Roxy threw the truck into park. “Says I need a sticker to park here, but maybe the truck looks beat up enough that they’ll assume I’m a student. Are we going in?”
I swallowed. “Give me a minute. Keep the truck running.”
Roxy looked out the window. “Having done this now, I feel like a moron that I never came to visit you here. Six hours away in Illinois seemed like driving to Canada to me when I was twenty-two. Now, I know I should have gassed up that Chevy and headed up here all the time. It may have eased the pain.”
“The pain?”
“It was the worst time in my life when you came here. We’d been together every day since the second grade. I felt like I’d lost you to the north, like some pining widow of the Confederacy. Do you remember how we cried when you moved? I think Tom had to pry us apart.”
“The feeling was mutual.”
“I don’t remember much about all those years you were away. Did we not talk on the phone? Why do I have so few letters from you? Do I need to be taking gingko for memory loss?”
“I made a firm decision not to talk about my life here. It wasn’t a happy time.”
“Then why are we back here?”
I sighed and pivoted in the truck to face her. “Remember when I worked for the astronomy department here, while Tom was in school? I ended up doing extra work for a professor on a project. He was involved… in researching missing people. Now… I just want to see if maybe his research could help us.”
“For God’s sake, Lynnie. It’s completely against your nature to do anything irrational, and I know that grief can cause a lot of smart people to do a lot of stupid things, but this isn’t ridiculous at all. Why wouldn’t you tell me from the beginning? And why would an astronomy professor do research into missing people?”
“Let’s go in before I lose my nerve.”
We walked across the lawn, brown grass crunching beneath our shoes. Roxie bemoaned her lack of scarf and hat. “Good God, this wind is so strong! And cold! Does it blow down all the way from Chicago? How can anyone stand this?”
“There’s nothing to block the wind,” I replied, turning up the collar on my coat.
While the astronomy building too had been remodeled over the decades, it still clung to its original boxy shape. I was so taken back by the familiar silence of the building, and the smells of coffee and old paper, that I stopped, my hands fidgeting.
“What time are they expecting you?” Roxy asked.
“I didn’t make an appointment,” I said, turning away from what I knew would be a look of exasperation on her face. I led her down the main halls, past the grandiose photographs of the former deans of the department, to the office where I began my new life as a wife. The door was closed and a yellowed sign read, “Supply closet.”
A female student passed by and I quietly asked where we could find the office manager for the professors. The girl shrugged and mentioned there was a student worker at the front desk, around the corner.
We headed in that direction and found a room with a long desk and a very bored-looking young woman checking her cell phone. She smiled at our approach and set the phone to vibrate. I appreciated the gesture.
“Hello. Are the professors’ offices still that way?” I asked.
“I think so, but I’ve only had this job for a few days. Can I help you with something?”
“I wanted to see Dr. Steven Richards.”
The girl’s smile altered, and she looked quickly at her computer. “Uh, yes. He’s actually unavailable right now.”
“We should have called ahead—” Roxy began.
“I’m happy to take a message. I don’t know how soon he’ll be back.”
“Will he be back today?”
The girl’s face paled a bit. “I don’t think so.”
“That’s all right. Thank you, though.” I smiled pleasantly, took Roxy’s arm, and walked away.
She could feel me trembling. “That’s it? That’s all we’re doing?”
“I… thought he would be here.”
“Did you ever think to even call and see if he was still teaching? That was forty years ago, Lynn. He’s probably dead.”
“He was only twenty-nine when I was here. That would put him in his early seventies. And, the college’s website stated that he was here. The course schedule online even showed him teaching three classes this fall.”
“Well, clearly he’s not here, and that student is acting a little spooky about it. Maybe she’s failing his class. Maybe she has the hots for him. Was he good-looking? More importantly, what do you want to do now?”
“I want to go home. That’s what I really want to do. But I can’t just sit around that house, that big empty house, anymore. Every room feels empty. Everything feels empty without him.”
“Maybe we should find this professor’s office. See if maybe he’s in there, and the student didn’t see him come in.”
I looked around. “If I still remember the layout of the building, and I doubt that’s changed, he should be right around this corner—if he hasn’t moved in forty years.”
“Can’t hurt to check.”
We passed a row of nondescript doors with the names of the professors on the outside. I noted all the names had changed. All the professors I had worked for, except for Dr. Richards, were old when I was a young worker.
“He was handsome, in a messy kind of way,” I murmured.
I turned another corner, not surprised in the least to see the last door on the hall still marked with the name “Dr. Steve Richards, Astronomy.” He wouldn’t have ever wanted to move all his belongings and maps.
What was a surprise, however, was the note on the door, signed in flourishing cursive with the name of the dean. The message was typed and concise: “This office is closed. Any questions, please see your guidance counselor.”
“Strike two,” Roxy said. “Well, shall we see the guidance counselor? Perhaps ask her about some continuing adult education for two old chicks while we’re at it?”
I reached out and turned the door handle, but it was locked.
“Lynn, are you going to let yourself in?”
“I want to see his office.”
“Why?”
“He kept his information on the missing people in that office. I can’t have come all this way without seeing if any of my old work is still here. But what are we going to do? That girl won’t let us in, and I don’t think the dean will let us borrow a key.”
Roxy looked up and down the hallway. “Move aside.” She reached in her hand-quilted purse and dug around. She pulled out a hairpin. “When your hair is as ridiculous as mine, these things are a lifesaver.”
“What are you doing?” I whispered. “You just scolded me for trying to get in.”
“Yin and yang, kid. Only one of us is allowed to be the bad seed. If you do something wrong, the earth might break from its axis. Remember when we snuck into my dad’s locked liquor cabinet? I sampled it all, and all you did was fret and watch for his car to pull into the drive. I haven’t done this for years, but locks don’t change.”
After Roxy swore for a minute or two, I heard the click of the door, and the office opened. We shuffled inside and closed the door quickly.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Roxy said.
The campus street lamps were starting to come on outside, offering faint light to the rapidly darkening office. We didn’t dare turn on the overhead lights for fear of drawing attention from anyone walking outside. Roxy did a lot of huffing and sighing as I combed through drawers and file cabinets.
“Again I ask: Do you care to give me an idea of what we’re looking for?”
“Keep looking for anything that might explain where Dr. Richards might be. I went over his desk, and it’s a typical man desk: coffee stains, no organization, and dry pens. His calendar is blank, so clearly he does everything on his computer. And, as I found, it’s password protected, so I’ve come up with squat.”