Last Stay

XIV: Good Luck

I tell Heather and Ben some more about my upcoming travel plans to South America with my now missing wife, hoping that it's not too late for us. I do my best to hide any signs of worry from marring my face, which keeps the mood and the conversation light for the time being.

"I'm sure that'll be a great time," Heather smiles. "Angela must be dying to meet your family."

"Yes, she's really excited to—"

"Colombia," Ben interrupts before sipping his drink. "Home of excellent rum, delicious food, a rich culture, and beautiful women," he grins.

"And men," Heather winks at me. "I'll leave you boys to your meeting. Just yell if you need anything," she adds before walking out the door.

"So, Green," Ben says, "about your phone call to the office—"

Here goes nothing.

"Mr. Travail—Ben," I cut in. "I apologise, but the phone I found didn't belong to your daughter."

Ben furrows his brow.

"I found it under my wife's car ," I exhale, setting the coffee down on the desk. "When I called the only number saved in the phone's contacts, a man answered. He said, 'You know better than to call me right now, Ivan. What do you want?' his voice was gruff. There was some talking in the background, but I couldn't make much out. When I failed to respond, he hung up. I tried calling back, but it went straight to voicemail."

"That's very strange, but I don't see what does that has to do with me, or my daughter." 

"Two days ago, Angela mentioned that she had a business meeting with someone named Moore...she never came home," I take a deep breath. "Today, I came across a video of an interview you did regarding what happened to your daughter. When you were asked about Ivan, the pieces seemed to just fall into place."

"You believe Ivan's responsible for your wife's disappearance," Ben rubs his forehead.

"I do."

An uneasy silence hangs in the air as a look of worry begins darkening the old man's face.

Ben's shoulders rise and fall as he sighs. "I was afraid something like this might happen."

"What do you mean?" I turn my head slightly, genuinely confused.

"Please close the door," he says in a low voice. "Quietly."

I get up and do as he asked. As I resume my seat, a chill begins creeping into my fingers.

Ben rubs the back of his neck. "What do you know about Ivan besides my daughter's disappearance?"

"Only that he's a photographer."

Ben nods. "That's how he met Renée. Every year, she used to ride in the equestrian event Windsor Mills in the fall. Ivan used to take pictures for the event for his uncle's magazine, Chevaux," he continues. "Day by day, they became closer and eventually started dating. Then one winter they went to France and Renée came home with a ring on her finger and a smile on her face. I was mostly happy for her, but I had this gut feeling that stopped me from completely enjoying the moment."

"What kind of feeling?" 

Ben shakes his head. "I was uneasy about Ivan, but I waved it off as me slowly realising that my little girl was leaving home, and I was going to be alone in this house. But that same feeling came back right after they got married. Then I was sure something wasn't right about him. Hindsight's a bitch," he scoffs.

"What happened?"

"He got extremely possessive," Ben replies unblinking as if replaying events in his mind. "Renée had to ask his permission just to come see me on Sundays. And even then, that didn't stop him from calling to 'check-up' on her every so often. Ivan would even ask to talk to me—usually, just bullshit things like having a boys' weekend—but I knew it was just to make sure Renée was where she was supposed to be."

"Did she ever complain about the calls?"

He shakes his head. "She said Ivan was just making sure she was okay."

I doubt that's why he was calling.

"As time went on," Ben continues, "Renée began to look more troubled when she came by. But she blamed it on stress from work," he sighs, "citing how challenging being a social worker could be, and she'd cut it off there. 'Let's talk about you, Dad.' That's how she changed the subject."

A tear rolls down his wrinkled face. "When she disappeared," Ben chokes up. "I asked him—I asked Ivan if he hurt her. 'No,' he said, but he couldn't look me in the eye. I kept pressing him and eventually, he said, 'Get the fuck out of my house.' Every time I've tried to talk to him since then, he's avoided me or refused to answer my calls."

Knots tightened in my stomach. Dark clouds are gathering over the lake outside the window.

"Do you think Ivan killed her?" 

Ben stares at the desk and quickly shakes his head as if trying to block out an unwelcomed thought. "I don't...know," his lips quiver. "I...just...I...just want the truth—not knowing what happened to her is too much."

I wish I didn't have an idea about what he's feeling right now.

"Where does he live?" I ask.

Ben searches my face for a moment. "Are you planning on walking up to his penthouse and asking him where he's keeping your wife? Or would you just ask to have a look around?"

"Neither," I reply. "I intend to follow Ivan until he accidentally leads me to Angela and Renée. So asking him point-blank is probably not my best option."

"How much detective experience do you have, Mr. Green?" Ben produces a small smile.

"More than enough to know to keep myself out of sight when following someone," I say calmly.

Ben chuckles. "Smart man. So I take it Ivan has no idea that you found his phone?"

"He doesn't."

Or at least I hope not.

The old man nods, reaches for his drink and downs the rest of it in one gulp. "I suggest you keep it that way for as long as possible. Ivan lives in a high-rise next to Hyde Park on the corner of 13th Avenue and Turner Street, and he drives a black Lamborghini."

I take out my phone and quickly enter the address in my notes.

"You might want my number too," Ben says, causing me to look up from my screen.

After adding his number to my contacts, I send Ben a text so he can have mine.

"I'll be sure to call you as soon as I find anything," I say.

He nods. "I'm not as spry as I used to be when I raced dinghies in Bermuda," he flashes a half-smile. "But I'll help as much as I can. So don't hesitate to call me at whatever hour; I don't sleep much these days."

That makes two of us.

"Thank you very much for seeing me today, sir," I extend my arm across the table.

"No," Ben says, gripping my hand. "Thank you. You'll want to get started as soon as possible," he adds. "Ivan's uncle owns a lot of property in the city, so you'll have your work cut out for you."

I nod. "I've never shied away from a challenge, especially when people I care about are involved."

Hope brightens Ben's face. "Good luck, Green," he says.

"Thank you," I shake his hand once more.

Unfortunately, I have a feeling I'll need more luck than I usually do.