WYWH, Chapter 2: The Panic
Oswald panicked. What had happened? How had this happened? What had happened… wait, hadn't he already asked that question?
It didn't really matter, though. None of the questions were getting him anywhere. Glancing around the room, he saw Charlie's cell phone lying on the floor near the bed. It suddenly occurred to him that he should call Charlie's brother, the FBI dude. He was good. He had kept Oswald alive, back during the baseball stats thing, and he knew the brothers were close. Don would know what to do.
He rapidly crossed to the phone and scrolled through the "Names" list until he found Don. He hit the "Send" button. His immediate relief upon hearing Don's voice was quickly replaced with frustration when he realized it was voice mail. "Crap," he said, aloud. Deciding that wasn't much of a message, he added more. "Um…Agent Eppes, this is Charlie's friend, Oswald. Things are messed up, man. I need you to call, okay? I've got Charlie's phone, so just call him." He considered, then added a little more. "Uh… thanks, I guess."
He flipped the phone shut, stepped around the displaced mattress and sank down on the box springs still in the bed frame. He buried his face in his hands. He could only think one coherent thought, and he kept thinking it over, and over: What am I gonna do?
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Don groaned as he rolled over and slammed his alarm clock before it went off. Something else had already awoken him, and he was afraid he knew what. There was either a mosquito in his ear, or his cell phone had almost vibrated off the nightstand. He must have forgotten to take if off "Silent" when he got in last night. He looked at the clock again. This morning. When he got in this morning, after he was called to a crime scene last night. He had only been in bed three hours.
He was tempted to ignore the phone, but then he sighed and grabbed it. Maybe something had gone wrong on the case, already. He checked his messages. "Let's see… one from Larry, one from Megan…. " He smiled. The last one was from Charlie, who was off at some math thing with his young friend Oswald, in Chicago. Charlie was not going to give up on convincing that kid to become a mathematician. For all his brother's brilliance with numbers, he must have forgotten about the time difference between their locations, to call Don at 7:30 in the morning.
Megan's call came before he had seen her at the crime scene. It was way too early to deal with Larry. So it was easy to decide which message to listen to first. He frowned when he didn't hear Charlie's voice, but Oswald's. By the time Oswald got to "Things are messed up, man," Don was sitting up on the edge of his bed, gripping the cell tightly.
As soon as Oswald's message finished playing, he hit the speed dial for Charlie. He groaned when the voice mail favor was returned. Not knowing who to leave a message for, he just flipped the phone shut, and stood. He pulled on his clothes as quickly as he could, and then left a message for Megan at the office, saying he might be late this morning.
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Don shook his head, trying to clear some fog. He sat at his kitchen counter, nursing a cold cup of yesterday's coffee, and called his father. He hoped Oswald wasn't too serious about anything, and that it had been some miscommunication. Charlie had been late, or something.
Alan answered on the second ring. "Donnie! Good morning, son. Have you heard from your brother?"
Don hesitated. He guessed that answered his own question. "I was going to ask you that."
Alan's voice took on a note of worry. "Why?"
Okay. He didn't need to deal with a panicked father, on top of everything else. "Nothing, Dad, I just got a voice mail…missed his call. So I was wondering, you know…um…how things were going?"
Alan seemed a little calmer when he answered. "I thought he'd call last night. He was presenting his paper, yesterday afternoon. I haven't heard from him since the night before."
Things are messed up, man. Don remembered Oswald's words, and the feeling of unease they had started within him grew. He tried to reassure his father. "Probably surrounded by groupies all night. Math rock star. I should…get to work."
Alan chuckled. "If you talk to Charlie, have him call me. Be careful today, Don."
"I always am, Dad," Don promised. They said their goodbyes and disconnected. Don tried Charlie's number again. If Oswald called him, it wasn't just because Charlie was late. It was because something serious was happening. No matter how much he tried to tell himself it wasn't major, he knew it was. "Dammit," he muttered to himself, running his fingers through his hair.
This time, Oswald answered. He sounded scared. "Yeah?"
"Oswald, this is Don. Eppes. Let me talk to Charlie."
"Did you call before? I heard the phone, man, but I was on the hotel phone. I called 9-1-1, but they put me on friggin' hold, dude. I just hung up when Charlie's phone rang again."
Don's heart leapt in his chest. "9-1-1? What's wrong? Let me talk to Charlie!"
Oswald sighed on the other end of the connection. "Gonna have a problem with that, man."
Don spoke in his interrogation voice. "Tell me. Now."
"I don't know!", responded Oswald in a wail. "I came down to the professor's room this morning. It was after 9 already, and I thought we both overslept. But the door is unlocked, man, and the room is trashed. There's glass, and some blood, and Charlie's not here…" He took a breath and hurried on. "I saw his phone on the floor, so I called you. I wasn't sure what else to do…" His voice trailed off at the end.
Don squeezed his eyes shut. Charlie was missing, somebody had bled in his room, and Oswald was destroying all the evidence. "Oswald, listen, don't touch anything else. Go back to your own room, and call 9-1-1 again. The police will probably want Charlie's phone, so you program my number into yours before they get there, okay?" He grabbed a pen from his shirt pocket and scrambled for the napkins. "Give me your cell number."
Oswald did, and Don repeated it back to him. "When's the last time you saw Charlie?", he asked.
"Yesterday afternoon," responded Oswald. "He went out with some other old people, and I headed out for Hardrock. This is just wrong, man, he really wanted me to hear the guy speaking this morning."
Despite his growing concern, Don couldn't help smiling a little when Oswald described Charlie as "old". He'd have to remember that, and tell Charlie — as soon as they found him. He made a decision. "Listen, Oswald, I'm grabbing the first flight out there. You just do what the police say until I get there, all right?"
Relief came through the cell phone. "Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. I'll see you later, man."
Don disconnected. He stood and started to grab the phone book, then decided to just go to the airport. He didn't want to take the time to pack anything, but forced himself.
Halfway to LAX, he remembered to call the office.