanted to pursue. Tomorrow, I’d finish going through Megan’s files and if I had time, I’d cruise over to Cody’s aunt’s place and see what I could scare up over there. I’d also call Judy. I put the tablet down and closed the inner front door and opened a window in the bedroom a crack. The place stayed fairly cool, but I still flipped the switches for the swamp cooler to drive the rest of the heat out of the house. I turned the TV off and put on a pair of boxers and a clean tee, then went to the bathroom, where I washed up and spent some time flossing and brushing my teeth.

I was pretty tired and didn’t feel much like reading, so I called Grandpa to check in with him.

Luke answered. He said everything was fine. We chatted a bit and then signed off. I called my folks as well. They didn’t answer so I left a message, telling them I’d call back in the next day or so. I then turned out the light and climbed into bed, staring into the dark and listening to the hum of the cooler.

I thought about Cody and Megan, and about what might draw her to a guy like that. He was good-looking, and he was probably charming and had that

“aw, shucks” thing that attracted people to James Dean. He was kind of a bad boy and Megan had flirted with that sort of lifestyle for a while. She was still trying to figure out who she was and Cody probably flattered the hell out of her, telling her how proud he was of her for getting off drugs and for trying to make something of herself. If he was Megan’s primary recruiter, chances were that he figured out pretty quickly what she needed to hear to draw her to him.

I’d have to go through her e-mail files to see how they interacted. I was not looking forward to that so I thought instead about Melissa and what Chris had said about closure. I definitely could use some of that, especially since we were working together to find Megan. It struck me, suddenly, how jarring it was to go from no contact to daily contact with an ex over the course of just a few days. I put my hands behind my head and continued to stare into the dark. My eyes were adjusting to the dim light in the room and I could just make out the shapes of Megan’s dresser and shelves near her bed, which held little art objects and a few books. Photos, too, but I hadn’t really looked at them. I’d check those out in the morning.

I did want to talk to Melissa about what had happened. I wasn’t sure why, exactly, but Chris was right, even if Melissa said things I didn’t want to hear. What had gone wrong between us? Besides the obvious? I remembered things getting tense when Megan went into rehab again, but I’d figured we’d work through it, like we had the first time. I sighed heavily, thinking about Melissa and Hillary. Usually an affair means that someone can’t communicate effectively or doesn’t want to. Sometimes it means the person having the affair wants the other person to make the first move and end the relationship. Either of those could have described what happened.

I turned onto my side. I didn’t recall talking about much of anything with Melissa when Megan went back into rehab. I had been working so hard to finish up my dissertation that I sometimes only spent a few minutes a day talking to Melissa or Megan. I clenched my teeth. No, I hadn’t been around much. So? I didn’t have an affair. But a twinge of guilt zipped through my thoughts. I remembered how much I had loved Melissa and how right it had felt to be with her, even when her family chickens came home to roost. We had some good times and I knew she had loved me, too.

But dammit, I just couldn’t get past Hillary.

Fortunately, I fell asleep.

SOMETHING GRATED AGAINST the pleasant, soothing hum and burble of the swamp cooler. A sound that didn’t fit, that worked its way into my skull and tugged me into wakefulness. My eyes shot open. Adrenaline whipped through my body but I lay perfectly still in the bed, listening to the rattle at the front door. Someone was messing with the security door, trying to get in. I sat up and reached for my cell phone, ready to call 911. Gripping my phone in my right hand, I eased out from under the covers and tried to find something I could use as a weapon. There was a broom in the kitchen. It would have to do.

I listened again. The rattling had stopped. No, there it was again. I padded quickly into the kitchen to the corner by the table and grabbed the broom, then went back into the living room. My heart hammered my rib cage like a pro boxer and I was sure whoever was messing with the door heard it. Every nerve stood at attention, prepared to send me flying down the street either fighting or fleeing. I saw a silhouette through the shade that covered the window of the interior door. Just one person, from the looks of it. I moved quickly to the light switch on the front wall and without really thinking about what I was doing, I flipped the outside light on. The rattling stopped and I watched as the silhouette disappeared.

I unlocked the inner door and threw it open and saw what looked like a man dressed in jeans and a dark Tshirt running at full speed down the walk toward the street. I flipped the lock on the security door and ran after him, obviously leaving my sanity and shoes inside.

I made it to the sidewalk and started to follow but he had a head start, running toward Central, and the bottoms of my feet hurt. I started to shout after him, but clamped my mouth shut, opting not to scare the entire neighborhood. I jogged back to the house and slid my tennis shoes on. That done, I grabbed my keys and locked the inner door, leaving the security door slightly ajar.

I’d cruise Central. Maybe I’d find him. I flipped a U-turn and headed down the street. My car clock glowed the time. Two thirty-four AM. Lovely. I worked an eight-block radius east and west on Central then cruised some of the neighborhoods nearby. I didn’t expect to find him, but you never know. At three I headed back to Megan’s and spent the next ten minutes studying the lock on the security door. If he had a key, wouldn’t he just have used it and come in? He was doing something at the front that caused the door to rattle. Was he trying to pick the lock? Or was it too dark for him to find the right key? Maybe he had a bunch of keys and he was trying to figure out which one it was. I carefully opened the security door, using my foot. Chris might be able to get a print off the handle. The interior door was still locked. If he was inside, he probably would not have locked himself in.

I pulled the security door closed. I’d definitely get that lock changed tomorrow. Chris was on duty at nine, so I’d see if she had time to swing by beforehand. I picked the broom up from the living room floor, but decided I might need it after all so I didn’t return it to the kitchen. I pulled the comforter off Megan’s bed and stretched out on the couch in the living room, my cell phone on the coffee table. I positioned my head so I was facing the door. I didn’t think the guy would come back, but that didn’t ease my frame of mind and I didn’t sleep much after that.

CHRIS FINISHED WORKING on the security door and looked up at me. “Give me your prints so I can rule you out.”