“Did she talk about the plans she’d made with these friends? Where they were headed, anything?”
“It didn’t . . . come up.”
Cassidy waited, her mind spinning with questions she had no answers for.
Charlie exhaled hard, his jaw flexing. “Look, we didn’t sleep together, okay? It got late. I offered her the extra bed. End of story.”
“I just find it interesting that she ditches the van to come here for a sleepover.”
“Think what you want,” Charlie said shaking his head, his eyes focused on the ground where his left foot had returned to worry the tuft of grass poking through the crack in the pavers. “It was a pattern. Not her staying over,” he added quickly. “But she came to my office hours pretty regularly. We talked.” His head shot up. “It always started with school, but then she told me about stuff that was going on. She’s actually had a rough go of it.”
“Rough go of what?”
He shrugged. “Life. School. Dominique’s disappearance. Her dad. He’s never around, and though she doesn’t talk about it, it’s had a very clear impact on her life.” His eyes connected with hers. “Did you know that her freshman year she was assaulted at a party?” he said.
Cassidy inhaled a slow breath. “No, I didn’t know,” she said. “That’s awful. Did she tell you about it?”
Charlie shook his head. “I sort of found out by accident.”
A wave of compassion flooded through her.
“She talks about her mom sometimes,” Charlie said. “I got the sense she’s worried about her.”
“Why? Is she in trouble?” Cassidy asked.
Charlie shrugged. “Her mom’s alone, I guess.”
Izzy sounds like the one who’s alone, Cassidy thought as a twinge of emotion crept into her thoughts. She knew all too well how it felt. Though sleeping with her married professor wouldn’t solve that pain.
Charlie tilted his head back and paused, eyeing her. “You sure she’s not back in Eugene by now?”
“If I can’t pick up her trail here, then that’s next,” Cassidy said, still unsure if Izzy and Charlie had slept together, or if it mattered. Maybe Izzy had just needed to be with someone she trusted.
“If it comes out that Izzy was here, what will you tell your wife?”
“The truth,” Charlie replied in a quiet voice.
Eleven
Cassidy drove down the dusty gravel road, the windows wide open, her mind whirling.
Was Izzy in contact with Dominique somehow? Could Izzy be trying to help her? Was that the emergency?
And why leave Charlie’s so early in the morning? Cassidy tried to imagine herself as Izzy, spending time with Professor Handsome in his cozy cabin.
The only reason I’d leave my lover’s bed in the middle of the night is if I was afraid. Immediately, a memory of herself rushing to pack her things at Mel’s tree house in the dark fell over her eyes like a veil. Images of him undressing her in her hotel room mixed with the feel of his hands holding her down before injecting her. The slide show continued: she saw herself in Mel’s jeep, heading to the treehouse, feeling so lucky and safe; she saw the two of them dancing to the sound of the jungle, his firm surfer’s body pressed close to hers; and then that same body that had delivered such tenderness was throwing her onto her back and slamming the knife from her hand.
Cassidy gripped the steering wheel and took two long breaths, trying to focus on what was real: the dry, scented air, the sound of her tires on gravel, the view of the cindery landscape. Slowly the panicky feeling ebbed, and she breathed a long, slow breath.
She thought of a few more reasons someone might leave their lover’s bed: shame, guilt.
If only I knew what her phone call was about, Cassidy thought. In her mind, she listed the events as she understood them: Izzy comes to Bend to see Charlie, for reasons she may never know. He lets her in, it gets late, he invites her to stay. During the evening, she gets several messages, then locks herself in the bathroom. She makes a call, maybe to Dominique, maybe to someone else. She gets angry. Then after Charlie is asleep, she slips away.
Cassidy reached the highway and drove the short distance to town, pulling over at the first coffee shop she came across. She wasn’t hungry, but for some reason, she wanted to connect to the hustle and bustle of the real world, even if only from the parking lot.
She sat back, tucking one knee against her chest, and called Alice.
“Have you found her?” Alice said, not bothering with “hello.”
“Tell me about Izzy’s relationship with Professor Tucker,” she said instead of answering. Izzy had been gone for more than 24 hours now. Though progress had been made—Izzy had been okay that morning—Cassidy felt like she was back at square zero.
“What relationship?” Alice asked, sounding confused.
“The one where they’ve been sleeping together behind everyone’s back,” Cassidy said, realizing that she was too tired to sugar coat anything. She’d had, what? Two hours of sleep? And the night before, maybe five?
“Oh,” Alice said quietly. “I . . . didn’t know.”
“She never talked about him?”
“No, not with me.”
“Did she sleep with him at field camp?” she asked.
Alice paused.
“C’mon, Alice, you were tentmates.”
Alice breathed into the phone. “A couple of times Izzy didn’t come in ’til late.”
“So, it’s possible she could have been with him?”
“I suppose.” Alice gave a little sniffle. “But, jeez, Dr. Kincaid, that’s . . . intense. Even for Izzy.”
Cassidy picked at a loose thread in the hem of her shorts.
“I mean, okay, he’s crushable and all,” Alice went on, “but . . . he’s married. And, like, kind of old, right?”
Old? Cassidy thought. Charlie was probably in his early forties. That hardly classified as “old.” Though considering that Izzy and Alice were both twenty years younger . . .
“How about Dominique Gilardi, did Izzy ever talk about her?”
“Well, yeah, we all kind of did.”
“Apparently Izzy and Dominique were friends. Did you know that?”
“Izzy’s friends with a lot
