While Linda was photocopying Bertram’s file and while Lewis was making phone calls, Decker was given a list of staff members who routinely dealt with Lanz. The first one was a physical therapist named Gray Mathers. He appeared to be in his late twenties, with sharp features, a big chin, and strong arms. He wore a gray tee and gray sweats and was working with a client when Decker walked into the gym, a roomy space aired out by open windows. It was equipped not only with standard exercise machines but with specialized devices. Mathers was finishing up a session with a woman who was walking on a treadmill, holding on to the rails. She had short brown hair and wore glasses. The machine slowed and stopped. The woman waited while Mathers helped her off. He handed her a cane and a towel. Mathers said, “Good job, Anna. See you tomorrow.”
Anna wiped her face, handed him the towel, and balanced on her cane. “See you tomorrow.”
“Do you need help?”
“No, no.” Slowly, Anna headed for the door. “Thanks.”
“Thank you.” Mathers waited until she was out the door. “Marvelous progress. When she came here three years ago, she was in a wheelchair. Then a walker. Now a cane.” He faced Decker. “One of my success stories.”
“Must be rewarding,” Decker said.
“It is. You’re the detective?”
“I am. Peter Decker.”
“Gray Mathers. How can I help?”
“I understand you worked with Bertram Lanz regularly?”
“Twice a week we’d do some weight lifting.” Mathers sat down on a bench and looked up at Decker as he talked, a towel draped around his neck. “Bertram had some noticeable physical impairments. We were working on some balancing exercises because his right side is more affected than his left. He had a broad chest, so there was something to work with. For his size and his condition, he’s strong. His gross motor coordination is decent to good.”
“Interesting. Mind if I sit?”
“Not at all.” Mathers moved over on the bench and looked him up and down. “Football, right?”
“Yes, but it was more perfunctory than anything else. I was never deep into sports. My height was wasted on me.” Mathers smiled and Decker said, “Tell me about Bertram’s progress. What did you do with him besides balancing exercises?”
“Strength training, isometrics, and aerobics. I dealt with the gross physical impairments, but he had an occupational therapist for fine motor. Bertram functioned pretty well. And he was more than capable of carrying on a good conversation.”
“Is it fair to say that you and Bertram talked a lot?”
“Not a lot but enough to get to know him a little. I talk to all my clients.”
“Anything personal?”
“Nothing too deep. I’m really upset about this. Why can’t you guys find him?”
Again, with the accusations. Decker tried not to act defensive. “We’re all wondering the same thing. I’m also wondering if he doesn’t want to be found. Was he close to any staff member here?”
“Elsie Schulung took him under her wing. When she left a couple of weeks ago, it was hard for Bertram. He didn’t complain, but he became more withdrawn. Not that he was that social to begin with. He liked doing solitary things. Like you heard yesterday, lots of residents enjoy video games. They measure their success against themselves and not the outside world.”
“Probably why games are popular in general,” Decker said. “Anyone else besides Elsie Schulung?”
Mathers gave it some thought. “Not really.” A pause. “You think he ran away with her?”
“I don’t know.”
“What other possibilities are you considering if he isn’t lost?”
“The usual. He could have run away with someone else. He could have been taken. Then there’s the obvious. Most people are good. But a few are very bad.”
Mathers was quiet. “The thing is that Bertram could bench-press about 150. He could dead-lift even more than that. It’s not weight lifter territory, but even for the average Joe, that’s strong. I think he could fight off an attacker.”
“Unless he knew who kidnapped him and went into the car voluntarily.”
“Sure, that could have happened.”
“Did Bertram ever talk to you about his former girlfriend?”
“Kathrine? Yes. In his mind she was his active girlfriend.”
“Could they have run away together?”
“It’s possible. It might be hard for them to do that without help.”
Decker said, “Did he tell you anything specific about her?”
“Just that he missed her. And she’d be proud to see how strong he was.” A brief smile. “The lifting was good for his mental state. Exercise usually is.” Mathers looked at Decker. “We talked, but not most of the time, Detective. The steps I put them through demand concentration.”
“And yet he told you about Kathrine.”
“I think he told anyone with ears about her. She was important to him.” Gray shrugged. “Why don’t you call up Elsie Schulung? I think she still lives in the area.”
“She’s away at the moment.”
“Ah, too bad.”
“Do you know why she left?”
“She was very caring to the residents but she wasn’t one for rules. I think it finally caught up with her.”
“Was she angry when she left?”
“I don’t really know. I didn’t hear of any drama. It was probably a mutual decision between her and the administration.”
“What rules in particular didn’t she like?”
“Her most egregious errors were her house calls. Or room calls. Protocol says the residents come to her office. Not the other way around.”
“That doesn’t seem so terrible unless she was doing more than checkups.”
“I really don’t know what she did. Take it up with Dr. Lewis.” Mathers stood up. “My next appointment is here.”
April Kelly had walked into the gym. She was wearing yellow yoga pants and a floral sleeveless workout top. “Hi, Detective. Any news?”
“Sorry, April. Not yet.”
“Dang!” Her eyes watered.
Decker patted her shoulder. “Don’t give up, April. We haven’t.”
She wiped her eyes on the hem of her shirt.
Mathers said, “Ready to sweat?”
The woman nodded and muttered something while she clasped her hands together, brought them to her chest, and bowed her head.
“She’s praying for him,” Mathers whispered. “We’re all praying for Bertram. It’s not much, but right now it’s the only weapon we have in our meager arsenal.”
Chapter 8
The office was adorned with diplomas and professional certificates. Bertram Lanz’s therapist, Belinda Adreas, had a PhD in clinical psychology with a specialty in adults with intellectual disabilities. She was in her early forties with a square build. Her face was round as were her blue eyes. Blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail. A badge was pinned over the pocket of her bright pink doctor’s coat. Decker thanked her for taking the time to see him.