The Lost Boys

by Faye Kellerman

  “Of course,” Lewis said. “I was hoping it wouldn’t be necessary.”

  “Maybe this will resolve today. But the longer you wait, the harder it will be to make the call. And the call is better coming from you than the police.”

  Lewis said, “Have you checked in recently to see if there have been any developments?”

  McAdams stood up and said, “I’ll call Captain Radar. It’s a dead zone here. I’ll have to go outside.”

  “Thanks.” Decker got to his feet. “When Detective McAdams is done, we’ll take a look at Lanz’s room.”

  “Of course.” Lewis got up to lead the way. He looked at his watch. “It’s late in the evening across the pond. If nothing new happens, I’ll call the Lanzes first thing in the morning.” He looked at Decker. “Nothing like this has ever happened before. In the main, we really are one big happy family.”

  “I’m sure that’s true … in the main,” Decker said. “But as the saying goes, Dr. Lewis: you’re only as happy as your least happy kid.”

  CHAPTER 4

  HANDS ON HIPS, McAdams looked around Bertram Lanz’s personal sanctuary. Not large, not tiny—around 180 square feet of tidy space with an attached bathroom. “The guy is neat.”

  “We have housekeeping service,” Lewis said.

  Decker said, “What do they do?”

  “Make the bed, sweep the floor, clean the sink, toilet, and tub in the bathroom, empty all the garbage, pick up the dirty laundry, and drop off the clean laundry.”

  “How often?”

  “Every day.”

  “Then his garbage has been emptied recently.”

  “The room was done yesterday—the day of the field trip.”

  “Okay.” Decker was quiet. “If you’re busy, we can take this from here.”

  “You are going through one of our residents’ rooms. Someone should be here supervising—for your protection as well as Bertram’s.”

  “Stick around,” Decker said. “But I don’t know how long this will take.”

  He turned to McAdams. “You take the bathroom, and I’ll go through his living area.”

  Lewis’s phone rang. He listened and then sighed. “I have something that needs my immediate attention.”

  “Do you want us to stop and wait for you to come back?”

  A long pause. Then Lewis said, “Just leave the door open.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Decker said. “I appreciate the cooperation.”

  “We’ve all got the same goals: a safe outcome for Bertram.” Lewis jogged off.

  When he left, Decker said, “Ready?”

  McAdams hesitated. “We must spend half of our energy looking through people’s crap. And most of the time it gets you nowhere.”

  “Sometimes it pays off.” Decker thought of their most recent case a year ago. “Like with the photos in Jaylene Boch’s wheelchair.”

  “Margot Flint is still at large.”

  Flint was responsible for the old woman’s death, although she was miles away when it happened. She was the prototype of the femme fatale and had masterminded several other homicides. She’d been a fugitive for years. “The noose is tightening. Authorities know that she’s in Mexico. She’s being watched while the paperwork is being filed. An arrest should come soon.”

  “If you say so,” McAdams said. “Speaking of old times, have you heard recently from Lennie Baccus?”

  Decker waited a few moments before he spoke about the young rookie cop, thinking about how naive she was when she had first been assigned under his watch. She had done a tough hostage negotiation, putting herself in the line of fire. Decker thought for sure that she would fold afterward, but she didn’t. She had proven herself, but at what cost? “She moved to Redlands, California. She’s a detective with the police department there.”

  “How’d you find that out?”

  “She asked me for a reference letter.”

  “Ah.”

  “It was a wise choice. The town is intermediate size, it has a small but good university, and there’s enough crime to keep her busy.”

  “Do you talk to her often?”

  “We exchange emails. She’ll call me if she has a question, and we’ll talk shop. I suppose that means she still trusts me. Anyway, let’s get going on the search.”

  Just then a woman stopped in front of the open door. She appeared to be in her thirties, small in stature, which was often typical of Down syndrome. She had blue eyes, shoulder-length brown hair, and a pale complexion except for the blush on her cheeks. Her lipstick was pink and shiny. She had pearl studs in her ears. She said something, but Decker couldn’t understand her speech. McAdams, on the other hand, seemed fine with it. He said, “How do you know we won’t find anything?” When she answered, he replied, “Bertram had an iPad with him on the bus?”

  The woman nodded.

  “What about a cell phone?” Decker asked.

  She nodded again.

  “Do you have his cell phone number?”

  “Yes.” She recited the digits and McAdams wrote them down. He said, “Are you allowed to have cell phones here?”

  She smiled and said something.

  McAdams repeated, “It’s not a jail.” She talked for a few seconds. “You’ve called his cell phone and he doesn’t answer. You must be worried.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you and Bertram are friends?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Girlfriend?”

  She answered McAdams, but Decker had difficulty understanding her slurred words. McAdams said, “What was his girlfriend’s name? Did he tell you?”

  “Kathrine.” She added a sentence.

  McAdams said, “He hasn’t seen her since he left his old place, and he’s sad about that. What’s your name, by the way?”

  “April.”

  “Pretty name,” Decker said. “What’s your last name?”

  She said something and McAdams said, “K-E-L-L-Y?”

  She nodded.

  “Hello, April Kelly. And, may I ask, how old are you?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  “Where is your room?” She pointed and answered. McAdams said, “Down the hall. Is there a room number?”

  “Thirty-eight.”

  Decker said, “April, could Bertram read?”

  She nodded.

  “Write?”

  She answered, and McAdams said, “He typed words on his iPad.”

  “Yes.” April looked down. “I gotta go.”

  “Of course,” Decker said. “Thank you for your help. And you’re sure he took his cell phone and iPad with him on the field trip?”

  When she answered, McAdams said, “He showed you the iPad while you were waiting to get on the bus to leave here?”

  “And the phone,” she added.

  “Do you know if Bertram has an email address?” Decker asked.

  “Yes.” When she recited it, McAdams wrote it down. She said a few more words. “But he’s not answering your emails?”

  “No.” She frowned and looked down. “I gotta go. Therapy.” She rolled her eyes.

  “You don’t like therapy?”

  “No. And I don’t like the therapist.”

  McAdams said, “What’s wrong with the therapist?”

  “She’s stupid.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Mary. She’s stupid.”

  “Is she Bertram’s therapist as well?” Decker asked.

  She spoke and McAdams said, “There are three therapists. Do you like any of them, April?”

  “James.” April smiled. “He’s cute.” A frown. “I gotta go.”

  Decker said, “Thank you, April. You’ve been a big help.”

  She looked down. “Find Bertram. It’s scary that he’s lost.”

  McAdams said, “We’re doing everything we can to find him. Please don’t worry.” She nodded, waved, and took off. “Poor girl. They all must be traumatized.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.” He dial
ed Bertram’s cell phone. There was a garbled message. Decker spoke slowly and clearly as he left a message with his phone number. “Straight to voice mail. I’ll see what I can do about getting his phone records and his IP correspondence.”

  McAdams was writing on his iPad. “Eventually, I’ll need a password. I should have asked April about it. Maybe he told her.”

  “Try Kathrine.”

  “Good idea.”

  Waiting a moment, Decker said, “Have you worked with people with Down syndrome before, Harvard?”

  “Nope.”

  “You understood her speech very well.”

  “There’s a rhythm to it if you’ve heard it enough.”

  A pause. “Okay. I won’t pry.”

  “I’m the only child of my two parents.” McAdams gave a sad smile. “But I do have half sibs. My father has a daughter and a son from his second marriage. My sister, Danielle, just got into Harvard. My brother’s name is Charles. Chucky, but he likes to be called Chuck now that he’s a teenager.”

  Decker smiled. “Burgeoning adulthood.”

  “That is true.” McAdams looked around the room, but his eyes were focused far away. “One thing I’ll say about my stepmom. She insisted on keeping the baby when my dad wanted to give him up. Chucky has had the same nanny for fifteen years. She’s the primary caretaker, and she’s a good one.”

  “How often do you see them?”

  “My sibs?” McAdams shrugged. “When I go to New York I’ll drop in on them—my mother’s kids as well. When I was in boarding school I saw Chucky in the summers.” A smile at the memory. “He’s a great kid. My stepmom ignores him, but she ignores my sister too. My father … well, you know my dad. He’s either absent or overinvolved. At least that’s how he is with me.”

  “I now understand why he’s so invested in you.”

  “Yes, but he should take some of that investment and give it to the son who really needs him.” McAdams shook his head. “But that’s not going to happen.” A pause. “Kathrine as a password doesn’t work. I’ll go check out the bathroom. Wonder where Dr. Lewis went.”

  “With any luck he forgot about us and we can take our time without someone looking over our shoulder.”

  McAdams said, “What do you think about him?”

  “Haven’t spent enough time with him to form an opinion. I’m sure he’s worried about Bertram, but I’m sure he’s also worried about a lawsuit if we don’t find Bertram alive and well.”

  “If we find Bertram and he’s fine, the parents won’t sue. I think they’re happy he’s in a good place. There aren’t a lot of them around.”

  Decker nodded. “What do you think about Bertram having a girlfriend from his old place?”

  “You think they decided to meet up?”

  “We can’t rule it out. Like April said, the place isn’t a prison. He could go anywhere especially if you’re right about his owning a passport.”

  McAdams said, “But like you said, it might be hard for Bertram to travel without help.”

  Decker said, “In the photos we’ve seen, it doesn’t look like Bertram has Down syndrome. But the pictures aren’t very good.”

  McAdams said, “There are a lot of other things that can qualify for being disabled. Sometimes it’s a syndrome, sometimes it’s a birth defect, sometimes it’s someone on the spectrum, sometimes it’s just one of those things where the wiring just doesn’t work properly. Chucky’s school is filled with different kids with different issues. Talk about diversity.”

  “I’m sorry if this is painful for you to talk about,” Decker said.

  “It’s not, really. I don’t feel sorry for my brother. I feel sorry for people who feel sorry for my brother. Chucky is loving, kind, and funny. And he’s deep. Over the years, we’ve had some very interesting conversations. Chucky has a rich life. He appreciates everything. Unlike my dad, who has everything but appreciates nothing.”

  TALKING TO APRIL was productive; searching Bertram’s room, not so much. It took less than thirty minutes to go through everything. A look at the bedding and under the mattress revealed nothing. Decker checked the closet neatly hung with button-down shirts, T-shirts, polo shirts, and jeans. Bertram’s dresser held pajamas, underwear, and shorts, and an empty patch in the back of the bottom drawer where, at one time, he might have stowed something personal.

  Sometimes a room was just a room. Decker called out, “How are you doing?”

  McAdams emerged from the bathroom. “Everything seems intact.”

  “Lots of clothing,” Decker said. “If he left voluntarily, I don’t think he was planning on going far. Or he left in a very big hurry.”

  “I’ll agree with that. He didn’t even take his toothbrush.”

  “That says something,” Decker said. “Does he have a hairbrush?”

  “A comb.”

  “Take that as well.”

  “DNA?”

  “We have to plan for any outcome.”

  “Are we waiting for Lewis?” McAdams said. “He seems to be taking his time.”

  Decker said, “He’s probably downstairs. He’s got his hands full.”

  “Next step?”

  “For Bertram? Follow the electronic trail—phone calls, texts, emails, social media,” Decker said. “Let’s find the doctor. We still need to talk to people.”

  LEWIS WAS IN his office and on the phone. He looked up, brown eyes bright and alert. He motioned Decker and McAdams to chairs across from his desk, his long graceful fingers massaging a forehead creased like a brown paper bag. He was doing more listening than talking. At the end of the conversation, he made an appointment over the phone for the next morning at ten. He placed the phone back in the cradle.

  “The lawyers.” Lewis shook his head. “They want to be in the conference call when I phone the parents—even though the Lanzes have indemnified us and hold us harmless against any liability where Bertram is concerned. I’ve sent them the paperwork, but you know how lawyers are. Anything to make a few extra bucks.” He regarded McAdams. “I’m sure there are a few idealists in your profession. I’m just talking my experience.”

  McAdams smiled. “I think your representation is doing the job properly.”

  “Perhaps.” A sigh. “Did you find anything in Bertram’s room?”

  Decker said, “Nothing that gives a hint to his whereabouts. We did take a toothbrush and comb.”

  “Toothbrush?” Lewis noted. “It must mean he was planning on coming back.”

  “Maybe,” Decker said. “We also found out that Bertram Lanz has a phone, an iPad, and an email address.”

  “Who told you all of this?”

  “A resident named April,” McAdams said.

  “April spoke to you?”

  McAdams gave him a look.

  Didn’t I just say that?

  Lewis said, “What did she tell you?”

  Decker said, “That Bertram has a phone, an iPad, and an email. Did you know?”

  “Of course. We’ve been trying to contact him since he disappeared. And since he hasn’t answered, I’ve assumed that he’s lost in the woods where there is no electronic communication available. Because if he could contact us, I’m sure he would.”

  “It would have been helpful if you had told us that in the beginning.” Decker didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. “We would have put in an order for a phone and text log hours ago. As well as an ISP search for his email activity.”

  “Would you like me to call that in, boss?”

  “Please.” Then, to Lewis: “April gave us a phone number for Bertram. Would you please verify it? And his username and password if you happen to have it.”

  Lewis clicked his keyboard. He said, “I can give you the phone number. It’ll take a little more time for me to dig up his computer information, but I suspect we have it in some file.”

  “We can wait.”

  After a minute passed, Lewis took out a Post-it and wrote a number on the yellow square.

  McAdams took
the digits. “Same number April gave us. I’ll be right back.”

  “Check to see how the search is going as long as you’re making the phone call.” When Tyler left the room, Decker took out a notebook and said, “And you’re positive that he didn’t disappear because he wanted to disappear?”

  “I’m not positive of anything, but I shouldn’t think so,” Lewis answered. “Where would he go?”

  “Lots of places,” Decker said. “April said he can read. April said he writes on his iPad. The internet has probably given developmentally disabled people freedom previously unavailable to them.”

  “Just because it’s out there doesn’t mean they know how to access it.”

  “I bet we’d both be surprised. What is Bertram’s disability?”

  “He has cerebral palsy.”

  “Cerebral palsy is a garbage-can term,” McAdams said as he came back into Lewis’s office. “It means something happened during birth and no one knows the specifics. Do you have any more details?”

  “He’s mildly affected physically, but cognitively, he’s more impaired,” Lewis told him. “It might be better if you talked to the professionals who worked with him. They could give you better information than I could.”

  “The residents went on a hike,” McAdams said. “He must have been fit enough to walk in the mountains.”

  “It was a gentle walk. We’ve done it before.” Lewis paused. “If you’re asking me whether Bertram Lanz could hike, the answer is yes. He had a limp, but he was mobile. Talk to his therapists.”

  “You must have done batteries of tests when he got here. What can you tell us about that?”

  “Psych major, were you?” When McAdams didn’t answer, Lewis said, “His testing shows him to be equivalent to a fourth grader mentally.”

  “A lot of savvy fourth graders out there,” Decker said.

  “Just because he tested at fourth grade doesn’t mean he’s like an average nine-year-old. He’s more sophisticated in some areas, less in others.” To McAdams: “I take it he hasn’t been found?”

  “You are correct.”

  The administrator sighed.

  “The point is, Dr. Lewis,” Decker said, “if he could chat on the internet, he has the possibility of getting himself into trouble. We need to talk to the other residents, and the most advantageous way to do it is in a group. Once one talks, it’ll spur the others to talk. It’s a good way to weed out who knows what.”