“I love you too.”
Mike knocked again. There was no answer at the door. He lifted his hand to knock a third time when the door opened. Anthony the bouncer filled the doorway. He folded his massive arms and said, “You look like hell.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“How did you find me?”
“I went online and looked up recent photographs of the Dartmouth football team. You only graduated last year. Your address is registered in the alumni site.”
“Smart,” Anthony said with a small smile. “We Dartmouth men are very smart.”
“I got jumped in that alley.”
“Yeah, I know. Who do you think called the police?”
“You?”
He shrugged. “Come on. Let’s take a walk.”
Anthony closed the door behind him. He was dressed in workout clothes. He wore shorts and one of those tight sleeveless tees that were suddenly the rage not just with guys like Anthony, who could pull it off, but guys Mike’s age who simply couldn’t.
“It’s just a summer gig,” Anthony said. “Working at the club. But I like it. I’m going to law school at Columbia in the fall.”
“My wife is a lawyer.”
“Yeah, I know. And you’re a doctor.”
“How do you know that?”
He grinned. “You’re not the only one who can use college connections.”
“You looked me up online?”
“Nah. I called the current hockey coach-a guy named Ken Karl, also worked as the defensive line coach on the football team. Described what you looked liked, told him you claimed to be an All-American. He said ‘Mike Baye’ right away. Says you were one of the best hockey players the school ever had. You still hold some scoring record.”
“So does this mean we have a bond, Anthony?”
The big man didn’t reply.
They headed down the stoop. Anthony turned right. A man approaching in the other direction called out, “Yo, Ant!” and the two men did a complicated handshake before moving on.
Mike said, “Tell me what happened last night.”
“Three, maybe four guys kicked the crap out of you. I heard the commotion. When I got there, they were running away. One of the guys had a knife. I thought you were a goner.”
“You scared them off?”
Anthony shrugged.
“Thanks.”
Another shrug.
“You get a look at them?”
“Not their faces. But they were white guys. Lots of tattoos. Dressed in black. Skanky and skinny and stoned out of their freakin’ minds, I bet. Lots of anger. One was cupping his nose and cursing.” Anthony smiled again. “I do believe you broke it.”
“And you’re the one who called the cops?”
“Yup. Can’t believe you’re out of bed already. I figured you’d be out of commission for at least a week.”
They kept walking.
“Last night, the kid with the varsity jacket,” Mike said. “Had you seen him before?”
Anthony said nothing.
“You recognized my son’s picture too.”
Anthony stopped. He plucked sunglasses out of his collar and put them on. They covered his eyes. Mike waited.
“Our Big Green connection only goes so far, Mike.”
“You said you’re amazed I’m out of bed already.”
“That I did.”
“You want to know why?”
He shrugged.
“My son is still missing. His name is Adam. He’s sixteen years old, and I think he’s in a lot of danger.”
Anthony kept walking. “Sorry to hear about that.”
“I need some information.”
“I look like the Yellow Pages to you? I live out there. I don’t talk about what I see.”
“Don’t hand me that ‘code of the street’ crap.”
“And don’t hand me that ‘ Dartmouth men stick together’ crap.”
Mike put his hand on the big man’s arm. “I need your help.”
Anthony pulled away, started walking faster. Mike caught up to him.
“I’m not leaving, Anthony.”
“Didn’t think you would,” he said. He stopped. “Did you like it up there?”
“Where?”
“ Dartmouth.”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “I liked it a lot.”
“Me too. It was like a different world. You know what I’m saying?”
“I do.”
“No one in this neighborhood knew about that school.”
“How did you end up there?”
He smiled, adjusted the sunglasses. “You mean a big black brother from the streets going to lily-white Dartmouth?”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“I was a good football player, maybe even great. I got recruited Division 1A. Could have gone Big Ten.”
“But?”
“But I also knew my limitations. I wasn’t good enough to go pro. So what would be the point? No education, joke diploma. So I went to Dartmouth. Got a full ride and liberal arts degree. No matter what else, I will always be an Ivy League graduate.”
“And now you’re going to Columbia Law.”
“Yup.”
“And then? I mean, after you graduate.”
“I’m staying in the neighborhood. I didn’t do this to get out. I like it here. I just want to make it better.”
“Good to be a stand-up guy.”
“Right, but bad to be a snitch.”
“You can’t walk away from this, Anthony.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Under different circumstances, I’d love to keep chatting about our alma mater,” Mike said.
“But you got a kid to save.”
“Right.”
“I’ve seen your son before, I think. I mean, they all look alike to me, what with the black clothes and the sullen faces, like the world gave them everything and that pisses them off. I got trouble sympathizing. Out here, you get stoned to escape. What the hell do these kids have to escape from-a nice house, parents who love them?”
“It’s not that simple,” Mike said.
“I guess.”
“I came from nothing too. Sometimes I think it’s easier. Ambition is natural when you don’t have anything. You know what you’re driving for.”
Anthony said nothing.
“My son is a good kid. He’s going through something right now.
It’s my job to protect him until he finds his way back out.”
“Your job. Not mine.”
“Did you see him last night, Anthony?”
“Might have. I don’t know much. I really don’t.”
Mike just looked at him.
“There’s a club for underage kids. Supposedly it’s a safe place for teens to hang out. They got counselors and therapy and stuff like that, but that’s supposed to be just a front to party.”
“Where is it?”
“Two, three blocks down from my club.”
“And when you say, ‘just a front to party,’ what do you mean exactly?”
“What do you think I mean? Drugs, underage drinking, stuff like that. There are rumors of mind control and crap like that. I don’t believe them. One thing though. People who don’t belong stay clear.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they got a rep as very dangerous too. Maybe mobbed up, I don’t know. But people don’t give them trouble. That’s all I mean.”
“And you think my son went there?”
“If he was in that area and he was sixteen years old, yeah. Yeah, I think he probably went there.”
“Does the place have a name?”
“Club Jaguar, I think. I have an address.”
He gave it to him. Mike handed him his business card.
“This has all my phone numbers,” Mike said.
“Uh-huh.”
“If you see my son…”
“I’m not a babysitter, Mike.”
“That’s okay. My son isn’t a baby.”
TIA was holding the photograph of Spencer Hill.
“I don’t see how you can be sure it’s Adam.”
“I wasn’t,” Betsy Hill said. “But then I confronted him.”
“He might have just freaked out because he was seeing a picture of his dead friend.”
“Could be,” Betsy agreed in a way that clearly meant, Not a chance.
“And you’re sure this picture was taken the night he died?”
“Yes.”