by Marcia Clark
“I believe you, Mackenzie. Did you two hang out with anyone new at Teddy’s?” I asked.
Mackenzie frowned, then shook her head as she tucked a hank of her long, straight brown hair behind her right ear.
“Did your boyfriends go to Teddy’s with you?” I knew better than to think that any boyfriends were along for that ride; bouncers are a lot more reluctant to let fake IDs pass for guys than for girls. But I was fishing for information about any guys who might’ve had access to Hayley.
“I don’t have a boyfriend…”
I took a shot in the dark. “But Hayley does. Was he there?”
“No.”
Though I didn’t want to scare her off by getting too pushy, I was starting to lose my patience with this choppy exchange. “Listen, Mackenzie, you must’ve figured out that something serious is up. A cop showed up at your house last night and now we’re talking to you. Obviously Hayley’s not in school and no one seems to know where she is. As far as we can figure, other than her dad, you’re the only one who’s seen her since Thursday. So it’s very important that you tell us whatever you know, whatever you saw, that might help us find her. Understand?”
Mackenzie stared over my shoulder. She looked frightened but, oddly, not shocked. She knew something she wasn’t telling, that much I was sure of.
“Was Hayley unhappy? Did she run away?”
Mackenzie bit her lip and blinked rapidly. “I—don’t think so. She never said so. I mean, she’s had her stuff with her mom and dad, but who doesn’t?”
No argument there. “And you have no idea where she might’ve gone? Maybe a friend’s house?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think so.” Mackenzie clasped her hands together in her lap and stared down at them. “I—I wouldn’t make her mom suffer like that if I knew where she was. Raynie’s so nice…”
“But not Russell?” I asked, though I knew her answer might not have had anything to do with Russell. Having lost her own mother, it made sense that Mackenzie would focus on Hayley’s mother. But I was trying to find a way to pry her open.
Mackenzie shook her head. “No, no, Russell’s cool. Way cooler than my dad. I mean, he lets us use his house in the hills, his town car, stuff like that. But he’s not around as much as Raynie, you know?”
I did know. Hayley had the cool dad. That he was also a world-famous director was not as important as the fact that he facilitated their lifestyle and partying. I wondered if it had occurred to her yet that Russell’s “coolness” might’ve been what put Hayley in harm’s way. Probably not. No teenager believes there’s such a thing as too much freedom.
The sun had moved since we’d sat down and now threatened to fry the left side of my face. I shifted to the right to get under the shade of a large jacaranda and pondered my next move. I wanted it to be a cold shower. I could feel the sweat beading up under my blouse and my hair sticking to the back of my neck. “What about Hayley’s boyfriend? Could she be with him? Or maybe he knows where she is?”
Her face darkened. “I don’t know if she’s with him, but if she isn’t, he’d probably know where she is. Hayley tells him everything.”
Was that a note of jealousy? “They’re pretty close, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“How long have they been together?”
“Not that long. About two, three months, something like that. At first they were just friends, but then it was like all of a sudden they were joined at the hip. I never got to see her without him.”
Definitely jealousy. “You know where he lives?”
Mackenzie shook her head.
“Do you have his cell?”
“Yeah.” Mackenzie had a guilty look as she pulled out her cell phone and began to scroll. I had a feeling I knew why.
“Do Hayley’s parents know about this guy?”
Mackenzie shook her head. “No one knows about him. Except me and a few of the girls we hang with.” She handed her phone to me.
I looked at the entry. “Brian Shandling.” I handed the phone to Bailey so she could get the information. “I’m guessing you knew him better than the others, am I right?”
“Probably.”
“Because you were closer to Hayley than anyone else.”
Mackenzie nodded. “Pretty much.”
“How old is Brian?”
“Eighteen? Maybe nineteen. Yeah, I think he’s nineteen.”
“You have a picture of him?” I gestured to her cell phone.
Mackenzie picked up her phone and accessed her photos. After a few seconds, she held the phone out. “That’s him.”
The photo showed a nice-looking guy, tallish and slender, with dark brown eyes, curly brown hair, and one of those charming crinkly smiles that says “I’m a nice guy who sends his mom flowers on her birthday.” He had an arm around Hayley, who was snuggling into his chest with a happy smile. It was a sweet picture. They looked like the kind of kids you rooted for, the ones who gave you hope for a nicer, kinder generation. My heart sank at the thought that one of them might be in grave danger.
“I’m going to forward this to Bailey’s phone,” I said. “Okay?” Not that I needed her permission, but it felt like the civilized thing to do.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Does this guy go to college? Have a job?”
Mackenzie shrugged. “Don’t know.” But her eyes darted away from mine as she answered. Another possibility entered the equation.
“Is it possible Hayley ran away with Brian? Would she do that without telling you?”
Mackenzie picked up the earbud wire and looped it around her fingers. “I don’t know…I wouldn’t have thought so before. But now…”
The unspoken end of the sentence: Since Brian the Interloper had come between her and Hayley, all bets were off. But that made me consider a less savory possibility.
“What do you think of Brian?”
“He’s okay, I guess.”
“Is he the kind of guy who might hurt Hayley?”
Mackenzie jerked up, her expression stunned, and shook her head vigorously. “Never! No!” She frowned. “I kind of felt like he got between me and Hayley, and she’s my best friend in the world, so, you know…” Mackenzie shrugged, then looked directly at me for the first time. “But there was nothing bad about him. He’s a really good guy. Even to me. I just didn’t like that after he showed up, there was hardly any time for just me and Hayley.”
Pretty forthright and fair-minded of her to admit all that. And the sentiment felt genuine. I’d been considering the possibility that Brian had kidnapped Hayley to make some fast money—and I wasn’t about to let go of that theory just yet. But if Mackenzie’s assessment was accurate, it was a less likely scenario than the alternative I’d been considering: that Hayley had run away with Brian and cooked up the kidnapping scheme to give them some starter money. It was an ugly possibility, and one that spoke to some serious problems between Hayley and her parents. But it did have the virtue of ensuring Hayley’s survival. At least until we brought her home and her father got hold of her.
“When did you last see Brian?”
“The last time I saw him was when he met us at Starbucks after school on Wednesday.”
“And there was nothing unusual about Hayley when you left her on Friday morning?”
“Yeah. I mean, no. She didn’t tell me…I mean, I didn’t know of anything wrong.”
Uh-uh. That last answer was a big clam. Something unusual had gone down, and whatever it was had her plenty worried. But short of holding her upside down and shaking her by her heels, we had no way of making her tell us. She wasn’t worried enough to spill the beans. Not yet, anyway.
6
I quizzed Mackenzie a little while longer about Hayley’s habits and haunts, got the names of the girls in their crowd, but learned nothing else of any great moment. Then we got the principal to pull his records on Hayley, Mackenzie, and the rest of the crowd. There probably wasn’t much of use to us there, but you never know.
And I have yet to regret collecting too much information.
“Let’s reconnoiter,” Bailey said.
“What?”
“Let’s go sit in the car, blast the AC, and figure out what’s next.”
My sticky blouse and wet hair made that sound like a capital idea. “Reconnoitering it is,” I said.
Bailey cranked up the AC and I lifted my hair and held my head near the vent to catch the cool air. Mackenzie’s demeanor had set off alarm bells in my head. From what I could see, Hayley’s disappearance was no shock to her. But if I was right about that, and Hayley’s disappearance was planned, then something must’ve happened that wasn’t part of the plan. Or at least she was afraid that it had. “Maybe it’s time to let the captain call the press. After all, it’s been more than twelve hours since Russell delivered the ransom money. Don’t you think the kidnapper should’ve released her by now?”
Bailey rubbed her temples. It was a big decision. If we didn’t go public with the story, we might miss out on a citizen sighting that could save her life, but if we did, it might just spook the kidnapper into killing Hayley.
“Let’s take the middle step: report her missing without saying anything about a kidnapping,” Bailey said. “Mackenzie already knows that much anyway, so it’s probably long since been Facebooked and tweeted all over their school.”
“Yeah, that way, our kidnapper might believe Russell hasn’t told anyone, and he’ll feel safe enough to release her. I agree, let’s do it.”
Given the circumstances, it seemed the best alternative. “You let the parents know,” Bailey said as she pulled out her cell phone. I got through to both Russell and Raynie within seconds and both quickly gave their approval. “Whatever it takes,” Raynie said. “I guess so, yeah,” Russell said. When I finished, Bailey was still on the phone, so I leafed through the school records.
When Bailey ended the call, I suggested we try contacting Brian. She hit the number and put the phone to her ear. I could hear it go to voice mail. “Hi, you’ve reached Brian, leave me a message, I’ll getcha back. Beep.”
Bailey left a message telling him to call.
“So maybe they did run off together?” I asked.
Bailey frowned. “It’d be nice, wouldn’t it? I mean, not nice, necessarily—”
“No, but shaking down your own father is a lot nicer than being kidnapped, assaulted, and maybe killed.” Everything’s relative.
Bailey picked up her cell again. “I’m calling in boyfriend Brian’s info, see what we can get on him.”
While she did that, I considered my impression of Hayley. I shared it when Bailey ended her call. “I know it’s a little soon, but I get the feeling that Hayley’s a decent sort.”
Bailey gave me a sidelong glance. “Why? Because she deigned to be nice to Scholarship Girl?”
“And Mackenzie has a job—something none of those kids seems to have…or need.”
“Makes her an unusual choice for a bestie in that crowd—”
“Especially for a major leaguer like Hayley Antonovich,” I said. Bailey nodded. “No, I got to admit, Hayley’s definitely not the spoiled rich kid I expected.”
At least not so far. My ruminations on Hayley were interrupted by the thumping bass of a car stereo that was getting louder and louder. It hit full blast as the car pulled in a few spaces away. The vehicle was a brand-new red Mercedes black-top convertible, and the driver, a boy with Justin Bieber hair who couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, was rocking out and talking on his iPhone. The song ended and he cut the engine and got out, still talking. “Yo, dude, check it out, you can come with me.” He hit the remote to lock the car and continued as he walked away. “The folks got a house in Virgin Gorda, man. Infinity pool, seven bedrooms, bring the sex box.”
“Gag,” Bailey said.
“Xbox. It’s a video gaming thing.”
Bailey watched him saunter to class. “I know. And I meant gag.”
At that moment the principal came out and headed toward the faculty parking lot. I noticed that lot was filled with Hondas, Toyotas, and Fords. Not a Mercedes or BMW to be found. “Want to hit up a few other friends while we’re here?” I asked.
“Sure. Maybe get some more information on our buddy Brian.”
I got out of the car and called out to the principal. “Mr. Vogel!”
He gave us his blessing to go and talk to any of Hayley’s friends we could find and escorted us back into the school.
“You have a list of names?” he asked.
We gave him the three names we’d gotten from Mackenzie that matched up with the names Hayley’s mother had provided. It was a tight little group of girls who’d apparently been together since grade school. Mackenzie was the only newcomer. Mr. Vogel set us up in his conference room. Another first: a high school principal with his own private conference room.
We’d hoped for a break, but we would have settled for just one or two new ideas about where Hayley might’ve gone or where we might find her boyfriend, Brian. What we got was shock, tears, and a blurry string of “I’m not sures” and “Ask Mackenzies.” But two things struck me: Hayley’s friends were truly nice kids who seemed to have a lot more going on than Mr. Sex Box. One was a World Health Organization volunteer who planned to join the peace corps, another was a science buff who was aiming for a career in green technology, and a third had her sights set on a pediatric practice that would include charity work in underprivileged neighborhoods. The second thing was that everyone sincerely seemed to have undying love for Hayley.
“No one’s a better friend than Hayley…she’s always had my back, since we were in kindergarten…I’d take a bullet for her, seriously.”
Not a catty remark, bitter gibe, or hint of reservation from anyone. But no immediately helpful information either. The only thing we managed to establish was that no one had seen Brian since Wednesday, and the last they’d seen of Hayley was in school on Thursday. A smidgen of light came from bestie Jordana Bloom, the future pediatrician. Her flowing gauzy maxi dress and sparkly flip-flops were a marked contrast to the cutoffs and capris the other girls had worn, and I admired her style—not to mention the fact that she looked a lot more cool and comfortable than I felt.
“We didn’t see a whole lot of Brian,” she said. “But he seemed really nice.”
“So he didn’t hang with you guys?” I asked.
“I don’t think he could afford to.”
“Hayley wouldn’t pay his way?”
“Oh, no, she would have. Brian wouldn’t let her. Once, we were all going to go to Gold Class Cinema, and he said he couldn’t make it. Hayley told him she’d take care of it, and he, like, said, ‘NO.’ Not mean or anything, just, like, that was it. I could tell he didn’t want her paying for stuff for him.”
Gold Class Cinema is a movie theater with first-class airplane-style recliners that make into a bed, and full food and alcohol service delivered right to your seat. It could set you back an easy fifty bucks a pop. So I got why a guy of even average means might find the experience a little rich for his wallet.
“Did he have a job?” I asked.
Jordana’s brow furrowed. “I think he worked…was it in the Galleria?”
I couldn’t help her, since of course I was the one who’d asked the question.
Jordana continued, “I think…yeah.”
“So if Brian’s such a good guy, how come Hayley never introduced him to her parents?”
Jordana looked pained. “I don’t know. Maybe because she was afraid they wouldn’t think he was good enough for her? He was older, he wasn’t in college, didn’t have any money…I don’t really know. I’m just guessing.”
“But there was nothing…skeevy about him? Or dangerous?”
Jordana leaned back as though I’d thrown something at her. “No. No way.”
I knew we should wrap it up. Jordana didn’t have anything more for us, and I didn’t want to have to offer more reassurance than we could honestly give her at
this point, so I decided to see if there was any meat on the bone of my elopement theory. “Did Hayley get along with her father?”
Jordana seemed surprised by the question. “I guess. I mean, we never talked about him like that.”
“So she never talked about her father. Or her mother?”
She shrugged as though the question had never occurred to her before. Probably because it hadn’t. “Stuff he was working on, but that’s all.”
I supposed it made sense. At her age, parents were wallets with legs. And these were big wallets. We thanked Jordana and headed back to Bailey’s car to “reconnoiter” again.
Bailey cranked up the AC and picked up her cell. “I want to make sure the photo of Brian made it to the station and give the update on what Jordana told us. See what they’ve come up with so far.” She tapped in the number, then swore softly. “For some reason, I’m suddenly not getting any signal. Let me try outside.” She got out of the car and walked a few steps away, then began to speak. After a couple of minutes, I leaned forward to see what was going on, but her back was to me. It was another five minutes before she returned to the car. But when she got in, she stared out through the windshield for long minutes without speaking.
“What?” I finally asked.
Bailey continued to stare out the window as she spoke. “Brian Shandling does not exist. It’s a fake name.”
7
The wheels in my brain skidded to a stop. The entire landscape had changed. If Mr. Nice Guy was a fraud, then my theory—or more accurately my hope—that Hayley might be shacked up with her boyfriend on an island in the Bahamas was a pipe dream.
“They ran the name, found an apartment address, a couple of credit cards, and a driver’s license with a photo that matches our guy, but the DOB comes back to a dead two-year-old in Utah. I’ve put an alert out for him and for any activity on his credit cards,” Bailey said.
“Did he have a car?”
“A white Toyota Corolla. I’ve got an alert out on that too.”