Page 52 of Nobody's Fool

“Why would the FBI seal a file in general?”

“Officially? It means the contents of the file are, and I quote, ‘intelligence-driven and threat-focused,’ meaning it relates to national security. They also make files private to protect sources or method or to safeguard evidence. In this case though, I think they are claiming privacy concerns. Files containing personal information about individuals are often restricted, if you have enough juice. But like I said, the Victoria Belmond case is weird—starting on the night she vanished.”

“How so?” I ask.

“So you have these rich high school kids renting out a room above a bar on New Year’s Eve. You know that part, right?”

“Right.”

“For starters, no one reported Victoria Belmond missing becauseher parents were traveling, and everyone thought she was at a rental house with her friends.”

“That part I know.”

“Right, and we also both know how crucial the first forty-eight hours are in an abduction.”

“We do.”

“This was far worse—more like three or four times that amount. By the time law enforcement finally did take it seriously, none of the kids at this New Year’s Eve party would even admit there had been a party that night. When the police finally got wind of it, the kids attending all lawyered up. Or should I say, their parents lawyered them up.”

“Suspicious,” I say.

“Yes and no. The kids were all underage and had fake IDs. They’d all just been accepted to elite colleges, which, as you know, means more than anything to people in these communities.”

I make a face. “So they lawyered up on their classmate being abducted because they were worried their college acceptances would be rescinded?”

Marty smiles. “What, you find that hard to believe?”

“Not really, no.”

“That’s what the rich do—they lawyer up. Better safe than sorry. College acceptance was probably enough, but maybe they worried their kids had done worse.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. Got drunk that night, fought with her, whatever. Remember these are early days. Most people believed she’d either run away on her own or they’d find her dead somewhere. Either way, the legal advice they got was to shut up.”

“And meanwhile,” I say, “Victoria’s trail grows colder and colder.”

“Right. By the time the legalese was done—waivers, NDAs, allthat—and the kids questioned, it led nowhere. No one remembered seeing Victoria leave the party. No one remembered any big incident involving her.”

I think about that. “Victoria had a boyfriend, right?”

“Sort of, a Trevor Rennie. Wrong-side-of-the-tracks kind of kid, which in this case meant his parents only made a few hundred grand a year. The police looked at Trevor hard, but all evidence indicates they’d broken up a few weeks before the party.”

“Was Trevor at the party?”

“He was, but think about it, Kierce. I mean, now. With hindsight.” Marty lifts his hands. “How could it be the boyfriend? Or for that matter, any of Victoria’s high school friends? I mean, if she was found dead a few days later, sure, you’d really focus on this Trevor Rennie. But that’s not what happened. Do you really think a high school kid could kidnap a classmate and lock her up for eleven years? Eleven years, Kierce.”

Marty had a point. “I know,” I say. “Makes no sense.”

“And so we get to something else I think is weird.”

“Go on.”

“McCabe’s Pub was willing to look the other way on the underage crowd, but they couldn’t completely break rules that could put them out of business.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning the person who signed the rental agreement had to be of age. No fake ID or any of that.”

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