City of the Sun Read Online Free PDF Page B

returned carrying two cans of soda.
    “What’s with all this? If you don’t mind my asking.” An odor of sour milk and tuna fish began to permeate the room.
    Behr handed Paul a can. “Trash archaeology. It’s Derek Freeman’s.”
    “The Pacer?”
    “Yeah, the power forward. I paid a guy I know twenty bucks to get it for me.”
    “You must be a real fan.”
    Behr looked at Paul, the slightest glint of humor in his eye. It wasn’t a confidential case. He decided to explain.
    “The
Trib
hired me. Freeman’s suing them for libel over their report of him having an affair. You can learn plenty from someone’s trash. Receipts, empty prescription bottles. Discarded papers. Gambling receipts. Phone bills. Strange DNA on Q-Tips. Condoms when their wife is on the pill. They’re hoping I’ll prove their story. At least enough to keep them out of court. And I will.” Behr shrugged and popped his soda can open. If he was at all embarrassed about picking through refuse, he didn’t show it. As Behr drank off half his soda, Paul noticed the man’s hand was the size of a brick.
    “What can I do for you?”
    Paul fiddled with his own soda can and took a breath. “I think I need … I need a detective. My son. He’s twelve. He was twelve and a half. He’s almost fourteen now. He’s been gone a year and two months.”
    A darkness came over Behr and seemed to fill the room, as if an eclipse was taking place in the sky outside.
    “Gone?”
    “Went out on his paper route end of last October. Didn’t come back.”
    “Police?”
    “We’ve been to them, of course.” Paul raised the manila file folder by way of explanation.
    “Of course. Amber alerts. Neighborhood canvass. They papered the runaway shelters, then pulled the manpower. You don’t know if they’re incompetent or don’t care.”
    Paul was a bit taken aback at the man’s directness and let the file resettle in his lap. “All of the above.”
    Behr sat back and thought. “Over a year and the trail will be cold. Ice-age cold.”
    Paul was quiet. He glanced around the place. Bookshelves were filled with nonfiction hardcovers. A glass gun case held several rifles. Law enforcement plaques hung on a paneled wall near the desk. They were awards for community service, distinction in the line of duty. The dates ended several years back.
    Behr stared at him and Paul came out and said it. “I’d like someone to look into it. You were recommended.”
    “I can’t do that.”
    “Why not?”
    “The cops aren’t incompetent, and they do care. It’d be a thousand to one finding anything … and even then you wouldn’t like what I found.”
    Paul couldn’t help feeling a foolish sense of rejection and a sudden desperation, a swirling vortex of helplessness threatening him. “But …” He gestured at the trash on the living-room floor. “You can’t be so busy—”
    “It’s not about that,” Behr half barked. Something close to anger sounded in his voice for a moment, then departed. “Listen, how’s your wife coping?”
    “Well, I guess. In her own way … but badly. Real bad.”
    Behr nodded with knowing. “What other way is there?”
    Silence took over, and neither man seemed willing to tamper with it for a long while, then Behr spoke again. “It’d be very costly, you know. Not just the hourly, but also the expenses. And time-consuming.”
    Paul shrugged.
    “I see. You’re willing to pay. Anything you’ve got.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Put your house up. Sell everything.”
    “Yeah.”
    “But even then … Look, Mr. Gabriel, for most people hope’s a beautiful thing. For you and your wife it’s dangerous. I don’t want to take you through anything more than you’ve been already.”
    Paul stood. “There’s nothing that could be worse than not knowing. Not even … nothing.”
    Behr seemed to understand but averted his gaze.
    “I’m sorry, buddy. I can’t do this. There are plenty of other investigators and I’m sure you’ll find a