“His passport is missing too?”
Dave Winter eyed her across the table, tapping a pen against his notebook, flickering in and out of a beam of morning sunlight.
“Yes, I’ve checked everywhere,” Bel said, breathless from explaining. “But—I’m trying to tell you—my dad wouldn’t leave. Trust me. Something has happened to him, something bad.”
“And it looks like a bag has been packed? Clothes missing? His wallet?” “Yes.” Bel held on to the word, borrowing Aunt Sherry’s snakes. Hands
squeezing each other, fingernails leaving half-moon imprints. “But again, I’m saying he wouldn’t leave me. It’s completely out of character—that’s what you ask, isn’t it? What all the reports said about Rachel at the time. Something bad has happened and I want to file a missing person report. You need to look for him. It’s urgent. You’ve already left it too long—we should have done this last night.”
Dave Winter sighed, unclicked his pen. “Annabel, I understand this feels like an emergency to you. But as an adult, your dad has a legal right to disappear without telling his family, if that’s what he wants to do. I gotta tell you, all the signs are looking like he left voluntarily, no sign of foul play. Bags packed, passport and wallet gone.”
Bel shook her head. “Someone just wants us to think that. Why wouldn’t he take his truck, if he’d decided to leave?”
Dave sighed again, picked up his pen, flicked a couple pages back. “When did you last see him?”
“Ten o’clock Saturday night, when I went to bed.” Bel leaned forward, separating her hands. “I don’t know when he went missing, sometime before morning. But that means it’s been almost thirty-six hours since he was last seen. No one has heard from him, and his phone’s been off the whole time. You need to start looking for him. Now.”
Her leg juddered against the underside of the table, just nine days since she was last here, talking about a reappearance, not a disappearance, tables turning, sides shifting again. And Dave Winter still wasn’t listening.
“I’m not sure there’s anything I can do.”
“What do you mean?” Bel straightened up, locking her jaw, the knot in her gut spitting sparks. “You can do exactly what you did last time one of my parents went missing. Look for him. Track his phone. Get search dogs. Do it all.”
“I can’t justify a full investigation like that,” he said, trying to be understanding, failing. “Your mom’s disappearance was different; the circumstances were suspicious and it was evident she was in danger. Your dad…a grown man has a right to take off for a day or two if he wants. It’s understandable, given the situation. Rachel’s return probably hasn’t been easy on the family. Ms. Nelson told me it sounded like there was a family argument at your house on Friday. She saw your dad storming off down the street. It’s just stress, blowing off steam. I’m sure he’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“You’re wrong.” Bel slammed one fist against the table, making his notebook pages fan back. “You’ve already been wrong; you said he’d probably turn up last night. He didn’t. Something bad has happened to him. The circumstances are suspicious and he is in danger.”
“In danger from who?”
“Rachel!” The knot in her gut exploded and Bel did too, her new promise to Dad shattered and forgotten. “It’s something to do with Rachel!
She’s back for just one week, and now my dad disappears? It’s connected. It’s something to do with her.”
Not just something; it was everything to do with her. Rachel was a liar; she’d orchestrated one disappearance, and now she’d made Dad disappear too. Bel should have worked harder, faster, to find evidence and remove Rachel from their lives. Now it might be too late; Dad was already gone, the worst had already happened. The last thing he’d asked her to do was to trust Rachel, and now Rachel had taken him from her.
“I’m sure it is connected,” Dave said. “Rachel coming back after being presumed dead all this time was an unprecedented event. And the stress of knowing the man who took her is still out there. I think I’d want a break if all that happened to me.”
“My dad didn’t leave!” she shouted, both fists on the table. “Annabel, you need to c—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down.” She took aim with her eyes, blinking the fire his way. “You need to do your job. File the missing person report and look for him.”
Dave’s mouth opened silently, building up another sigh. Anger wasn’t going to push him, but something else might.
“You owe him,” Bel said, darkly, lowering her voice. “You owe him, and you know it. You’ve been wrong about him before. Convinced he was the one who killed Rachel. Locked him up, made him face trial. You were wrong and you put him through hell. Here’s your chance to do the right thing. You owe him. Please. Help me find him.”
Dave’s mouth stayed open, but there was a shift in his eyes, and a shift in his shoulders.
“OK,” he said gently. His fingers drummed the table, dancing spiders. “I’m going to need a written statement from you for the report. I’ll need all his details: phone number and carrier. It will take a few days to subpoena the records. I need bank details, if you have them, papers at home.”
“Yes,” Bel said, breathless again. A new feeling too: hope. It was small and fragile, and she fed it to the knot in her gut. “I can do that. Right now.”
“An officer will have to come out to the house, do a search. And we’ll need a statement from Rachel too.”
“Thank you,” she said, throat dry and scratchy. Eyes too, from fitful bursts of sleep, fighting it all night, watching the door in case Rachel came for her too.
Dave stood up from the table, knocking his knuckles against it once. “Don’t thank me,” he said, holding his notebook against his chest, eyes heavy and sad. “Like you said, I owe him.”
Bel nodded. They all did.
—
Bel didn’t go home again until it was dark. She closed the front door, wincing at the sound of the latch, giving her away. Home, except it wasn’t anymore; the air was different, it got trapped in your ears, amplifying every creak and sigh that a house was supposed to make. And the ones it wasn’t: footsteps from the living room, muffled and creeping.
Rachel’s head appeared around the corner, the rest of her body following, trapping Bel in the hallway.
“An-B-Bel. Where were you?”
Bel shrugged off her jacket. “Jeff and Sherry’s. Where were you?” She shot the question back at her.
Rachel’s mouth twitched, sharpening her chin. “After the officers finished their search here, I went to give my statement to the chief of police, told him the last time I saw Charlie, before I took a bath that evening. I didn’t hear him leaving, but he must have, during the night.”
Bel took one step forward, forcing Rachel to take one back, freeing her. “I thought you weren’t sleeping well,” she said, heading for the kitchen. Rachel tailed her. “Strange you didn’t hear anything.” Using one lie to un- flip another.
Bel reached for the refrigerator, pulled out the carton of apple juice Rachel had bought. Said she’d missed it while she was in that basement.
“He must have been quiet,” Rachel said, from the doorway.
“Must have been.” Bel took a sip, straight from the carton. Rachel didn’t react. “It’ll be OK,” she said instead. “I promise.”
Bel tipped her head up and drained the carton, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
“Where were you the rest of the day? Doesn’t take six hours to give a statement.”
“Driving around,” Rachel said, “to the places I thought he could be.
Looking for him.”
Bel squeezed the empty carton, caving it in. She dropped it into the trash can, on top of a red takeout coffee cup, a logo with a cartoon cow, pursed lips to blow a steaming mug. Rachel must have stopped at a coffeehouse while out looking for Dad.
“You didn’t find him, then?” Bel spun around.
Rachel had moved into the room while Bel’s back was turned, feet silently tracing the floor. Both of them circling the other, pushing and pulling. Getting ready.
“No, I didn’t find him,” Rachel said.
“I will.” Bel met her eyes. “I’ll find him, bring him home.” Said as a promise, meant as a threat.
Rachel blinked.
“Risotto for dinner. Do you like risotto?” “I already ate.”
