*****
The Hyde girl was actually a woman. She was tall, close to five feet nine and big boned—Some would say she was “statuesque." Blonde and blue eyed, she was sitting in a comfortable leather chair in the far corner of the large Commons room of the dorm. There were small table and empty matching chair across from her. The Clinton lady went to a sofa at the other end of the room. I walked up to the blonde and introduced myself and asked if I could sit. She smiled and nodded at the empty chair. I sat down, put my Bible on the coffee table and took out my notebook and pen. She looked at my Bible, had a strange look on her face and then looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“Mrs. Clinton has already told you I’m trying to locate Myra Kincaid. We—and by that I mean her family—want to try to find her and see if they can reestablish a relationship with her, the good Lord willing.”
I gave what I thought was a pious, earnest look and to my surprise, she started to giggle.
“Tell me Mr. Dafoe, how long have you been—saved?”
Damn! Didn’t see that coming.
“I—ugh—I saw the light when I was eight and was properly baptized at Mt. Calvary Church in Cherryburg, North Carolina and why, may I ask, do you want to know?”
“Because that isn’t a Bible you are carrying around, it’s The Book Of Mormon. You had better not let Mrs. Clinton see it. Some people around here don’t particularly care for Mormons.”
“Well, ughhh—all it is a Bible with more chapters—right?”
“ Hardly," She laughed. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”
She leaned towards me and whispered, “Some of us here are just waiting for the day we graduate, so we can enter the real world.” She smiled and sat back in her chair.
She had me nailed. I looked at her, looked at my ‘Bible’, then grabbed it and flipped it around so the title was faced down on the table.
“I guess we understand each other—Cassandra. Now, what can you tell me about the Kincaid girl?”
“We were roommates our freshman year. She was friendly enough with me and the other girls of on the floor, but I could tell she didn’t want to be here. She wanted out.”
“Did she way why? Her parents are baffled.”
“She was adopted. She told me she moved in with her parents as a foster child when she was five. They eventually adopted her. Same story with all her sisters—you look surprised, didn’t they tell you?”
“No—no they didn’t.”
“Myra told me this during the latter part of our second semester. Like I said, she wasn’t very happy to be here to begin with, and once she came back from Christmas break, even more so. Truth be told, I don’t think there was any love lost between her and her parents. She told me that the family wasn’t all that, what’s the word I’m looking for—loving, yes, loving—that’s it.”
I nodded my head, made a note for Ernie to check on the foster child angle.
“Did she have any—boyfriends?”
She looked to floor for a moment then back at me, “Not on campus. She was…” her voice trailed off.
I looked her hard in the eyes, “You started it, now, please, finish it.”
She sat up in her chair and took a deep breath, “She met Congressman Marc Graves when he came on campus our first semester. I don’t need to tell you Myra was beautiful. Well, when we met the Congressman, I could tell he took notice of Myra. I know he gave her his phone number. After Christmas break, she started going off campus at night, breaking curfew. I covered for her. She was meeting him at the local Holiday Inn.”
“That could have gotten you in trouble.”
“She was doing the same for me. Don’t look so surprised! You would be amazed at the amount of ‘sin’ that is happening on this college. Parents think they can delay the inevitable by sending us here. For quite a few of us, it just makes us that more anxious to get out on our own. Myra had the guts to do it three years early. Not really caring for her folks probably made it easier.”
“Did she tell you she was quitting school?”
“No. Not a word. I found out she had dropped out when she didn’t show up after summer break for our sophomore year. I haven’t heard a word from her, since she left school.”
“This Congressman Graves, are you sure she was seeing him?”
“Yes. She was seeing the congressman, and I was seeing a professor. We both knew the score.”
Honest girl—with a nice set of breasts, I thought. She must have been a mind reader, because the way she smiled at me would have resulted in a mandatory session of self-flagellation or such if it had been seen by Mrs. Clinton or other ‘Holy Roller’ on the faculty.
“Did Myra mention anything about her birth parents—names, location, whether she had been in contact with them?”
“I asked her once about her biological parents and all she said was that part of her past was dead to her. I got the impression she really didn’t want to talk about it, so I dropped it.”
“Anything else?” I asked. She shook her head no.
I reached into my jacket, pulled out one of my cards and handed it to her.
“If you think of anything, please feel free to call.”
She looked at the card. “Charlotte—nice town. I might give you a ring if I find myself there after I graduate.”
“Sure. I’d enjoy that.” I stood up and started to leave.
“Mr. Dafoe—don’t forget your Bible.”
“Tell you what, you can have it if you can explain the picture of Jesus with the Aztecs.”
She laughed. “More like Mayans, Mr. Dafoe.”
“Aztecs, Mayans, what’s the difference?”
“About a thousand years—Good luck in finding Myra. If you find her, tell her I hope she is doing well and found what she was looking for.”
I smiled and started to walk out of the dorm. I waived Mrs. Clinton off, told her I was leaving and thanked her.
As I walked to my car, opened my trunk and got my .38, I was thinking of how big a pain in the ass it was having a congressman involved with all this. The only good thing was I didn’t have to bother trying to figure out how to best approach this bastard.
I already knew there was only one way to deal with his type—bribery.
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