Grant Mckenzie Page 14

  ‘Could he have a reason to hate Ironwood?’

  ‘Not from high school. The jocks and drama freaks didn’t hang at all. Sometimes there was crossover, one of the jocks who thought he could act. But there was no way Ironman was interested. Why? You think the actor took him out?’

  ‘We’re following all leads,’ Hogan said, revealing nothing.

  ‘Fuckin’ high school,’ Walt mused. ‘Those were the days, huh?’

  ‘Personally,’ Hogan said drily, ‘I hated everything about it.’

  62

  Zack and Sam walked through the front door of the high school to a ten-stare salute from the droopy-pants crowd chillin’ on the concrete steps. Two of the teenagers held skateboards that were almost as tall and wide as themselves.

  ‘You see the skateboards?’ Sam asked.

  Zack shrugged.

  ‘When the craze was big in the seventies,’ Sam continued, despite Zack’s disinterest, ‘if you showed up at school with a skateboard that size, you would have been laughed outta town. Skateboards were short and narrow. You needed the balance of an Olympian just to go in a straight line. I preferred the Roller Rink. At least there, you had four wheels on each foot and girls who loved to help a new guy keep his balance.’ Sam winked. ‘Especially on the slow songs.’

  ‘I never tried either,’ Zack said dismissively. ‘The only time I was part of a craze was when Rubik’s Cube became the hottest thing.’

  Sam scoffed, caught up in the moment. ‘What about the frisbee and ghetto-blaster years? Down at the beach, blasting Pink Floyd and Sabbath, smoking a little pot and making that frisbee bend, curve, dip and soar to your will.’

  Zack stopped walking and his eyes turned hard. ‘We need to focus, Sam, OK? Leave the past where it belongs. Not everyone enjoyed it.’

  Sam shrugged, knowing Zack had a point, but damned if he was going to admit it.

  He stopped to get his bearings. The lobby divided the school into quadrants. The wide double doors to the gymnasium loomed on the right, lunch room on the left. Further up on the right was the auditorium, split from the gym by a long, narrow hallway – a no man’s land that sustained a truce between jocks and drama.

  ‘It was easier then,’ Sam said, remembering back.

  Zack flashed him a look of exasperation.

  ‘No, hear me out,’ he continued. ‘Jocks had the gym; Heads took the east doors beside the garbage bins; Nerds and Brains had the library; Misfits and Wallflowers, the lunch room; Preppies took the rear doors to show off dad’s car; Grease Monkeys and Builders took the west doors by the shops; Drama freaks had the stage.’

  ‘Are you saying we all knew our place?’ Zack asked.

  ‘We all knew where we felt most comfortable,’ Sam said. ‘The only time trouble happened was when the cliques were forced together in the hallways, then Ironman and his ilk descended upon the nerds or whoever else caught their eye. But in our own parts of the school, everything was cool.’

  ‘Sounds like segregation,’ Zack said, his tone disapproving.

  ‘You’re right,’ Sam said, ‘and maybe that’s wrong, but I know that I never feel as accepted as when I’m surrounded by other actors and people who love making movies. It doesn’t matter what sex, religion or skin colour, it’s their mindset. And you can’t tell me that jocks and nerds don’t feel the same way.’

  Zack’s brow knitted into a furrow. ‘So you’re saying that’s what’s wrong with our kidnapper?’

  ‘Exactly. He doesn’t fit in.’

  Zack nodded in understanding and took the theory one step further. ‘He doesn’t fit in anywhere,’ he said. ‘Maybe he tried all the groups: the nerds, the actors, the jocks.’

  ‘And none of us accepted him,’ Sam jumped in.

  ‘We didn’t do it on a conscious level,’ Zack continued. ‘We were just being ourselves and he would have been on the outskirts, never able to blend in.’

  ‘And he blames us for his life.’

  ‘Yes. It took him nearly twenty-five years, but somehow he’s arrived at the idea that everything that’s gone wrong in his life started back here. Back with us.’

  ‘Christ! My family is paying the price for what? A moment of selfishness when I was seventeen. Who isn’t selfish at that age?’

  ‘We were the leaders,’ Zack said. ‘We were the gods.’

  Sam processed the theory as he crossed the lobby towards the administration office, but it didn’t sit well.

  ‘That’s crap,’ he said finally. ‘The more I think about it, the more absurd it sounds. How could anyone think we were gods?’

  ‘You said Davey did?’ Zack reminded.

  ‘Davey is fucked up. He’s been living in prison or on the streets since he was nineteen. He hasn’t been able to move on.’

  ‘I’m not saying it makes total sense, Sam. But in this little self-contained universe, people like you and Ironman stood taller than the rest. People looked up to you. Heck, they idolized you. Can you imagine how that must have looked to someone nobody even knew existed?’

  ‘But it was so damn long ago,’ Sam said quietly.

  ‘Maybe not for everyone.’

  63

  Sam and Zack approached the battle-scarred, waist-high counter that acted as a barricade between students and administration.

  A woman in a flowery wallpaper-pattern dress stood up from her desk and approached. Her hair was pulled into a bun so tight it stretched her face until it looked ready to snap.

  ‘The principal’s not in,’ she said sourly. ‘Not expecting her back for hours, either.’

  Sam softened his voice to TV-commercial smooth. ‘That’s OK, I’m sure you can help. We’re looking for information.’

  ‘What kind of information?’

  ‘We need to look through some yearbooks from the early eighties.’

  She studied the two men for a moment, as if judging their characters. ‘Library might have some, but they’ve probably been scooped into the clutches of Nancy B.’

  ‘Nancy B?’ Sam asked.

  ‘She’s a volunteer who runs all the reunions. She talked Principal De Gama into giving her an office in the library, which is something Principal Pierce would never have allowed if he was still on the job.’

  ‘Would we find her there?’ Sam enquired.

  ‘Should do. You know the way?’

  ‘We’re former students.’

  ‘No kiddin’.’ The woman frowned. ‘That must have been a long time ago.’

  Sam’s smile faltered slightly as he departed.

  64

  In the library, Zack and Sam were directed to a corner office that overflowed with books. Waist-high stacks of them littered the floor and spilled out the doorway.

  Behind the precarious piles, they found a mass of coiffed blonde hair piled atop a short, plump woman in a body-hugging lime-green dress.

  Sam cleared his throat to attract the woman’s attention, and when she looked up she positively beamed. The extra weight she carried had smoothed out any wrinkles, and her face shone with good humour.

  ‘Well, hello, there,’ she gushed. ‘Two handsome gentlemen on my doorstep. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

  ‘We’re looking for information,’ Sam said. ‘Old yearbooks.’

  ‘That’s my specialty. What years?’

  ‘Eighty-three and eighty-four.’

  The woman clapped her soft hands together excitedly. ‘Those are my years, too. I graduated in eighty-five.’

  ‘Class of eighty-four,’ Sam said.

  The woman gasped and swept one hand up to cover her mouth. ‘Wait a minute . . .’ She stood up and stared into Sam’s eyes. ‘I thought you looked familiar. Don’t tell me . . . Sam White. The actor. You played the Witch Boy in that play and wore those cute hairy chaps. All bare chest and tight buns. I remember you.’

  Sam could feel himself unexpectedly blush. Twenty-five years in Hollywood and his name meant nothing; yet here in Portland, people still remembered a cocky wannabe who dared
to reach for the stars.

  ‘I was in drama, too,’ Nancy continued. ‘Well, for half a term. It took away from my dancing.’ She wagged her finger at him and squealed. ‘You were sooo cute.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Sam muttered.

  ‘And who’s your friend?’

  ‘Parker,’ said Zack. ‘Class of ’eighty-three.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Nancy pondered. ‘Nope, don’t remember you.’

  Zack shrugged. ‘I wasn’t the memorable sort.’

  ‘We’re looking for someone,’ Sam said, ‘and thought we might spot him in the yearbooks.’

  ‘Oh, sure. I have them all here somewhere.’ Nancy turned to her stacks and began to run her finger down the gold and silver spines.

  She pulled two yearbooks from the pile and handed them to Sam. ‘These are the years you’re looking for. But they can’t leave the library, OK?’

  ‘We’ll be careful.’ Sam looked around to find an empty table. Most of them were unoccupied. Sam indicated one with his chin. ‘We’ll be just over there.’

  ‘OK, but don’t go looking up my picture,’ she warned. ‘I was just a little ol’ plain Jane back then.’ She grabbed her breasts with both hands. ‘No va-va-voom!’

  She laughed, her eyes bright with daring, and the two men smiled uncomfortably in return.

  ‘If you need anything else, Witch Boy,’ she continued, ‘you know who to ask.’

  Sam winked. ‘We certainly do.’

  Nancy blushed and returned to her computer.

  65

  They had only been looking through the books for a few minutes when Zack tapped a photo of three cheerleaders in uniform.

  He pointed to the girl in the middle. ‘Remember her?’

  Sam looked at the photo and smiled. Susan Millar was a stunning beauty with an oval face framed by long, raven-black hair. Any softness of youth was disguised by dramatically sharp eyebrows atop piercingly dark eyes the colour of wet slate. Her two companions were bubbly blondes with generous curves and wide grins.

  ‘Yeah, I knew Susan,’ he said. ‘We worked the stage together. She played the female lead opposite me in Dark of the Moon.’ Sam stared hard at the photo, becoming lost in thought. ‘We had a kissing scene in that play, and for a joke on opening night, the guys fed me a ton of garlic – garlic sausage, garlic dip, you name it. She didn’t even bat an eye. She could have been kissing a snowman.’

  He paused before adding, ‘She warmed up to me unexpectedly though.’

  Zack tensed. ‘Grad night, right?’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I was there,’ Zack said. ‘Susan was my date.’

  Sam rocked back in his seat. ‘What? I thought you’d already graduated.’

  ‘It was my sister’s idea,’ Zack explained. ‘Susan wanted to stir things up and my sister hooked us up. I knew I was being used – a black college kid on the arm of a white cheerleader – but I found myself enjoying the jealous looks. Every guy wanted her, but for a short while, she was with me. The evening was going well until we arrived at the after party and she saw you.’

  ‘Oh, Christ. You said we never met.’

  Zack shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago. It’s not connected.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because if anyone feels guilty about that night it’s me.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘I was a prick. Susan disappeared with you, I got pissed and left her there without a ride or even an explanation. When the cops talked to me after—’

  ‘The cops?’ Sam asked.

  Zack frowned. ‘You didn’t hear?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Susan was raped at the party. It was a scandal at the time, but . . .’ Zack sighed. ‘If I hadn’t left her alone . . .’

  ‘I remember now,’ Sam said. ‘My parents mentioned it one time when I called, but I didn’t realize it was the same night that we . . .’ He paused. ‘Who raped her?’

  Zack looked away in embarrassment. ‘I never followed the trial. I was in college and, truth be told, I was ashamed.’

  Sam chewed the lining of his cheek. ‘Is this the connection?’

  ‘Susan and you?’ Zack asked.

  ‘And you.’

  Zack shook his head. ‘I was angry at you both for one night, Sam. Your tryst hurt my feelings and made me feel like a dope, but I got over it. Susan and I mended our fences a long time ago, too. She’s doing OK. Last I heard she was married with two kids. Besides, the trial was a long time ago and we had no involvement in it. This stems from something else. Something we did.’

  Twenty minutes later, Sam slammed the yearbook closed in frustration.

  ‘I don’t know what I’m looking for,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t like we were in a gang with some weird initiation rite. I was in drama. Kids came and went, some got parts and some didn’t. The lucky ones fell in love with it, but others hated every second.’

  Zack closed his own book. ‘What did Davey do?’

  ‘Set lights and ran the board.’

  ‘Ran the board?’

  ‘The lighting board,’ Sam explained. ‘It’s all computers now, but everything was manual then. Davey controlled the banks of dimmer switches used to light the stage. Change day to night, bring up a spot, that kind of stuff.’

  ‘How many people would have worked with him on that?’

  ‘Less than a half-dozen; sometimes just himself.’

  ‘Why was he chosen as a target, then?’ Zack asked. ‘He doesn’t consider himself one of the gods like Ironwood.’

  ‘No, he was always behind the scenes,’ Sam agreed. ‘He never took the spotlight.’

  ‘You were good friends?’

  ‘We hung out together and had a lot of laughs.’ He paused. ‘I never stayed in touch.’

  ‘This isn’t about what happened after,’ Zack reminded. ‘During high school, you were close?’

  A pang of guilt made Sam lower his gaze. ‘Yeah, I guess we were close. He was my friend.’

  ‘So,’ Zack concluded, ‘if you’re the focus, a good way for someone to get close to you without looking like a groupie would be to first get close to Davey.’

  Sam saw the reasoning. ‘By joining Davey’s lighting crew.’

  Zack nodded. ‘If we can get the printed programmes from your plays, will they list all the people who worked behind the scenes?’

  ‘You bet. Signing everyone’s programme was always a highlight of the cast parties. We made sure everybody had their name in there no matter how small a role.’

  Zack tilted his chin at the office in the corner. ‘Time for you to turn the charm back on.’

  Sam rolled his eyes. ‘OK, but first I need you to do me a favour.’

  66

  Nancy spun in her chair, her eyes twinkling with mischief, as Sam leaned over the mini-towers of books that guarded her small office.

  ‘I have another question for you,’ Sam said.

  ‘Anything,’ Nancy breathed.

  ‘Do you have copies of programmes from any of the school plays I was in?’

  Nancy’s face dropped. ‘No, sorry. Those would have been nice to see, wouldn’t they?’ She tutted. ‘Nobody thinks at the time that they’ll want to look back and remember. People just don’t realize how special the moment is.’

  Sam didn’t hide his disappointment.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Nancy sighed. ‘Maybe one of your classmates held on to them. They must have been very special.’

  Sam turned to leave and collided with Zack, who was knocked off balance and sent crashing into a wall of books. A dozen stacks toppled to the floor, sending yearbooks everywhere. Nancy screamed in horror and dropped to all fours to guard several other teetering stacks.

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ Zack said. ‘Let me help you.’

  ‘Get out!’ Nancy’s face flushed a deep crimson. ‘I’ll fix it.’

  ‘I was just—’ Zack stopped as if his tongue was suddenly frozen to the roof of his mouth by Nancy’s icy stare.

&nbs
p; Sam grabbed hold of his elbow and steered him away.

  Zack and Sam hurried out of the school and across the parking lot to the Mercedes with its mud-encrusted Oregon licence plates.

  ‘That was cruel,’ Zack said.

  ‘True.’ Sam pulled the 1984 yearbook out from under his T-shirt. ‘But I promised this to a friend,’ he grinned, ‘a friend who kept everything.’

  67

  Sam directed Zack across the Burnside Bridge and into the empty lot where he had parked the night before. What remained of his Jeep lay in a blackened ruin. It had been stripped of its wheels, hood and front windshield before being torched.

  Sam walked over to it and rested his hand on the dented rear fender. The blackened metal was still warm. His last possession gone.

  Zack joined him. ‘Is that—’

  ‘Not even worth stealing.’

  Sam turned his back on the smouldering heap and headed for the bridge.

  Zack walked alongside. ‘You’ll want company down there. Your friend might not be as friendly after you set him on fire.’

  Sam accepted the offer, and the two men walked to the bridge in silence.

  At the top of the stairs, Sam stopped and looked across the river. The sky was beginning to turn a vibrant orange as the sun slid behind a thin cloud on its slow journey to the ocean.

  ‘We used to come here as kids,’ Sam said. ‘Smoke pot, drink beer, cause trouble. The cops didn’t care so long as we kept it on this side of the bridge.’ He looked down into the darkness beneath the concrete and ironwork spans. ‘I wonder if it’s the same with them? So long as the tourists on the west shore aren’t bothered, the cops leave them be.’

  Zack shrugged. ‘Probably. They have to live somewhere.’

  ‘Segregation again? We go where we’re comfortable, where we fit in.’

  ‘Or ghettoization,’ Zack retorted. ‘We go to the only place the cops won’t harass us.’

  Sam accepted the opinion and looked over the water again. ‘Did you know what you wanted to be? In high school, I mean.’