His knees trembled, but he walked toward the old man. “Mr. Bennick?” His voice cracked against the words.
The man’s caterpillar brows yanked down over pale eyes as he lifted his head. Everett’s gut tightened further and then twisted in on itself until he was only seconds away from changing his mind and racing for the door.
But then the man smiled. His whole scary face opened up with warmth, though Everett couldn’t tell if it was real or fake.
“Well, hello there,” Alex Bennick croaked.
“Hello,” Everett responded automatically.
“How is your school year going, young man? Do you like your teachers?”
“Um.” He glanced around before remembering he was alone. “Sure. They’re pretty good.”
“Let me guess . . .” The brows fell again, giving him a thundery look as he studied Everett. “Sixth grade?”
“Ha. Yeah, that’s right.”
“Haven’t lost my touch! I’m spot on ninety-nine percent of the time. So what can I do for you today, son?” When Everett just stared at him for a moment, Mr. Bennick said, “Sit down! Pull up a chair!”
Eyes wide, Everett thought about it for a long moment before deciding it was probably safe since there were still other people in the courtyard. He scraped a heavy chair over the stone tiles to sit at the small round table.
Mr. Bennick only smiled at him for a long while until Everett cleared his throat and steeled his spine. He could do this. He’d come this far, hadn’t he?
“Mr. Bennick . . . I wanted to ask you about this girl.” He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a picture of the last woman who’d gone missing. Marti Herrera had been only twenty-one, and her family had mounted a tireless campaign for information. He placed the grainy inkjet picture on the table, and the man’s face deflated from open friendliness to a darkness Everett couldn’t read. “Marti,” he said simply.
“Yes! That’s right. Marti Herrera. Did you know her?”
“Just a little. I worked for the school district, you know.”
“I know,” Everett answered. Still, goose bumps rose on his arms at the confirmation. “I thought . . . Well, I wondered if you might know anything about her disappearance.”
The man seemed lost in the picture that he now cradled in his hands, his eyes sad and watery. “She was a rude young lady,” he said, and the knot that had almost begun to loosen in Everett’s stomach snapped tight again. He felt himself edging back in his seat at the idea that this man would say something so harsh about a missing woman.
But then Mr. Bennick smiled and shook his head. “But she was smart as a whip and so, so funny. That was what teachers didn’t like about her, you know.” He chortled at some memory. “Lots of kids are rude, but Marti could get everyone laughing. No one wants rebellion in their classroom! Still, we worked out a deal to keep her in school, and she did finish. She graduated. Marti was a success story.”
“Until she disappeared?” Everett prompted, and Mr. Bennick’s smile melted again, sagging into that hangdog sadness.
“Yes. Just like the others.”
Everett leaned forward. “The others? Mr. Bennick . . .” He held his breath for a moment before daring to ask. “Do you know what happened to them?”
The old man drew himself up with sudden speed, sitting straight and pointing a finger at Everett. “Stay out of that mess, young man. It is not safe. You understand that? Why are you asking questions about this? It’s been too long.”
“She’s my cousin.” Everett spit out the prepared lie without hesitation. Heck, in this small town it could even be true. He wasn’t exactly sure who his dad’s family might be related to.
Mr. Bennick glared for a moment before sinking down into sadness again with a sigh. “I’m sorry, son. I really am. But this is dangerous stuff. Not a subject for a book report or . . . or . . .” He started to wave his hand, then paused and cocked his head. “How did you come by my name? Do I know you?”
“No. But someone told me you were interested in these missing girls.”
“Someone . . .” The man trailed off, his eyes focusing somewhere past Everett’s head. “Well, I’m not really sure . . .”
When he continued staring past him, Everett twisted in his seat to look, hoping Josephine had come in, but there was no one there, just a tree reaching up for the cloudy sky. “Sir?” he asked, but the man shook his head and eased back into his chair, his face a little paler, the picture trembling in his hand.