Marta spoke with emotion and pleaded for Jamie’s safe return, urging anyone with information to call the hotline number.
It was a short interview, and would probably be shorter still when it ran on the evening news, but even a little publicity was better than none. And the reporter had promised Jamie’s photo would appear on screen at the end of the interview.
Feeling newly energized, Marta walked the bustling streets back to the hotel to check in with Cassie. She found her sister lounging on the bed with a can of Coke.
“How’d it go?” Cassie asked.
“Okay. Whether it will have any effect is another story. We’ll watch tonight and you can tell me what you think. How are you making out with the calls?”
“I’ve finished with the list you gave me. Nobody committed to an interview but a couple of the stations said they’d try to run something.” She sat up. “What next?”
“I’m meeting with a detective at the missing persons bureau.”
“Want me to come?”
“Let’s not double up. Why don’t you see about getting the “Missing Teen” flyer posted around town.”
“Where?”
“Try coffee shops, small businesses, that sort of thing. Bus stops and BART stations, too.” Marta pulled a stack of flyers from her briefcase. “I had these printed up before I left home, but we can get more made here if we need them.”
Cassie leapt to her feet. “Finally, a chance to see the city.”
Chapter 41
Marta’s visit with the missing persons detective went nowhere. After cooling her heels for half an hour in a sterile waiting area, she was granted a brief interview with a spiritless officer who assured her that Jamie’s name and photo were in the system, and that there had been no reported sightings. He then referred her to the California Missing Children’s Clearing House, reminded her that San Francisco was a mecca for runaway teens, and showed her to the door.
So much for personal contact, Marta thought angrily as she pushed through the heavy door and onto the busy street. It might carry weight in some place like Sterling, but apparently not in a big city like San Francisco.
Cassie called as Marta was trying to hail a cab back to the hotel. “I’m out of flyers,” she announced. “You want me to make more?”
“All fifty of them? Wow. There was a lot of interest, then?” Maybe they didn’t need the cops in order to get the word out.
Cassie sighed. “I wouldn’t really call it interest. More like, ‘You can leave it if you’d like.’ A lot of merchants said they had a policy against posting handbills, though.”
“But this is for a missing child!” Marta’s frustration had about reached a breaking point.
“Don’t yell at me. I’m just passing along what people said. Besides, it’s taken me all this time to cover a handful of blocks. No way we can blanket the entire city. And we don’t know that Jamie was actually in the city proper, do we?”
“Not in San Francisco, per se. But she was in the area.” Marta’s earlier optimism had pretty much evaporated. Obviously, this trip wasn’t going to accomplish what she’d hoped it would. She’d flown all the way out here, at no small expense, for one short interview and maybe a couple of mentions in the press—a drop in the bucket.
“I’m heading back to the hotel,” she said. “Why don’t you meet me there?”
*****
Marta dumped her purse on the bed, kicked off her shoes, and flipped on the TV. The station she’d done the interview with ran an early evening newscast, another an hour later, and yet another at eleven o’clock. The reporter hadn’t been able to tell her when the interview would run, so she settled in for a long night of local news.
Cassie arrived fifteen minutes into the first of the shows. “Did I miss it?” she asked.
“Not yet.”
She got another Coke from the minibar and flopped down on her bed. “San Francisco is a cool city. We should take some time to see it while we’re here.”
Marta bristled. “We’re not here to play tourist.”
“It’s just that if none of the media outlets are interested—”
“Then we keep looking until we find some that are.”
“You don’t have to bite my head off.”
“And watch it with the Cokes. They’re probably five dollars each.” And would wind up on Marta’s credit card.
“Geesh. Chill out a little.”
And then, without any lead-in, the reporter who’d interviewed Marta appeared on the screen. “This afternoon I talked to the mother of seventeen-year-old Jamie Crawford, who is a runaway with possible ties to the Bay Area.”
The camera zeroed in on Marta, and the interview was on. At the conclusion, Jamie’s photo appeared on the screen for maybe seven seconds, along with a contact phone number. Then it was over, almost as soon as it had begun.
Marta was left feeling disheartened and oddly empty. Her daughter needed help, and Marta was doing little more than spinning her wheels.
“You did good,” Cassie said with excitement. “You looked good, too.”
How she looked hadn’t been Marta’s concern. “It was such a short segment. How many people do you think even saw it?”
“All it takes is one person who recognizes her.”
“And then what? We still won’t know where she is.” The futility of her efforts was suddenly clear as day. What had she thought she would accomplish? This whole crusade to rescue her daughter was nothing but a big joke. Jamie was being held captive by a madman somewhere in the western U.S. How would they ever find her?
“It’s a first step,” Cassie said.
Marta fought back tears. “It won’t do any good.”
Cassie put an arm around her. “Don’t get discouraged. You never know when a break will come. And it will, I’m sure of it.”
“You can’t be sure,” Marta snapped. “Besides, you didn’t hear how frightened Jamie sounded over the phone. You don’t know this crazy person she’s with.”
“So you want to give up, is that it?” Cassie sat back and folded her arms. “You want to pull up stakes and go back home? What’s that going to accomplish?”
“What I’m doing here is pointless.”
“You’re not a quitter, Marta. You can’t give up.”
“I’m not delusional, either.” Marta found it ironic that Cassie, who habitually took the easy way out, was lecturing her about not giving up.
“Think about Jamie. You haven’t even given it one full day!”
On one level, Cassie was right. But Marta was right, too. The odds were overwhelming. She was suddenly exhausted. “Come on, let’s grab a bite to eat. I know it’s early, but we’ve had a long day.”
Cassie jumped up. “San Francisco is supposed to have lots of really good restaurants. We could eat out by the water or just wander around a bit until we find something we like.”
Her sister seemed determined to make a vacation out of their trip but Marta wasn’t in the mood. “I was thinking we’d eat in the hotel.”
Cassie’s disappointment was evident, but she shrugged. “Sure, whatever you want.”
Marta almost changed her mind when she discovered that the hotel restaurant was an extension of the bar. The set-up reminded her uncomfortably of the night she’d met Todd.
They slid into a booth and Cassie ordered a vodka martini.
“I thought you were clean and sober.”
“One drink isn’t going to hurt me. It’s been a hard day and I’ve earned it.”
Marta wasn’t up to lecturing, and besides, she could use a drink herself. She ordered a glass of Zinfandel.
“And bring an order of friend onion rings,” Cassie told their server. She pushed the hair from her face and surveyed the room. “Take a look at the guy to your left. Blue shirt. Cute, don’t you think?”
“Do you ever not think about men?”
“What fun would that be? Besides, I’m single. I’m allowed to look.” She laughed, then added, “A
nd more.”
Marta squirmed uncomfortably, once again remembering the night she’d met Todd. “Do you ever think about finding Mr. Right and settling down?”
“Sure, but it’s not like I can just make that happen.”
The server brought their drinks and took their orders. Burgers for both of them.
“Not make it happen,” Marta said when he’d gone, “but how you conduct yourself and how you lead your life plays a big part in who you meet.” A major part in Cassie’s case.
“Do I detect criticism?”
“It’s just an observation.” Marta sipped her wine and felt herself relax. “In truth, there are times I wish I was more like you.”
“Hah, that’s a good one.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re nuts. You’ve got it all. A career. A good husband. Granted Gordon’s not my type, but he’s a decent man. And you’ve got a great daughter who’s going to be back home any day now.”
Marta fingered her glass. “If only I could believe that.”
“About the good life or about Jamie?”
“Both, but mostly Jamie. I’d trade everything I have for her safe return.”
“She’s a smart girl,” Cassie said after a moment’s reflection. “She wouldn’t run off with someone she didn’t trust.”
“She’s seventeen years old. No one is smart at seventeen.”
“You were.”
Marta looked at her sister. Cassie was serious.
“Mom always talked about you like you were perfect. Hard-working, thoughtful, responsible, an impossible act to follow.”
“I’m a long way from perfect, as you well know.” This was an old lament and always sounded vaguely accusatory, as though there were something wrong with being conscientious.
Their burgers arrived and Cassie ordered another martini. Marta raised her eyebrows.
“I’m a long way from perfect, too,” Cassie said, and made it sound as if that was also Marta’s fault.
“Besides,” she said after awhile, “perfect or not, you have a pretty sweet life. Or did until this thing with Jamie. Nothing ever seems to work out right for me.”
“If it makes you feel any better, my sweet life has turned horribly sour.”
“I meant aside from Jamie. I know you’re worried. I am too.”
“It’s not just that.” Marta paused for another sip of wine. “You remember Carol, my business partner?”
“Sure.”
“She was killed last week.”
Cassie sat up straighter. “How awful. What happened?”
“Hit and run. The police think it might have been intentional.”
“Whoa! Like someone wanted her dead?”
Marta nodded. “It’s really upset me, but with everything else I haven’t really had time to deal with it.”
“That’s understandable.”
“She was my best friend. My only friend really. I miss her so much.”
“Of course you do.”
“My marriage isn’t so good right now, either.” Marta was surprised to feel herself choking up. Her whole life was a mess.
“What’s wrong?” Cassie leaned forward. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I know you weren’t happy about moving to Georgia but you’ve been there awhile now, and I thought—”
“It’s my fault.” Marta looked down at her hands. “It’s my fault that Jamie is missing, too.”
“How so?”
“Remember the business trip I took to Minneapolis?”
“Right. It was your birthday. Carol got sick and you had to go alone.”
“Everything went wrong on that trip. My presentation fell flat. Gordon and I had a fight right before I left. It was over something stupid, but it put me in a pissy mood, and then Jamie was sassy when I called to check in. You and Carol were the only ones who even remembered it was my birthday.”
“Gordon forgot?”
“Forgot, or maybe he didn’t care. It all came together and I was feeling really bummed.” Marta paused. She hadn’t intended to go down this road but now that she had, she found she wanted to show Cassie just how far from perfect she actually was.
“I did something really stupid,” she said after a moment. “I went to the hotel bar to have a drink, a sort of personal birthday celebration. A man came over and asked if he could join me.”
Cassie’s eyes opened wide. “Go on.”
“He was attractive and acted like he was interested in me.” That part of the evening remained clear in Marta’s mind. Bold and bright, like a scene in a movie. What came after was less so. “I ended up sleeping with him,” she said in a rush of emotion.
“Wow. Miss Goody-Two-Shoes is human after all.” Cassie didn’t seem particularly shocked.
“It was just that one time, but I should never have done it.”
Cassie shrugged. “Probably not, but you were turning forty. Don’t you think you deserved to have a little fun?”
“Not that kind of fun.”
“So you made a mistake. Stop beating yourself up over it. Some of us make mistakes on a regular basis.”
“You don’t understand. That’s what has caused all the trouble. When I told Gordon—”
”You what? Why in God’s name did you tell him?”
“I had to.” Marta swallowed hard. “The man I met in Minneapolis is the man Jamie ran off with.”
Cassie looked stunned. “What?”
“The guy I slept with got it into his head that we were meant for each other. He said he was in love with me. He showed up in Sterling and kept trying to convince me to continue seeing him. He even befriended Gordon and Carol as a way to get to me. When I told him to get lost, he got angry, and to punish me, he turned his seductive powers on Jamie.”
“My God.” Cassie’s face was white as a sheet.
“This guy is a lot older than Jamie, in his mid to late thirties. And he’s unbalanced, maybe genuinely nuts. He doesn’t come off that way at first, but it’s obvious to me now. He may even have been involved in Carol’s death.”
“Holy shit.” Cassie pushed her half-eaten burger to the side. She looked ill.
“You finished?”
“I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.”
Marta signaled for the check. “You can see why I’m so worried. It’s not like she just ran off with a boyfriend, although that would be bad enough.”
“You’re sure that’s who Jamie is with?”
“She told me as much. And I heard his voice when she called.”
“Jesus. You’ve told the police about him?”
“Not the details of how I met him, but yeah. The problem is we don’t know anything about him, even his real name. He told me it was Todd Wilson, but he met Carol pretending to be a potential client and gave her a different name.”
“I heard you say his name in the interview but I never thought . . . My God, the man you met on your trip.”
“You can’t imagine how guilty I feel.”
“I think I can.” Cassie’s face was drawn tight. She stared blankly at the far wall. “Holy shit,” she said again.
“Holy shit is right.” Marta signed the bill, charging the meal to their room. “Ready to go on up?”
“Why don’t you go on. I think I’ll take a short walk and see the city.”
“You’ll be careful?”
“Yeah. I won’t go far.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.”
*****
Two hours later when Cassie hadn’t returned, Marta began to worry. She called her sister’s cell. “Just checking to make sure you’re okay.”
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Cassie’s voice was faint over the din of laughter and the clink of glasses in the background.
“I take it you’re not still walking.”
She laughed. “No. It’s too cold for a walk. But I’ll be back soon.”
Marta hung up without saying goodbye. She was furious with her sister. Furio
us with herself for trusting her. Cassie hadn’t come to support Marta, or to help Jamie. She’d come for a free trip to San Francisco and a chance to party.
Chapter 42
Gordon moved restlessly from room to room, unable to settle. Marta had left for the airport early that morning, and the house felt eerily quiet. He found himself listening for familiar sounds that never materialized. Even his haven in the garage seemed foreign to him.
He’d taught his morning class, then gone to see Detective Phillips. As Marta had predicted, Phillips did nothing more than repeat what he’d told her over the phone yesterday. It wasn’t that he was without sympathy, he told Gordon, but northern California wasn’t his jurisdiction. He’d contacted the proper authorities there, and beyond that his hands were tied. Gordon supposed all that might be true, but he couldn’t shake the sense that an almost eighteen-year-old who’d left home voluntarily didn’t concern him.
From the station, Gordon had headed home rather than return to campus. He’d intended to work on his paper, but now that he was here, he found he was unable to think about anything but his missing daughter, his angry wife, and his own inability to make things right. It was easy to blame everything on Marta, as he’d been doing, but surprisingly, that didn’t make him feel any better. It hadn’t accomplished much, either. He felt alone and sad.
He settled in at his desk but found his mind spinning with images of Jamie locked up in some dark place, desperately hoping to be rescued. Surely there was something he could be doing. After an hour of staring at the computer screen and drumming his fingers on his knee, he gave up on the idea of working.
He had gathered up the papers Marta had dropped yesterday so he wouldn’t trip every time he walked down the hall, but he’d simply dumped them into the file box. Now he decided to take a stab at sorting them and trying to restore some sense of order. If he couldn’t find his daughter, he could at least help his wife.
He took the box into the kitchen and set it on the table. Then he took out all the papers and began going through them one by one, placing them in piles according to project. Luckily, Carol had been diligent about labeling and dating documents, so the task was less taxing than he expected.
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