Matt held up a hand. “Come inside. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
Greta needed exercise immediately upon being freed from her crate in the morning. Otherwise, she tormented Brody. Matt commanded her to heel in German, and they walked toward the house. Greta fell into step at his side, glancing up at Matt every few strides to look for a new direction.
Matt led the way into the kitchen. Brody sighed from his dog bed in the corner. Greta made a beeline for the older dog, dropped her shoulders to the ground, and wagged her butt in the air. When Brody ignored her, she nipped at him.
Matt commanded her to leave him alone.
Greta stopped and glanced back at Matt as if to check whether he was serious. He maintained eye contact. Her tail drooped. She gave Brody one last killjoy look, then veered off toward the water bowl. When she was finished drinking, she plucked a black KONG toy from a wooden box in the corner and tossed it in the air.
Matt brewed coffee.
Cady pulled out a chair for Mrs. Whitney, then sat down. Brody got to his feet, stretched, and walked over to greet Cady. She rubbed behind his ears. “That’s my best boy. Does that youngster annoy you?”
Brody wagged. A traditional black-and-tan German shepherd, he had big brown eyes and excelled in looking pitiful. Today, he rested his head in Cady’s lap and gave her a woe is me look that could have won an Oscar.
“Brody has traded early-morning training sessions for after-breakfast naps,” Matt said.
Brody moved from Cady to greet Mrs. Whitney, sitting and lifting a paw with his best company manners. The older woman seemed to calm as she stroked the dog’s head.
Matt brought three mugs to the table and sat across from Mrs. Whitney.
“Thanks for seeing me,” she said. “I don’t know who else to ask. I’m so worried about Eli.”
“When did he go missing?” Matt rested his forearms on his kitchen table and gave Mrs. Whitney his full attention.
She pulled a tissue from her handbag and pressed it to her blotchy face. “Last night, he was supposed to come to my house for Sunday dinner. When he didn’t show up, I called his friends.”
Matt cleared his throat. “I don’t want to be . . . um, indelicate, but maybe he’s with someone. Does he have a girlfriend?”
Mrs. Whitney’s parchment-colored cheeks flushed. “No. He doesn’t have a girlfriend at the moment, and I’m well aware that a young man would rather spend a weekend with a young woman than visit his grandmother.” She blew out a loud breath through her nostrils. “But if Eli was going to cancel, he would call. He might give me a ridiculous excuse, but he’d call. He knows I worry. I called him. I texted, but he hasn’t responded. That’s not like him either.”
Matt asked, “What about other family? Brothers, sisters—”
“There’s no one.” Mrs. Whitney’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Eli is an only child. My son and his wife were killed in an auto accident when Eli was sixteen. For the last six years, it’s just been the two of us.”
“I’m sorry.” Matt swallowed a lump of empathy the size of a basketball.
She nodded. “His friends said he went to a party Saturday night. They asked around, and someone who was at the party saw Eli leave around one in the morning, but no one has seen him since. I called the police. An officer came and took a report, but he said what you did. Eli probably hooked up.” She said the last two words as if they were unfamiliar.
“Did he drive to the party?” Matt asked.
“No. He always uses one of the apps to get a ride.” Mrs. Whitney shook her head. “A drunk driver killed his parents. Eli would never drink and drive.”
“Mrs. Whitney is worried the police aren’t doing enough.” Cady wrapped her arm around the older woman’s shoulders.
Mrs. Whitney bowed her head and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Her pink scalp shone through her white hair.
Raising her chin, she opened her eyes and sniffed. “The officer kept saying, ‘He’s an adult. He doesn’t need to check in with his grandmother.’” She paused for a long, shaky inhalation. “But I know my grandson. Something has happened to him. Please tell me you’ll help find him.”
“Where does he live?” Matt slid a sticky-note pad and a pen from the center of the table.
“Scarlet Falls.” Mrs. Whitney gave an address in the neighboring town.
Matt wrote it down. “Which police department is handling the case? Scarlet Falls is under town, county, and state jurisdictions.”
“I don’t know.” Mrs. Whitney’s eyes creased. She stopped, stifling a sob with her tissue.
“Do you know the original officer’s name?” Matt asked.
“No,” Mrs. Whitney said. “I’m sorry. I can’t always hear. He gave me a card, but I lost it.” Mrs. Whitney patted the pockets of her jacket. “I’m so worried. I can’t concentrate.”
“No worries. I can call around and find out who’s in charge of the case.” Matt could not turn down this little old lady who, despite her own frailties, never said no to an animal in need.
“I was up all night. This morning I turned on the news, and I saw—” She inhaled, her breath shaky. “The reporters said the police were organizing a search of the riverbank this morning. They’re looking for a missing university student.” She stifled a sob. “It must be Eli.”
“You don’t know that.” Cady touched Mrs. Whitney’s forearm, then turned to Matt. “I went to Mrs. Whitney’s house early to pick up a dog for a vet surgery appointment. She was in tears.”
“Did the officer give you any more information when he took your report?” Matt asked.
Mrs. Whitney sniffed. “He said he would talk to Eli’s friends and ask around the neighborhood where the party was held. He was going to find out if Eli used a rideshare app after the party too. But I haven’t heard anything from him since. At the time, he didn’t act very worried.”
“Matt will find out what’s happening with the investigation.” Cady’s eyes silently pleaded with her brother.
Mrs. Whitney blew her nose. “Please help me find him.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Matt said.
Most missing persons turned up on their own. Cops didn’t usually launch full-scale investigations for adults without signs of foul play or unusual circumstances.
A grateful tear slid down Mrs. Whitney’s cheek. “Bless you.”
“Can you give me a list of Eli’s friends?” Matt asked. “And a picture of him.”
“I’ll text you a photo,” Mrs. Whitney said. “His best friend is Christian Crone. They live with two other boys in an off-campus apartment.” She opened her purse and took out a small notebook. She slid it across the table to Matt. “Here is the address and all their cell phone numbers. Eli made sure I could reach any of them in case I needed something and he wasn’t available. They’re good boys. They’ve all been to my house for Sunday dinner.”
Unease nagged at Matt. Eli seemed like too good of a kid to let his grandma worry.
Cady stood and escorted Mrs. Whitney out the door. On the bright side, the case would give Matt a reason to call Bree again, one that didn’t smell of desperation. He lifted his phone and checked the time. Six thirty. Too early to call her personal number. He reached for the remote and turned on the TV to check the local news. A meteorologist was giving the weather report.