“Did anyone stand out in the sophomore yearbook?” I asked.
Cole nodded. “This guy,” he said, pointing to a photo of a tall, thin boy with braces. He and Ben were wearing suits with shoulder pads, long chains around their necks, and fedoras tipped low. They posed with their arms crossed and major attitude on their faces, rapper style.
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Bill Metcalf,” he said. “They did a skit for the school talent show. Also there’s this guy,” he said, thumbing through the yearbook to the last few pages. “Grady Weaver. There’s a photo of him and Ben at a track meet high-fiving each other.”
“Anybody else?”
Cole frowned. “It’s really hard to tell,” he said. “All of the other photos of Ben are either team shots, action shots at a football game, or with his arm around Amber.”
“It’s the same in this one, too,” I said, tapping the junior yearbook. Then a thought occurred to me. “What about their senior year? Didn’t you grab that yearbook?”
Cole frowned. “Ben and Amber were dead by the time it came out,” he said. “We get our yearbooks here the last week of school—mid-June. I figure it was the same back in the eighties, too.”
“Wouldn’t Ben have ordered one, though?” I asked. “I mean, I know he wasn’t around to collect it, but maybe it got sent to your grandmother’s?”
“If it was, I’ve never seen it,” Cole said.
“Bummer,” I muttered. “There could’ve been some good clues in that yearbook.” Then I thought of something else. “Would your mom know any of the kids that Ben used to hang out with?”
Cole took a pull from his Dr Pepper. “Maybe,” he said. “Sometimes, it’s hard for her to talk about Ben. She said that his death on top of her dad’s death was a lot for her to deal with.”
I blinked. “Right. He was killed in a car crash?” I said, remembering what Dr. White had told me.
Cole nodded. “Yeah. About a year and a half before Ben was murdered. Mom says he wasn’t much of a dad, but he was the only one she had.”
“Why wasn’t he much of a dad?”
Cole shrugged. “I guess he drank a lot. Supposedly, he was heading home from a bar when he crashed his car about two miles away from their house. Ben got to the scene of the crash before anybody else did. It was bad. The car was on fire, and his dad was trapped inside.”
“Ohmigod,” I gasped. “I didn’t know Ben was there. That’s awful!”
Cole nodded. “Ben was the one that broke the news to my mom. She says that he became the head of the house after that. He worked after school to help my grandma pay the bills and stuff.”
I felt bad for thinking poorly about Cole’s grandmother. She’d suffered two unimaginable blows nearly back to back. No wonder she was harsh.
“Your poor grandmother,” I said.
“Yep,” he agreed. “She’s had a rough life.”
“Your mom had it rough, too,” I said.
“She did. But she worked really hard in school and ended up getting a scholarship to UVA. Now she’s an RN, and she just finished her master’s last year.”
It was easy to see the pride that Cole had for his mother. I liked that about him. I liked a lot about him.
“What about your dad?” I asked, curious.
Cole played with the straw in his drink. “He was from Canada, and when they got divorced he went back. He lives in Toronto now with my stepbrother and -sister.”
There didn’t seem to be any bitterness in Cole’s voice. Was he really as okay with his absent father as he seemed to be? “Do you get to see him?”
“Every summer for the month of July, and every winter break. It’s not much, but we make it work.”
“That’s nice,” I said.
I wondered if I’d ever get to a place of peace with my dad. I was still feeling bitter about the fact that he’d come to my grandmother’s house that morning to confront her about the discussion between her and his girlfriend, and he hadn’t even bothered to ask for me.
“Should we talk to your mom about Ben’s friends?” I asked.
Cole glanced at his phone. “It couldn’t hurt,” he said. “As long as we’re careful not to upset her. You’d think after all these years she wouldn’t miss my uncle so much, but when we visit his grave on his birthday, she gets pretty upset.”
“I’ll let you do the talking,” I said.
He grinned and then tapped out a text. Within a minute he had a reply. “She says she can take a break if we want to meet her at work.”
I gathered up the wrapper and empty cup from lunch to take to the trash and said, “Let’s go.”
“BAILEY, LET GO!” STACEY YELLED, pulling me from my thoughts. I moved over to where she was struggling to free her little canvas purse with the wood handle from Bailey’s mouth. My dog thought it was a fun game of tug-of-war and jerked Stacey nearly off her feet.
“Whoa!” I said, grabbing Bailey by the collar to get her attention. She let go of Stacey’s purse immediately.