โThanks for coming in, Annabel.โ
Dave Winter sat across from her, the garish light of the interview room re๏ฌecting o๏ฌย his badge.
โWhatโs happened? Is it bad?โ
It was bad, Bel knew it. Knot tumbling through the empty pit of her stomach, nothing to catch on.
Dad had been missing for ten days now. It was temporary, a test, a problem Bel knew how toย ๏ฌx. They couldnโt take that away from her, Bel didnโt know how to live without him.
โThis is going to be pretty hard for you to hear, Annabel.โย Harder if he didnโt hurry the fuck up with it.
Bel locked her jaw, readying herself. If Dad was dead, then so was Rachel.
โWe tracked down his credit card,โย Dave said, shoulders tensed by his ears.ย โWe got a new hit at an ATM, and Vermont State Police were able to get to the scene. It wasnโt your dad using the card. It was a college student, age twenty-two, called Matthew Abbey. Police questioned him about his connection to Charlie Price. There isnโt any.โย He sni๏ฌed.ย โHe says he found the credit card under a table in a diner he went to last Monday.โ
โWhat diner?โย Bel asked, hooking her hands together, holding on.
Dave glanced down at his notes,ย ๏ฌicked a page.ย โIn Vermont. The How Cow Cafรฉ, near Barton.โ
Bel recognized the town.ย โThatโs where Robert Meyer lives.โ
Dave nodded.ย โHe claims he didnโt see your dad that night, and that nothing was said on thatย ๏ฌnal phone call. But the credit card being found there does point to your dad being in the area.โ
Which still left it up in the air: whether Bob from Vermont had lied to Bel or not.
โMatthew Abbey is being charged with credit card fraud, but it didnโt give us any other leads on Charlieโs whereabouts, other than heโd been to that diner last Monday. No cameras, before you ask.โ
โOK,โย Bel said. That was one update, and it wasnโt so bad. Good, even; it showed that Dad wasnโt traveling around Vermont, spending money on burgers and beer, like heโd chosen to be gone.ย โWhat else?โ
Dave sighed, took a moment to run hisย ๏ฌngers over his mouth. The worst was yet to come, clearly. The bad news and then the very bad news.
โWhat?โย Bel broke, a tightening at the back of her throat, that tremor before you cried or before you threw up, somewhere between the two.
โWe didnโt justย ๏ฌnd the credit card,โย Dave said carefully.
Belโs mind skipped ahead of him, got lost there. Fuck. No, what else did theyย ๏ฌnd? Not his body. No, no, no.
โWe found his phone and his passport. The phone was switched o๏ฌ, as we knew. They were found together, by a janitor, in a trash can at a private air๏ฌeld in Vermont.โย Dave paused.ย โRight up by the Canadian border.โ
He left it there, as though that were enough, the full story: beginning, middle, end.
โWhat are you trying to tell me?โย Bel angled forward, trailing shadows on the table from her hair, her stomach an endless cli๏ฌย drop to the end of the world.
โAnnabel,โย he said, even softer.ย โI donโt think your dadโs in the country anymore. Looks like he wanted to go, left voluntarily. The credit card hits threw us o๏ฌย for a while, but he probably crossed the border last week.โย Dave cleared his throat.ย โGot on a small, private aircraft and we didnโt know
about it, because, well, our running theory is he ditched his old passport because heโd acquired another one, under a new identity.โ
Bel shook her head.
Dave continued.ย โWe believe thatโs why he might have gone to see Robert Meyer. An individual who has ties to online criminal activity, who may be involved in that kind of thing.โ
โNo.โ
โIโm sorry, Annabel,โย Dave said, and he did look it, eyes slumped and heavy, a troubled fold in his chin.ย โI really wanted to help youย ๏ฌnd him, afterโฆeverything. But all the signs point to the fact that Charlie left voluntarily, that heโs left the country, potentially using a di๏ฌerent name. Itโs not a crime to leave your old life behind, as much as it hurts.โ
โNo,โย Bel said, voiceย ๏ฌnally catching, shedding its skin, coming out as a whisper.
โHeโs outside of our jurisdiction now. Way outside. Iโm sorry, but we canโt look for him anymore.โย Daveโs eyes darkened farther.ย โI want to be honest with you, Annabel, because weโve been through it all, you and me. Your momโs disappearance, and you were a big part of the reason it stuck with me so long, that tiny little girl left alone in the backseat. Then what happened with Phillip Alves, and everything since Rachel came back. I want you to be able to trust me when I tell you. We canโt look for Charlie anymore and, if Iโm being honest, it seems like he doesnโt want to be found.โ
โ
Bel slammed the front door, an explosion of sound, echoing down the hallways and trenches of number 33. Slammed her bedroom door too, falling face-๏ฌrst on her bed, burying her head between the pillows.
There was no reaction to the double explosion, no creeping feet, no quiet knocks on her door. Rachel must not be in. Good, because Bel couldnโt see her right now. If she did, she knew their cold war would catchย ๏ฌre, started by her.
Dad did not choose to disappear to Canada, to leave his old life behind with Bel in it. Dave Winter was wrong. Unbelievable, asking him to trust her. Bel didnโt trust him; she didnโt trust anyone.
Bel punched the pillow with a closedย ๏ฌst, then the other. It was Rachel, it was Rachel, it was all Rachel, and she was the only one who could see it. The alternative was to side with Dave Winter, to believe Dad chose to go, to leave her, and Bel would never go that way. That way hurt much, much more.
Bel rolled over, stared at the ceiling.
The credit card left in a diner, for someone toย ๏ฌnd, to distract the police: That must have been Rachel, right? She must have staged the phone call to Bob from Vermont too. She must have planted the phone and the passport to make it look like Dad had crossed the border. Rachel was the expert in disappearing, after all; maybe sheโd simply had to re-create her own. But how could Bel prove it, now the police had given up on him, now she was all on her own?
They didnโt know when the phone and passport were dumped, but the credit card had to have been left last Monday, or the Sunday before, for the student to have found it Monday afternoon.
So where was Rachel in thoseย ๏ฌrst two days after Dad disappeared? On the Sunday she was here, at home. But Mondayโฆ
A memory stirred. In the kitchen that evening. Bel throwing away a carton of apple juice; sheโd only drunk it to piss Rachel o๏ฌ. There had been a takeout co๏ฌee cup in the trash, hadnโt there? That was what she was catching on, her mind trying to pull back, to remember the logo. Wait, what was the name of the diner again, where Dadโs credit card was found?
The How Cow Cafรฉ; she heard it back in Dave Winterโs voice, snapping to attention.
Bel scrambled for her laptop at the end of the bed. Pressed the button, willing it to wake up faster.
She typedย How Cow Cafรฉ Vermontย into Google and clicked enter, the laptop dipping up and down with her touch.
A page of results.
The dinerโs website, and an image of their logo.
A red background. A white cartoon cow against it, pursed lips to blow a steaming mug of co๏ฌee. This was it, wasnโt it? The same thing she saw in the trash downstairs last week. Her memory wasnโt that clear, hadnโt held on to it because she hadnโt realized it would ever be important. But she remembered enough, and this couldnโt be a coincidence.
Last Monday, Rachel planted the credit card in that diner in Barton, Vermont, on her way to dump the phone and passport farther north at the air๏ฌeld. Thought sheโd grab a cup of co๏ฌee to keep her going. Had it in the car on the drive back to Gorham. Took it inside the house to throw it away. Sheโd planned everything, but she hadnโt planned on Bel seeing it.
That was evidence. Real evidence that Rachel was the one making it look like Dad disappeared. If Bel found it, then Dave Winter would have to trust her right back, wouldnโt he?
Bel didnโt waste another second.
She darted out of her room, heavy down the steps like rolling thunder.
Into the kitchen, she pulled the cupboard handle, the double trash cans rolling out, crashing at the end of the hinge.
Both were almost empty. Their contents buried at the bottom, hidden by the waves and surges of the trash bag.
Bel pushed her hand inside. Grabbing handfuls and bringing them to the light so she could see.
Eggshells and banana skins. Plastic food wrappers.
Used co๏ฌee grounds, bleeding brown all over herย ๏ฌngers. The cup wasnโt in this one.
The other side held more promise; cardboard toilet rolls and bits of paper. But Bel dug both hands through and couldnโtย ๏ฌnd the cup.
Rachel must have taken out the trash. It would be in the garbage cans outside.
Bel was on her feet again,ย ๏ฌying through the house.
She collided with the front door, leaving it open as she sprinted down the steps to the garbage cans. They were both left out, by the sidewalk,
because it was always Dadโs job to bring them in.
Bel skidded to a stop in front of them.
The metal canย ๏ฌrst. Bel unhooked the elasticated cord from the lid. It was black bear season, didnโt you know?
She pushed the lid o๏ฌย and it fell on the path, clattering, spinning on its rim like this was just a game, a building sound of drums.
Bel looked; there was only one black trash bag here, crumpled at the bottom. She lowered her arm inside. Cold metal pressed into her armpit as she reached. She grabbed the top of the bag and pulled it out.
Fingers clumsy as she undid the knot.
It released and so did the smell, a sour undertone to the spring air.
Bel pulled the opening wide, sorting through with her hand,ย ๏ฌinching every time it touched something wet.
It was too dark inside the bag to see anything, and she trusted her eyes more than herย ๏ฌngers, who lied to her, turning everything into spiders and slugs.
Bel stood up and upturned the bag, trash falling all around, a wrapper clinging to her boots.
She bent down in the middle of it all, sweeping her hand through the mess. Apple cores and broccoli stumpsโdinner last nightโslimy bits of plastic, crumpled paper towels with orange greasy stains, the hard outer skins of an onion, a lump of cheese fuzzy with mold. Bel checked everything; the cup wasnโt here.
But she wasnโt giving up. Rachel could have put it in the recycling instead. She must have.
Belย ๏ฌipped the lid o๏ฌย the recycling bin, folded bits of cardboard and paper and cartons shifting in front of her eyes.
Her heart double time, a pressure building behind her face, reaching for her eyes. Bel gripped the bin and turned it over, spilling everything to the grass. Shaking it for the shy bits stuck at the bottom.
She dropped to her knees, checking under and inside folded boxes. Flipping through cartons and packaging, eyes moving faster than her hands. They knew before her. The cup wasnโt here either.
Bel went through it all again, trash and recycling,ย ๏ฌlth soaking into the knees of her jeans, grime embedding under herย ๏ฌngernails, hoping she could change the answer if she hoped hard enough. It had to be here. Please, please.
She dropped to the ground, sitting in the middle of the desperate swirl of trash, cascading and shifting around her, hands dirty and stained and empty.
It wasnโt here. It wasnโt here and Rachel had won again.
Bel kicked out at the trash, a growl breaking free from her throat, sparking the red hot inside her again.
โWhat are you doing there?โย asked a small voice behind her. Frail and familiar.
Belโs head whipped around.
Ms. Nosy from number 32, being nosy, living up to her name. Standing on the sidewalk with her arms tucked behind her, watching Bel in her pile of trash, a scowl on her face.
โIโm taking the trash out,โย Bel said, near hysterical, her arms wide, encircling her throne of garbage.
โYou shouldnโt have them out.โย Ms. Nelson tutted theย ๏ฌnal word.ย โItโs Tuesday today. Trash gets collected on a Monday morning.โ
A sinking feeling in Belโs gut, beside the well of red hot. And there it was. The cup would have been right here. But Bel was too late. A day and a half too late, and her evidence was gone, lost forever.
โFuck,โย she erupted, kicking out again.
Ms. Nelson bristled.ย โItโs all right, dear. They come again next week.โย Bel couldnโt cry so she laughed instead, staring down at herย ๏ฌlthy hands. Ms. Nelson laughed nervously too, rocking on her heels.
โYou should clean that up, seal the trash cans. Donโt want to attract bears. Itโs black bear seasโโ
โI know itโs black bear season,โย Bel snapped, wiping her hands on her jeans.
โYes, well.โย Ms. Nelson inspected her own clean hands.ย โI wanted to ask: Itโs your grandfatherโs birthday this week, isnโt it?โ
โFriday,โย Bel mumbled, not looking up. Because it was some kind of deadline in her mind. A small voice in her head that said if Dad wasnโt home by then, he never would be.
โYou know, he used to be one of my best customers,โย she said, like it was Belโs fault somehow.ย โPat would be in the bookstore every other week. Donโt see him around anymore.โ
โNo,โย Bel said, because she didnโt want to be having this conversation, any conversation, while she sat here in this stinking pile of trash with no way to bring Dad home.
โI wondered whether I should drop a few new books around, for his birthday. Is that a nice idea?โย Ms. Nelson said, looking down at her.
โReally nice idea, Ms. Nelson, except you know he canโt read anymore.
Canโt even remember who I am.โ
Forgetting was just another way of leaving, and everybody left eventually. Hopefully Ms. Nelson would too, because it was hard to fall apart with her standing over you.
โOh.โย She drew a sharp breath, whistling between her teeth. Still, she didnโt go. Stepped even closer.
โI tried to call Chief Winter today,โย she said.ย โHave the police done anything more about that man?โ
โWhat man?โย Bel asked, pressing her teeth together until they hurt.ย โThe man whoโs been watching your house.โ
โThere is no man!โย Bel exploded, the red hot behind her eyes now.ย โThere is no fucking man! Rachel made him up, OK? She made my dad disappear, and itโs my fault, I shouldnโt have let her out of my sight!โ
Ms. Nelson took a step back, blinking slowly at her.
Bel let out a long breath, trying to bring herself back from the edge.
โIt was just someone from the press, Ms. Nelson. You know those news vans? There were lots of men watching the house. Theyโve all gone now.โ
Bel rose to her knees, grasping the discarded trash bag that billowed in the breeze. “Nice seeing you, Ms. Nelson,” she said, hoping to finally dismiss her. But Bel couldn’t resist one last barb, unleashing some of her simmering rage. “Maybe stop watching our house too. Everyone knows you do. Some neighbors even call you Ms. Nosy.”
Ms. Nelson’s face fell, her mouth tightening into a thin line. The sight brought Bel no satisfaction.
Without a farewell, Ms. Nelson turned on her heel and left as Bel began gathering handfuls of trash into the bag.
She had to clean this up before Rachel returned. If Rachel remained oblivious to any issues, there was still hope. Bel’s instincts told her Dad wasn’t in Canada, but he had to be somewhere, just as Rachel had been for sixteen years.
Her words to Ms. Nelson rang true: she shouldn’t have let Rachel out of her sight. Bel regretted avoiding Rachel initially, staying out of the house and her way. She’d inadvertently given Rachel time alone to scheme and act, resulting in Dad’s disappearance.
No more.
Bel had already begun letting Rachel in, spending time together, feigning a mother-daughter bond. It had brought her closer to the truth, but she needed to go further.
She’d watch Rachel constantly, stick to her side, become her shadow.
Because Rachel would lead her straight to Dad. “Won’t let you out of my sight.”
