My Name Is River Blue (42 page)

The Outer Banks
was one hundred thirty miles of coastline, and the place was hopping with
business in the summer. As far as the stores, shops, and restaurants, I remembered
seeing too many of them to count on the same road where our hotel was located. I
recalled the names of the towns we passed. There was Duck, Southern Shores,
Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills, Nags Head, and Manteo. Eddie Chapman could be
living in any one of those towns, or he could be driving from some inland town
over the bridge to his place of work on the Banks.

"You
okay?" Papa asked.

"Sure."
It was a silly question and a sarcastic answer.

"I'm sorry,
River," said Papa. "Let's give it a day or so for our heads to clear
and see if we can think of some other way to attack this thing."

"Okay. Sounds
good." It was a good suggestion with my current mood. I didn't want to
give up the search for my mother, but part of me believed that it just wasn't
meant to be and that I should get on with the business of making the best out of
my new life.

"Are you
ready to pick up Tyler?"

"Yes, sir. I'll
call him."

Tyler answered
on the first ring, and gave me the street address that I repeated for Papa to
hear. Tyler said he would be waiting at the end of the driveway. Five minutes
later, Papa brought his truck to a stop on the street in front of the small
rental house where Tyler was living with his uncle. There were two old cars
parked in the driveway. Papa cut his engine and stepped out of his truck just
as Tyler slung his duffel and sleeping bag into the truck bed.

"Hi, Tyler.
How are you?" Papa asked.

"I'm okay. Thanks
for letting me stay with you early."

"Are you
sure you have permission?"

"Yes, sir. My
uncle said he didn't care how long I was there."

"Okay, good
enough. Slide in the seat behind River. I want to speak to your uncle."

"Why?"
Tyler asked. "He's been drinking and stuff. Can't we just go? Please?"

Papa did his
best to assure Tyler that there would be no trouble. With a stronger nudge,
Tyler crawled into the seat behind me, and Papa walked to the front of the small,
white rental house. It was growing dark, and when the door opened and spilled
light onto the porch, I could see Tyler's uncle in the doorway. The man, who
was wearing only a wife beater and boxers, clutched a beer can in his hand. He
and Papa were speaking, but I couldn't understand their words. Papa was not
invited inside, or he chose not to accept.

"I hate
this," said Tyler. "I don't want them to argue. My uncle might make
me stay here."

"Don't
worry, Tyler," I said. "I told Papa your problem, so he knows to be
cool."

Tyler muttered,
"I just want to get out of here."

In a few
minutes, Papa returned to the truck. When he was in his seat, he fastened his
belt, turned towards Tyler and me, and said, "Interesting fellow. You boys
ready to go?"

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

"So you're
giving up?" Tyler asked. He sat next to me with his back against the
headboard of my bed. I rested on my side with a pillow between my legs, hoping
my back pain would ease.

"What am I
supposed to do, Tyler? Go hunting all over the Outer Banks for a man I wouldn't
know if he was standing three feet in front of me?" I was wondering if I
should have updated Tyler about all that had happened since I found the money
in my bank account.

Tyler shook his blond
hair back out of his face and rolled his blues. "Well, why don't you get a
picture? If that woman at the hospital gave you his address from his file then
that means she could get more. When my grandpa was in the hospital, the
employees wore photo ID badges. They had to have a picture to put on the nametag,
and I bet they kept a copy in his file."

I didn't know
why Tyler surprised me. I should have been used to the fact that Tyler was much
smarter than I was at thirteen years old, and I suspected that the kid was
smarter than I was at my current age of eighteen. Why had I not already thought
of asking Jean Simmons to get a picture of Chapman?

"Okay,
Tyler, I admit that's a good idea, but I still can't see me wandering all over
the Banks with a picture that may not look that much like him. You know how
some of those are. My driver's license picture doesn't look like me now. I need
the picture, but I also need something that narrows the search more."

I hated the patronizing
look Tyler gave me when he appeared to choose his words carefully to make sure
they were simple enough for me to grasp.

"River, don't
you think there might be more information in the guy's file? You can laugh about
the crime shows I watch, but the cops are always digging up information about
people from places like their employment file. I bet, if you had a copy of his
file, you would see a next of kin listed and an emergency contact. If he had
life insurance, he listed a beneficiary with the name, address, and phone
number. So maybe this cousin from the Outer Banks is listed, but even if it's
another family member, I bet they would know how to reach the same cousin. This
Chapman dude would have names of places he worked before, and anyone who worked
with him might know something that would help you. Anyway, you got all kinds of
possibilities. Just get your nurse friend to copy the file for you."

"Tyler,
hand me my phone off the nightstand."

"What are
you doing?" Tyler asked as he gave me my phone.

"What the
hell do you think? I'm calling my nurse friend. It's almost ten when her shift
ends, so it's not like I'll wake her up."

The expression
on Tyler's face was the definition of smug.

***

The old ball
fields of Harper Park were deserted at eight o'clock Sunday morning, exactly
the way Jean Simmons and I thought they would be. I arrived first, and as I
waited on the last bench on the wooded trail just before it joined the baseball
field, I worried that Jean's nerves might get the best of her. I knew she might
be a no-show because neither Jean nor Jan was comfortable with my request for a
copy of Chapman's entire file. They only agreed after I told Jean that I would
ask Mr. Edwards for the information if that's the only choice I had. I told
Jean that the man would probably not give up the file unless I threatened him
with what I knew, which might involve both sisters. Jean was upset and I didn't
blame her. However, I wanted the information in that file more than I wanted to
be her friend.

If I had not
been expecting her, I might not have recognized Jean dressed in a nylon hoody
that partially covered her face and looked out of place on a summer morning. With
her head down, but turning side to side as if she were watching for spies
hidden off the trail, she was obviously nervous. Nervous and angry. As she
approached me, everything about her mannerisms told me that she wished she had never
tried to help me. I think it would be accurate to say that she wished she had
never met me.

Jean slowed down
when she was even with the bench, and dropped a green, zippered laundry bag at my
feet. I began to thank her and to apologize for everything, but she cut me off
before the second word came out of my mouth.

"Don't. I don't
want to hear anything more from you now or ever," she hissed. "Just
leave us alone." She glanced around again and quickly disappeared down the
trail that would circle back to where she started.

I was back in my
room in time to see Tyler stretch, yawn, and throw the covers off him. Dressed
only in his boxers, Tyler mumbled "morning" and stumbled zombie-like
from my room on his way to use the bathroom that Manny and I shared. After rooming
with Tyler at Tolley House, I learned that the younger boy was not a morning
person no matter how much sleep he got the previous night.

I had the papers
from Eddie Chapman's file spread out on my bed by the time Tyler came back from
the bathroom and sat down next to me. Uninvited, he leaned in closely to peruse
the documents, which made me remember when the boy was still in awe of rooming
with his sports hero. When we first became roommates, Tyler wouldn't have
invaded my space, but after living with me for a while, he became as
comfortable with his snooping as a little brother might be. I nudged him over
and glared at him.

"What?"
Tyler innocently held both hands up. "I thought you might want a second
opinion."

"You think
I can't read?"

"I didn't
say that, River." He paused a moment before adding, "However, there was
this article I read about jocks and their average reading grade level. It was
very disturbing, and naturally, I
did
think
about you."

Tyler fought to
keep a straight face while I spoke. "Little man, remember that you had to
climb stairs to get to my room. You should look out the window and see how far
it is to the ground. Then you should weigh your chances of having broken bones
and internal injuries if you were to suddenly find your skinny little ass
flying out of that window."

"Okay, okay.
I got it. Dang, you're tense. I can tell when you're hurting because you hunch
your shoulders. You just relax and study the file. Don't pay attention to
me."

I examined the
contents of Eddie Chapman's file, which was not very thick. There was a decent picture
of Chapman, who was a white man, thirty-eight years old. He had short brown
hair behind a receding hairline, brown eyes, and dark skin with old acne pits. He
was five feet ten inches tall and weighed two hundred ten pounds. The photo was
just a head and shoulders shot, but it left me with the impression that Chapman's
weight was not all muscle.

Chapman's
employment history started after high school with a stint in the army's
military police. When the army discharged him, he worked for his father on a
farm in Georgia, but I couldn't read the name of the town. There was a period
of several years where he listed part-time jobs but no specific information
that anyone could use to verify the work. I took a guess that he faked the jobs
to cover the period that he was in jail. His last job prior to the hospital was
as a security guard for a company in Charleston, S.C. called Pro One Security. In
my opinion, Chapman's hospital application was very shaky.

Chapman's
parents were deceased but he listed a brother, Hank Chapman who lived on Wiley
Road in Nags Head, N.C., and a cousin, Rick Chapman, who live on
Dobbins Road in Manteo, N.C. It certainly made sense
with what Chapman told Marvin about working on the Outer Banks for his cousin.
There were phone numbers for both his brother and cousin.

When I called Eddie
Chapman's brother, I received the message that the number had been changed to a
private one, but when I called Chapman's cousin, the phone rang four times, and
I heard the answering machine greet me. The greeting was "This is Rick. I
must be busy, so you know what to do." I tried to think of a message to
leave, but I was unprepared and I simply disconnected. I glanced at Tyler, who
raised his eyebrows.

"I got the
answering machine at his cousin's place."

"Awesome,"
said Tyler. "So you gonna call back and leave a message?"

"Yeah, but
I'm trying to think of what to say. I have to make it good, or he may not call
me back. He might also screen any other calls from me."

"Well, you
got money in the bank. If you want to make sure that he calls you back, you
could offer to go to Western Union and wire him money in exchange for
info."

"Yeah, but
what if he just keeps my money and then avoids me?"

Tyler wrinkled
his forehead as he thought. In just a few moments, he said, "You wire him
half now, and half if he gives you information you can use to contact your
mother. If he really knows something, I'm guessing he would like some easy
money."

"That's an
idea. Maybe I'll offer him $500 now and $500 after. I think that's enough to
get his attention. He probably knows my story from the hospital, and he
wouldn't expect me to have much money. I'll just tell him $1000 will wipe out
everything I have saved, so he doesn't ask for more."

"Go for it,
River."

I rehearsed a
message with Tyler to make sure it sounded just right. It had to be non-threatening
and tempting. When I thought I was prepared, I dialed Chapman's cousin again. I
heard the machine answer and at the beep, I left my message. I hoped that if Chapman
was really living there, it would be good enough for him to return my call, and
if it wasn't, then what? How long should I wait to hear from Chapman before I
tried again? Would there be any use?

I jumped when my
cell phone rang. Tyler looked on expectantly when I answered, but he knew from
my expression that the call was not from Chapman.

"Yes, sir?"
I answered. "Okay, we'll be right over, Papa."

Tyler frowned. "Sorry,
River."

"It's okay.
That would have been a little too quick for Chapman to call back. Anyway, you
should get dressed. Papa said lunch will be ready in fifteen minutes."

***

After lunch, I
told Papa about the message I left and the call I was hoping to receive from Eddie
Chapman. I was worried that Papa would be disappointed that I had not asked his
advice before making the call and offering Chapman money. Papa never appeared
to be angry, and he didn't criticize me. Instead, he wished me luck and offered
his assistance if I needed it.

Tyler and I worked
the rest of the afternoon with Papa, Manny, and Louis to finalize preparations
for the football camp. While I tried to concentrate on doing my part to help
Papa, I checked my cell phone periodically to make sure that the ringer volume
was high enough, and that I had not somehow missed a call from Eddie Chapman. I
realized that the man and his cousin might be working because the beach shops
and restaurants were open at night, but I couldn't help feeling a little more
hopeless with each additional hour I waited.

The call came a
little after seven o'clock that evening while I was eating dinner with Papa,
Tyler, and Manny. The first thing Eddie Chapman wanted to know was how I found him.
I took no chances of screwing up by allowing Chapman to catch me in a lie, so I
told the truth about the floral card matching my mother's handwriting on the
blanket note, my meeting at the hospital to review the video and visitors' log,
and my conversation with Marvin at the apartments. I told Chapman that a close
friend of mine from the hospital gave me his cousin's phone number. I added
that I wouldn't reveal my friend's name any more than I would mention his name
to someone else.

Looking back on
our conversation, I thought that there were two reasons why Chapman cooperated
with me. The money was one, but the other was that I made Chapman feel more
comfortable when I would not give him the name of my friend at the hospital.

When Papa drove me
to Carolina Food Market where there was Western Union service, I knew that I
might lose $500 very quickly if Eddie Chapman took the money and failed to call
me back with the information. I was more than willing to risk the loss when Chapman
told me that he knew the name and address of the woman he allowed to enter my room
after visiting hours. The guard had written down the information from her
driver's license on a page in his pocket notebook. He made sure that she
understood that if she caused him any trouble, he knew where she lived.

After Papa and I
wired Chapman the first payment, we browsed around the store while we waited
for him to receive the money and call me with the name and address. Papa told me
that before we wired the second payment of $500 that he would use his phone to
verify the name, number, and address with directory assistance.

When Chapman
called me, I repeated the name and address of the woman while Papa wrote it on
the back of the Western Union receipt. Papa verified the information, and I had
a working phone number for Melissa Harrington at 534 Rhodenbrooks Circle, Asheville,
North Carolina. We wired Eddie Chapman the rest of his money before leaving the
store for a quiet ride back to Deer Lake Farm. On the way home, Papa told me
that he had an old college friend who lived in the same neighborhood as the
Harringtons and the properties were very expensive.