Free Orphans of Wonderland by Greg F. Gifune Page A

was neither imagined nor the result of the onset of some sudden mental illness or paranoid delusion. He was afraid because something was happening to him. Something real.”
    â€œAdam,” Joel asked, “do you agree?”
    Clearly in a panic at being asked, Adam did his best to avoid eye contact with his wife as he drew a series of slow deep breaths, then finally said, “Yes, I do.”
    â€œAll right, let’s move on. Did Lonnie have any problems with the law?”
    â€œNo,” Katelyn replied. “Few traffic and parking tickets, that’s about it.”
    â€œDid he gamble at all?”
    â€œHe’d go to Foxwoods or Mohegan Sun, maybe Twin Rivers now and then, but it was recreational and very rarely. Once every few years, I guess. He certainly never gave any indication that he had a gambling problem or addiction or anything even close to that sort of thing, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    â€œAny significant debt?”
    â€œNo. He only had one major credit card and a couple department store ones. None of them had large balances.”
    â€œNo mortgages, anything like that?”
    â€œHis apartment was a rental. Sadly, he never owned his own home.”
    Joel nodded and made more notes. Although it was brutally cold outside, the heat here was so strong and dry it was becoming uncomfortable. “Actually, could I bother you for a bottle of that water after all?” he asked.
    â€œI’ll get it,” Adam said, quickly heading for the refrigerator.
    â€œWere there any relatively new people in his life?” Joel asked. “Maybe new friends or acquaintances that came into the picture not long before he died?”
    â€œNot that I’m aware of.”
    â€œWas he seeing anyone? A girlfriend or anyone special?”
    â€œHe dated from time to time, but he hadn’t had a serious relationship or what I’d call an actual girlfriend in several years,” Katelyn explained.
    â€œHe’d become kind of a solitary guy,” Adam offered, appearing at his side with the bottled water.
    â€œThanks.” Joel took the bottle and had a long drink. “Do you know why?”
    â€œNo,” Katelyn said. “He’d never had a huge group of friends. He led a very quiet and simple life, for the most part. He was friendly with a couple guys he knew from work, and he still saw Sal and Dorsey now and then—more Sal than Dorsey—but they stayed in touch, got together maybe a couple times a year.”
    â€œSo Sal and Dorsey are still in the area?”
    â€œSal’s still in Westport. In the same house he grew up in, in fact. Dorsey lives in New Bedford with his girlfriend.”
    â€œWere they at the funeral?”
    â€œDorsey was. Sal wasn’t.”
    â€œMuch of a tough guy as Sal could be,” Joel said, mostly thinking aloud, “he never did handle things like that well.”
    Katelyn shrugged.
    â€œWhat about Trent Pierce?”
    â€œHe’s fallen off the radar. Sal said no one’s sure where he is.”
    â€œWhen did this happen?”
    â€œSeveral years ago. Sal said he was somewhere out west, but no one’s heard from him in quite some time, as I understand it. Sal said Trent went through some hard times, a bad divorce and some other things, then just sort of fell off the grid.”
    That didn’t strike Joel as that surprising or odd, since at least in their circle of friends, Trent had been the most rebellious one, the least establishment and the most likely to have issues with society in general. As he knew all too well, things changed. People changed. Nothing—no one—stayed the same. But it sounded as if Trent had only gotten worse in that regard. “Katelyn,” he said, “can I ask why you didn’t tell me about the funeral? Why didn’t you contact me until afterwards?”
    Looking physically uncomfortable with the question, she said, “I