Chapter 12

The following day: second Sunday in October. Nearly two weeks since my last contact with Josh. Six days since we’d started searching. Five days since I'd stood face-to-face with Matthew Driscoll, Josh's dad, in his hall closet in the middle of the night, a fact he was thankfully unaware of. Now, I was going to meet him for what he thought was the first time.

I hopped off the hourly bus and walked the few blocks to the construction site along the waterfront. Well, “waterfront” wasn't exactly an apt descriptor, as, like everything else in the city, it was a smaller version of what a real city would have. In this case, it was a glorified pond that the city had been built around. Everyone called it a lake. It was ridiculous. If you could run around it in less than an hour, it wasn't a lake.

The development was a new office building that had received a lot of attention in the local press (I guess because there wasn't much else for them to report on). It was certified in a whole bunch of environmentally friendly ways and was attracting new businesses to the city, so evidentially it was cause for excitement. This was good for me—I had been able to learn a ton about it, which would assist me in my bluff.

Despite it being a Sunday, the area was busy with activity—trucks coming in and out of the site, a backhoe digging up a hole in the dirt, and a crane moving steel girders to where a cement foundation had already been established. I ensured that my baseball cap and sunglasses were hiding my face, and I held my clipboard up as I approached the chain link fence surrounding the site.

I waited about a minute or two before one of the workers walked right by me. “Hey man,” I said. “How's it going?”

He stopped and looked over at me. He was a young guy, probably just a few years older than me, with a dirty, sweaty face and clothes to match. “Uh, good,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Do I know you?”

“I'm Felix.” I tried to offer and hand through the chain links. It didn't work. “Look man, I'm hoping you can help me out. I'm doing a school project on this building. Is there anyone I can talk to about it?”

He smiled and wiped his forehead. “Sure. You can talk to me.”

“Oh. That's good but, um, it's a supervisor or a construction manager who I'd really want to speak with.” Shit, what was his dad's exact position? “Are any of them on site today?”

He appeared to be in deep thought for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. Let me go and check.”

“Thanks bro.” He walked away from me, leaving me to wait. I had no problem doing so, but after five, and then ten, minutes I began to lose my patience. Had this guy forgotten about me? He didn't exactly strike me as the brightest tool in the shed, maybe he was distracted by something shiny and—

“Hey!” He was back at the fence. Of course, he was. I never doubted him. “My manager says you can come back on Tuesday, and he'll be happy to sit down with you and talk about what he's been working on.”

That wasn't going to work. Every day I waited was a day further from finding out what had happened to Josh, and possibly helping him. I put on my best “embarrassed” face and looked at him pleadingly. “I really need to talk with someone today. My assignment’s due tomorrow so I can't wait.”

He nodded and walked closer to me. “Ah man, I can totally relate. I've been there. I was in school for a year after I finished high school, and I would always leave my assignments to the last minute. I remember one time when I literally started the paper two hours before it was due.”

“Uh huh,” I said. “So can—”

“Though I guess the whole thing really wasn't for me.” He wasn't done. How about that. “Dropped out after my first year and never looked back.”

“I bet. Anyway, I need to—”

“What're you studying, anyway? I only needed a high school diploma to start working here, and I tell you, it pays a lot better than most jobs people get once they've graduated from college. I have some friends who got Bachelors’ degrees and now they're serving coffee to the business suits, while I'm the one building the offices those guys’ll be working in. And I think the funniest thing of all is—”

“Marcus!” That voice. I'd heard it before, though it was a groggier version. A well-built man in khakis and a white dress shirt walked over. “What should you be doing right now?”

It was him. Matthew Driscoll. Josh's dad. I hadn't got a good look at him when I'd snuck into his house, and as he approached I was very thankful for that. The guy was built like a linebacker, a good three inches taller than me—like his older son—and probably twice as heavy. He didn't so much walk as much as he lumbered. If there hadn’t been so much machinery in the area, I was certain I'd hear the ground shake with every step he took.

“Sorry, sir. Just talking to that student I was telling you about.”

“Ahh.” He looked right into my eyes, and even though I was wearing dark, reflective sunglasses, it felt like he was piercing my very soul. “Did Marcus tell you to come back on Tuesday?”

“He did, sir.” I didn't know I'd added that last bit until it came out of my mouth. He was the kind of guy you just called “sir.” “But my assignment is due tomorrow.” I quickly added, “It was a weekend assignment.” No sense in making Josh's dad think that I was a procrastinator.

His eyes went up and down my body several times. “Okay, fine. Come around to the gate and we’ll get you a pass and a hard hat. I have fifteen minutes, no more, okay?”

“That's perfect.” I probably wasn't even going to need all of it. I walked around the fence to the opening gate. Matthew joined me a minute later and brought me into a temporary office.

“My name’s Matt, by the way.” He offered his hand. I shook it and was met with a painfully tight grip.

“Felix,” I said.

“You're inside, Felix.” He smiled. “You can take your hat and glasses off.”

I breathed sharply. I was disguised for a reason. What if Josh's brother had told him about the blonde-haired boy who'd been snooping around their house and asking about their recently disappeared son? I could only hope he either didn't know about me or couldn't put two and two together. And, if neither were the case, that he wouldn't tear me in half when he realized who I was.

“Right,” I said. “Of course.” I slowly removed my hat and then the glasses. He barely gave me a glance. No connection yet. Good.

He took a seat behind a desk and motioned for me to do the same. “So, what would you like to know?” Despite his intimidating appearance and my knowledge of his murky actions regarding his son, he really did come across as friendly, even nice.

“Yes, well, the building here, I've read that it's being built with certain awards in mind.” I went into my spiel about the construction, based on what I'd read, and was able to get him talking about all the different environmental standards and how the construction would meet each of them.

After about five minutes of me letting him verbally jerk off about his work, I shifted tracks. “So, what is it about being so environmentally friendly that appeals to you? From what you describe, it sounds like doing this costs a lot more time and money, which can't be easy for you.”

He laughed. “Well, it's not like I'm paying for this project myself. But you make a good point. I’d say that it's important to think about the future. This office is going to be here for another century, so may as well reduce its impact as much as possible.”

“So, it's not just about you in the here and the now.” C’mon, say the word. Say it.

“Exactly. We can't be shortsighted for these sorts of things.” Say it. Just say it. “I'm thinking about the owners of this building, but I'm thinking of my children even more—”

“You have kids?” I was perhaps a bit too eager to grab onto that lead. “Tell me about them.”

He gave me a bit of a look. “I have two boys. Well, guess I can't really say that.” Oh God. What did he do to Josh? “They're not really boys anymore. One’s out of school and the other’s, uh, well, he's in a bit of a process right now.”

I bit my tongue to keep from asking what he meant. There was no way he was going to go into depth about his troubled son with a guy he'd just met. Instead, I was going to have to take a different route. “I can relate to that. My younger brother has been having some issues with transitioning from high school to college. Been driving my parents crazy. I think they wish they could just send him away somewhere!”

I watched his face for a reaction, and oh boy did he deliver. His pupils went wide, his mouth opened about halfway and his skin flushed briefly. I’m no psychologist or body language reader, but I was pretty sure I'd struck a nerve. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, “you know, every family has their issues.”

Some much, much more than others, I thought. “I'm sure he'll be fine,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “I mean, it's not like you’ve shipped him off somewhere, right?”

Now there was no need to read his face, as his expression was completely obvious: irritation. “Let's focus back on the building,” he said, and I saw my opportunity slip right out of my hands. But what could I have done in the first place? Could I have really expected him to open up to some unknown student about Josh? As Matthew Driscoll went on about standards and heat-trapping skylights, all I could think about was how much of a wash this had been. Why had I even expected it to work?

“So has this been all useful for you?” Matthew asked after another few minutes of me asking questions I was pretending to be interested in.

I put on the biggest smile I could muster. “Very much! Thanks, this is really going to help me with my project!”

He stood up. “Glad I could help. Let me give you my card in case you have any other questions.” Just as he opened his desk, there was a knock on the door, and one of the workers stepped inside.

“Sorry to bother you, sir, but we have an issue with the welder.”

“Again? I thought we ordered the new parts last month.” Matthew walked around the desk, to the door. He looked over at me. “Can you sit tight? I'll be back in five minutes.”

I grinned. “Take your time.”

He nodded and left, closing the door behind him. I waited for a painfully long five seconds and then leapt out of my seat and started rummaging through the desk. I flipped through what seemed like a thousand loose pieces of paper and opened every file folder I could find. There had to be something that could point me in Josh's direction. A note or a bill or—bingo.

Lying at the bottom of one of the side drawers was a business card for Amy McLellan, a “Professional Christian Therapist.” The card listed her address and phone number, as well as her specialties: troubled relationships, family dynamics, rebellious youth. Given the way Josh's parents had described his actions and attitude to the judge, it seemed more than likely that he fell in that third descriptor to them.

I fished out my phone and grabbed a shot of the card—better to take a picture than to take the card and have Matthew wonder where it went. My anonymity was my best, and possibly only, advantage in all of this.

I was just putting the card back when the office door opened and Matthew walked back in, stopping in place when he saw me behind his desk, closing one of the drawers. “What're you doing?”

Shit. Excuse. What's an excuse? “I just got a call that my grandmother is in the hospital.” Not true—she’d died a few years earlier—but I was proud of myself for that lie. “I was just trying to find a pen to leave you my contact information.”

“Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she's okay.”

“Me too.” Again, already dead. “But since you're back, can you give me your card or something? I'll let you know if I have any other questions.” I walked around from the desk and motioned for him to use it.

“Right, yes.” He opened one of the drawers and pulled out his card. As he handed it to me, he grabbed a pen off the desk. “You know, this was right here. Probably should have used it instead of going through someone’s desk.”

“Yeah. I'll, uh, be sure to do that next time.” I took his card, smiled again, and left the office. I made it back to the bus stop just in time to see the bus pulling away. Just great. I had another hour to wait for the next one, but at least I had a lot to think about.