“And you heard nothing when he left?”
“Of course not. I tried to stay awake. I guess he had another key.”
“Evidently. He’s gonna hurt himself.”
“Don’t say that.”
Mark was sprinting from his building, on the phone, trying to reach Gordy. He did not. He jumped in the backseat of the car and said, “Now what?”
“You still have his keys?” Todd asked.
“In my pocket. Who keeps the other key to a car that’s ten years old?”
“I guess Gordy does. He’s gonna do something stupid, you know that?”
“That’s very helpful right now,” Zola said. “I’m sorry, guys, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
That’s two nights in a row, both Mark and Todd thought, but they said nothing. Beating her up would not help matters, and she felt bad enough. If Gordy was determined to pull another stunt, they really couldn’t stop him.
“Any ideas?” Todd asked, still clutching the wheel. There was no response. The three sat in an awful silence as the engine hummed away and the heater blew warm air. Zola broke the silence with “He liked to jog along Rock Creek.”
Todd said, “I doubt if he’s jogging tonight. It’s twenty degrees.”
Mark said, “Let’s check out Coney’s. It’s always been our favorite place to sober up.”
“Good idea,” Todd said as he shifted into drive. “Keep calling and texting.”
Coney’s was an all-night waffle shop on Nineteenth Street and was favored by bums and students. Todd stopped at the corner and Mark ducked inside. He was back in seconds and said, “No sign of him. I have an idea. Let’s go to the Waterfront in Georgetown. We were there this afternoon and he seemed to like the place.”
“What do you mean ‘He liked the place’?” Todd asked.
“I don’t know. Just drive.”
As they turned onto M Street, Mark’s phone rang. “Oh shit! It’s Brenda. Do I take it?”
“Yes,” Todd snapped. “Right now you gotta take it.”
Mark hit speaker and said, “Hey, Brenda.”
She was frantic. “Mark, what’s going on? I just got a text from Gordy. He says he’s sorry, there’s no way out, and he can’t keep going. What the hell is happening, Mark? Talk to me.”
“He’s driving around D.C., Brenda. Todd and I are in the car trying to find him. He’s off his meds and acting crazy.”
“I thought he was in bed with the flu, same as you.”
“He was in the bed sick, okay? We were with him and he sneaked out. Have you tried to call him?”
“Of course! Why didn’t you tell me he’s off his meds?” She was practically screaming.
“I didn’t know he was on meds, Brenda, until yesterday. He never told us. You didn’t either.”
“It’s not something we talked about. Please find him, Mark!”
“We’re trying.”
“I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“No, not yet. Stay put and I’ll call you later.”
At the Waterfront, they parked at a curb and scrambled out of the car. As they sprinted toward the river a security guard stopped them. Mark said, “Sir, we’re looking for a friend. He drives a little blue Mazda and he needs our help. Have you seen him?”
“Ain’t nobody here this time of night,” the guard said.
“Okay. We’re just looking, that all right?”
“Sure.”
They walked along the promenade and stopped by the edge of the Potomac, in the same spot Gordy and Mark had been just hours earlier. To their right, a few cars crossed the Potomac on the Key Bridge. And to their left, beyond Roosevelt Island, there was an emergency on the Arlington Memorial Bridge. Red and blue lights were flashing.
7
By the time they arrived, the three westbound lanes of the bridge were blocked and traffic was backing up. Todd parked on a grassy knoll near a ramp and they hurried to the scene. Half a dozen D.C. police cars were parked haphazardly on the bridge with their doors open and blue lights flashing. Radios squawked as cops milled about. Two of them were standing on the sidewalk at the railing, peering into the dark river below. An ambulance with its siren wailing was inching through the stalled traffic trying to reach the scene. A hundred feet onto the bridge, a cop stopped them.
“Get back!” he growled. “Where do you think you’re going?”
They stopped and absorbed the mayhem before them. Over his shoulder and beyond the police cars they saw Gordy’s blue Mazda, sitting dead still with its lights on in the center lane. Its driver’s door was open.
“What happened?” Mark asked the cop.
“None of your business. Now get away from here.”
Todd said, “Sir, we know him. He’s our friend. What’s happened to him?”
The cop took a deep breath and relaxed. He said, “He jumped, okay? He stopped his car and jumped.”
Zola screamed and buried her face in her hands. Todd grabbed her before she fell. Mark’s knees buckled and he almost vomited. He managed to say, “No, there’s no way.”
The cop took Mark by the shoulders and nodded to his left where two officers were consoling a middle-aged woman. He said, “That woman was driving behind him when he stopped. She saw him run to the edge and jump. I’m sorry.”
“There’s no way,” Mark said again, and Todd led Zola to the wide sidewalk a few feet away. She sat down hard with her back against the concrete railing of the bridge and wailed inconsolably.
“I’m sorry,” the officer said again. “We’re running his tags. He’s from West Virginia, right?”
“Right. His name is Gordon Tanner. We’re students.”
“Come with me.” Mark followed him past the police cars and the cops and they stopped behind Gordy’s car. Mark stared at it in horror and shook his head. “Over here,” the cop said, and he led Mark to the edge of the bridge. Two cops with handheld search beams were shining lights on the dark waters of the Potomac. A speedboat with more blue lights was racing toward them.
The cop said, “This is where he went over. There’s ice down there. No one could last more than two minutes.”
Mark stared at the water and watched the speedboat go under the bridge. He covered his eyes and began sobbing.
A detective in a trench coat walked over and asked, “Who’s this?”
The cop said, “He’s a friend, knows the guy.”
Mark looked at the detective and tried to compose himself. The detective said, “I’m sorry, son. What can you tell us?”
Mark wiped his eyes and gritted his teeth. In a shaky voice, he managed to say, “He’s our friend and he’s been having some trouble lately. Got a DUI last night and we’ve been keeping an eye on him all day. We were afraid he might do something stupid.”
“Does he have mental problems?”
“No, he’s just off his meds.” His voice cracked and he wiped his eyes again. “I can’t believe this.”
“I’m sorry, son. I’m Detective Swayze, DCPD. Here’s my card with my cell number.”
Mark took the card and managed to say, “Thanks.”
“We’re searching now and it’ll take some time, but we’ll find him. Do you know his family?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s he from?”
“Martinsburg, West Virginia.”