Page 15 of A Sublime Casualt
I want something more than that with Charlie Neville.
With Charlie Neville, I want it all.
Charlie
Wakefield in autumn is crowned with splendor, pouring out a rainbow of golds, scarlets, and plums. The countryside is an endless feast for the eyes as the meadow grass yields to its slumber, leaving patches of dryness blotching the vicinity. But it’s the trees that exude perfect bliss, with their dying leaves bleeding out all color, blazing like a red and orange inferno, so richly textured, so abundant in their animated fury, they beg you to walk a little slower, linger your gaze a little longer in their direction just to appreciate their caustic beauty.
I skirt the outer ridge of the lake that’s north of Conrad University toward a skate park on the left bank, one mostly occupied by pre-teens on this early Sunday evening, but I’m not looking for a pre-teen, just a person with the mental state of one. Miles Wallis stands tall and lanky sitting on a concrete bench, smoking something small and decidedly illegal in this great state. With a little research on my new toy—the cell phone that cost more than I’ve yet to make at the Hideaway, not including monthly fees—I discovered quite easily his place of employment. Miles works for the Parks and Recreation Department, and Del Sol Park is his domain. Judging by the skateboard he’s flexing effortlessly between his feet, I’d say it’s not a wonder.
For a moment, I wonder what I’m doing here, in Del Sol Park, in Wakefield, in Theo Stavros’ life. I once thought Wakefield would be my safety net, my savior, and here it was a sticky web all along. I ran from a lion, only to meet up with a bear. And even though every last part of me screamskeep running,don’t look back, my stubborn feet refuse to leave. Instead, they carry me forward toward the tall gangly stoner with his Fu Manchu mustache, his ball cap on backward. The thick banded sunglasses mask him just enough for me to wonder if he could possibly be handsome. There must have been something Lizzy saw in him. A quick Google search yielded his pictures, his job location, and his home address. Thomas Hartley, Lizzy’s husband of two years, had less of a digital footprint, but I managed to find a few pictures of him, one at the Kruskal Law Offices Christmas party and one at a Fourth of July picnic just three days prior to his ex-wife’s disappearance.
Miles nods over at me with the joint pinched between his fingers, sucking hard off it before extinguishing the tip and harboring it as if I were about to swipe it from his grimy hand. “What’s up?” He turns his head and expels a white plume over his shoulder.
“I was wondering if you could help me. I’m looking for a Miles Wallen? Vallis?”
“Wallis.” He holds out a hand, and I’m loathe to shake it. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, nice.” I blink a smile, offering all the pleasantries I can muster. “First, I’d like to offer my sympathies. I hear your girlfriend is still missing.” He straightens as if someone just shoved a metal pole up his back. “We’re all hoping she’ll be found safe by some miracle. I’m from Conrad University, and I belong to a paranormal research club called the Messengers of Light. I hope you don’t mind, but several of us are fascinated by the recent accounts you’ve made public. Would you mind if I conducted a quick interview? I would consider it an honor just to be near you. Indeed, I feel as if I’m breathing rarefied air.”
A goofy grin spreads wide over his face. I know his type. Stroke his ego and he’ll do all the party tricks you ask.
“No, man, I don’t mind at all.” He whips off his sunglasses and pats a spot on the bench next to him. “Shoot. I’ve got all day.” He offers a toothy grin. Same eerie grin Lizzy gives me each day I pass her poster. His eyes hit me like a laser, crushed sea glass. So very pretty, stunning, breathtaking, actually. It must have been the eyes Lizzy was drawn to. Maybe if he lost the dead raccoon hanging off his face, the skateboard, and illegal substances, he would be a serious contender. Or maybe it was the fact that just the thought of him burying that beard over her body was enough to send her ex into a jealous rage. Ashley did say she liked to get a rise out of people.
“Thank you. That’s very generous of you. Tell me how you met Lizzy. What happened the day of her disappearance?”
He purses his lips into a pouty bow and, surprisingly enough, it’s an affable look on him. “Lizzy and I hooked up at a party.” He shoves his tongue into his cheek and creates an unnatural bulge. Hooking up at a party. Now there’s a shocker. “She was beautiful, man. Long hair, laughing eyes the color just before a sunrise. She had this magnetism. Lizzy would walk into a room and everyone would know it. Everyone wanted to be near her, be her friend. She was just that kind of person. Special. I don’t know how else to describe her.”
“She does sound special. And beautiful. I can see that from her posters. So, did she approach you? I’m also a romantic at heart, which explains my addiction to hearing all the details of a brand-new couple.”
His brows dip in a hard V as he contemplates this for a moment, his gaze locked behind me as if watching the scene play out again. “She did approach me. But you know, Lizzy and I knew of each other. We weren’t buddies. We never hung out. Then one night, she asked me to dance, and one thing led to another. Lizzy liked to party.”
“Party?”
“You know, beer, weed, just the light stuff.”
“That makes sense. From what I’ve gathered, the media portrays her as a very passionate person.” That’s not true, but then he thinks I’m a student at Conrad.
“Hell yeah.” His lips pull back in an eerie grimace. “That girl was wild, dude. They don’t make ’em like that. Lizzy broke the mold.” He takes another hit off his joint before he realizes it’s not lit and surrenders it back into his palm. “Lizzy had vices. I guess we all do. She loved the spotlight on her. She was high-maintenance, though. Liked expensive things. I couldn’t give her any of that.”
“But she didn’t need you for the money, right? I mean, she was educated. She had a career.”
His chest bucks with a sharp laugh. “She quit Conrad halfway through. Pissed her mother off. That place isn’t cheap, you know. It kind of screwed with their relationship. To Lizzy, family was everything. That’s why it hurt so bad when she turned on her. She didn’t approve of her new lifestyle.”
“What?” I say, stunned, mostly to myself, but stoner Miles is more than happy to spill all the words.
“They’re uptight. You know, old world. Italian, I think.”
“Greek,” I’m quick to correct.
“Right, right. Whatever. She was into some wild shit, and when her mom found out, she hit the roof.”
“What about her brother? Brothers can be overprotective.”
“I don’t know. I doubt he knew. He’s a cop or some shit like that, right? He’d have her ass. He’d be pretty pissed.”
What in the hell was she doing?
“I bet her sister was pissed, too. I mean, sisters share everything.”