Page 99 of The Guy Next Door

Fuck.

An emotional sucker punch.

Nearly as quickly as my hope returned, it vanishes, and I’m left with a hollow feeling in my chest.

I sneak a glance at Leif. The way he’s looking at me, he knows how disappointed I am.

“He’s a teacher at the community college,” Leif explains. “Maybe Mike didn’t say the name, but did he mention anything about an English professor he met up with on campus? Or maybe at the Chelsby Hill Library?”

I can tell Leif’s grasping at straws.

Wes takes another moment, but this time, his expression doesn’t change. He shakes his head. “I take it you think this Tolle guy is involved, but what’s the library got to do with anything?”

“Just somewhere I’ve seen him, and it’s a library Mike frequented,” I explain, leaving it there.

“None of that rings any bells. A lot of teachers at that school. I barely know mine. And like I told you before, we didn’t hang out too much, and besides the crap we talked about for that graphic-design class, school wasn’t exactly at the top of our list of things to talk about.”

Maybe Mike never mentioned him, but they went to the same school, so Wes might recognize him. I pull up Isaac’s picture, the one I showed Leif. After I pass it to Wes, he studies it for a few moments before shrugging. “Maybe I’ve seen him around campus. He looks like an average, fortysomething white guy, you know?”

“Yeah.” I can’t disguise the disappointment in my tone.

“You think this guy might have had something to do with his disappearance?”

I tell him what I found in my brother’s planner, and my subsequent interest in him. How I had suspicions when I joined him at Habitat for Humanity, and that led to my unhealthy obsession. I don’t get into the details of just how bad it got, but I make it clear that Roth didn’t find anything down that path.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, “that doesn’t sound like much.”

After everything we’ve discussed, I’m starting to lose hope that I’m going to get anything out of this exchange, but I try to hold on a little longer. “Any chance you noticed if Mike was acting strange or different before he went missing?”

He shakes his head. I’m really losing hope.

“Is there anything else you might have found noteworthy?”

“Nah, man. I wish I did, but that note was really the only thing that stood out to me.”

“What about Jason?” Leif asks. “Did you have any interactions with him?”

“You don’t miss a face like that, but we never had any classes together or talked. I saw him on Grindr, messaged him once, but he didn’t message back. I took some screenshots of his profile pics because he’s a hot motherfucker. I think I still have those… Haven’t even looked because I took them not too long before he went missing.”

And with those words, he’s deflated the last of my hope.

*

After we finishour chat, Wes says he plans to stick around a bit longer to see what he can find on Grindr. Leif heads to the restroom, and I take our drinks to the trash bin near the front of the coffeehouse, where a line has gathered along the lengthy stretch of counter between me and the entrance. The place was busy when we arrived, but now it’s packed.

My disappointment is starting to settle in, a hollowness in my gut.

Although I’m glad we chatted with Wes, I’d hoped for some clue that might illuminate something about Mike, something that would help me figure out what happened to him. But I don’t know much more than before we came here.

While Leif’s in the restroom, I figure I’ll check the news on my phone, and as I’m about to retrieve it from my back pocket, something draws my gaze. Through a gap in the line at the counter, I notice a man in a hoodie leaving the coffeehouse, and as he turns, I catch his profile.

I’m sure I recognize the nose and jawline.

Isaac Tolle?

But it’s only a flash of part of his face before one of the patrons in line moves slightly, obscuring my view.

By the time I reposition, he’s gone. Only the door swinging closed.

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