me.”
“Okay, well, that’s true, and there may come a time when
you’ll need to be put into protective custody. But not yet.” We said goodbye,
and he left.
I called Jack and left a message, asking if he would have
dinner with me and assuring him I was fine after my interview with Officer
Donaldson, even though I was anything but fine. The interview had brought back
all the stomach-knotting, brain-numbing fear I’d felt on that day. And now I was
a known witness – perhaps the only witness – someone who may need police protection in the near future. I was
going to have to talk to Dr. Steele again. I took a happy pill and headed
downstairs to meet Sean for lunch.
Chapter 17
I waved at Sean when he walked through the door. I’d arrived
early, needing some quiet time between my meeting with Officer Donaldson and
this one. He looked worn out.
“Hi,” he said, as he slid into his side of the table.
“Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
“Did you talk with the police yet? Or is that after
lunch?” Our waitress brought over water glasses, silverware, and menus.
“Thanks, Lyn,” I said. She smiled, and said she’d be right back to take our
order.
Not needing to check my menu, I waited quietly while Sean
perused his. I eyed the manila envelope he’d brought with him; the word PHOTOS
was printed on the front.
“I’m meeting with them at three o’clock,” he said. “I
need to look at their faces when they tell me where they are in the
investigation. Or where they aren’t. I can’t detect bullshit over the phone –
excuse my French. But I can look
someone in the eye and tell if they’re full of it or not.”
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the envelope.
“Pictures of Ferdy. I thought it would help if they had
some different shots of him. The one they had at the press conference was of
him all shined up for a friend’s wedding.”
“It’s almost impossible that no one has laid eyes on him
after all this time,” I said. “I mean people fake their deaths and get found,
and I assume they put a lot of thought into how to stay gone. Ferdy just up and
disappeared!”
“Ferdy was taken by someone, or more than one person, who
did a lot of planning before they ever went to his house to get him,” he said.
“The condition of his house that day was a huge clue for me. He’s a total neat
freak.”
I smiled, remembering how he would tidy up things on my
desk when he came to the office. “I would try to have things organized when
Ferdy came to see me,” I said, “but he would always fidget – it was like he
couldn’t sit still until he had my folders in a perfect pile or my pens
arranged according to ink color. I used to tell him he would be impossible to
live with.”
“Trust me – he was impossible to live with. He was the same when he was a kid.” We ate our lunch
while Sean shared fond memories of his brother.
“I’m sorry I haven’t kept in closer touch,” I said.
“There’s something going on with me that’s dividing my attention and most days
I don’t know which way to turn.”
“Don’t feel badly. There’s only so much you can do when
it comes to Ferdy.”
“Can I see the pictures?”
He pushed the envelope across the table to me. “Be my
guest.”
I went through the stack, pausing at each one long enough
for Sean to explain how old Ferdy was and where the photo was taken. I had to
admit he was right. Ferdy did look different in these then he did in the formal
shot. “I’m glad you thought to bring them,” I said, “they should be very
helpful.” I stopped at a shot of Ferdy playing basketball with Sean. They both
looked a lot younger, a nice memory of brothers having a great time shooting
hoops.
“That one was taken at the old house,” he said. “We’d
have a game of pickup before Mom’s Sunday dinners.”
“Where was that?”
“Rochester.”
“Rochester, New York?”
“Yeah,” he said. “We grew up there. Eventually I moved
“Okay, well, that’s true, and there may come a time when
you’ll need to be put into protective custody. But not yet.” We said goodbye,
and he left.
I called Jack and left a message, asking if he would have
dinner with me and assuring him I was fine after my interview with Officer
Donaldson, even though I was anything but fine. The interview had brought back
all the stomach-knotting, brain-numbing fear I’d felt on that day. And now I was
a known witness – perhaps the only witness – someone who may need police protection in the near future. I was
going to have to talk to Dr. Steele again. I took a happy pill and headed
downstairs to meet Sean for lunch.
Chapter 17
I waved at Sean when he walked through the door. I’d arrived
early, needing some quiet time between my meeting with Officer Donaldson and
this one. He looked worn out.
“Hi,” he said, as he slid into his side of the table.
“Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
“Did you talk with the police yet? Or is that after
lunch?” Our waitress brought over water glasses, silverware, and menus.
“Thanks, Lyn,” I said. She smiled, and said she’d be right back to take our
order.
Not needing to check my menu, I waited quietly while Sean
perused his. I eyed the manila envelope he’d brought with him; the word PHOTOS
was printed on the front.
“I’m meeting with them at three o’clock,” he said. “I
need to look at their faces when they tell me where they are in the
investigation. Or where they aren’t. I can’t detect bullshit over the phone –
excuse my French. But I can look
someone in the eye and tell if they’re full of it or not.”
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the envelope.
“Pictures of Ferdy. I thought it would help if they had
some different shots of him. The one they had at the press conference was of
him all shined up for a friend’s wedding.”
“It’s almost impossible that no one has laid eyes on him
after all this time,” I said. “I mean people fake their deaths and get found,
and I assume they put a lot of thought into how to stay gone. Ferdy just up and
disappeared!”
“Ferdy was taken by someone, or more than one person, who
did a lot of planning before they ever went to his house to get him,” he said.
“The condition of his house that day was a huge clue for me. He’s a total neat
freak.”
I smiled, remembering how he would tidy up things on my
desk when he came to the office. “I would try to have things organized when
Ferdy came to see me,” I said, “but he would always fidget – it was like he
couldn’t sit still until he had my folders in a perfect pile or my pens
arranged according to ink color. I used to tell him he would be impossible to
live with.”
“Trust me – he was impossible to live with. He was the same when he was a kid.” We ate our lunch
while Sean shared fond memories of his brother.
“I’m sorry I haven’t kept in closer touch,” I said.
“There’s something going on with me that’s dividing my attention and most days
I don’t know which way to turn.”
“Don’t feel badly. There’s only so much you can do when
it comes to Ferdy.”
“Can I see the pictures?”
He pushed the envelope across the table to me. “Be my
guest.”
I went through the stack, pausing at each one long enough
for Sean to explain how old Ferdy was and where the photo was taken. I had to
admit he was right. Ferdy did look different in these then he did in the formal
shot. “I’m glad you thought to bring them,” I said, “they should be very
helpful.” I stopped at a shot of Ferdy playing basketball with Sean. They both
looked a lot younger, a nice memory of brothers having a great time shooting
hoops.
“That one was taken at the old house,” he said. “We’d
have a game of pickup before Mom’s Sunday dinners.”
“Where was that?”
“Rochester.”
“Rochester, New York?”
“Yeah,” he said. “We grew up there. Eventually I moved
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