The Lost Boys

by Faye Kellerman

  After traveling miles of highway, Decker finally found the exit ramp. Within minutes, he hit a place with a main street lined by turn-of-the-century buildings in various states of disrepair. Each structure was painted a different color, giving the avenue the appearance of a patchwork quilt. City Hall was a white two-story domed building surrounded by a green lawn made colorful by mixed flowers in beds. On the side roads, churches were abundant. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was a military museum dedicated to the Revolutionary and Civil wars.

  Home styles varied but were primarily wood-sided bungalows with wraparound porches or frillier Victorians fronted with swatches of gingerbread. They were cozy, nestled in small, square lawns shaded by leafy oaks. The main road coiled its way through the town until it was a straight shot through farmland.

  The sky was deep blue, still a novelty for Decker, who had plied his trade for so many years in the hot, smoggy summers of Los Angeles. There were times he missed the big city with all its challenges, but Greenbury hadn’t turned out to be the sleepy little town he had imagined when he packed his bags. It had unexpected crime and its own issues—lack of funds and little state-of-the-art equipment. McAdams was Decker’s first and only partner in Greenbury. Tyler was brash and young when the two of them had started out. The kid’s maturity was hastened by two gunshot wounds, and every so often, Decker could detect a slight limp. Why McAdams had chosen law enforcement over a high-powered law practice was a bit of a mystery. Decker suspected it was Tyler’s way of getting back at his father—a successful lawyer and financier. In reality, McAdams could do whatever he wanted to do, including nothing. His trust fund was, according to him, enormous.

  As they rode southwest, the terrain gave way to wine territory—miles of grapes hanging from trellises.

  “How far are we?” McAdams asked.

  “About twenty minutes,” Decker said.

  “Pretty though.” McAdams looked around. “New York makes pretty good Riesling and gewürztraminer. I once thought about buying a winery. Then I decided it made more sense to buy the wine rather than make it.”

  “It’s one of those romantic but impractical notions,” Decker said.

  “Yeah, any kind of agriculture is hard work.” McAdams checked his phone. “No word from anyone in Greenbury. You’d think they’d have found something by now.”

  The wineries soon gave way to empty fields of dry grass. “They should be getting more dogs in the late afternoon.”

  “That’ll only work if there’s a scent to follow.”

  “Maybe the dogs can pick something up in the woods,” Decker said. “We have to be able to rule out an accident. He could have tripped and hurt himself. It was dark last night.”

  “Yes, of course. How far away are we now?”

  “Around ten minutes.” Decker smiled. “You’re like a little kid, Harvard. ‘Are we there yet?’ You have bars now. Go fiddle with your phone.”

  “I hate to say this but I have to take a piss.”

  “Bad?”

  “Sooner than later.”

  “Want me to pull over?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really?” Decker was surprised, but he eased the car to the curb when he saw a copse of oak trees. “I would think pissing outside would be below your pay grade.”

  “Certainly, I wouldn’t do it in the city, although no one would say anything if I did. But here in the middle of nowhere?” He opened the door. “I’m still a guy, boss. I revel in the marvels of outdoor plumbing.”

  BUILT IN AN open field, the residential facility sat on acreage that held shale reserves. The area had once been used for fracking until it was outlawed by the state in 2014. While the terrain wasn’t thickly forested, there was plenty of nature nearby. Decker wondered why the home would choose to bus its residents two hours away for a simple hike in the woods.

  The drive up to the entrance led to a guardhouse and a gate. After giving their names to a uniformed man with a black mustache, Decker and McAdams were allowed to continue inside the premises. The parklike space was a deep green lawn, the blades dripping from a recent watering. There were benches placed at strategic spots—near flower gardens or under big shady oaks—but no one was out. It could be the warm weather or it could be that the home wanted to keep a closer eye on its residents.

  The compound was anything but institutional. It was a series of low-profile, one-story structures with red-tiled roofs and pink stucco walls more at home in Miami or Los Angeles. The landscape between the buildings consisted of rose beds woven with flagstone pavers. To the left of the driveway was a parking lot. Decker found a space marked visitors and angled into the slot.

  The two men got out and walked over to double glass doors. They were buzzed into a reception area. The woman behind the desk looked to be in her fifties, with short, straight, salt-and-pepper hair and a pleasant smile. Her name tag said she was Linda Kravitz, and she asked how she could help. Decker showed identification. “We’re here to see Dr. Lewis.”

  She looked up from Decker’s billfold. “Horrible business. Where is poor Bertram?”

  “We’ve got an entire community out there looking for him, Ms. Kravitz.”

  “Nothing like this has ever happened before. It’s so distressing.”

  “Did you know Bertram?” Decker asked.

  “Oh sure. I know all the residents.”

  “How many are there?” McAdams asked.

  “Currently? Fifty-nine.”

  “What is Bertram like?” Decker asked.

  “A quiet, well-behaved man. He was new here. Well, not new. A little over a year. I only say new because some of our residents have been here for years.”

  “Was he a transfer from some other residential home?”

  Linda looked sheepish. “I really shouldn’t be talking about him without permission.”

  Decker was persistent. “I’m just wondering if it’s possible that he went back to where he lived before. Would you know his previous residence? It might save everyone time and heartache.”

  “But how would he get there?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am, but it’s a simple phone call.”

  “I’ll leave that up to Dr. Lewis. Anyway, you can ask him directly.” She turned to the phone on her desk and picked up the receiver. Talking softly, she hung up and said, “He’ll be with you in a few minutes.” She pointed to several plastic chairs bolted to the floor. “Please have a seat.”

  They sat.

  McAdams’s eyes followed a pathway to an open space that looked like a lounge. He caught a glimpse of a room filled with couches, chairs, tables set with games, a piano, and the ever-present flat-screen TV. The space seemed to extend beyond his field of vision, but from where he could see, there wasn’t a soul.

  “Where is everyone?” he whispered to Decker.

  “Good question.”

  A moment later a man came into the reception area, introducing himself with an outstretched hand. “Lionel Lewis.” A quick shake. “Please come this way.” He walked quickly, glancing behind his shoulder. “This has been just dreadful. How could this have happened?”

  “That seems to be the question on everyone’s mind,” Decker said.

  Lewis muttered something unintelligible. He was tall, high-waisted, and long-limbed. Dark, worried eyes peered out from a long face with prominent cheekbones. His complexion was a warm sepia and his dark hair was cut close to his scalp. He wore navy slacks and a white, button-down shirt rolled up at the sleeves and open at the neck.

  He led them past the lounge, through another hallway, and into a generous-size office filled with natural light from windows that looked out to the still-empty lawn. The furnishings were spare—a desk, a desk chair, and more plastic chairs for guests—but floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were packed with academic texts on health management and hospital administration. There were also books on educational psychology and special education. Any leftover wall space was taken up by diplomas, professional licenses, and c
ertificates of excellence. Lewis was a Harvard graduate. If Decker had to guess an age, Lewis looked to be in his mid-forties.

  “Please sit.” Lewis pointed to the plastic chairs. His face was very somber.

  After the men sat down, McAdams asked, “What house?”

  “Excuse me?” Lewis looked confused. McAdams cocked a thumb in the direction of the diploma. “Oh, Lowell.”

  “I was in the Quad. Cabot.”

  “When did you graduate?”

  “Six years ago.”

  “Ah.” Lewis looked at his diplomas. “As you can see, I was there for a while after graduation.”

  “He just graduated Harvard Law,” Decker said.

  “Really.” Lewis nodded. “Nice place to be. I wish I was there now … anywhere but here.” His eyes met Decker’s. “And you’ve had no luck whatsoever?”

  “I haven’t heard anything.” Decker paused. “We were wondering. The lawn outside is empty. The lounge is empty. Where is everyone?”

  “We’ve been holding group therapy sessions all day—ten residents at a time. Our people are shaken up. They’re concerned about Bertram, but they were also ill at ease about being interviewed by the police yesterday.”

  “We didn’t actually interview the residents,” Decker said. “We mostly talked to the chaperones. A few residents asked questions, and we tried to answer them honestly. Things were very chaotic. We were attempting to get a simple timeline for Bertram. Looking for him was and is our top priority.”

  “Well, maybe it was just the police presence that made them nervous.”

  “Perhaps. At some point I would like to interview the residents. Sometimes they know things. Which brings me to another point. The residents are of legal age. Does Loving Care operate as their legal guardians?”

  “Well, that is a bit of an issue,” Lewis said. “Loving Care is not legally responsible for any of our residents. This is more or less a co-op for like-minded people.”

  “Does that include Bertram Lanz?”

  “Absolutely. Bertram was emancipated. I suppose you could call us de facto guardians, but the walls aren’t prison cells. Our people can come and go as they please as long as they check out so we can keep tabs on them—for their safety.” The doctor was quiet. “Very rarely does anyone leave permanently. Most of the residents are very happy here. This is their home.”

  “And Bertram was happy?” McAdams asked.

  “Bertram came here around a little over a year ago. From what I could tell and from the feedback, there was some adjustment. I found him polite but quiet. We tried very hard to draw him out. There might have been a language barrier. Bertram was a native German speaker, but he did speak English quite well. At that time we had a woman here—a nurse—who was fluent in German. She, more than anyone else, seemed to have developed a rapport with Bertram.”

  “Then we should talk to her,” Decker said.

  Lewis made a sour expression. “She left about two weeks ago.” A big exhale. “She got along well with the residents but was a bit of a queen bee. I wouldn’t say she sabotaged other employees, but she certainly wasn’t a favorite at staff parties.”

  “Okay. Can I have her name and phone number?”

  Lewis looked uncomfortable. “I’m not in a habit of giving out information about employees—past or present.”

  “We have a missing person,” McAdams said.

  “And what could Elsie possibly have to do with that?”

  Decker said, “In all honesty, Dr. Lewis, we’re not sure he’s missing or if he may have left with someone.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because the tracking dogs never got a good scent. That sometimes mean that the missing person left in a vehicle. How old is Elsie?”

  “Early forties.”

  “And she was a nurse?”

  Lewis nodded. “Yes. And a good one.”

  “How long had she worked at Loving Care?”

  “I have to think about that.”

  “Just give me a guesstimate,” Decker said.

  “Maybe three plus years.”

  “And after three years plus working here, she just decided to leave two weeks ago?”

  “As I told you, she didn’t get along with the staff.”

  “But still, she stuck it out for a while,” McAdams said.

  “We pay very well.”

  Decker said, “Maybe someone else was paying her more.”

  “Like who?”

  “From what I understand, Bertram Lanz comes from a very wealthy family.”

  Lewis stared at him. “You’re suggesting that Elsie ran away with Bertram.”

  “I’m considering everything,” Decker said. “There’s an easy way to answer this. Could you give Elsie a call? What’s her last name, by the way?”

  A long hesitation. Then Lewis said, “Schulung.”

  Decker wrote it down. “Can you give her a call?”

  “She’s probably not home.”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  Lewis paused, then picked up the phone and depressed a button. “Linda, can you please get me Elsie Schulung’s phone number.” A beat. “Cell and landline, thanks.” He hung up. “Linda is my right arm. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  Decker said, “Anything else I should know about Elsie Schulung.”

  Lewis said, “She was competent at her job. I never had problems with her. But I was her boss. I know she had her own way of doing things, but I can’t see her kidnapping Bertram. That would be pure idiocy.”

  “Who said anything about kidnapping?” McAdams said.

  “Well, why would he leave here with her? There is no way she could provide the services we have.”

  “Maybe they ran away together,” McAdams suggested. “A man has needs.”

  Lewis wrinkled his nose. “He’s a fine person, but he’s cognitively disabled.”

  “So what? He’s still a man.”

  “And a man with very wealthy parents,” Decker said. “You told us he came here about a year ago?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Where did he transfer from?”

  “A residential facility in Connecticut.”

  “Okay,” Decker said. “And do you know why he came here to Loving Care?”

  “Loving Care is light-years ahead of any of the competition. We have more activities for our residents—more classes for those who want to further their education. We have job training, more interaction with the outside world, and more freedom than any other place around.”

  “Is dating allowed?” McAdams asked.

  “We discourage one-on-one activities, simply because it leads to drama.”

  “By ‘one-on-one activities,’ do you mean sex?”

  “We discourage sex, but we also discourage romance period. Someone always gets hurt. But despite our best efforts, people pair off. And if we know there are couples who are engaged in sexual activity, we do have sex education. But as far as I know, Bertram was not involved with anyone.”

  “What was the name of Bertram’s prior residential home?” Decker asked.

  “I’d have to look that up.”

  Linda came in and handed a slip of paper to Lewis. “These were the numbers on Elsie’s application, Doctor. I don’t know if they’re current.”

  “Thank you, Linda.” When she didn’t immediately leave, he said, “There’s nothing else, thank you.” Lewis picked up the phone and dialed the top number. It rang twice and then he was given a message that the number had been disconnected. He hung up. “That one’s no longer working. From the prefix, it was probably a landline that had been canceled.” He tried the second set of digits. It rang and rang until voice mail kicked in. Lewis left a brief message and hung up. “No answer.”

  McAdams said, “Try texting her.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Lewis sent the message off with a swoosh. “I don’t know if she’ll answer or not. She was angry when she left.”

  “Did
she leave or was she fired?”

  “She was reprimanded after several years of people complaining that she didn’t follow the channels of communication. I had a talk with her. I thought things had smoothed out, but she decided to leave. That’s certainly her prerogative.”

  “And two weeks later Bertram Lanz is missing,” McAdams said. “It’s also a little coincidental.”

  “Not really. I don’t see what one has to do with another despite the fact that the two of them got along.” A pause. “Bertram could have left anytime. He didn’t have to fake a disappearance.”

  “But you said yourself he had to sign out,” Decker said. “I’m sure you would have made sure that his destination was a safe place.”

  “Of course. I’m just saying he wasn’t a captive.”

  “But in a way, he was.” When Lewis was silent, Decker said, “Bertram is mentally challenged and possibly easily swayed. Checking up on him is just common sense on your part. And if you would have found out he was going to a rendezvous with Elsie Schulung, you might have stopped it.”

  “I would have stopped it,” Lewis said. “To tell you the truth, I was surprised that she quit. There aren’t a lot of professional jobs in a town this size.”

  Decker said, “We’ll need Elsie’s address.”

  “I’ll see what we have on file,” Lewis said.

  Decker said, “I hate to do this, but at some point, we are going to need to talk to the residents one by one.”

  “Can it wait? A lot of our residents are traumatized.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration,” Decker said. “But Bertram is missing. I wouldn’t do it unless I thought it was urgent.”

  “You’re right,” Lewis said. “I’ll arrange it.”

  “Thank you. And we’d also like to take a look at Bertram’s room.”

  “Maybe you can do that first while I ask the staff to prepare the residents.”

  “That would work.”

  “I’ll take you to his room.” Lewis opened his desk drawer and pulled out a ring of keys.

  Decker said, “Have you notified Bertram’s parents? Even if he was emancipated, it’s the moral thing to do.”