There were also multiple photographs of each of them.
According to the health records from the school and the drivers’ licenses, Ezekiel Anderson was caucasian, five eleven, and 175 pounds. His face appeared wide, but that could have been because of the beard. Brown eyes, bushy eyebrows, and a mop of unruly brown hair. Although no one could tell the police what he was wearing when he left for camping, his usual dress was a plaid shirt under a sweater with jeans. Often he wore high-top sneakers. He was an English major with a political science minor and had made remarks to quite a few people about joining the Peace Corps when he graduated. He was an excellent student and a committed member of several socially active campus associations. He was fond of physical activity. More than a few interviewees had stated that he worked out almost every day. He was described as an intense man who wanted to make the world a better place.
Maxwell Velasquez was five six and 180 pounds. He had an olive complexion with a round face and dark eyes that peered out behind dark-rimmed glasses. He was doing a double major in math and bio. and he had hoped to go to medical school, carrying on his father’s family tradition. He was an excellent student, but not much for extracurricular activities. People described him as very smart but shy, especially in a crowd. He didn’t appear to have a lot of friends or even many acquaintances. While no one had a bad word to say about him, most didn’t have a good word either. He had come across as a nonentity. His usual dress—as far as anyone could remember—was a collared shirt under a sweater, jeans, and sneakers or Vans. The few people who did seem to know him—even a little bit—had been surprised that he had gone camping, especially in mid-October. His activities were sedentary—reading or playing video games. But college was all about experimentation, and the camping might have been his stretch from his comfort zone.
Bennett McCrae was six one, 160 pounds. From the photos, he appeared to be a light-skinned Black man with a lean face, dark eyes and a narrow nose flared at the nostrils. In this picture he wore a wide, white smile. His major was still undeclared, but McCrae favored classes in African studies as well as political science. He and Anderson had been members of some of the same associations, and people often saw them in the gym together. People described McCrae as outgoing, charismatic, and very opinionated. He was the first one to join in discussions and often played devil’s advocate for the fun of it. He, like Velasquez, also came from a medical family, but his class choices suggested that he was charting a different course from his father. Some of those interviewed recalled Bennett as meticulous in his appearance and dress. His closet, when the prior detective had checked it out, contained everything from workout garb to a tux and, unlike Zeke, he didn’t favor any particular type of clothing.
The boys were last seen on October 15. The temperature was mild—sixties during the day, forties at night—but it was often colder in the woods and colder still at the higher elevations. The boys had to have packed warm clothing, which made Decker think about what might have happened to Zeke Anderson’s jacket. No one had mentioned any outerwear with the remains. Anderson’s car—a two-year-old black BMW 3 series—was missing from its parking spot near his dorm. It was found later at the trailhead. An exhaustive forensic search of the vehicle yielded nothing: no leads as to where the young men might be.
There were a few students who had suggested that the camping trip was a ruse and the car had been left to throw the police off the track. That didn’t make a lot of sense to Decker. No one wastes a good Beemer. But neither did it make sense that three strapping young males would suddenly vanish utterly and completely. And if the boys hadn’t gone camping, why were Zeke Anderson’s remains—well, possible remains—found in the woods and his car near the trailhead?
The files gave addresses for each of the students’ parents. As Decker wrote them down, he noticed that all three of them were from New York. Zeke lived in Brooklyn, and McCrae and Velasquez were from Queens. Not exactly a big coincidence in a city whose population was over eight million, but a closer look revealed that McCrae and Velasquez had gone to the same high school. Were they friends before college? Did their fathers—both of them in health care—know each other professionally?
Decker loaded up the boxes, carted them upstairs, and dropped them on his desk. The noise made McAdams look up from his computer. “Need help?”
“You can go home, Tyler. I’m about ready to quit anyway.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. It’s been a long day. See you tomorrow.”
“Lila tov, Rabbi. Get some shut-eye yourself.” He picked up his jacket and left.
Shut-eye sounded like a bully idea. But he wanted to organize the material as well as his thoughts before he went home. Ten minutes later, he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up. Rina placed a cooler at his feet. She wore a white shirtdress with tan espadrilles on her feet. Her rich, dark hair, drawn into a ponytail, was covered on top by a pink bandana. “Sorry to distract you.” She handed him the paper cup of coffee from a cardboard tray she was holding.
“You’re never a distraction.” Decker took the coffee and sipped deeply. “That’s way too good to be station-house coffee.”
“It’s from across the street.” She set another paper cup on his desk. “For Tyler. Where is he?”
“Sent him home.” He looped his foot around the leg of a chair and dragged it over. “Have a seat.”
“How’s it going?”
“Lousy.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I’m utterly frustrated. It would have been nice to follow up on Bertram Lanz before opening up a ten-year-old cold case. And if the remains don’t belong to one of the campers, then we’re really in the dark.”
“Have you stopped looking for Bertram?”
“Not at all. But it’s been over twenty-four hours and we’ve gone over the area meticulously. We haven’t found so much as an errant hair follicle. My opinion? He had arranged to be picked up by someone when the Loving Care bus stopped at the diner.”
“Do you have a suspect?”
“A person of interest, as we now call it. Bertram was very close to a nurse named Elsie Schulung, who worked at the home. She spoke German. Bertram was German. She quit two weeks ago. She doesn’t appear to be home—hasn’t been for around four days. She’s not answering her cell. The house doesn’t look tampered with. It’s not a crime to go away on vacation. Since Bertram’s a legal adult, it’s also not a crime for him to go with her.”
“He’s a legal adult?”
“Yes. All the residents of Loving Care are emancipated. That way, if they do something illegal or disappear or whatever, the home isn’t held liable for their actions. But that doesn’t mean Bertram isn’t susceptible to nefarious influences even if he is responsible for his own welfare. If he and the nurse ran away together, fine and dandy. I just want to make sure he’s safe and he’s with her of his own free will.”
“Have his parents been contacted yet?”
“I believe the director, Lionel Lewis, is calling them as soon as the time zones mesh because the parents live overseas. Thanks for reminding me. I’ll follow up.”
“Police don’t contact the parents?”
“There’s no evidence of a crime. The news is better if it comes from Loving Care since they’re the ones who’ve lost track of him. Anyway, what did you bring me?” He lifted the lid of the cooler. “Smells good.”
“Grilled chicken breast,” Rina said. “It’s warm enough to use the barbecue. I made enough chicken and side salads to pass around the station.”
“You spread goodwill wherever you go. Are you joining me?”
“I already ate.” A pause. “I looked up the cases on the internet: the missing boys.”
Decker unwrapped the foil, picked up the whole breast with his fork, and took a bite. “Wow, good eating.”
“Peter, there are plates and utensils in the cooler.”
“I like playing caveman.” He took another bite. “Find anything in
teresting about them?”
“It’s all interesting, but the information’s probably in your case files. Peter, can you please use a plate?”
He took out a paper plate and put it on his head. Then he speared another chicken breast the same way as the first.
Rina laughed. “Okay, you win.”
Decker took the plate off his head and smiled. “What’s the spin in the newspaper?”
“The boys seemed to have disappeared into thin air. No sign or trace of them except Zeke’s BMW. It was warm when they left for the woods, but a few days later the weather turned. It rained and then snowed.”
“Which means if there had been evidence, it might have been washed away by weather by the time the search was underway.”
“Exactly. Nothing of any importance was found in the car.”
“Right.”
“I told you it’s probably in your files.” Rina took a sip of her coffee. “There was a one-year follow-up human-interest story. It implied that the police were still baffled. Even with modern databases—like AFIS and CODIS—nothing has ever been connected to the missing boys. The police never got anywhere past the basics.”
“What basics do you have?”
“They interviewed people associated with colleges. The students were obviously very bright, because Duxbury is the most competitive college of the consortium.” Rina looked at a notepad. “In the follow-up article, they interviewed a few people who had known them, specifically a boy named Jack Carlson. He was the fourth suitemate. I don’t know this for sure, but it sounds like there were two guys in two rooms.”
Decker rifled through the common file for the three young men. “Here he is. Jackson Carlson.” He read out loud. “Okay, they all came from different freshman housing. Zeke, Bennett, and Jackson—he was called Jack—chose to room together in their sophomore year.” He kept reading. “Okay, here’s the deal. The three of them were short a guy needed to complete the foursome required for their second-year housing.” He looked up. “I’m not sure how Max figured into the mix.”
“Interesting,” Rina said. “Odd man out, but it must have turned out okay since he went on the camping trip with two of them.”
“I think Bennett McCrae and Max Velasquez knew each other before college. They went to the same high school. Both of their fathers are in health care—one is a doctor, the other is a hospital administrator.”
“Family friends? They took him in as a favor?”
“Don’t know, but it’s plausible.”
Rina said, “In the papers, Jack Carlson made a point of saying that they all got along.”
“Then why didn’t Jack go on the camping trip with them?”
“It was Parents’ Weekend. His folks were the only set that came in.”
“Then he was at the college the entire time.”
“I suppose.”
“I’ll check that out.” Decker rifled through Zeke Anderson’s case files. “Here it is again … ten pages long.” He looked in the boxes of the other two missing boys.
“The same interview with Jack Carlson is in all three files. I’ll need to read this carefully.” He continued shuffling through the papers. “I can’t see any follow-up interviews.” He looked up at Rina. “Do you know what happened to Carlson?”
“Actually, I looked him up. He works in Brooklyn. His social media feeds say he’s married and he and his wife just had a baby boy.”
“Anything else on him?”
“No,” Rina said. “Should there be?”
“I don’t know. I’ll interview him once we have a positive ID on the remains.”
“How long will that take?”
“A day or two.”
McAdams strolled over to his desk and sat down with a plop.
“I thought you went home,” Decker said.
“I forgot my wallet.” He took it out of his desk. Then he sniffed. “Why didn’t you tell me that Rina was bringing dinner? Or did you want to hog it all yourself?”
“Chicken breasts,” Rina said. “There’s plenty to go around. I also made coleslaw.”
“Thanks, Rina. I’ll take it home. I really am tired.” McAdams glanced at his watch. “I take it there’s no news from Kev?”
“He’s still in the field. The crew searched for forensics in the general area, but they can’t do much until all the remains are packed up. The area is cordoned off. He’ll try again tomorrow at dawn’s early light. He’s assuming we’ll be there.”
“Sure, I can come,” McAdams said. “Oh, by the way, boss. While you were in Archives, I spoke to the coroner.”
“And?”
“He said you can come by the morgue tomorrow afternoon. He should have things sorted out by then.”
“The crypt is in Hamilton?”
“Your favorite place.”
“We all get along now,” Decker said. “Who’s the coroner?”
“Oscar Kahn. Do you know him?”
“Nope,” Decker said. “Does he have any idea how long the bones have been there?”
“There is some flesh, but not much of it. Ten years maybe—within the time frame of the boys’ disappearances.”
“The boys all had parents who lived in New York. Plus, there was a fourth roommate—Jack Carlson. He didn’t go camping because his parents came for the weekend. He still lives in New York. Rina is going to Manhattan on Sunday for Gabe. If I can set up some interviews, I’ll think I’ll go down as well.”
“Actually,” McAdams said, “I was planning to go into the city on Saturday. Call me when you get there, and we can interview everyone together.”
Rina said, “What’s the occasion?”
“I want to pay my siblings a visit.”
“That’s very nice of you, Tyler. I’m sure your siblings would love to see you.”
McAdams smiled sadly. “Maybe.” He picked up the coffee cup on his desk. “For me?”
“Yep,” Rina said.
“Thank you.” McAdams helped himself to food from the cooler and put it in a paper bag. “This looks great, Rina.”
“Take whatever you want.”
“I’m fine.” McAdams smiled. “See you tomorrow, Rabbi.”
“See you tomorrow.” After he left, Decker said, “Did you know that Tyler has a brother with Down syndrome?”
“I did know. Chucky. I suppose this case is getting to him personally.”
Decker wrinkled his brow. “When did he tell you?”
“About two years ago.”
Silence. “He told you and not me?”
“It wasn’t like that. I was going down to visit the family, and Tyler asked me to bring Chucky some Boston Celtics paraphernalia from the NBA store. Chucky is a big Celtics fan.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Not really. It’s better than rooting for the Knicks.”
“No, not that. I meant unbelievable that he told you and not me.” A pause. “Did he ask you not to tell me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rina sighed. “I asked him why. He couldn’t answer. Want to know my opinion?”
“Lay it on me.”
“Tyler didn’t want you feeling sorry for him.”
“Why would I feel sorry for him?”
“Because maybe that’s how people have reacted when they found out about Chucky. It doesn’t take much to light Tyler’s fuse. He’s an angry young man.”
“Okay.” Decker kissed her forehead. “We never had this conversation.”
She returned his affection with a kiss on the lips. “Mum’s the word.”
CHAPTER 7
SINCE DECKER NEVER slept with blackout shades, he often awoke with the sun, and at this time of the year dawn was early. No matter how quiet he was, Rina stirred as soon as he swung his legs over the mattress and planted his feet on the floor. By six-fifteen, coffee was brewing and bread was toasting and there was background music courtesy of one of the many streaming services. They had yet to install any communication assista
nt and probably never would. Having worked law enforcement, Decker knew all about spy bots, even those that were coded under cute names.
Mozart’s delicate notes were coming from the iPad as Decker sat at the kitchen table and buttered his toast. Rina sat down opposite him and placed a cup of coffee in front of his plate. He said, “Thanks. What’s going on with you?”
“Today’s my teaching day.”
“Ah, right. It is Thursday. How many classes are you doing this summer?”
“Two—Hebrew Language and Chumash. Actually, it’s Tanakh. I’m starting Melachim Alef.”
“Kings 1,” Decker said. “That’s a good one. Full of juicy stories. How many students?”
“Hebrew is twelve, Kings is twenty-five. The classes are open to the public, and there’s lots of interest in the Bible studies from all sorts of people. What are you up to?”
“First, I’m going to the crime scene. Also, I should pay a visit to the coroner’s office.”
“But?”
“It’s an old murder, so time isn’t urgent. I’m really concerned about Bertram Lanz. It’s going on two days. I don’t think he’s in the woods, Rina. We’ve scoured the area. I think someone picked him up. I think it was prearranged. I just hope …”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“An abduction?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“Ransom note?”
“Not that I know of. But parents could have gotten something and haven’t involved the police.”
“Or the director of the facility?”
“That too. Dr. Lewis was going to call the parents. I’d like to talk to them myself.”
“What’s stopping you?” Rina asked.
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