Waist Deep

34

Matt’s Jeep Cherokee was spotless and smelled lightly of ArmorAll.We rode in silence for several minutes after he picked me up.Traffic was thick downtown with everyone heading home and abandoning the district to the dregs and the partiers.Matt stared straight ahead, driving and shifting carefully.

“Money holding up?” he asked me finally.

“The money’s fine,” I said.

“Expenses?”

“A few,” I said.“I wrote ‘em down for you.”I pulled a list out of my windbreaker and handed it to him.

He waved it away.“No, that’s okay.”He reached into his pocket and handed me another envelope.“That’s for next week, in advance.”

I stared at the white paper envelope, knowing there was seven hundred dollars inside.

“It’s only been two days,” I said.

“I don’t want to get behind.”

“Let’s wait and see where things are.”

He held the envelope in place for a moment, his eyes focused on the road.

“Really, Matt,” I said.“Just wait.”

He held it there another moment, then put it back in his pocket.“We’ll settle up at the end of the week, then?”

“Sure.”

We rode in silence for a minute.Then I asked, “Does Kris have a cell phone?”

Matt nodded as he drove.“Yeah.Well, she did.We took it away before she left.Why?”

“Do you remember the number?”

He scratched his head and thought for a moment before rattling off a number.It sounded like the same one that had been listed on the FI, as best as I could remember.

“Why are you asking?” Matt repeated.

“Just looking for angles,” I told him.“How about Cheney?Did you guys ever live in Cheney?”

“Sure,” he said.“We lived there while we finished up college at Eastern.”

I nodded.That made sense.Cheney’s sole purpose of existence was to service the campus at Eastern Washington University.“How long ago did you move?”

Matt gave it some thought.“Right about when Kris started grade school.Maybe as late as third grade.That was a year or so after my wife finished up her master’s.”

“What was your address?”

“329 Poplar,” Matt said.

I sighed.It was the same address from the FI.

“What?” Matt asked.

“Dead ends.That’s all.”

I could tell he was straining to ask questions, but he held back and drove in silence.Once we were at his house, he went inside and grabbed the keys to his brother’s car.He waved me in, but I shook my head.I didn’t want to meet his wife and have another pair of eyes to think about while I was spinning my wheels on this case.Matt shrugged and went inside.A few moments later, he emerged and tossed me the keys.

We went into the garage and he yanked the tarp off of the Toyota.It was a dark blue hatchback from the early 80s.There were some small dings and a little rust at the rear tire well.Not bad for such an old car, considering that River City winters could be harsh.

“Engine was tuned up last summer,” he said.“Tires are all-season.”

I nodded.“It’ll work great.Thanks.”

He shrugged, lifting the hood to check the oil.“Just find her,” he said.

“I will,” I said.“I will.”