The Never List

conferences for his whole career? I mean, I don’t know how you can do it, but you can—maybe it’s his credit card receipts, maybe it’s through the university …”
    Tracy took up the cue. “Have the university turn over his expense reports. Maybe they still have the records.”
    “And then,” I continued excitedly, “can you cross-reference that list with the missing persons reports for the same areas at that time?”
    Jim went silent for a long time. Finally, he said, “You think there are others? Ladies, there’s no evidence he ever had other captives. We’ve gone through every inch of that house using every forensic tool available, sniffers, UV lights, luminol. We’ve done extensive serological and DNA testing …”
    I didn’t want to let Jim on to what else I was thinking, and maybe what Tracy was thinking too, because he would surely think we had gone off the rails.
    “Please, Jim. Please. Will you just run the report?”
    “I won’t be able to give it to you, even if I do that. You realize that, don’t you? You two are not, contrary to what you may think, credentialed FBI agents.”
    Tracy started to say something, but I held up my hand, recognizing victory when I saw it.
    “Fine. You’ll do it then?”
    “I’ll see what I can do. You know, it isn’t easy to get projects staffed these days. We’ve had even more funding cuts for our division. All the money goes to the antiterrorism group now.”
    I pulled out my trump card. “You owe it to us, Jim, don’t you think? After that trial?” I almost felt guilty throwing it back in his face, knowing what a sore spot it was for him.
    He was quiet for a moment, then, very softly, said, “I’ll get it done. Now why don’t you guys get back to mending fences? I’m glad to hear that you’re seeing each other. It does an agent’s heart good.” He chuckled warmly.
    Tracy and I looked away from each other at that. We both mumbled our thanks and hurried off the phone. Only when we hung up were we able to look at each other again. Neither of us could bear to articulate our feelings, so I changed the subject back to the original reason for my visit.
    “I have a proposition for you.”
    “What?”
    “I’m in way over my head with this stuff: literature about sex and death, S&M clubs, academic politics. I need your help, Tracy. You know what all these different things mean. Will you take some time off from the journal, just a few weeks, and come with me? “
    Tracy frowned at me. “You think there are things the FBI missed?”
    “I know it sounds crazy, but yes. I want to go down south, to see what I can learn about Sylvia’s past. Talk to her family. I think there’s a lot more we need to learn. About Noah Philben, about Adele, about David Stiller. A lot of things happened back then, andthe FBI didn’t even scratch the surface. I think there are answers to our questions, Tracy. We just have to find them.”
    At the end of my speech, I took a breath and looked at her with anticipation. I had surprised myself too. I hadn’t asked another person for help since my escape, and I certainly hadn’t wanted anyone to get any closer to me, literally or figuratively. And Tracy would have been the last person I thought I had the courage to ask. Maybe deep down I felt that if we went through this together, she could finally see that I wasn’t the awful human being she thought I was. Or that I thought I was.
    With near-perfect timing, as always, when Tracy was about to answer, my phone buzzed. I picked it up only to see a text from, naturally, Dr. Simmons. I pressed the off button.
    “Our shrink,” I said with a slightly embarrassed smile.
    Tracy laughed. “She seems like a better shrink than we probably give her credit for. Maybe she’s psychic too.” We were both smiling now.
    “Will you, Tracy?”
    She looked at her computer, then around the room at her books, and sighed. She walked over to her desk and calmly shut her laptop.
    “All right. I’ll go. On one condition.”
    “Yes?”
    “We need to take a little detour down to New Orleans. I have to make a visit.”

CHAPTER 21
    Because Tracy couldn’t leave for a few days, I booked a hotel nearby. Neither of us mentioned the possibility of my staying with her. After all those nights next to each other in the cellar, we knew that kind of proximity would bring back too many memories.
    That night I had trouble falling asleep. When I finally drifted off, I had my recurring dream, if you