Page 15 of Forgotten Path
Her voice was soft and sad when she admitted, “He could. I have no idea. I didn’t even realize he left town every month. Some friend I am.”
He rested his hand on her forearm and locked eyes with her. “Don’t do that. You are his friend. But some people are private. I know I am, and I think you are, too. So is Joel. It’s possible to care for someone and have a true friendship without knowing their deepest secrets and every thought.”
She managed a wobbly smile.
“You don’t have any idea where he might go?”
She shook her head. “I’ll call his office again. Raven might know—if she doesn’t block my number, so I’ll quit bugging her.”
She pulled out her phone and stepped outside to make the call. Bodhi took the opportunity to look around the tiny interior of Joel’s home. The workstation where Joel’s laptop should have been was moderately messy as if he’d been in the middle of a project when he’d packed up his computer and left. In addition to the note that Felicia had read to Bodhi over the phone, there was a stack of paperwork and a haphazard pile of medical journals.
He flipped through the papers first. They were all official and administrative in nature—supply requisitions for the morgue, vacation approvals for his staff, and a thick memo outlining a new database training program. There was page after page of bureaucratic busy work, but nothing noteworthy. It was the sort of work a man might bring home to catch up on after dinner when he was winding down for the day.
Bodhi remembered the drill. There was never enough time to complete all the paperwork during office hours unless you wanted the bodies to stack up in the freezer while you balanced your office budget line by line. And it was considerably easier to lug home piles of paper than corpses. So, the administrative tasks waited.
He set Joel’s documents aside and took a moment to feel deeply grateful that he was no longer constrained in that way. It was important not to lose sight of his great freedom and good fortune. He lifted the corners of his mouth in a small smile before he turned his attention to the journals.
He scanned the covers for their subject matter areas—forensic, anatomical, chemical. Nothing jumped out at him. Then, at the bottom of the pile, he hit pay dirt: Several issues ofThe Journal of Harmful Algae,Toxins,andGlobal Food Security, all with multiple pages tabbed or folded over. He gathered them together and carried them over to Joel’s short couch. After retrieving his pen and notebook from his backpack, he opened the journal on the top of the stack.
Before he’d even skimmed the table of contents, the door banged open, and Felicia came inside, pushing her windblown hair out of her eyes.
“The breeze has picked up. It’s almost pleasant out there now.”
He closed the journal and gave her an expectant look. “Did you reach Joel’s assistant?”
“I did. She confirmed that, for at least as long as she’s worked there, Joel’s been using his vacation time to take the first Friday of every month off. And occasionally the following Monday.”
“But not this past Monday?”
“No. I mean, it was Labor Day, so …”
He nodded. “And I don’t suppose she knows where he goes?”
She let out a long, loud whoosh of air. “No. Raven said she never thought to ask, and now, in retrospect, she’s surprised he never talked about it. No funny stories about his weekend shenanigans, no souvenirs on his desk or fudge for the office. Nothing. It’s as if it wasn’t happening like clockwork.”
“Did she get the sense that it was a secret?”
She held his gaze unblinkingly while she considered the question. “I don’t think she’d call it a secret. It’s more like whatever he was doing was personal. She said something similar to what you said earlier—Joel’s so friendly that you fall into a habit of thinking he’s a close friend, but, in reality, he’s intensely private.”
He nodded toward the reading material at his elbow. “I found some journals that might give us a clue about what he’s been doing. I’ll look through them this evening. Are you staying for dinner?”
She contorted her mouth into an apologetic smile. “I wish I could, but I need to get back. We’re doing a big gun buyback at the station tonight, and it’s all hands on deck.”
“That’s a worthy program.”
“Joel’s idea, as it happens.” She smiled. “He put together a public health presentation showing how many shooting deaths each year result from unregistered handguns. He worked with the budget guys to show in hard dollars how much every shooting costs the county and how much money they could save for each illegal gun we get off the street.”
“That’s an interesting angle to take.” He mused.
She laughed darkly. “We went for a beer after the presentation. He could tell the message landed with the politicos. He was low-key disgusted that saving a life isn’t sufficiently motivating, but saving money is.” She shrugged. “Whatever works, right?”
“Whatever works,” he agreed.
He understood that Joel might chafe at breaking the idea down into dollars and cents, and he respected the doctor’s willingness to meet his audience where they were instead of clinging to lofty ideals.
“Do you need anything before I take off?”
“I don’t think so.” Then a thought occurred. “Did you see a set of keys to Joel’s Jeep around here anywhere?”
