“Did you know she’s been reported missing?”
He closes his eyes briefly and nods. “I did know that, yes.
I looked it up online last night, too. But it’s got nothing to do
with me, Sam. Trina’s been off the radar for ages. Her sister did
get in touch with me years ago to see if I’d heard from her, and
I wasn’t able to help her.”
“Why did this thing with Trina come up now, if it’s such
old news?”
“I don’t know. You saw the website, I take it. Apparently
there’s been a
development
.” He says the word as if it’s nothing
more than theoretical bullshit. But maybe it isn’t.
“Why wouldn’t you just tell me about it—about her—when
I asked? She was your girlfriend, and she disappeared.”
“She wasn’t my girlfriend when she disappeared, Sam, and
that’s an important distinction to make. I knew her before I
met your mom.”
“The website I saw said you were her significant other.”
“Anyone can write anything on a website. You know it
doesn’t make it true. My guess is her family published that site,
and frankly, they never knew much about Trina. They sure
didn’t know when we began or ended our relationship.”
“Okay, but
tell
me about her. What happened? Dad . . .
look, you were mad that I called Eschermann before I told you
about the postcard, right?”
“I wasn’t mad, I was—”
“This is the same thing, here, isn’t it? I’m going to find out.
Someone’s going to tell me. It should’ve been you.”
He doesn’t reply right away.
He nods. He pats the countertop, a few inches from a bar-
stool. “Sit down. We can talk if you want.”
I take a seat, bringing my plate with me.
33
