Romeo's Tell (A disappearance mystery turned international thriller) Page 4

  The boys were very excited about going to the Hall of Fame the next morning. It took them almost an hour to get to sleep. But it took Jill even longer. She wasn’t quite sure why her mind was racing, but once she heard the boys snoring, she felt a strong urge to pay Chad a visit.

  Jill slipped out of her bed and made her way silently over to Chad, who was still fast asleep. The room was a little warm for a down sleeping bag, so Chad had peeled back most of the top of the sleeping bag to stay cool.

  She lowered herself to her knees at Chad’s side as if to pray over him. Looking at him in the dim light for a few moments, she thought about how, despite only having known him for about a month, she already had a big-time crush on him. But thinking it through, she decided it was something more than a crush.

  Jill realized that she wanted to be next to him. Now. More than anything she had wanted in a long time. Since that would have to wait, she let out a soft sigh and leaned over so she could just gently kiss his forehead. But as she repositioned herself to support her shifting weight, the smooth fabric of the sleeping bag slid under her hand, causing her to completely lose her balance and land directly on top of Chad.

  For Chad, this was not the worst way to be awakened, but it was still startling. After some momentary rustling and confusion on his part, they both became very still. Jill, her full weight still on him, put her mouth to his ear and gently whispered, “Sorry. Just couldn’t resist.” She then softly kissed him on the cheek and started to push her body away from his, only to be overpowered by his firm embrace. She let out a yielding breath then relaxed, giving him as much of her body and soul as could possibly be surrendered through night clothing. Despite the limiting circumstances, Jill found this to be quite an erotic moment—one of the most erotic moments she’d ever experienced, in fact. Chad too.

  Now, it was Chad’s turn to let out a sigh as he motioned with his head and his eyes in the direction of the two boys, who were somehow still sleeping soundly. He pressed his mouth to Jill’s ear and with warm breath whispered softly, “Rain check, okay?”

  Jill nodded solemnly, kissed him gently on the lips, and made her way quietly back to bed.

  Chapter 12

  Now

  Amherst, Massachusetts

  It was Morgan Swan’s twenty-second birthday. It felt somehow unfair that she would have to spend the evening, and probably the wee hours of the first day of her twenty-third year, cramming for a final exam.

  Her thoughts drifted to what she was doing exactly a year ago—celebrating her twenty-first birthday with her dad and her closest friends at Sombrero Negro in Springfield. Man, they made good margaritas there, Morgan thought. Ironically, as she rode this brief nostalgic wave, she had no way of knowing that she would again be sipping a margarita at Sombrero Negro sooner than she could imagine.

  She forced herself back to her studies, valiantly battling the urge to just nap until exam time. An email alert popped up on her screen just as she sensed herself nodding off. It seemed a welcome distraction.

  “Hmm, a friend request,” she said aloud. “Any excuse to do something other than study.” But after reading the message that accompanied the request, she wasn’t so sure.

  My name is Jane Mannix. You are the 18th Morgan Swan I have contacted. Please accept my friend request if you are the daughter of Chad Swan whose birthday is March 15th and who grew up on Staten Island. Please, this is very important.

  Morgan sat thinking for a moment. She had little doubt the woman had contacted the right Morgan Swan, but she wasn’t about to give up any info about her father—to anyone. Not that she had much info to give up. A lot of her father’s doings over the past year or so were a mystery to her as much as to anybody else. Nonetheless, she resolved to be very careful with this.

  Ultimately, Morgan decided to accept Jane Mannix’s friend request. When she noticed that Jane was still online, Morgan initiated a chat session with her.

  Morgan: “I have accepted your friend request for the moment. Please tell me what this is about.”

  Several seconds later, Jane Mannix responded.

  Jane: “It’s urgent that I contact your father.”

  Morgan: “I kind of got that already. I need to know what is so important.”

  There was another brief pause before Jane answered.

  Jane: “The police are looking for your father.”

  Morgan: “With all due respect, has your newspaper delivery been running a year or so late?”

  Jane: “Excuse me????”

  Morgan: “Sorry—couldn’t help myself. The FBI is already looking for my father. Have been for almost a year now.”

  There was a much longer pause this time. Morgan was about to ping Jane to see if she was still there, when Jane’s response finally appeared.

  Jane: “I didn’t know that. But this is not the FBI. It’s the local police in Syracuse.”

  Morgan’s mind began to race. She still didn’t fully understand the trouble Chad Swan was already in and now he was apparently in trouble for something else. Morgan loved her father dearly, but God, his behavior had been frustrating since her mother died, almost a year and a half ago now. She knew the loss of Becky Swan had been very, very hard on her father, but it was devastating to her too and she needed him more than ever now that her mother was gone.

  The anger in Morgan was building, but she wasn’t sure whether it was anger at her dad for being such a flake or at herself for wallowing in self pity. Either way, she needed to find out more about this Jane Mannix and whatever she was talking about. She decided to get Jane to back up a bit.

  Morgan: “How did you get my name?”

  Jane: “I have not been in contact with your father for many years. But during a trip about 10 years ago, I ran into an old friend, Morgan Bassar, in a bar in Nashville where he was playing with a band he’d started. Morgan told me that Chad had a 12 year-old daughter and that Chad and his wife had named her after him. I’m hoping that daughter is you.”

  Now it was Morgan’s turn to pause for a moment.

  Morgan: “OK. But if you know my Uncle Morgan, why didn’t you just go to him to find my father?”

  Morgan was really just fishing now. She doubted that even her father’s best friend, her “Uncle” Morgan, would be able to locate, let alone contact, Chad Swan. Besides, Uncle Morgan and Chad had fallen out of contact in recent years, as even good friends sometimes can.

  Jane: “I haven’t seen Morgan since that chance meeting. I don’t know where he is either. Finding you seemed like my best shot.”

  Morgan: “So, why exactly do you need to contact my father?”

  Jane: “It’s really something I need to let him know about directly.”

  If at all possible, Jane wanted to avoid spilling information that might strain Chad’s relationship with his daughter. The other problem for Jane was that she knew she probably shouldn’t be warning Chad at all. If Detective Drake knew she was doing this, she was sure he would be very angry with her and may even charge her with something. There was a very long pause this time, as Morgan weighed the merits of what Jane had told her. Then came her flat response.

  Morgan: “Sorry, but you’re just going to have to give me more than that if you want me to take it to my dad.”

  Jane considered dropping the whole thing and just letting the chips fall where they may. She thought she was just about to do that when she found herself typing again.

  Jane: “OK. Listen. My son, Davy, found something a few days ago.”

  Morgan then echoed, with dubious pauses between the words.

  Morgan: “Davy?”

  Morgan: “Your son?”

  Morgan: “Found . . .something . . .”

  Morgan: “WTF?”

  Jane: “I’m sorry. It was a note that my son found. But to tell you all of the background is a long story and one your father would probably want to tell you himself.”

  Morgan: “All this over a note?”

  Jane: “Can you just tell him t
hat Jane Paulson has a note he needs to see and the police want to talk with him about it?”

  Morgan: “I thought you said your name was Jane Mannix.”

  Jane: “It is now. But Chad knew me as Jane Paulson. Please, tell Chad I contacted you. I’m sure he’ll want to know about this.”

  Morgan: “OK, I’ll tell him next time I hear from him.”

  Jane: “Do you know when you will hear from him?”

  Morgan: “Not really. Maybe a week or so.”

  Jane: “How will he contact me?”

  Morgan: “Through me would be best I think.”

  Jane: “OK. Thanks.”

  Morgan: “Don’t mention it.”

  Morgan’s version of “you’re welcome” even looked sarcastic. As she saw it, Jane Mannix was, at best, a bringer of bad news. Or worse, perhaps she simply was bad news. Hopefully her father would know which.

  Jane: “Good night. And thank you again.”

  Morgan: “Good night.”

  Chapter 13

  Then

  It was an overcast Tuesday morning. Chad and the Blue Wonder were on their way up to campus to drop in on Jill Paulson, and they were bringing a surprise.

  Jill had mentioned to Chad a number of times that she would love to learn how to play guitar. It didn’t take a virtuoso to know that the first step in getting Jill started on this vague goal was to get her an instrument. So today Chad was planning to leave one of his guitars, an Epiphone Casino, with Jill for as long as she needed. Of the four guitars Chad owned, he regarded this one as second only to his Gibson Les Paul.

  Chad rolled into the gravel parking lot behind Kaye Hall and parked the Blue Wonder in the first open spot. He checked his watch as he stepped out of the VW and walked around to the back to retrieve the guitar. It was 11:00 AM. Perfect. They could have a quick first guitar lesson then catch lunch together if Jill had time. If she couldn’t fit it in today, Chad would leave the guitar with her and they could just start lessons another day. He was pretty sure though that Jill had a big open block of time around mid-day on Tuesdays.

  Chad grabbed the beat-up guitar case from the back of the Blue Wonder and started to make his way to the dorm. During the short walk, he mused over how the battle scars on the case gave testimony to how well it had done its job over the eight or so years Chad had owned the guitar. The instrument inside was in near perfect condition.

  The first person Chad saw after coming through the dorm entrance was one of the resident assistants working the front desk. He didn’t know her name, but he’d seen her several times before and she had always been very friendly. Today, she said hello, but seemed to unsuccessfully suppress a strange facial expression, as if something embarrassing had just happened. Chad brushed it off with only a passing thought. That was a little weird.

  Arriving at Jill’s door, Chad employed the classic “unfinished knock,” knocking five times with a much shorter pause between knocks three and four. In the past when he had done this, Jill would complete the sequence by knocking two times from the other side of the door before opening it.

  This time, however, there was no reply knock, just the sound of the door being unlatched as someone, probably Jill’s roommate, Patti, began opening it.

  When the door swung open Chad was surprised to be greeted by a man wearing jeans and no shirt. He was about Chad’s size but somehow more . . . perfect, with the eyes, the hair, and—as Chad was soon to find out—the presence of a Ken doll. He was holding a red T-shirt in his left hand, apparently preparing to put it on. What this guy projected was something Chad had never encountered before, a kind of resolute indifference, if there was such a thing.

  Indifferent Ken said nothing; he just gave Chad one of those questioning looks that said, “Okay, so what do you want?”

  Chad wasn’t immediately sure what to say and was wondering why Patti wouldn’t have answered the door if Jill couldn’t. He was assuming this was a new boyfriend of Patti’s. Ultimately, all Chad could manage was, “Uh, is Jill here?”

  “Taking a shower.”

  “Okay . . . how about Patti?”

  “Not here right now. You wanna leave a message?”

  Chad was beginning to feel a little foolish. Realizing it didn’t help matters that he didn’t know who he was talking to, he decided to rectify that situation.

  He began by extending his hand. “Well, I’m Cha—”

  Chad was interrupted by a towel-wrapped Jill emerging from the bathroom. “Chad! What a nice surprise. I guess you’ve met Michael.”

  “We were just getting to that,” Chad said as the two men shook hands. This greeting had all the warmth of two strangers in ancient times shaking hands to show each other that neither was armed.

  Jill wasn’t sure why Chad wasn’t inside yet. “Well, don’t just stand there out in the hallway, come on in here.”

  Chad was somewhat off balance. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had stumbled into. “No, no, I don’t want to intrude. I just came by to drop off this guitar.”

  Realizing why Chad may have felt ill at ease, Jill walked over to him, gave him a little kiss, and took his free arm. Tilting her head to the side with that lovely smile, she said, “It’s not like that. Michael and I have been friends since grade school.”

  As the lights began to come on for Chad, Jill walked him into the room.

  “Okay, well maybe I’ll just put this over in the corner for now,” Chad said, standing the encased guitar up against the far wall.

  “Great. Why don’t you guys sit down and chat for a few minutes, while I get dressed. I’ll be quick.”

  Michael, whose shirt was now on, and Chad took seats on opposite ends of the one couch that could fit in the college dorm room. It was a large room for a dorm room, but didn’t feel large enough to Chad at the moment.

  Chad opened. “So how long have you known Jill?”

  Michael’s response was quick and flat. “Since second grade. You?”

  Chad had to fight off the feeling that he had just been issued some kind of challenge. “Well, for just a few months actually. I met her the same night I met another friend from your home town, Jason Brooks. You know him?”

  “Yeah, I know him. But that big goon is no friend of mine.”

  “I’m actually a little relieved to hear that,” Chad said with a smile.

  Michael just nodded. “So what’s in the case?”

  “It’s an Ephiphone Casino. Are you familiar with guitars at all?”

  “Yeah, enough to know what a Casino is anyway. I’m a drummer myself.”

  Chad was glad they had hit on some potential common ground. “Are you any good?” Realizing the question could be taken as an affront, Chad quickly added, “My band is looking for a good drummer.”

  “Good enough. But I won’t be living here until next semester, so you’d have to wait a little while.”

  Now Chad was starting to understand. “Oh, you’re transferring in?”

  “Yeah, from Northwestern.”

  Having visited Northwestern University’s Evanston campus, Chad offered a couple of observations. “Northwestern’s a great school and the campus is just beautiful.” He quickly realized that what he’d just said probably sounded like he was trying to talk Michael into staying in Illinois. Michael retorted before Chad could say anything to dispel that impression, as Chad half listened and half wondered why this guy had him walking on eggshells.

  “True, but there’s a lot more here for me. And I’d like to be closer to home.”

  “Are you from Ithaca, then?”

  “No, but my family has a place on Seneca Lake about forty minutes from here.”

  This time, it was Chad who simply nodded.

  Despite the potential common ground in the musical area, Chad found that maintaining this awkward conversation took a lot of energy. He was glad right now that Jill was one of those people who, having said “I’ll be quick,” actually was.

  “You two seem to be getting on well,” Jill said as s
he walked back into the room, her hair not quite dry.

  The two externally indicated their agreement with nods and “Oh Yeahs.”

  “Did Michael tell you about the wine?”

  “Uh, not yet,” Chad said.

  “Well, Michael’s family owns a Seneca Lake vineyard on like a hundred acres—”

  “A hundred and twenty-seven,” Michael interjected.

  “Okay, a hundred and twenty-seven then. Anyway, he’s brought a bunch of wines and we’re going to have a little wine tasting party tonight. You can come, right Chad?” She hip-nudged him playfully.

  “Um, sure, why not.”

  One reason why not would actually have been that Chad had no use for wine. It was a taste he would develop later.

  * * *

  On his quiet ride home later that night, after not tasting much wine, Chad was still sorting through where Jill fit into Michael’s life and, more importantly, where Michael fit into hers. Chad hated admitting it, even to himself, but he was feeling a little insecure. He had trouble believing that, given a choice, any “red-blooded American male” could be content being just friends with a woman as amazing as Jill. Realizing they were driven by his rather unattractive insecurities, he tried to push these thoughts out of his mind, but kept coming back to the conclusion that Michael was hiding his true feelings for Jill.