The Hunted

7

The evening air had dipped below twenty degrees. Lauren hiked up the collar on her down jacket and watched as people filed into the cozy Herbert Green Middle School gymnasium. She tucked her gloved hands deeper into her pockets and closed her eyes. You can do this.

Lauren caught sight of a smiling man who was bundled up in a parka, standing near the gym entrance. He was greeting people as they approached, even helping an elderly woman who was having a difficult time pulling the door open. After holding it for her, he took a moment to play with a little girl whose mother was reading a flyer she had been handed.

The man reminded her of Michael… outgoing, always willing to help, good with people. Qualities Lauren wished she herself had.

Lauren had gotten used to relying on Michael when facing an uncomfortable situation. He would be there by her side, coaxing her through it, always claiming to understand what she was going through. But having never been riddled with phobias of any sort, Michael could in no way understand the difficulties an agoraphobic faced in everyday life… the accommodations that had to be made. The excuses that had to be given. A fear of open spaces, of being out in public, of standing in lines, sitting in movie theaters, riding in elevators… as a psychologist, she understood what her problem was.

Her case had its roots in an unresolved event from her childhood, the repressed anxiety surrounding the shooting of her father and the pain caused by his eventual death. Years later, the loss of something else central to her identity — her practice — had brought it all to a head.

But being in the field didn’t solve her problem; it had merely allowed her to diagnose it sooner. After four years of therapy, she had learned how to decrease its effects, how to compensate for and work through her condition. But she had not completely recovered.

A loud rapping noise on the side window startled her. She cleared the fogged interior glass with her forearm and saw Carla Mae standing beside the door.

“You coming in, or should we just hold the meeting without you?” With her round face bundled up, and with her shouting through the closed car window, it was hard for Lauren to tell if her new acquaintance was being friendly or antagonistic. But the slight squint of the eyes told her Carla was smiling.

Lauren took a deep breath, pulled the handle on the door, and popped it open. “I’m coming in, of course. I just didn’t want to be the first one in, you know, having to tell the story over and over again before we even got started.”

The two of them walked into the gymnasium together. Well-worn folding metal chairs had been set up across most of the wood floor. Beneath one of the basketball hoops was a long table outfitted with a black tablecloth and an embroidered, orange Neighborhood Watch emblem.

Carla took Lauren’s elbow and led her to the front of the room. Lauren, however, kept her head down, listening to the echoing chatter of the people. She could tell there was a good turnout. She felt her stomach do a somersault and rested a hand across her abdomen to steady it.

“We’ll get started in a minute,” Carla said into Lauren’s ear. “I figure you can tell us about what happened. Include everything you know. Then tell us what you can about Michael.” Carla stopped for a second. “You all right, missy? You don’t look so good.”

Lauren’s hands were clammy and she felt nauseous. She forced a smile and lifted her head to look at Carla. “Just a little hungry. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you ready for me to call the meeting to order?”

Lauren shrugged. “I guess so. I’m not good about baring my soul to strangers. You’d think I would be, doing what I do for a living.”

“Don’t think twice about it. Everyone who’s been through this can tell you it isn’t fun. But we’re not here for entertainment, we’re here for support.”

Lauren nodded. “Then I’m ready.”

Carla lifted a gavel and struck it twice on a small wood block on the table. The room quieted a bit, and she pounded the block once again. “All right, all right, settle down.” As the noise dropped to a tolerable level, Carla began, “Tonight we’re here for Dr. Lauren Chambers, whose husband, Michael, is the subject of our meeting. You’ve all had a chance to read the flyers you were given on the way in. So, I might as well just have Lauren tell you the rest.”

Lauren lifted her head — and lost her breath. Her eyes darted nervously around the room: nearly the entire gymnasium was full of people, all looking at her, waiting to hear what she had to say. She cleared her tight throat, and took a deep, calming breath.

“Thanks for coming,” she started in a weak voice. “As you know, my husband Michael, is missing.”

“Louder,” a man in the back row yelled. He had a cold stare, a bushy beard, and a black knit cap on.

Something about his eyes bothered her.

“Lauren,” Carla urged, “please continue, a little louder so everyone can hear you.”

Lauren broke her gaze from the man in the back. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I said, my husband Michael is missing.” The words were forced, as if the strain of the situation was making it difficult for her to speak. In reality, it was her anxiety over facing a gymnasium full of strangers.

“I don’t do a lot of public speaking, so I’m sorry if I’m not any good at it.” What she wanted to say is that she’d rather be in bed, hiding under the covers. “Michael went cross-country skiing in Colorado with some fraternity buddies and was supposed to be home a couple of days ago. I haven’t heard from him.” She looked over at Carla, who nodded for her to continue. “Michael is very responsible and I’m sure he’d have called if he was able to.”

“Do you think he left Colorado?” someone asked.

“I don’t know. Unfortunately, there isn’t much I know about his trip, or who he went with. I wrote it all down, but… I can’t find it.”

“So he could still be in Colorado.”

“I guess.”

“But he may not be,” Carla cut in. “He might have made it back to town, in which case we all need to be on the lookout for him. His photo is on the flyer, and a bunch of us worked into the early evening tonight to get a hundred of these notices up all around town. I’ve got another thousand of them, and I’ll need volunteers who can take them into Sacramento, El Dorado Hills, Cameron Park, Folsom, Gold River, Rancho Cordova — the whole Highway Fifty corridor between here and the airport.”

Lauren found herself staring at the floor. Look up! If I don’t look interested, why would anyone else care? She forced her head up and again felt her heart rate increase, her chest tighten. Her eyes bounced around nervously — and again landed on the stare of the man in the back. She felt repulsed by him and suddenly wondered if he was the one who had followed her last night.

Carla went into some additional administrative details — the filing of the report at the sheriff’s department, common statistics on missing persons, and so on — then said, “I’ve got plenty of flyers. Who needs some?”

A number of neighbors raised their hands, and the stack of papers was passed back to them.

Carla leaned over to Lauren’s ear. “Don’t forget to thank them for coming.”

Lauren’s gaze again found the man in the back; she forced herself to turn to Carla, then nodded and addressed the group. “I want to,” she started in a soft voice, “I want to thank all of you for coming out tonight.” She squared her shoulders and tried to make eye contact with some of the women, whose faces seemed less threatening. “I love my husband a great deal, and we’ve been through a lot together. I’m really hoping we’ll be able to find him.”

“As I mentioned, Lauren’s already spoken with Deputy Vork about this, so I’m sure we’ll have law enforcement’s support. If you see someone who looks like Michael Chambers, or if you find out something about him, please don’t try to analyze the information yourself. What could seem unimportant to you could be very significant to a trained eye.”

Carla picked up a flyer and pointed to it. “Our chapter’s phone number on the bottom of the flyer encourages anyone to call with information. I would ask all of you to do the same.” She turned to Lauren to see if she wanted to add anything. Receiving a shrug in response, Carla turned back to the gathered crowd. “Of course, I’ve got some of my brownies here, and Sam brought coffee from his restaurant. But before we start stuffing our faces, if anyone has a question, fire away.”

After a handful of questions were answered, the crowd began to disperse into neighborly groups. As Lauren made her way toward the food, she again caught a glimpse of the man in the back row. He was still seated. And still staring at her. People passed in between their gazes, but he did not move. Lauren felt a chill and turned toward Carla, who was busy motioning to someone.

“Nick, come here for a minute!” Carla said.

“Carla,” Lauren said, grabbing her by the elbow, “there’s a man in the back row. He’s been staring at me since the beginning of the meeting.”

“Probably just interested in what you had to say. Everyone was listening very closely, I assure you.”

“It was more than that. There was something… creepy about him. Cold. The way he looked at me.”

“Well, missy, I know practically everyone here. Point him out.”

Lauren looked at the back row — and the man was gone. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, but people were milling about. Some had their backs turned or their faces were otherwise difficult to see.

“He was just there,” Lauren said. “He must have gotten up.”

“If you see him again, let me know.”

“Howdy, Carla Mae.”

Carla spun and embraced her friend. “Good to see you.” They pushed apart and Carla turned to face Lauren. “I want you to meet Nick Bradley. Just about the nicest person you could hope to know.”

“Now, Carla, don’t go overboard,” Bradley said with a toothy smile that carried a warm charm. He had a medium build and wavy, earth-toned hair, with a poise and ease of movement that made Lauren at once comfortable — and wary.

“Nick was the one who started Neighborhood Watch here, about two years ago. Without his persistence, it never would’ve gotten off the ground.”

“You’re being much too gracious.”

“I saw you,” Lauren said. “At the door earlier, helping that elderly lady.”

“If it involves helping somebody, we’re probably talking about Nick,” Carla said. “Which is why I called him over. I think he’s just the person you should get to know.”

“Why’s that?” Lauren asked.

“Nick’s a private investigator. I’m sure he could do a lot to help you find Michael.”

“At your service,” Bradley said with a slight bow.

Lauren forced a smile but could not get out of her mind the image of the stranger in the back of the gymnasium. Her gaze again began to move around the room.

“Did I say something wrong?” Bradley asked, following her eyes.

“No — no,” Lauren stammered. “I’m just… there was…” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m just tired.”

“After what you’ve been through, I don’t doubt it,” Carla said.

“I’d like to help you find your husband, Dr. Chambers.”

“Call me Lauren, and I’m afraid I’m not in a financial position to pay a private investigator.”

“We’ll take up a collection.” Carla turned toward the crowd and reached for her gavel. “We’ve done that before—”

“We don’t need a collection,” Bradley said, holding up a hand. “It’s on the house.”

Lauren turned to face him. “Why? Why would you do that for me?”

“Because I knew your husband, Lauren. I did some work for his company, and they paid me well.”

“You knew Michael?”

“Like I said, I want to help. When Carla called and told me who was missing—”

“Who do you think put up most of the flyers this afternoon?” Carla asked.

“So what do you say?” Bradley asked. “Am I in?”

“I need some time to think about it, okay? I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Time is the one thing we don’t have,” Bradley said. “The longer Michael’s missing, the harder he’s going to be to find.”

“Do you have a card?”

Bradley searched his pockets but came up empty. “I’m all out. But I’ll write down my info. Call me anytime. Day or night, okay?”

He grabbed a flyer off the table and penciled in his phone numbers. Lauren took it and thanked him.

“You don’t find many folk like Nick, I’ll say that much,” Carla said as Bradley walked off. “I think you should take him up on his offer.”

“Thanks so much for getting this together tonight. It means a lot to me.”

“Maybe when this all blows over and Michael’s back, you’ll come out to help one of us just like your neighbors did for you.”

Lauren glanced at the mass of people in the gymnasium and shuddered. The truth was, she would like to reach out and be able to help others. “Maybe a lot of things will change in the future.” Lauren turned and walked out the door, fighting off the feeling that the man in the black knit cap was behind her somewhere, following.