by Amy Waeschle
Then, Martin called her back.
“Tell me again what happened,” Cassidy asked after she gave him a brief summary of her conversation with Dr. Gorman.
Martin sighed. “We stopped for gas. It was a Chevron, I think. There’s a convenience store, and we all went in.”
“Did Bridget stop too?” Cassidy pulled up one knee—no small task in the cramped front seat—and leaned back into the corner.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Was there anything going on at the gas station? Like, did you see what other vehicles were there, or did you notice anything?”
“No,” Martin said. “You know how it is. I was focusing on getting us back on the road so we could all get home.”
Not focusing hard enough on the students, Cassidy didn’t say. “And you did the count?” she asked. As a rule, the driver always counted the van’s occupants before leaving a destination to make sure nobody was left behind.
“Yeah, but Izzy was asleep in the back, so I counted her.”
“But you didn’t actually check that she was there.”
“No,” Martin said softly.
Cassidy moved on. “From her debit card record, she made a cash withdrawal from the ATM there.”
“You got access to her debit card records?” Martin asked, his voice rising in pitch.
“Courtesy of Preston Ford.”
“This is intense,” Martin said.
Cassidy rubbed her forehead. “So, that means that she got out of the van and used the ATM. But you didn’t see her.”
“No!” Martin replied, sounding frustrated. “Does it say what time she used it?”
Cassidy scanned down to the line from Biggs Junction, Oregon, again. “Twelve forty-three.”
“Okay,” Martin replied, sounding relieved. “We left right at twelve-thirty.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. I remember because there’s this meditation class I like to go to at four-thirty at the rec center, and I was excited because we were making good time and I was going to go.”
“Okay,” Cassidy sighed, realizing what this meant.
“Did she do anything with her card after that?” Martin asked.
“No, that’s the last line on the statement.” Cassidy didn’t know if this meant Izzy had stopped using the card or that the record simply ended. Maybe when she got the update later, Izzy’s location would be as clear as a bell.
“What are you going to do?” Martin asked.
“Go to Biggs Junction,” she replied. “But first, I’m going to talk to some of the others,” Cassidy said, sitting up to start her engine.
“Do you need me?” Martin asked, sounding so pitiful that Cassidy grimaced.
“No,” Cassidy said gently. She idled to the exit of the parking garage.
Martin’s groan sounded tortured. “Am I going to take the fall for this?” he asked quietly. “Gorman says—”
“Izzy’s fine, I’m sure of it,” Cassidy interrupted, though she knew she had no grounds to reassure him. “I’ll find her. You get ready for the Yukon.”
Martin sighed in relief. “Okay,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”
Cassidy drove to a nearby coffee shop, thinking through which students she should call. Alice, Izzy’s closest friend, was at the top of her list. Then Bridget, who may have noticed something Martin missed. As Cassidy pulled into a parking spot, her phone buzzed with another unfamiliar number, which she ignored. A leaden feeling settled into her stomach.
Who else was Izzy close to? While Cassidy had always observed Izzy to be social, she seemed closest to Alice. But during the last night of field camp, Izzy had seemed to be hanging out with William and Cody. Cassidy realized that she had no idea if Izzy had a boyfriend, or who her friends were outside of the geology department. Or what else might be going on in her life. Cassidy wondered how she would even find such information.
Alice answered, her voice sounding anxious. “Have you found her?” she gasped.
“No, Alice,” Cassidy replied, walking to the café entrance. Her empty stomach responded with a painful cartwheel. “But I’m in Eugene. Could you meet me?” Cassidy gave Alice the location.
“I’ll be right there,” Alice replied.
The café bustled with a mix of students studying, locals reading the paper, one family with three small children all eating giant cinnamon rolls while both parents pecked away at laptops. A steady din of conversation and the smells coming from the kitchen created a welcoming feel that Cassidy would have enjoyed on a different occasion. Finally, she reached the head of the line when Alice entered the café, her eyes scanning the room anxiously until they found Cassidy.
They both ordered coffee, and the two women picked up their steaming mugs. Cassidy found a corner table by the window. The café’s door stood open to the summer air and the windows shone bright from the morning sun.
Alice wore a faded black cotton skirt, black sandals, and a loose-fitting t-shirt with a colorful, knitted scarf wrapped around her neck. The black circles under her eyes demonstrated her lack of sleep.
“I’ve been calling and calling, but she doesn’t answer,” Alice said, cradling her mug but making no indication that she planned to drink from it. The steam instantly fogged up her glasses.
“Where do you think she’d be?” Cassidy asked.
Alice just shook her head.
“I saw you get into the back with Izzy in Martin’s van when you left field camp,” Cassidy said. “Did she say anything to you?”
“No,” Alice said, shaking her head. “She’s not much of a morning person,” she added. “And we were all pretty hung over.”
“Did anything happen during the drive?”
Alice shook her head. “Izzy fell asleep, and I had to move because I was getting carsick back there.”
“So, Izzy had the back to herself.” A wail from one of the children at a nearby table—the youngest of the three eating cinnamon rolls—pierced the air. The mother brought him into her lap but continued working, and he quieted.
“Yes, after the rest area.”
“Did she get out then?”
Alice nodded her head, but her eyes were focused on a space beyond Cassidy’s left shoulder. “She was kind of a bitch to me, actually,” Alice said absently.
Cassidy took a sip of her coffee, hoping Alice would keep talking.
Alice blushed. “I feel bad saying so, but sometimes she . . . was like that.”
Cassidy raised her eyebrows. “Was yesterday any different?”
“I just figured she was tired. We’d had a late night. And you know, field camp’s kind of a grind.” She said this last part hesitantly, eying Cassidy timidly.
It’s a grind for me too, Cassidy didn’t say. “What did Izzy say to you, exactly?” Cassidy asked. She knew that this might not be important, but eagerly accepted any piece of information. Meanwhile, Cassidy felt as if a giant clock was ticking in the background—she had so little time to locate Izzy. I should be driving to Biggs Junction already, not sitting in a café chatting.
Alice inhaled a deep breath. “She had let me borrow a t-shirt, and wanted it back.” Her lips twitched. “She said I was too fat for it anyway.”
Cassidy winced, but Alice was still looking through the window.
An awkward pause stretched between them. “I’m sorry,” Cassidy finally said, even though it felt off.
Alice shrugged. “Typical Izzy.”
Cassidy sipped her coffee, wondering why Alice would tolerate a friend treating her like that. “It looked like everyone was having a good time Friday night at the resort,” she said to change the subject.
Alice’s face brightened. “Yeah. It was . . . interesting.”
Cassidy frowned. “How so?”
Alice blushed. “Some of us danced really late. And then when they closed, we went down to the dock.”
“Was Izzy there?”
“Yeah.” Alice squeezed her mug and gazed into its contents
.
“How late did you stay out?”
Alice seemed to get lost in thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Late.”
Cassidy realized something that might be important. “You and Izzy are tentmates, right?”
Alice nodded.
“I heard some of you come in around midnight.”
“That was probably the group that left when the bar closed.”
“Not you?” Cassidy asked.
Alice shook her head. “We were at the dock.”
“Who was there with you?”
“Me, Franklin, Izzy, Will, and Cody.”
Cassidy thought through this. Martin and Bridget had likely come back from the bar with the main group. Cassidy couldn’t fault them for this—though she would have felt better if at least one of them had acted as a chaperone at the dock. Especially because the students had been drinking and Wallowa Lake was freezing cold. What if one of them had fallen in? My God, Cassidy thought, realizing the risks, it’s a wonder they let us run field camp at all.
“Did anything happen on the dock?” Cassidy asked.
Alice put her mug down, still staring into it. “No. We just hung out.”
“When did everyone head back?”
“I’m not sure, maybe one, one-thirty? It got cold.”
I must have finally been asleep by then, Cassidy thought.
“And the next day, what happened?”
Alice looked up, surprised. “Nothing. I mean, we had breakfast and all that, and finished packing, and we got in the van.”
“Did you talk to Izzy? Did she seem upset or anything like that?”
Alice shook her head. “I don’t think we talked at all except to pack up the tent.”
“Is it hers or yours?”
“Mine. She has a fancy one her dad bought her, but she didn’t like it. They’d been fighting a lot. After the first night she took it down and moved in with me.”
“And that was okay with you?”
Alice shrugged. “I didn’t mind.”
Cassidy’s phone chirped from her back pocket; she glanced at it. “Sorry,” she said to Alice as her heart swung down to her stomach. “I have to take this.”
Alice nodded. She nodded at Cassidy’s mug. “Do you want a refill?” she asked as Cassidy brought the phone to her ear.
Cassidy nodded gratefully.
“Sorry I couldn’t take your call earlier,” Bruce’s voice said.
Cassidy plugged the other ear with a finger so she could hear him better.
“And I’m sorry about the press. I’ve been meaning to call you. Are you doing okay?”
The compassion in his voice vibrated through her, and Cassidy had to pause to absorb the way it made her feel. After the crazy adventure they’d shared in Central America, she felt drawn to Bruce in a way that confused her—sometimes she felt ashamed for making so many mistakes, other times she felt the warmth of friendship, other times she felt something else, but its meaning eluded her and only made her head hurt whenever she tried to understand it.
“Yeah,” she answered. “Though I’m sort of in a jam,” she admitted. “Do you have a minute to help me with something?”
“Shoot,” Bruce said.
Cassidy gulped a deep breath and told him about Izzy and how she had been tasked with finding her.
“Cassidy, this is a job for the police.”
“I know,” Cassidy sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is,” Bruce said seriously. “Okay,” he sighed when she didn’t elaborate. “So, what do you know so far?”
Cassidy summarized what she’d learned from Martin, Alice, and the credit card record.
“It’s classic missing persons,” Bruce replied. “You’re going to Biggs Junction, right?”
“Yes,” Cassidy replied, realizing she shouldn’t be surprised that Bruce was one step ahead of her already.
“Sounds like there’s a reason she chose that location to ditch her escort.”
“That’s what I’m beginning to think, too,” Cassidy said, dreading the three-hour drive. I’ll have to queue some new podcasts, she thought.
“How much did she withdraw from the ATM?”
“Three hundred.”
“Yep,” Bruce said, as if confirming a suspicion. “That’s the limit, so she had a plan.”
“What do you mean?” Cassidy felt lost.
“She gets out of the van without anyone seeing her. She hides somehow and makes it look like she’s still in her spot in the back. Once she’s sure they’ve driven off, she goes into the convenience store and withdraws as much as the machine lets her. I bet she bought stuff too. Food, water.”
Cassidy scanned the credit card record. “No, or at least the charges haven’t come through yet.”
“Sometimes it takes purchases longer,” Bruce explained.
“Okay, so once I get to Biggs Junction, then what?”
“Ask around. Maybe someone saw her. Do you have a picture?”
Cassidy racked her brain. “No, but I can get one.”
“Okay, so ask around, but also spend some time there, observing. This is on a major freeway, right?”
“Yeah, though it’s in the middle of nowhere.”
“But lots of traffic?”
Cassidy knew the stop from when she taught field camp in years past. “Yeah. Pretty busy. There’s another freeway that intersects there, too.”
“Hmmm,” Bruce said.
Alice returned with her refilled coffee, but Cassidy stood. She covered the phone with her hand. “I have to go,” she whispered.
Alice looked surprised, but quickly nodded.
“Thank you,” Cassidy mouthed.
“I just hope she’s okay,” Alice whispered.
Cassidy nodded and stood to go.
“Okay,” Cassidy said to Bruce, moving quickly for the exit. “So, what exactly am I looking for once I get there?”
As Cassidy rounded the doorway, she caught a glimpse of Alice, still standing at the empty table holding the two mugs of coffee.
Seven
A sense of urgency overtook Cassidy once she got into her car. Bruce told her to look for traffic patterns. Were there busses that stopped in Biggs? What kind of travelers did she notice?
“Could she have hitchhiked?” Cassidy asked.
“For her sake, I hope not,” Bruce replied darkly.
But Izzy had money, so could have paid for a ride.
“You’re going to have to go with your instincts,” Bruce said as Cassidy pulled onto the street. “She could have gone in several different directions. But she got off there for a reason. Maybe she was meeting someone. Maybe the intersection provided her with an opportunity. Examine the possibilities, then go with your gut.”
“But what if my gut’s wrong?”
“You can’t think about that. Just keep moving forward.”
Once on the freeway, Cassidy tried to keep an open mind about Izzy’s intentions. Could she have been meeting someone? If so, whom?
Her phone chirped but the number was unfamiliar, so she silenced it. So far, she had already received five such calls. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. When would the reporters leave her alone?
With the list of contacts spread out on her console, she dialed Bridget first, but she only confirmed what Cassidy already knew: that Izzy got out at the first stop—the rest area and was deeply engrossed in texting someone—but had stayed in the van at the Chevron. Cassidy made a mental list of the students who had interacted with Izzy recently: William, Franklin, Cody, Alice, and a few others.
Then, she realized that she had completely forgotten about Charlie Tucker, the geomorphology professor in charge of the first half of field camp and who was now holed up writing a book. Even though Charlie hadn’t been a part of camp since Cassidy took over for the volcanology unit three weeks ago, she added him to her list. Everyone loved Charlie, aka “Professor Handsome.” Maybe Izzy had confided in him, though Cassidy doubted it wou
ld be relevant.
Of the four calls she made to students, only Franklin answered.
“Oh, uh . . . hi, Dr. Kincaid,” Franklin said.
Did he sound nervous? Cassidy pictured his tall, lanky frame. His face sort of matched his body, with a nose like a beak pinched between narrow cheeks. He had a habit of hunching.
“Have you heard about Izzy?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, making a sound that was part sniffle, part snort. “Excuse me,” he said. “My allergies have been really bad since we got back.” He blew his nose.
“What are you allergic to?” Cassidy asked, unable to stop her curiosity.
“Mold,” he said. “I’m moving apartments, but not for another week.”
Cassidy rounded the final bend in the freeway leading to Snoqualmie Pass and the location of a broad ski area, its empty chair lifts dangling over a patchwork of rusty brown and yellowed grass and weeds. She had only skied at this area a handful of times with the U.W. Ski Club, and only at night. To her, ski areas always looked so forlorn in the summer. She wondered if Pete had ever skied here, and imagined herself running into him on one of those nights. The idea sent a charged ache through her—it was what she always wished for—more time.
“ . . . roommate is moving in with his boyfriend.”
Cassidy realized she had completely missed Franklin’s reply. “I see,” she answered. “Well, I’m helping to . . . er, track Izzy down. Her father thinks she’s just hiding out somewhere. Apparently, she’s done this kind of thing before.”
“Really?” Franklin asked.
Cassidy didn’t take the time to explain. “Has she tried to contact you?”
“Uh, no.” He gave a little chuckle, which then turned into a cough. “Izzy and I aren’t really friends.”
“But you guys hung out at the dock together Friday night,” Cassidy said.
Franklin made a soft choking sound. “You know about . . . ” Cassidy waited through a pause. “Right. Well, yes, we ended up at the dock after the bar closed, but that’s the first time Izzy and I have spent any amount of time together.”