Missing Lives by Kate Gable

Author:Kate Gable [Gable, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Byrd Books

21

Charlotte

When the pain seems to become unbearable, Mrs. Lansky excuses herself and goes to one of the bedrooms. I'm glad that I have some time alone with her husband.

I ask Mr. Lansky about his work. He says he's been teaching math for almost twenty years now. He likes it. He likes being a teacher. He enjoys the college. He likes that he has time to climb.

"It's a job I can do on autopilot at this point, been doing it long enough.” He shrugs. "I tried to teach Ricky about numbers but he has always been a letters guy. You tell him a story and he'll be there with you for ages. I try to explain to him about addition, subtraction, his eyes just glaze over and it's like he doesn't care. I'm sure he would have learned, he just wasn't obsessed with it like I was as a kid."

"Was that a problem for you?" I ask.

"No, not at all. I have a wife who taught math and didn't really care about it. That's why she's doing art now. Sometimes you're just good at something and you can do the job, but that doesn't mean your heart is in it. Ricky should have been able to do anything he wanted, and that bastard took that away from him."

"We're going to do everything in our power to find him," I say and mention the guy on the motorcycle.

"You saw the video?" Mr. Lansky asks. "Could you make out the license plate or anything?"

"No, I couldn't. I'm sorry," I say. "CSI has it now. Maybe they'll be able to work something out. I wanted to ask you a little bit about your relationship with the Applegates."

"Yes, they're our close friends."

"And Jen said that you and she go hiking together?"

"Climbing.” He shrugs. "She's not much of a climber, but she wanted to learn at one point so we went together. I'm not much of a hiker the way she is. Long-distance stuff, no thanks. Sleeping on the ground in a tent is not my favorite. I did it plenty in my twenties and thirties, and I'm just getting too old for that stuff. But Ricky was really into it. He loved camping. I was going to do it with him.”

Mr. Lansky looks away from me. His face contorts as grief washes over him and he can’t keep the pain from escaping its depths. Grief is a wave that sweeps over you but not in any regular intervals like a tide. Instead, it comes as a surprise, a tsunami.

"I'm sorry, I need a minute," Mr. Lansky says, pulling away from me. When he gets a hold of himself, he focuses on the logistics.

“We're having the funeral tomorrow. I don't know if I should have invited law enforcement.”

"No, not at all, but I do have to say that we would like to attend just to see who's there, keep an eye on things."

"What do you mean by that?" he asks.

"Well, it's a memorial service as well, right?"

He nods.

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