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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE KELLERS

On the walk to a frat house called Hangover, Keller assesses her student guide, Annie Hafeez. The young woman has a twinkle in her eyes, an overcaffeinated energy, and hasn’t stopped talking since they left the station house. Keller would ordinarily think it’s nervous chatter, but she suspects this is just Annie’s way. Keller is instinctively drawn to people like this, people who think the glass really is half full, who see the best in others, who are comfortable in their own skin and like nothing more than to chat and smile.

“You said your name is Agent Keller,” the intern says. “What do I call you? Like, Agent Keller or Special Agent Keller or FBI Agent Keller or—”

“Sarah works,” Keller says.

“Sarah,” Annie repeats. “What an old-fashioned name.”

The young will do nothing but make you feel your age.

On the walk, Keller learns that Annie is studying business because it was the only major that would make her parents happy. She graduates this year and has no idea what she wants to do. She’s not dating anyone serious and doesn’t care. She’s got two siblings who have serious boyfriends, but whatever.

“I told my dad, no , I don’t have to move home after graduation if no one’s asked me to get married.” She shakes her head seemingly endeared by her father’s traditional way of thinking. “I told him I don’t need a man”—she offers a wicked smile—“or a woman.”

Keller smiles in spite of herself.

Annie continues: “He said my grandparents are rolling over in their graves. And I said Nani told me, right before she died, not to live my life the way other people expect me to. She made me promise.” The young woman sets her jaw, like she’s proud of her oath.

“What brought you to intern at the campus police?” Keller asks. “I interned for a police department when I was in college.”

“It was here or the dining hall. And no way I’m cleaning up after those slobs. But I’ve found it interesting, everybody’s nice.” She thinks a moment. “What’s it like being in the FBI?”

“I can’t complain. Well, I can, but I won’t,” Keller says. “It’s been an interesting career. But it’s not like on TV.”

Annie raises her hands like she’s holding a handgun, pretends to stalk around. “You’re not, like, busting down doors and capturing terrorists or stopping bombs from going off or flying to some small town to stop a serial killer?”

“Not usually. Mostly it’s analysis. I work in financial crimes so it’s a lot of data crunching, following a money trail.”

They walk briskly through campus and turn onto Franklin Street.

“Do you know any of the missing students?” Keller asks.

Annie shakes her head. “I don’t know many freshmen.”

Keller reflects on the days when a three-year gap seemed like a chasm.

Annie points to a squat house that looks like the other dilapidated ranches on the street. Keller wouldn’t have a clue it was a frat house but for the throng of young men, most shirtless, on a side patio. A few of them are playing some type of game at tables made of large slabs of plywood. The others are scuttling about picking up trash and setting up what looks like a homemade bar constructed of Home Depot lumber.

“There must be a darty today,” Annie says. “They’re never up this early.”

“Darty?”

“A daytime party—a darty. There’s also the ‘dusky’ for a dusk party, and a—”

“You know any of those guys?” Keller cuts in.

Annie surveys the shirtless masses, shakes her head. “I’ve seen some of them around, but don’t know them.”

Keller watches as two guys appear to be trying to hoist up a tarp that will shield the outdoor patio from the street.

“Pledges,” Annie explains. “They’re basically servants for the brothers until they’re initiated.”

Keller and Annie step onto the patio. Keller flashes her badge, if only for the amusement of seeing the fear in their underage-drinking eyes. One of the boys drops the tarp in an effort to conceal a keg.

Keller points to the boy who looks most afraid. Or maybe the least hungover.

“Do you know Blane Roosevelt?”

“Yeah. I mean, he’s in my pledge class.”

The other boys start buzzing around.

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

The kid blows out a breath. “I’m not sure. A couple days ago, I think.”

Another student, this one wearing a cowboy hat and, yes, shirtless, moves in closer. “I saw him on Wednesday night. The night we got our Bigs.”

Keller furrows her brow.

Annie says, “Bigs are like, ah, mentors. All the pledges get one.”

Keller looks at the half-dozen pledges. “Any of you see Blane since then?”

This prompts a shirtless ensemble shaking their heads.

Keller makes a show of examining the area. “I really need to find Blane. I’d hate to start checking IDs if someone’s not telling me something.”

There’s murmuring. Then a pledge steps forward. “I saw Blane last night.”

“What time?”

“Ah, like six or seven.”

“Where?”

“Here. He asked if his Big was around.”

“Name?” Keller enjoys watching them squirm for some reason.

“His Big? It’s Shaggy.”

Keller looks around at all the boys with their floppy hair. It’s a nickname that would work for any of them.

“Shaggy lives here?”

The pledges are all nods now.

Keller points toward the door, and they nod again, which she takes as consent to enter the premises. Consent is an exception to the warrant requirement, though she’d be on shaky ground if she saw anything illegal inside the frat house. But right now she doesn’t care: She’s focused on finding the missing students, not whatever paraphernalia lurks in the common area of Hangover.

Keller looks at the boys one last time. It’s funny, they’re legal adults, but Keller can’t help but think of them as boys. She says: “You all respect girls?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” one of the more assertive boys says. Nods all around again.

“If I hear one whisper otherwise, I’ll be back, and things won’t go well for you.”

Keller signals to Annie to wait there as she goes inside to find “Shaggy.” She’s already involved the intern more than she should.

From behind, she hears a burst of laughter. This will be a story they tell later at their “darty.”

In the living room of Hangover, two students look up at her curiously from the television screen. They have game controllers in their hands. They say nothing and simply shrug off the sight of a strange woman in their home.

The kitchen is cleaner than expected. The benefit of having a group of pledge servants. They probably forced them to clean for Parents Weekend.

A girl walks toward her from the hallway.

“Shaggy’s room?” Keller asks, nonchalantly.

The girl looks over her shoulder. “The one with the Fight Club poster on the door,” she replies.

Fight Club came out before these fraternity bros were even born, but whatever. Keller finds the door, stares at shirtless Brad Pitt with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth, understanding now why these boys are averse to covering their torsos. She knocks. No answer, but she hears rustling inside. She pounds again.

The door rips open aggressively. The young man’s face softens when he sees it isn’t a pledge bothering him.

Keller stands corrected: The name “Shaggy” fits this boy uniquely.

She holds up her badge.

Shaggy’s eyes widen, then he slides out a crack in his door into the hallway, shuts it behind him.

“You’re the FBI, no shit?”

“Yes.”

“Sick.”

With those stimulating preliminaries out of the way, Keller asks, “You’re Blane Roosevelt’s Big?”

“Goose? Yeah, he’s my boy. What’s—”

“Goose?”

“Just nicknames we…” He stops himself. Keller’s expression must say she gets it.

“Can I come in?”

Shaggy grimaces, scratches his head. “Do you, ah, have a warrant?”

“Never mind,” Keller says. She appreciates his television understanding of his rights. And she’s already pushed the Fourth Amendment to its limits today. “We can talk here: When was the last time you saw Blane?” She can’t bring herself to call him Goose.

“Last night. Is he in some kind of trouble?” Shaggy rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“You haven’t heard? He’s missing. So are three other students from his capstone group.”

Keller realizes that the campus alert hasn’t gone out yet.

“I just saw him literally last night…”

“What time was it?”

He thinks about it. “I was about to get dinner, like, seven or seven thirty.”

“You’re sure? This is important.”

He nods, more confident.

“Where did you see him?”

“Here.”

Keller nods for him to continue.

“Yeah. He came rushing in. Said he needed to borrow the Machine.”

Sweet mother. “The Machine?”

“My van. We call it the—”

“Was he with anyone?”

“Yeah, Tommy Boy.”

“Tommy— I need a real name.”

Shaggy looks at the ceiling like he’s trying to conjure the name.

A pledge walks by. He’s carrying a caddy full of cleaning supplies. Oh the rituals of boys.

“Yo, Urkel. What’s Tommy Boy’s name? Like, his real name?”

The pledge says: “Mark.”

“Mark Wong?” asks Keller.

“Yeah.”

This confirms that the missing four are actually the missing five.

The pledge continues down the hall. Keller hears him utter a loud groan when he sees the state of the bathroom. A voice from the other room says, “I want to be able to eat off that floor, Urkel.”

Keller turns back to Shaggy. “Did Blane say where he was going, why he needed your van?”

He shakes his head.

“And you just gave him the keys?”

“Goose is my boy, of course.”

“Did he bring it back?” Keller says.

Shaggy shakes his head like he doesn’t know. “I park it on the street out front. If it’s not out there, then…”

“What’s the make and model of your van, the color?”

“It’s hard to miss. It’s painted like the Mystery Machine from Scooby-Doo .”

Of course it is.

“I need your plate number.”

There’s that dumbfounded expression again. “Ah, I don’t— No, wait. I have a picture of the Machine on my phone. Hold on.” He opens the door only a crack, squeezes through the gap. He returns to the hallway in the same awkward way.

“Here’s one,” he says. “I can AirDrop it.” He holds out his phone, taps it on Keller’s. And she sees the photo pop up. The scene looks like Halloween. A group of students dressed up like Fred, Daphne, and the others from the cartoon series stand in front of a green-and-turquoise hippie van. She confirms the license plate is visible in the shot.

“We painted it for the party,” he explains.

“Do you have any idea where Blane and Mark went? Where they might be?”

“You checked their phone location?”

Crime shows. Keller doesn’t answer.

“Goose loves the beach. Or maybe they all just went camping. Somewhere with no cell service. We went to Death Valley last year and my mom freaked when she didn’t hear from me for a few days.”

Keller hopes that’s what’s going on. The students are camping at Rancho San Antonio Park, out of range of a cell tower. Everyone is freaking out unnecessarily. But she has a gnawing in the back of her mind that tells her it’s something else. Something worse.

“Has Blane borrowed the van before?”

“Just once when they all went to a concert in the city. Kanye.” He looks around the hallway conspiratorially. “They kept it on the down-low ’cause Kanye’s problematic.”

“You said Mark was with Blane?”

Shaggy nods.

“Did he say anything or tell you where they were—”

“Nah. I actually sent Tommy Boy outside. Told him he shouldn’t be in the house.”

“Why? I thought he’s a pledge too.”

“He’s on probation.”

“For what?”

Shaggy bites his lower lip like he’s mulling how much to say. Then, in a more serious voice he says, “We take allegations seriously.”

“Allegations?”

“You’ll have to ask Griffey. He’s frat president. I don’t know the deets.”

Keller exhales, not sure if she’s up for another talk with a bro.

When she returns to the patio, Annie is in the midst of the weird game at one of the plywood tables. A frat kid throws what looks like a die high into the air and they all wait for it to bounce on the table. Annie nimbly kicks the die when it ricochets off the tabletop. The pledge next to her tries to kick the die on the rebound but misses, and it flies onto the concrete. The boy who missed then downs whatever is in the Solo cup on the table.

Annie notices Keller, says her goodbyes, and comes over.

Keller says, “I need to speak to the frat president. He appar ently plays something called ‘drone soccer’ on Saturday mornings. Do you know what that is and where…?”

“For sure,” Annie says, waving to the frat boys as they leave Hangover. “And I’ve got some intel for you from the pledges.”

Keller knew she liked this young woman.