Without another word, he hung up the phone. Samantha knew it had to be important, and wondered who Wil could be talking about. She went into the bathroom to freshen up, put on her shoes, and left the house. The dogs barked at her, but she barely heard them.
When she arrived at Wil’s house, the inside door was open. Through the screen door she could hear him talking with someone. It sounded like a man, the voice just barely familiar.
“Come on back, Samantha!” Wil called.
She followed his voice into his office. There was someone sitting in one of his chairs. When he turned around, Samantha gasped.
“Fred Matlin!” she cried. “What . . . . what are you doing here?”
Fred made a self-conscious face and ran his hand through his auburn hair. Behind his red-rimmed glasses, his eyes looked full of worry.
“Trying to answer some questions, I guess,” he replied.
Samantha looked at Wil, her expression demanding an explanation.
“I asked some questions,” Wil said, “and found out Mr. Matlin was one of the last people to see Barbara.”
“Call me Fred, okay?”
Wil swung a chair around and indicated it was for Samantha. Slowly she sat down, not taking her eyes off Fred. He turned and pretended to be watching a hamster racing in a wheel, purposely avoiding Samantha’s gaze.
“Do you know where Barbara is now?” Samantha asked.
“That was my first question,” Wil said.
“I don’t know,” Fred replied. “I’m sorry. She didn’t say anything at all about going away when we were together the other night. I’m just as surprised as you.”
Samantha’s eyes thinned.
“When you were at Barbara’s, you said you went to St. Francis with us,” she said. “But Wil tells me there’s no record of my attendance. How can you remember me?”
Fred turned his hands palms-up.
“I only said I thought I remembered you,” he reminded her. “I could have been mistaken.”
Wil held up a hand.
“You know,” he said, “it’s possible you two did hang around there but never actually registered for classes. That would explain some of your memories.”
“It doesn’t explain how I’ve been able to practice medicine all these years,” Samantha grumbled. “Fred, do you remember ever actually speaking with either one of us?”
“I met Barbara at a few parties,” Fred said, looking out the window as if the scene was being played in the yard. “We were introduced, but we didn’t talk. And you? I’m sorry, I just can’t remember. I’m sure I saw you, but I don’t think we ever actually spoke.”
He leaned back a little, turning to look at Samantha.
“Although I’m not surprised,” he said. “Med students have such crazy, busy schedules.”
“Fred,” Wil said, “we must find Barbara if we’re to get to Julie. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t think you’re really involved.”
Fred seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
“I think,” Wil said, “that when plans were made for Samantha, you and Barbara, and maybe a few others, were worked into the deal. Listen to what you’ve said. You remember Samantha, but only vaguely. Her own memories are indistinct, as Barbara’s probably are. But there is something you can do to help. Has Barbara ever mentioned knowing anyone out east?”
Fred shook his head. “Not at all. She has a sister in Texas and two brothers in California. Her parents are dead.”
“There aren’t any more answers here,” Samantha said. “Only more questions.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Fred said, “but is there any reason for me to stay?”
“No,” Wil said, moving away from Samantha. “But thank you for coming down so quickly.”
Fred stood up. Wil held out his arm and the two men shook hands.
“Maybe you couldn’t tell us where Barbara went,” Wil said, “but you’ve added a few pieces to a very big puzzle.”
“Sure,” Fred said.
He turned to leave, his thoughts full of his days back in med school. There was no question in his mind that he had met Barbara. He left Detective Sherer’s house wondering what this was all about.
In the office, Samantha had gotten up to go look out the window. Now that Fred was gone, she felt she could speak freely.
“I went over Julie’s pictures,” she said. “I realized something for the first time. The child she’s been drawing in these pictures—it’s me. I remember the red pail with the crab on it. And there’s a concession stand with dolphins painted on the awning. The one with the name Haybrook’s. I’m sure I’ve seen it before. Wil, how could Julie know what I looked like as a child? I never showed her any pictures.”