From a Single Seed: A Novel Read online

  After deleting the beginnings of three drafts, he decided that the safest thing was a minimalist approach.

  PRESS RELEASE

  The Middleton Falls Police Department is asking the public for assistance in locating a missing Masterson College student. Shannon Dawson was last seen on the evening of Friday, December 20, 2013 on Maple Street in Middleton Falls. Dawson is a freshman from Solana Beach, California. She is 5 feet 5 inches tall with blond hair and blue eyes. If anyone has any information relating to her disappearance, please contact Officer Dustin Shores at the Middleton Falls Police Department.

  He printed it and faxed it over to the Adams Gazette along with the photo of Shannon from the college directory. On his way back to his desk, he got another coffee. By the time he got there, the dispatcher was announcing Manny Rodriguez from the Gazette on his intercom. He didn’t want to pick up, but he had to.

  “What’s this about a missing college student?” Manny sounded eager.

  “You got my press release.”

  “Pretty bare bones. Can you at least tell me whether you have any leads?”

  “All I’m going to say is that the investigation is ongoing.”

  “But you suspect foul play?”

  “We haven’t ruled it out.”

  “Any suspects?”

  “We’re just investigating at this point.”

  “But you have Dustin working full time on this?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the girl’s family?”

  “Her parents are here, helping look for her.”

  “Where do I find them?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “You can tell me or I can call the local hotels. It’s faster if you tell me.”

  It was probably better to keep Manny as an ally. “They may be at the Marriott. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

  “Thanks, chief.”

  After he hung up, the chief called Dustin back to his office.

  “Okay, what’s your theory at this point?” the chief said.

  “I think that Keenan and Shannon left the party together. Nobody I’ve talked to so far reported seeing them leave together, but a few people said they saw them together at the party. Nobody remembered seeing Shannon after that.”

  “Okay, makes sense.”

  “I think she told him about Jake. Either during that eight minute phone call or when he found her at the party.”

  “Probably.”

  “He got mad.”

  “I can see that.”

  “She ends up dead. Maybe it was even an accident, manslaughter instead of murder.”

  “It’s possible. But how drunk do you think she was?”

  “I don’t know. She was drinking.”

  “What if she just had an accident? I don’t know, slipped on the ice and whacked her head, something like that.”

  “There’d be a body. We’ve got no body.”

  “Good point.”

  “I think Keenan killed her and hid the body.”

  “That would explain the lack of a body. But do you really see the kid as a killer?”

  “He’s a hockey player. Those guys all have short fuses. He probably just got angry. Hit her, strangled her, I don’t know.”

  “Look, I’m not saying your theory isn’t a possibility, but we don’t actually have any evidence. All we have is a lack of evidence.”

  “That’s why I want to search Keenan’s dorm room.”

  “We don’t have any more PC today than we had yesterday. No Vermont judge is going to give us a warrant.”

  “Maybe we won’t need one. The hockey team is due back in town on Saturday. They resume practice that afternoon.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m going to ask the kid for consent to search. Before he has a chance to get rid of any evidence.”

  “I guess it can’t hurt to ask, but in the meantime don’t shut down the other avenues of investigation.”

  “What avenues?”

  “Another good point. Just try to keep an open mind. Everything we have right now is speculation.”

  OLIVIA THOUGHT she could hear the blood pounding in her ears in the still air of the hotel room. She and Jack were waiting for the private investigator. They’d had no idea how to find one. The yellow pages were woefully inadequate for such an important job. Jack had finally contacted a friend who was an attorney in California. That friend made a few calls and got him in touch with Evan Halliday. The man was driving to Vermont from Connecticut. The expense seemed irrelevant.

  There was a knock on the door and Halliday entered. The men shook hands. Olivia didn’t have the energy to get up from where she was seated on the corner of a bed. When Jack introduced her, she raised her hand a few inches from her lap and fluttered her fingers. It was a rude greeting, but she was beyond caring.

  “I know I said it before on the phone,” Halliday said, “but I’m sorry you folks are going through this.”

  “Thank you for coming up here,” Jack said.

  “The police here just don’t know what they’re doing,” Olivia said.

  “Well, that’s why I’m here. I can make sure they’re doing everything they can, and I can also do things they can’t.”

  “Like what?”

  “Let’s just say I don’t have to play by the same rules the cops do.”

  “I don’t care how you do it,” Olivia said. “I need you to find my daughter.”

  “I will do my very best.”

  “What should we be doing?”

  “Take care of yourselves. By that I mean try to eat and sleep, if you can.”

  Both Dawsons nodded.

  “And keep in contact with friends and family. If anyone hears anything or has any idea at all where Shannon may be, I want to hear it.”

  “Of course,” Jack said.

  “Where will you start?” Olivia said.

  “I’m going to start by going through the police file.”

  “They promised to cooperate,” Jack said.

  “That’s good. After that, I’ll start conducting my own interviews. I can look for video surveillance cameras at local businesses that may have recorded some clues. There are avenues the police have yet to explore. I’m sure of it.”

  “It helps to know that someone competent is stepping in,” Olivia said.

  After Halliday left, Jack went out for a walk. Olivia tried turning on the TV, but she couldn’t focus on it, and the noise just made her head pound even worse. After a few minutes she turned it off. She checked her cell phone again in case someone had left a message and she had somehow missed it. She was pacing in her hotel room, cell phone in hand, when the phone on the nightstand rang.

  “Mrs. Dawson?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Manny Rodriguez from the Adams Gazette. I’m sorry about your daughter. I was hoping you could give me a little more background information for an article.”

  “Do you think it will help locate her?”

  “I do. The more people who hear about this, the more likely someone will remember something.”

  “Okay, then. What do you want to know?”

  “How about I come to your hotel room and we can talk about your daughter?”

  At least it would be more useful than pacing.

  Chapter 11

  Friday, November 1, 2013

  IT WAS the first hockey game of the season. Officially, it was only a scrimmage with a nearby rival, but the stands were packed with college students, faculty, and families from Middleton Falls. Hockey was more than a sport at Masterson College; it was a tradition.

  Shannon sat in the bleachers with her friends and watched the team circle the ice in preparation for the game.

  “What number is Keenan?” Greta said.

  “Number five,” Shannon said. “There he is, the fourth one in line.” The starting players took their positions. Keenan stayed back by the goalie.“Keenan said he plays right back.”

  “
I have no idea what that means,” Greta said. “This is my first hockey game. Ever.”

  “Me, too,” Shannon said. “Hockey’s not big in southern California.”

  “I went to a few Rangers games with my dad,” Amy said. “It’s fun, in a barbaric sort of way.”

  “You mean like gladiators fighting to the death?” Greta said.

  “Nothing that dramatic,” Amy said. “It’s no worse than football.”

  “I hate football,” Greta said. “I’ve never understood the point of overgrown monsters plowing into each other at full speed.”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “Hockey’s got more finesse and it’s a faster game, so it’s much more fun to watch.”

  “I’m just psyched to see Keenan play,” Shannon said.

  “Sounds like we have a starstruck fan in our midst,” Greta said.

  “More like lovestruck,” Amy said.

  “Give me a break, guys. I’ve only known him for a few weeks,” Shannon said.

  “It only takes a minute to fall in love.” Greta raised her eyebrows. “Or so I’ve heard.”

  “I can’t fall in love,” Shannon said. “I’m still technically dating my high school boyfriend.”

  “In California?” Jenna said.

  “No, he’s here on the east coast, down at Columbia.”

  “Then how come he hasn’t been up to visit?” Jenna said. All three of her friends turned to face Shannon.

  “I don’t know. It’s complicated. Let’s watch the game.” They all smirked but dropped the subject. Thankfully. Shannon didn’t feel the need to reopen that wound, especially now that she had someone else to take her mind off it.

  There were a couple of players on the other team who seemed like they just liked to hit people gratuitously. Shannon gasped when one of them took Keenan out from behind when he was nowhere near the puck.

  “Are they allowed to do that?” Shannon asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Amy said. “The refs must not have seen it.”

  “I don’t like their number twelve,” Shannon said.

  The Masterson team was down four to nothing at the beginning of the third period. The other team was in front of the Masterson net and Keenan was defending the goal when Number 12 checked Keenan into the boards. It was hard to see exactly what happened, but by the time the referees separated them, there was blood on the ice. The coaches called a timeout and both Keenan and Number 12 ended up in the penalty boxes.

  “Oh my God. Is that normal?” Shannon said.

  “It’s hockey,” Amy said. “Shit happens.”

  “Wow,” Greta said. “I’d be careful of Keenan if I were you, Shannon. It looks like he has a vindictive streak.”

  AFTER THE game, Keenan sat in the locker room and listened to the coach lecture the team about how unnecessary penalties only served to penalize one’s teammates. It was a lecture he’d heard before by every hockey coach he’d ever had, but it had rarely been directed at him. Of course, the coach had a point. There had been too many Masterson penalties in the game. And it probably contributed to their losing by so much. The problem was that the other team had been playing dirty, and the refs had only seemed to give Masterson penalties. Keenan knew he shouldn’t have taken the bait when Number 12 came after him, but the guy had been the dirtiest player on a dirty team and Keenan hadn’t been able to stop himself from retaliating. And, truth be told, it had felt good to sock him.

  When the coach was done and gone, the players started getting out of their gear.

  “Hey, Keenan, nice swing at twelve.” Rob McPherson was smiling. “He deserved it.”

  “He sure as hell did,” Taylor Browning called from the end of the locker room. “There was something seriously wrong with that guy.”

  “The coach was right,” Keenan said. “I should have let it go.”

  “No way.” Rob was shaking his head. “If you hadn’t set him straight, the guy would have kept walking all over us.”

  Brian Lattrelle was the goalie. He came over and clapped Keenan on the back. “All I can say is, thanks, man. I’m glad you had my back. In the first two periods, that goon shoved me four times after the ref had blown the whistle. And got away with it every time. He needed a lesson.”

  Chapter 12

  Saturday, December 28, 2013

  DUSTIN READ his Gazette over breakfast on Saturday morning. The biweekly paper had arrived a day later than usual in most people’s mailboxes. The front page featured an article about Shannon’s disappearance. Since the police had released so few details about the investigation, most of the article was about the interview with Shannon’s parents, who described their daughter’s accomplishments in loving detail. Manny Rodriguez also quoted the Masterson Dean of Students, who assured people that the Masterson campus was safe and there was no reason to suspect a predator was on the loose. Shit. Despite the dean’s assurances, every parent in town was probably now thinking Predator. You plant an idea and it has a way of growing. It wouldn’t be long before high school basketball games would be poorly attended as parents kept their kids home. They needed to give people answers. And soon.

  Dustin checked in at MFPD before heading to campus. The Dawsons’ private investigator was already entrenched in the conference room with the Dawson file when he arrived. Evan Halliday had introduced himself in the chief’s office the previous morning, making sure to let them know that he was on a first-name basis with the New York City chief of police. As if Dustin cared. Every time Dustin had walked by the conference room yesterday, he’d heard Halliday making loud blowing and clucking noises, like he couldn’t believe Dustin had screwed up the investigation so badly.

  Dustin was waiting outside Keenan’s dorm room late that morning when Keenan arrived hauling two large duffle bags. A guy Dustin had gone to high school with now worked for Masterson Public Safety and had let him into the building so he could catch the kid by surprise. Keenan looked exhausted when he approached. Probably the stress of knowing they were onto him. The good news was that Keenan was alone and did not appear to have been inside the room yet.

  “Did you find her?” Keenan asked.

  Dustin shook his head. “We’re still looking.”

  Keenan’s shoulders sank. Dustin had to give it to him. He was putting on a good act.

  “You want to help us find Shannon?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Let me search your room.”

  Keenan opened the door to his room using the keypad and placed the two duffles inside. “I didn’t have anything to do with her disappearing.”

  “Then you have nothing to hide.”

  “If I didn’t have anything to do with her disappearing, how does letting you search my room help find her?”

  “Because it helps us rule you out as a suspect. We can focus in another direction.”

  “Why am I a suspect?”

  “Most homicides are committed by someone the victim knows, usually a spouse or boyfriend.”

  “But this isn’t a homicide, is it? What have you not told me?”

  “I think the question is, what have you not told us?”

  “I’ve answered all your questions. I’m not sure what else you want from me.”

  “I want the truth. All of it. And I want to search your room.”

  Keenan started to shut the door. “I want to talk to my dad.”

  Dustin put his hand out to keep the door open. “Look, I don’t have any reason to believe you had anything to do with Shannon’s disappearance. But if I didn’t investigate every possibility, I wouldn’t be doing my job.”

  “I didn’t do anything to her.”

  “Then there’s no reason not to consent to a search.”

  Keenan was clearly thinking about it. He pulled out a phone. “I just want to see what my dad says.” Dustin had to wait while Keenan tried to reach his father. After about thirty seconds, Keenan put his phone back in his pocket. “He’s probably driving, so he can’t pick up.”

  “Are you wo
rried I’ll find drugs or alcohol? Because that doesn’t concern me right now.”

  “No, nothing like that. I’m subject to drug and alcohol testing as a student athlete. I don’t want to get kicked off the team, so it’s not an issue. I can’t promise my roommate doesn’t have something stashed away, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

  “Sounds like we’re on the same page.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let me have a look. I don’t find anything, there’s no reason to keep looking at you.”

  “There was no reason to start looking at me.”

  “So, let me in.”

  Keenan stepped to the side and gestured with one arm. “If it will get you to leave me alone, then go ahead.”

  Dustin pulled a folded form out of his coat pocket. “Great. I just need you to sign this Consent to Search form.”

  Keenan studied the form for a minute, signed it against the open door to his room, and handed it back.

  “Why don’t you stay out here in the hall while I search?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “It’s protocol,” Dustin said. He pulled a pair of blue nitrile gloves out of his pocket and put them on. Keenan leaned against the hallway wall. He looked smug, which probably meant this was a waste of time.

  Dustin took in the room. The furnishings were standard. He didn’t see anything suspect or unusual on the walls or on the surfaces of the furniture. He decided to start with the desk and pulled the center drawer open. Amid the jumble of pens and pencils something jumped out at him. A set of keys with a VW key fob. He gently placed the keys in a clear Ziploc evidence bag.

  “You have a car here on campus?”

  “Nope.”

  “What are these?”

  “They’re Shannon’s.”

  “How’d they end up in your desk drawer?”

  “I put them there.”

  “When was this?”

  “Right before I went home for break.”

  “You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?”

  “I forgot.”

  “You forgot something this important?”