Every Last Fear(2)
Matt reluctantly scooped up the money. He looked up at the dark clouds rolling into the city. He loved the smell of an imminent rain. “At least let me get you breakfast at the dining hall. I’ve got some meal swipes left.”
“Nah,” Reggie said. “They didn’t seem so happy last time.…”
Reggie was right. Limousine liberalism had its limits, as Matt had learned from his time with the privileged student body of New York University. He was an oddity to most of his classmates, an apolitical Midwesterner.
“Fuck ’em,” Matt said, gesturing for Reggie to join him, when he heard a familiar voice from behind.
“There you are. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Matt turned and saw the resident assistant from his dorm. Why would the RA be looking for him? Phillip usually appeared only if the music was too loud or the halls smelled like weed.
“There are federal agents at the dorm,” Phillip said, concern in his voice. “They want to talk with you.”
“Agents?”
“Yeah, the FBI showed up at six this morning. They said you’re not answering your phone.”
“What do they want?” Matt asked. It was probably about his older brother. Ever since that fucking documentary, everything was about Danny.
“I don’t know. But if you’re doing something out of the dorm you shouldn’t, I don’t—”
“Relax, man. I’m not—” Matt paused, took a breath. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll go see what they want.”
Phillip let out an exasperated sigh and sauntered off.
“You in some trouble?” Reggie asked.
“I guess I’d better go find out. Rain check on breakfast?”
Reggie nodded. “Be careful, Affleck. Nothing good ever came of federal agents knocking on your door at six in the mornin’.”
* * *
A half hour later Matt sat on his small dorm bed, the room spinning.
The lead FBI agent—Matt couldn’t remember her name—was talking again, but it was just a jumble of words. When Matt didn’t respond, the agent knelt in front of him, a concerned look on her face. Her partner, a lean guy in a dark suit, hovered in the background, shifting on his feet.
“I spoke with the dean,” the agent was saying, “and they’ve arranged for a grief counselor. And you don’t have to worry about your classes.”
Matt tried to stand, but his legs buckled, blood rushing to his head. The agent guided him back to the bed.
“All of them?” Matt said. She’d told him twice already, but he didn’t believe it.
“I’m so sorry.”
Mom.
Dad.
Maggie.
Tommy.
He stood again, said something, then tripped to the bathroom. He dropped to his knees and emptied his guts into the toilet. He hugged the dirty bowl, unsure how long he was there.
At some point he heard a soft tap on the door.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” he managed. Gripping the sink, he tugged himself up. He turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face, then glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like he felt.
Back in the room, the female agent was alone, her partner having cleared out.
“How could something like this happen?” Matt asked, the sound of his voice strange to him, hoarse and distant.
“They think it’s a freak accident, a gas leak. But that’s what we’re trying to get to the bottom of. Both the Bureau and State Department are working on it. We’ve reached out to the Mexican authorities. I know this is the worst possible time, but I need to ask you a few questions.”
Matt sat down again, nodded for her to continue.
“We understand they were on vacation.”
“Uh-huh, spring break for my little sister and brother.” The words caught in his throat. “They decided to go at the last minute. My break didn’t match up, so I couldn’t…” He stopped, fighting back tears.
“When’s the last time you heard from them?”
Matt thought about this. “My mom sent a text from the airport the day they left. Maggie sent one a few days ago.” He felt a stab of guilt. He hadn’t read, much less responded to, his little sister’s text.
“How about your father?”
He shook his head, every part of him numb. They hadn’t spoken since their fight over Christmas break. His heart sank. The last thing Matt had said to him—
“For the timeline—to help us understand things—it’s important that we see those texts. If you don’t mind?”
“Yeah, sure. But my phone, it’s in my coat, which I left somewhere last night.”
“Do you know where?” the agent asked. She was sympathetic, but Matt could tell she was getting impatient.
“I think it’s at the bar.” He’d grabbed the tiny mountain of his clothes before slinking out of the girl’s dorm, so it had to be the bar.
The agent nodded. “I can take you there.”
“I don’t think they’ll be open this early.”
“What’s it called?”
“Purple Haze, on East Thirteenth.”
The agent pulled out her phone and walked to the far end of the room. She looked out the rain-speckled window, murmuring commands to someone. “I don’t care. Just tell them to get somebody there now,” she said, making her way back over to Matt.