The Guy Next Door

Chapter 5

5

LEIF

I sit on a bench in the reception area of the Wyachet Police Department, scrolling through my phone. There’s a text from Mom, letting me know Grandma’s faring well through the chemo.

I wish I could update her and Dad about everything that’s going on, but I can imagine what that series of texts would look like:

Yeah, there’s a guy who claims he’s protecting me from a serial abductor.

Oh, and I made that guy dinner the other night.

At the police department now because a detective called yesterday.

Kyra’s doing fine, btw.

I obviously told them about the break-in last week. And about the cops coming over and the broken lock on the back door.

But I haven’t brought up Zane.

I was still trying to figure out how to bring him up, even before that story he pitched me about possibly being stalked by a killer. But if I mentioned that, they’d rush back home and be worried…maybe for nothing.

Or maybe I need to believe it could be for nothing.

I don’t know what to think of Zane. He intrigues me.

Not just the wild things he’s told me, but the way he looks at me.

Something exciting about when his gaze is on me—and even thinking that his gaze might be on me when I’m not looking.

What the fuck is that about?

And then there’s his personality—his strange behaviors, his awkward sense of humor.

It’s…adorable, which isn’t something I’ve ever thought about another dude.

Since the last time I saw him, it’s been a rough week, especially trying to get to sleep at night. Although, knowing he’s watching me, that if anything happens, he’ll be over to help, sets me at ease. I don’t know if I should feel safe knowing he’s watching, but for whatever reason, it’s comforting. Probably the only reason I’m able to doze off eventually, even though I can stay up as late as one in the morning.

“Leif Anderson,” a woman says as she comes from a nearby hallway. Straight dark hair, and a warm smile pulls across her face as she approaches. It’s the sort of friendly face I wouldn’t expect to see on a lieutenant detective. Not that I know what a lieutenant detective would look like, aside from the ones I’ve seen on TV.

I push to my feet and approach her.

“I’m Detective Roth.” She offers a handshake, then asks if we can take the stairs so she can get some exercise in, and discusses the chilly weather as we head up to the second floor, her heels clicking against the cement steps. As we’re heading down the hall, she says, “Thank you for coming in today. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet with you sooner, but I was at a cabin in Jasper with my family when I was sent an email about your visit.”

“It’s not a problem.”

Although, I must admit, given the seriousness of what Zane told me, I figured it wouldn’t take nearly five days before someone contacted me.

She leads me into an office—tidy, only a few stray papers on her desk and a couple of dinged-up boxes stacked by a file cabinet. She invites me to sit in front of her desk, and as she settles behind it, I take in the view through the wall-length window behind her, overlooking the homes and mid-rises of downtown Wyachet.

“Before we went to Jasper, I knew something like this would come up. Always does. But this… I was not expecting.”

“It’s been a surprise for me too,” I confess.

“I’m sure. Now, I reviewed what you told Officer Kendrick, and from what I can make out, there was a break-in at your parents’ home on October seventeen, and while that took place, you were with Zane Grayson, who called the police.”

“That’s correct.” Correct- ish .

“I don’t know if you told Kendrick, but she didn’t note it—how do you know Zane?”

No trace now of that friendly expression she’d first offered in the reception area. Her stare and the tension in her jaw convey uneasiness, which I’m guessing has something to do with Zane. It’s a look that suggests he wasn’t bullshitting me about them not taking this seriously because of his involvement.

“He approached me after coming across something online…on a subreddit.”

She nods, waiting for me to divulge more, but I leave it there. Still, she waits some more, and I’m wondering if her silence is a police tactic to get people to disclose more details because I’m tempted. But if I start rambling, I’m gonna slip up and say something that’ll put Zane in a spot. And maybe have Detective Roth not taking this seriously, which considering there was someone in my home, it’s fucking serious.

When I don’t go on, she says, “Right. So you were never aware of Jason Kilbourne or Michael Grayson until you met Zane. Is that right?”

“I heard about the disappearances, around town.”

She purses her lips, nodding, her gaze shifting around her desk. “Yeah. As I said, this call was a surprise, but I wish it were more surprising.”

“You expected me to call?”

“Not necessarily you. It’s complicated.”

It reminds me of how goddamn cryptic Zane was when he first came over. Get to the fucking point!

“I want to start off by saying that Zane’s a good kid,” she tells me, a clear disclaimer to something that’s going to leave me wondering if that’s really the case. “When his brother went missing, I was placed in charge of the case. Zane was very helpful and, like any family of someone who went missing, he wanted updates and to be involved in the process. All those things I respected.

“I will say, however, that I listened to him more than I should have. Let him come by to follow up because he was grieving, and having lost a sister when I was younger, his case resonated with me. But he became too involved.”

“What do you mean?”

“Zane became convinced that a professor at WCC was involved in Michael’s disappearance. Since there was no credible evidence to support his suspicions, I couldn’t do much more than chat with this professor. Nothing came of that chat, but one day, Zane came in with a blog post that seemed to link this professor to his brother. It seemed credible enough for me to follow up on the lead.”

This was what Zane was telling me about—the bad call he’d made. The reason I must be careful about what I say.

“And I did follow that lead. The blog was linked to a VPN, which means we couldn’t trace it to an IP address, but we could trace it to a VPN provider. With that much, I felt confident talking with this professor. He was very cooperative. Let us use his laptop, no questions asked, and I didn’t see any evidence of the VPN provider on there. But knowing Zane’s background, what he does for work, I started to have my doubts. I asked Zane if I could meet him at his home. I told him what I’d done to follow up on his lead, then asked if I could check his laptop to see if he used the VPN provider linked to the blog. He came clean, which was reassuring in some ways, disappointing in others.”

“He made that whole thing up so you’d look into the guy?”

“Yes, that’s right. Unfortunately, what Zane did is a crime, so it was an involved process, ensuring this professor and the department wouldn’t try to pursue anything legally. I bent over backward to keep Zane out of trouble. It was a very unfortunate mess.”

Yeah, I can definitely get why they wouldn’t take him seriously if that’s how things went down.

“So now that you know about that incident, you can see why an acquaintance of Zane’s showing up with this new information could be concerning to me?”

“I can see that.” There’s a knot in my stomach.

“Don’t get me wrong—like I said, he’s a good guy. A little socially awkward. A little timorous, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

As much doubt as she’s raised in me, I’m still struggling to make sense of some things.

“But there was someone breaking into my house in that video on the flash drive. Did you have a chance to look at that?” After Zane left, I watched it—it looked like a man in all black and a ski mask had been trying to get into the house.

“Could be a friend he talked into helping him. Or maybe just someone trying to burglarize the place.”

“A friend? Like he got someone to do that?” I’d considered this, but not that seriously. What kind of fucked-up person would he be to do that?

“Well, if something happens that connects to his brother’s disappearance in some way, maybe Zane believes we’ll continue pursuing the case. Not that we aren’t still looking into it, but it’s clear Zane doesn’t think we’re doing our job. I don’t know what else there is to do. I’ve exhausted all my resources. Even when he brought in that subreddit post linking to your Insta, I did my due diligence. Checked the Reddit account it came from.”

“What did you find?”

“A dead end.”

She has this knowing look, and I must admit, hearing these things is sobering. They make more sense than the bizarre reality Zane tried to convince me of: that some maniac is trying to kidnap me along with his other victims.

“Even the connection on that subreddit, this imagined link between Jason Kilbourne’s or Michael Grayson’s disappearances, doesn’t ring true. Yes, the guys are around the same age. Young men, which is probably why they got any media attention—this stuff happens all the time in this town to people of other ages and demographics, and no one bats an eye. But some bloggers and podcasters have linked them, probably because they need to create more monetized content and because the true-crime media they consume leads them to thinking any connection—even just attending the same community college—is enough to persuade us to get search warrants and bust down doors. But I think you can see why it’s a stretch to assume they’re connected outside of this Reddit thread. The letter sent to you could have easily been written by someone who had already seen the Reddit post. Maybe even someone who had a vested interest in stirring up more interest in this case. Maybe even Zane.”

More fair points.

More reasons to make me doubt him.

“Do you consider yourself Zane Grayson’s friend?” she asks, and I wonder what sparked the question.

“Not friends. I haven’t known him very long.”

Her gaze shifts to her computer monitor before trailing back to me. “I didn’t plan to share this, but maybe this will help you wrap your head around what’s going on. Mike Grayson suffered from a lot of mental-health challenges, just like Zane.”

“Meaning?”

“His brother’s made several suicide attempts before he went missing. He and Zane have both been 10-13ed.” She hesitates before explaining, “That’s the Georgia code for a psych hold.”

I’m tempted to tell her I know what a 10-13 is from experience, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“So you can understand that it’s not unreasonable to believe that Mike didn’t need any help disappearing. Any number of things could have happened. And as far as Zane’s interest in his brother’s case, that’s understandable, and I’d rather not get into his story, but I do want to mention that, during that time when he was framing that professor for being involved in Mike’s disappearance, Zane wasn’t taking his medication, and I do think that contributed to his erratic behavior.”

“What does he take medication for?”

“I’d rather not disclose more than that,” she says, not blinking as she issues the boundary. “I want to tell you enough to help you understand that you need to go no-contact with Zane Grayson. I’m worried he’s trying to use you to persuade us to investigate his brother’s disappearance further. And that won’t be healthy for either of you.”

10-13s.

Medication.

Zane also has a mental-health issue. Could that be what this is all about, rather than me being in serious danger from a psychopath?

“Do you mind if I ask how he approached you?” she asks.

Fuck.

“Met him in my house when he scared the shit out of me and dragged me into my closet. And he’s been living next door to me all this time.”

Sure, that would go over well.

“He came to my parents’ place, where I’m living right now. He wanted to talk to me about the post.”

That stays within the realm of misleading, but not an outright lie. Not my fault she didn’t ask a more specific question.

“Well, let me know if telling him to leave you alone isn’t enough. There are other options.”

“Other options?”

“Like a TRO.” At my look, she explains, “A restraining order.”

A restraining order? For someone who thought he was harmless, now she’s suggesting I might need a restraining order?

She wraps up our meeting, and I return to my car. As I slide into the driver’s seat, I’m still trying to make sense of everything she told me. Her explanations sounded fairly reasonable. Much more than anything Zane told me. What if he’s using me to bolster his fixation with his missing brother? But what if he also believes I’m in danger?

I figure most people, after talking with Detective Roth, might want nothing to do with Zane Grayson, but our conversation has made me that much more interested in him.

What if he’s having a mental-health crisis?

I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to lose touch with reality.

And after what he’s been through with his brother, would that be such a terrible thing?

I don’t have the feeling he would hurt me.

And maybe I’m just that fucking gullible, but I don’t think he would be deceiving me like she suggests.

Yes, Detective Roth has given me plenty of things to consider about the night I found Zane in my house. It should be enough to scare a normal person off.

But maybe I’m not a normal person.