Page 16

Palm Springs

January 3, 2023

4:00 P.M.

The fourth time Grant left I really thought he might be dead.

Polly had her stroke in mid-December 2008 and died after a short stay in the ICU. Her sudden passing left me utterly gutted. Just a month later, I was still too sad to want to have fun with Grant when he returned home from teaching a JanTerm class. On top of everything, the girls had hit a difficult teenage stretch I’d been hoping we could avoid. Dort was surly and got high all the time—she didn’t even try to hide it. March was so involved in school, activities, and her possessive boyfriend that we hardly ever saw her. She treated me like an innkeeper.

Grant walked into our home simmering with tension and grief, expecting to be wrapped up in a warm embrace. Reunions were always poignant for Grant. Instead, we virtually ignored him. “Anyone up for an ice cream at the Chocolate Shoppe?” he asked.

No takers.

“How about a walk to Picnic Point to look for owls?”

“Dad, no. It’s freezing.”

“Sorry, homework.”

A few minutes later he tried again. “There’s a talk about human rights in Southeast Asia at the Union tonight. Anyone?”

“Not now,” I said. “I have to take March to debate, and I told Octavia I’d meet her after.”

“Why do you always make plans with Octavia on the weekends? Can’t you see her when I’m not here?”

I was already running late. “She works, too, and so do I. We’re busy during the week. What’s the big deal? I’ll only be gone a few hours.”

He sulked, feeling neglected. “I just found out I didn’t get the job as dean, in case you care.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that, but you said you didn’t really want it. You hate doing administrative stuff.”

“That’s just what I said. I was starting to like the sound of Dean Duffy.”

“Well, sorry.”

March was already waiting in the car and blared the horn. It was raining, and the rain was beginning to turn to sleet. I grabbed my keys, threw on a scarf, and tied my bootlaces.

“A little sympathy would be nice. Why do I even come home?”

I was at my wit’s end. “Then don’t come home. We’re all busy, Grant. My mother just died. You want us to drop everything the minute you walk through the door. It’s like you expect a marching band to parade down the stairs to celebrate your return. We’re all just living our lives.”

I met Octavia at the Weary Traveler feeling sorry and on edge the way I usually did on the rare occasion when I lost my temper with Grant. Octavia was still married to Brian, and they, too, were having some issues. Sometimes you need to feed off another couple’s dysfunction to make your own feel more normal. The more Octavia talked about Brian’s snoring and porn addiction, the better Grant sounded.

When I came home prepared to apologize, Grant was gone. I told myself it was possible he’d found something to do. Maybe he’d sat in on the lecture after all? I went to bed alone. It had been so long since Grant had walked out on me that I’d almost—just almost—let myself believe it wouldn’t happen again. Grant had become good friends with the spiritual-life adviser on campus. They went for long walks and talked about the mental health issues the students faced, and eventually Grant opened up about his own past. Bill was a thoughtful listener, and he provided Grant with strategies to work through times of conflict. Their talks helped—it had been over a decade since he’d walked out after finding me with his journal, and I had allowed myself to believe that it would never happen again. Yet that night, I had a sixth sense that he’d driven back to the house in Mounds. Hadn’t I basically pushed him out the door?

Nothing good happens after one in the morning. Just a few months earlier, some boys from Dort and March’s high school were killed in a drunk-driving accident. The car had flipped over with such force that the hood had melted into and become part of the pavement. When my phone rang, I thought of them.

“This is Officer Schumann from the Columbia County Sheriff’s Department. Is this Kimberly Hastings?”

“Yes.” I could barely get the word out of my throat. I was frozen in fear.

“Can you please confirm that you drive a blue Honda Civic?”

“Yes, that’s… that’s our car.”

“I’m afraid there’s been an accident with your vehicle.”

My heart was racing. It was all I could do to ask, “Which… which passenger?”

“Grant Duffy.”

“Is he okay? Is he hurt?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss his medical condition.” The officer provided me with phone numbers and instructions to go to Prairie Ridge Hospital. I was a mess on my drive there with no idea what I was about to face.

When I walked into Grant’s room, still raw from my last visit to a hospital to say goodbye to Polly, he was sitting up in bed with a trail of dried blood coming out of his nose, his hair disheveled. He saw me and lit up, then his eyes filled with tears.

“I’m so sorry I snapped,” I said. “You just wanted to spend time with us.”

He held my hand and put it on his chest. “No, Kimmer. I’m sorry I snapped.”

“You need help, Grant.”

“I tried. I got help. It was working. But then, tonight, it was the tone of your voice that got to me.” His expression was confused, childlike. “And then you walked away. You walked right out of the door, and when I heard the door shut behind you, I felt like you’d cut me in half.”

“I’m sorry. I know I could have been kinder. But we have lives, Grant, and parts of those lives don’t include you—just like you have a life in Mounds that doesn’t include us. And that’s okay, it works. At least most of the time.”

“It works for you. ”

I brought him home, and the next day we bought the trusty Prius.

And now here I am in California, about to talk about our latest car with a different member of law enforcement. Brady had called while I was trying to work off some nervous energy on a short walk along the main road that ran through Indian Canyons. Before he could say hello, I felt my heart race, and my face, hands, and feet began to sweat. “I’d like to ask you some questions about your vehicle.”

Hearing the word vehicle set off alarm bells again. “Did you find it?” Any news about the car could help unravel the mystery of Grant’s whereabouts.

“Why don’t you come to the command center, Mrs. Duffy? We’ll talk when you get here.”

When I arrived, Brady was waiting for me in the middle of the road, arms crossed over his chest. I tried to read his face. This man held all the power in my life. He could open his mouth and tell me that Grant was alive or dead, the two most different possible and momentous outcomes in the world, but I’d never know it from his face.

“Mrs. Duffy.” I could detect that something about his attitude toward me had hardened. I felt that I was in trouble.

“You can call me Kim. It’s fine.”

No response. “I’d like for you to tell me a little more about the vehicle you purchased.”

“The Jeep? Grant bought it, I didn’t. I didn’t want to have anything to do with it.”

“Why’s that? Was there a problem?”

“Well, yeah. Poor fuel economy. A bumpy ride. Two seats. It’s loud. The whole cool-guy vibe. It’s not my kind of car. Like I said, I didn’t buy it. We keep our finances separate. He bought it with his money.”

“Okay, so when did he buy it?”

“Early November. We were on our way here, and our Prius broke down. Now that was a good car, right up to the very end.”

“Where did you buy the Jeep? At a dealership?”

“No, in Barstow. Some guy.”

“Some guy. Did this guy have a name?”

It seemed like a lifetime ago now. “I don’t remember. We were stranded, and Grant saw it sitting in the parking lot of a diner. He said he’d always wanted a Jeep, which was totally news to me, so he called the number and Tony—that was his name, Tony—was there within five minutes.”

“You had a Prius, and then you bought an off-roading vehicle? That’s a pretty big change.”

“It’s what Grant wanted.”

The more I talked, the more I saw us the way Brady did. We were complete idiots. “How’d you pay for it?”

“Grant went to the bank and wrote a check to cash. I know, checks. Old-school. He talked the guy down to eighteen thousand from twenty thousand dollars. He thought he got a great deal.”

“So, you’re telling me you gave eighteen thousand dollars to some yahoo you met in a parking lot?”

I shrugged. Brady was right, it was ridiculous. “Grant did.”

“And the title?”

“He, um…” I’d never felt more stupid. “Well, Tony said he’d mail it to us. I thought maybe Grant got it? I didn’t ask.”

“The title is in the mail,” Brady said this with excruciating slowness. “And you were okay with that?”

I paused. “Why are you asking so many questions about the Jeep?” I stuffed my hands in my pockets and braced myself for whatever was about to come next. “Did you find it? You did, didn’t you? Can you please just tell me what’s going on? I feel like you’re laying a trap.”

“Mrs. Duffy, the vehicle you reported missing was recovered.”

At last, one part of the mystery of Grant’s disappearance was closer to being solved. “So you found it? And was Grant in it?”

Brady continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “I should have known where it was before now. Sometimes the agencies don’t communicate very well.”

“But—this is good news, right? I hope so, because I could really, really use some good news right now.”

“Well, it’s not great news, because you either stole the vehicle, or you bought it hot.”

I began to laugh, until I realized Brady was serious. “Oh, come on. Do I look like someone who steals cars? I mean, look at me.” After days of worry and little sleep, I looked strung out or crazy, or both.

“I’ve seen it all, Mrs. Duffy.”

“Where did you find the Jeep?”

I held my breath in anticipation of Brady’s answer. Whatever he said would tell me whether Grant had gotten lost or run off. This, I felt, was a tipping point.

“It was parked where you thought it would be, on the side of Morris Ranch Road near the trailhead. Someone had called about their car getting broken into, and while the police were there, they ran the plates on all the cars. When they saw it was stolen, they towed it.”

I was so floored by this revelation that I didn’t think before I said, “So Grant really was hiking?”

I watched Brady’s face change. “Mrs. Duffy, are you telling me everything? You suspected that he might not be hiking?”

“No. Yes, I mean, it was just so strange that we didn’t know where the Jeep was, that’s all,” I stammered.

Brady’s voice rose. “I’ve got a whole team out there risking their own safety, at least for now. If there’s something more we should know, Mrs. Duffy, if there’s some funny business, you should tell me now.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

He stared at me a good long while, waiting for me to crack. “You don’t want me to risk people’s lives up there, do you? I can call off the search.” He pulled out his walkie-talkie as if he was about to.

“You can’t do that! If you do, what happens to Grant? He could… he could… he could die out there.”

Brady looked at me as if I should have known this all along. “It’s been over two days now, Mrs. Duffy. We’ve closed the canyon and activated tremendous resources. I wish I could assure you that he’ll be okay. But this isn’t an amusement park. If it were up to me, I’d cover the mountains with signs that say HIKE AT YOUR OWN RISK. ”

He pulled some breath mints out of his pocket and popped one into his mouth. “Want one?”

I declined. “Do we get the car back? What happens to it?”

He thought I was crazy. “That car was never yours to begin with. Next time, do your homework before purchasing a vehicle.”

He turned and walked back into the command center. Alone, I felt suddenly lightheaded as the enormity of the situation sank in. I put my hands on my thighs and stared up at the mountains knowing for the first time that Grant really was a lost hiker. The mountains were so big, so vast, spread out in all directions, and now I knew how dangerous they were.

How on earth could they find him? What if they never did?