by Ward, Alice
“Has Kennedy replied?” I asked, stepping out onto the sidewalk. I unwrapped my sausage roll and devoured half of it with one bite. The soft dough melted in my mouth as I chewed the salty, smoky meat.
“Not yet. But they’re probably still at the diner. Do you want to find a place to sit down?”
I shook my head. “I can eat while we walk.”
To prove it, I shoved the rest of my sausage roll into my mouth and chased it with my coffee. Asher smiled and started on his bagel as we made our way down the sidewalk. Sadness sank his shoulders and an introspective glaze covered his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “I mean, besides the obvious.”
“Being here is completely surreal,” he confessed. “It’s so familiar and so strange at the same time. Rachel and I lived thirty miles away and she never once mentioned this camp. I have so many questions. I feel like I owe it to her to learn what her life here was like. But at the same time, I feel like we’re spinning our wheels. I know you all think that Rachel took the money and ran. But I just can’t believe she’d do that, even knowing everything we’ve learned since she disappeared.”
We slowed to a stop near the nail salon and I squeezed Asher’s hand.
“Earlier, you said you had a good feeling about this trip. And we’ve definitely found one person who recognizes Rachel,” I pointed out.
“I know. I’m trying to stay positive. But I can’t help but think that this is all just a wild goose chase. My money didn’t end up in Vermont, we know that much. And I’m afraid we’re getting distracted by what the Goins family has told us.”
I studied him for a moment, heartbroken by the helpless pain on his face. “You still think someone took her?”
He nodded and swallowed back his emotions. His eyes watered, but no tears touched his face.
“I know there are investigators working around the clock trying to figure out where she is. I can’t think of anything to do that isn’t already being done. I feel so damn helpless. And I’ve never in my life hoped so much to be wrong.”
I searched my mind for something poetic and inspiring to say to make Asher feel better, but nothing came to me. We were in an impossible situation with no right answers and any attempt to pretend otherwise would be insulting. Instead, I squeezed his hand again and gave him a sad smile.
“This sucks,” I agreed. “In the entire history of things that have sucked, this is the worst by a landslide. And it’s probably going to suck even more before it gets better. But we have each other. And we will get through it.”
***
“Dr. Winston, I’m Kennedy Montgomery. We spoke on the phone. Thank you so much for agreeing to speak with us today,” Kennedy greeted the doctor. Asher and I followed her into the small office and a kind, round, grey haired woman rose to her feet.
“Mrs. Montgomery, it’s nice to meet you. The moment David called, I knew we needed to speak. Of course, you understand that due to the health care privacy laws there will be some information I can’t divulge. But my staff and I are prepared to help with what we can.”
“Thank you, Dr. Winston. This is Asher Reynolds and Lauren Matthews. Mr. Reynolds is Cynthia’s employer and close personal friend. We’re all working in conjunction with the Goins family’s investigators. Everyone here has Cynthia’s best interests at heart.”
“Yes, David explained everything. I’m afraid there’s not room for us all to sit down. If you’ll follow me, we’ll move to one of the empty classrooms.”
“Of course,” Kennedy replied.
We followed Dr. Winston out of the office and down a wide hallway with linoleum floors and bright yellow walls. The main building of the camp looked like an elementary school, complete with buzzing florescent lights and a large electric bell hung over the office door. Bunk houses dotted the landscape around the school building and the presence of canoes and paddle boats out front told me that there was a lake or river nearby.
“How many campers do you house on average?” Kennedy asked.
“We’re a very small facility. We average one hundred campers at a time. Eighty percent are return visits and most parents book their child’s stays years in advance. We also hold special alumni events so campers can keep coming as adults.”
“Your methods must be very effective,” Asher observed.
Dr. Winston pushed open a classroom door and led us inside. Large tables arranged in a horseshoe took up most of the floor space; we arranged ourselves in the seats closest to the door.
“We’re hardly on the cutting edge of mental health,” she replied with a sad smile. “Don’t get me wrong. You won’t find a more qualified staff than mine. But this is a highly specialized youth camp, not a mental healthcare facility. The kids get to run, play, and act like kids. The parents get a two week break from worrying whether or not their teenager is going to light the house on fire while they sleep. Everyone gets a vacation.”
“What type of criteria do you set for the campers?” Kennedy pressed.
“We evaluate each camper on an individual basis and we have a very strict code of conduct. The first time a code is broken, the camper is separated from the others and their behavior is addressed. The second time, they’re sent home. We don’t have nearly as many disciplinary problems as you’d expect. The kids want to stay here. Most would move in, if we let them.”
“Do you have a maximum allowed stay?”
“Sessions last two weeks and no one is allowed more than four sessions a year.”
“And how often did Cynthia stay?”
“Four times a year, every three months like clockwork.”
“In her time here, what type of impression did you have of her?”
“Cynthia was a very sweet little girl. I’d been her for about three years before her first visit and I remember being struck by how easily she walked away from her parents. Most of our campers go through some intense separation anxiety on drop off day. But not Cynthia. She was very independent, very hesitant to get to know the other kids in her bunkhouse. Social issues are common with these kids, so it wasn’t anything I worried about.”
Asher cleared his throat. “What did you worry about?”
Dr. Winston shifted nervously in her chair and stared at the table. “Nothing I could ever put words to. On the surface, Cynthia was a model camper. She took care of her things, she participated in group activities, and she never acted out. Most of the time, she was a downright pleasure to be around. Some of the staff even questioned if she was troubled enough to need to be here.”
“But you didn’t question that,” Kennedy finished for her.
The doctor shook her head. “Cynthia was exceptionally bright. After her first few stays, I started noticing little glimmers of her true personality. She’d drop her act when she thought no one was looking. More than once I saw detached, cold evil behind that child’s eyes.”
Dr. Winston shuddered and wrapped her arms around her chest as if she’d caught a chill. Asher let out a long breath while Kennedy stared back at the doctor.
“Dr. Winston, while Cynthia was in your care, did you develop a professional opinion in regards to her diagnosis?”
She nodded. “I share the opinion of Dr. Griner in Philadelphia. I believe Cynthia Goins is a sociopath. For whatever reason, she’s incapable of feeling for anyone other than herself.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” Asher interjected. “She’s troubled, sure. But she feels for people.”
The doctor raised her eyebrow. “You think she feels for you?”
“She’s my family,” he replied, his voice stubborn and defiant.
“Dr. Winston, you’ve spoken frankly with us so I’m going to return the favor. I trust that nothing I tell you will leave this room,” Kennedy warned.
“Of course,” she agreed with a wave.
“When Cynthia was sixteen, she developed a heroin addiction. She witnessed multiple crimes and fled home in fear of her life. For the last decade, she’s lived under
an assumed name with her only contact to her old life being Mr. Reynolds, who was unaware of her medical history. Early last week, Cynthia disappeared again, this time with a large sum of Mr. Reynolds’s money. What we’re trying to determine is whether or not she disappeared of her own volition.”
“I’m aware that she goes by Rachel now,” Dr. Winston confessed. “She came to an alumni event nine years ago. I also know what happened in California and her relationship with Mr. Reynolds.” She turned to me and raised an eyebrow.
“Is your relationship with Asher fairly new?” she asked.
I nodded and swallowed nervously, feeling suddenly put on the spot.
“And let me guess. Strange things started happening shortly after you started dating. She found a way to dominate his attention and insert herself deeper into your lives.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” I agreed, my voice barely a whisper.
“It doesn’t surprise me.” She straightened her shoulders and turned back to Asher.
“If you’ve been under the impression that Cynthia feels for you, it’s because she sees you as her possession. What you’ve been through together would bond anyone. But Cynthia isn’t capable of forming healthy bonds. What happened immediately before she disappeared?”
The answer hit me like a ton of bricks. “Asher and I went to London. Arts, International recognized my work at their annual banquet. They said I was revolutionizing the art world as well as EnvisionTech.”
“The company Rachel and I built together,” Asher finished with a groan.
“Well then, I think you have your answer,” the doctor replied. “I would certainly recommend that someone still investigate the possibility that Cynthia didn’t disappear of her own free will. But I think chances are good that this is a very dramatic, dangerous temper tantrum. It wouldn’t be her first.”
“What would you recommend going forward?” Kennedy asked.
“I would keep using every resource available to find her. Other than that, just watch your back and expect the unexpected. Right now, Cynthia is capable of anything.”
***
“Lauren, can we come in?” Kennedy pushed open the bathroom door and she and Claire stuck their heads into the room. I sat on the edge of the tub, wiping my eyes after a hysterical breakdown.
“Yes,” I agreed, half laughing and half sobbing.
They rushed to my side, locking the door behind them.
“Kennedy told me everything the doctor said. This is insane, Lauren. What can we do?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out. If either of you have any ideas on how to achieve time travel, now would be a great time for you to speak up. Just throw me back a few months and I’ll warn myself not to poke the psychotic, vindictive bear.”
“God, how I wish we could do that,” Kennedy replied with a sigh. She sat down on the closed toilet while Claire settled in on the floor in front of me.
“I knew she was unstable,” I continued. “I knew right away that she didn’t like me. I should have followed my gut.”
“You did,” Kennedy reminded me. “We all did. There’s no way you could have possibly imagined something like this would happen. You haven’t been letting Asher blame himself. We’re not going to let you take any of the blame either.”
I looked to my friend’s eyes, thankful beyond words that she was there. Kennedy always knew what to do.
“What the hell are we supposed to do now?” I asked. “You heard everything Dr. Winston said. She was spot on when she was talking about how Rachel reacted to Asher and me. There’s not a doubt in my mind that she’s right about the rest of it too. Rachel took the money and ran because she hated the attention I was getting. She wants Asher’s attention for herself. Are we supposed to give her her way so she comes home? Am I supposed to let her dictate my life like that? Or do I stay put and piss her off even more? I’m seriously asking, Kennedy. I have no idea what’s right here.”
“I don’t know either,” she confessed. “Selfishly, I want you to get off the plane in Boston with me instead of going back to California. We know Rachel’s dangerous. But I think we should probably sit down with a few of the Goins doctors and get their opinions before we make any decisions. We’re walking a very fine line here and we can’t afford to make any ignorant mistakes.”
I sighed, feeling slightly better to have some sort of plan, however small it may be.
“That’s a good idea. How’s Asher holding up?”
When I’d excused myself for my breakdown, Asher had been on the couch staring blankly at the television. The meeting with Dr. Winston had rattled him more than anyone, which was why I’d refused to cry in front of him.
“He’s on the phone with someone from Middlesex,” Claire told me. “From what we heard, the guy’s coming here. Asher’s pretty agitated. I think the guy had more bad news.”
I stood and moved for the vanity. “God, I must look like a disaster.”
Kennedy rose to her feet and gestured for me to take her seat.
“Sit down. I’ll fix your makeup,” she insisted.
“I’ll go see if Asher needs anything,” Claire offered.
“Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”
Kennedy wet the corner of a washcloth and wiped mascara from under my eyes.
“I’ve really gotten us into some shit, haven’t I?”
“Yep,” she agreed. “She scares me, Lauren. Everything about this scares the shit out of me.”
“I think that’s a pretty common sentiment at the moment. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too.”
We heard a door open and a muffled, unfamiliar voice filled the next room.
“I guess Asher’s friend drives fast,” she observed, swiping a final layer of foundation under my puffy eyes.
“No matter, we’re all done. Come on, let’s see what this guy has to say.”
I glanced at my reflection on the way out the door. I didn’t look like a raccoon anymore, but it was obvious that I had been crying.
Oh well. If Claire’s right and we’re about to get more bad news, I’m just going to start crying again anyway.
I followed Kennedy out of the bathroom and found Asher, Claire, and a tall blond man seated around the small coffee table in the living area of our room. Asher and the man stood to greet us.
“Lauren, Kennedy, this is Sam Lisbon. Sam, this is my girlfriend Lauren Matthews and our friend Kennedy Montgomery. Kennedy is also our attorney.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Sam replied, extending his hand. We took turns shaking it and then sat down on the couch.
“Sam grew up in Middlesex. His parents own the resort where Rachel and I worked,” Asher explained.
Sam nodded. “I’m so glad you called, man. I’ve been going back and forth on whether or not to get ahold of you for days.”
“You’ve heard from Rachel,” Kennedy assumed out loud.
He nodded again. “I saw her three days ago. She showed up at the resort and paid cash for a room. At first, I was thrilled to see her. I’ve followed your careers, of course. And I love the games.”
“Thank you,” Asher replied. “You said you were thrilled to see her, at first. What happened?”
“When my shift was over, I found her at the bar. She was eight shots into a bottle of Jack and more than a little out of control. She was dancing around, but not so steady on her feet. I helped her back to her room and she made a pass at me. Completely caught me off guard. I mean, I tried to pick her up back in the day. She always told me she didn’t like guys.”
“She always told me that too,” Asher agreed.
“It threw me for a loop. I turned her down and she just fucking lost it. She started pulling shit out of her bags, destroyed the whole god damn room. Then, she broke down crying and apologized. I helped her into bed and stayed with her until she fell asleep. I didn’t want housekeeping to see the mess, so I cleaned up before I left. She had a lot of cash, man. L
ike a scary bunch of cash. And she had an ID and passport that said her name was Sharon Parker.”
Asher sighed and closed his eyes. I knew what was happening inside his head. Sam’s story killed any hope that Rachel had been forced to steal from him. I reached across the table and put a comforting hand on his forearm.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” I whispered.
“It means she’s safe… or at least she’s safe from everyone but herself. I guess that’s something,” he replied.
“Did you see Rachel again after that night?” Kennedy pressed.
Sam shook his head. “No, ma’am. I checked her room the moment I got to work the next day. She’d already cleared out.”
“Did you happen to get a look at what she was driving?”
“No. Normally, we make guests fill out paperwork listing their make, model, and tag number. But since she was a friend and she paid cash, I let her skip that part. I’m not sure she had a vehicle.”
“When you were cleaning the room, did you find anything to suggest where she might be heading next?”
“I didn’t see anything. But with the passport and all of the money, I assumed she was heading to Canada. What the hell happened to her, Asher? How much trouble is she in?”
“The company payroll account was drained right before she disappeared,” he confessed. I was surprised he was giving Sam the details, but I didn’t comment.
Sam let out a whistle. “Don’t you have thousands of employees? That must have been a huge chunk of dough.”
Asher nodded. “We’ve learned quite a bit about Rachel’s history over the last few days. She’s dangerous, Sam. You have to know how much it pains me to say that. But we’ve been warned that she’s capable of anything. I doubt she’ll show up again, but—”
“If she does, I’ll call you immediately,” he promised. “I saved your cell number. It’s good to see you again, Ash, despite the circumstances.”
“It’s good to see you too. Lauren and I are planning on coming back when the leaves start changing color. We’ll have to get together then and catch up properly.”