A Thousand Steps

8

Later that day, Matt and his mother walk to the Laguna Beach police station in the warm afternoon. It’s less than a block from where they live. Jazz has been missing from home for almost forty-eight hours.

Julie wears her wench’s getup for her upcoming five-to-midnight at the Jolly Roger, camouflaged by a batik wrap she got at Mystic Arts World. Matt has on his Endless Summer T-shirt, faded blue Jams, and the same red Keds slip-ons he wears for fishing. The big nightshade in the neighbor’s front yard steeps Third Street in its sweet, heavy scent.

Matt feels good but hungry. He’s always hungry; always trying to figure a better paycheck. His current paper route earns him twenty-five dollars a month. But he knows that if he learns to drive better, gets his license and uses his mother’s van, he can get a much larger route, make more money, and buy more food and art supplies. However, gas just hit thirty-four cents a gallon, so he’d have to factor that against his weekly take-home.

The Saturday desk officer is younger than Matt’s mom. Maybe like, under thirty. He’s never seen her. In fact he’s never seen a female police officer in uniform other than the unarmed meter maids who write parking tickets.

Her badge says B. Darnell. Her blond hair is in a tightly braided ponytail, and her face is pleasant. Blue eyes and freckles on her nose. Matt sees that her arms are tan and muscled.

She holds open the countertop lift-door, then leads Matt and his mother to a small interview room. Closes the door.

Matt and Julie face Officer Darnell across a stainless-steel table bolted to the floor tiles. Matt sets his best sketch of Jasmine on the table facing the policewoman, and Julie brings one of her daughter’s senior portraits from her floppy, bead-laced bag.

They talk family for a moment: Officer Darnell remembers Kyle set records at track, then was sent off to war. She does not ask about him. Darnell’s own son is seven and goes to El Morro. She looks at the sketch and the photo of Jasmine.

“I’ve seen her around town,” says the officer.

“She was a cheerleader, if you went to any high school games,” says Julie.

“Yes, I went to the homecoming game last year. Artists fifty-four to zero!” A darkness crosses Darnell’s formerly sunny face. She takes the pen from her uniform blouse and squares the yellow pad in front of her. “When is the last time you saw Jasmine, Mrs. Anthony?”

“I saw her before she left for Miranda Zahara’s, two evenings ago now. Thursday. I loaned her my van. We’d had words. Although it hurts me to say this, I’m worried that she might not want to come home.”

Matt’s heart sinks. He’s been thinking the same thing.

Julie explains that Jazz had done some “creative storytelling” about staying the night with Miranda, the reverse of what Miranda had told her mom. Julie says Jazz sometimes fabricated alibis for being out late, but had never not come home for the night, let alone two in a row.

Matt adds that his sister left the Sandpiper lounge Thursday night with the singer Austin Overton. Stayed overnight in Big Yellow and left at eight the next morning.

Julie straightens and gives Officer Darnell a brisk look, as if to underscore that she is not judgmental of her daughter for probably sleeping with the older singer. Matt has heard his mother encourage Jasmine to be open to life and love and experiences and different relationships. Like she has.

Again that darkness as Officer Darnell looks down and writes on the yellow pad.

“That’s the last place any of us know she was, for sure,” Matt adds. “So, that’s almost exactly forty-eight hours.”

The officer smiles slightly. “Don’t worry about the number of hours.”

An uncomfortable silence then, and Matt guesses the reason but says nothing.

“Was Bonnie Stratmeyer friends with Jasmine?” asks the officer.

“Not close,” says Julie. “Different sets of friends. They were both good students, though.”

Officer Darnell considers. Matt hears the voices coming from the station lobby, a door closing.

“How did her ankles get bruised?” he asks.

Julie’s head pivots.

“I can’t comment on that,” snaps Darnell.

“And the top of her head?”

“No, Matt,” says the officer. “You should not have that information. None of it has been verified or released to the public.”

“Sorry,” he says. “It just bothers me that Bonnie disappeared and died, then my sister disappeared kind of like, similarly.”

“Yes, and we do know that Bonnie Stratmeyer was seen at the Sandpiper during the time she was missing.”

Matt wonders if she might have paired off with Austin Overton. Knows that Darnell won’t tell him if she knows. Makes a note to see if Overton played at the Sandpiper during Bonnie Stratmeyer’s missing days.

“How about at Cavore’s parties in Sapphire Cove?” asks Matt.

Officer Darnell smiles and shakes her head. “Jordan Cavore’s Sapphire Cove parties? Matt, you get around.”

“I just listen.”

“Don’t try to go to those Sapphire Cove parties,” she says.

“Why?” asks Julie. “I haven’t heard of them.”

Officer Darnell taps her pen on the pad. “Rich out-of-towners doing bad things. Private parties, not big happenings like the hippies do. They charge money just to get in. Has Jasmine talked about them, Matt?”

“No, never,” he says, neglecting to mention what Dana said.

“Does she talk to you about personal things?”

At times, his sister seems to be a warren of secrets and evasions. Others, eager to confess. “Not usually.”

Officer Darnell takes down the names of Jasmine’s friends and what numbers Julie has in the little address book in her bag.

When Darnell asks about boyfriends, Julie says that her daughter has had some male friends but never a steady boyfriend. She looks at Matt, who nods.

“What about her general outlook? Is she happy, angry, withdrawn, outgoing?”

“All of those things at different times,” says Julie. “Mostly... steady. Jasmine is self-directed and in control of her emotions. Though she can be temperamental.”

“Does she have a religious or spiritual side?” asks the officer.

“Not church,” says Julie. “But she’s always searching for meaning. She read some of the Bible, and some of Siddhartha, and some books about Hinduism. I think The Tibetan Book of the Dead is in her room right now.”

“She got it at Mystic Arts World,” says Matt.

“Interesting,” says Officer Darnell. “Does she go there often?”

“We took a meditation class together there,” says Julie. “In the private meditation room. From one of Mahajad Om’s swamis-in-training. I think they’re called Enlighteners.”

“Have you been to Mahajad’s Vortex of Purity?” asks Darnell.

“Too expensive,” Julie says. “Even if you’re accepted to study there with Mahajad.”

Darnell examines the sketch and photo of Jasmine. “Let me have these for posters and press releases,” she says. “And don’t worry, Mrs. Anthony, Matt. She’ll come home or we’ll find her.”

Like you found Bonnie Stratmeyer? Matt wonders.

He can tell by his mother’s and Officer Darnell’s expressions that they’re wondering too.