“Is she liking school?”
“Very much.”
“Then she feels good about herself. That makes all the difference.”
The words stayed in Celeste’s thoughts long after she hung up the phone. She knew what feeling good about oneself meant. Thanks to a nose job by her surgeon and a snow job by Carter, she felt better about her own self than she had in years. It did make a difference in one’s outlook on life.
Carter called from Cambridge Monday night. Celeste had just returned from dinner with Emily and Kay, abbreviated, what with John hurt, and was tickled to hear his voice. They didn’t talk long. He was leaving for Paris the next day and had hours of work to do before that. His apologies and sweet words of missing her more than made up for a lengthy talk.
She lay in bed thinking about him that night and the next. He had said that he wouldn’t be calling her, what with the time change and the attention he owed his client, still, whenever the phone rang, her eyes flew toward it and her pulse sped.
That was what happened late Wednesday afternoon. She had just returned from driving the church van and was feeling satisfied thinking of that, when the peal of the phone set her little heart to racing. By the time she dropped her purse on the table and reached for it, she had calculated that it would be approaching midnight in Paris. Carter would have finished his work and be lying in bed, thinking of her.
But it wasn’t Carter. It was Dawn’s roommate, Allison. “Is Dawn there?” she asked, sounding hesitant.
Celeste’s disappointment at not hearing Carter’s voice was offset by amusement at the thought that Dawn might have stopped by. She had religiously avoided drop-in visits, part of the precondition of her attending college in town. It was interesting to think that a pleasant holiday had softened her up on that score—unless, of course, she wanted something.
“I don’t see her, Allison. Was she planning on coming over?”
“I thought she was there.”
There was no sign that Dawn had been by. The kitchen was exactly as Celeste had left it. “Hold on.” She covered the phone. “Dawn? Dawn?” She heard nothing. To Allison, she said, “Sorry.”
“Is everything all right?”
“With Dawn? You’d know that better than me. I haven’t talked with her since she went back.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line. Celeste felt a twinge of something eerie. It took form when, nervously, Allison said, “She hasn’t been back, Mrs. Prince. Not here, at least.”
“What do you mean?’
“I haven’t seen her since before the holiday.”
“Since last week? But she went back Sunday night. I dropped her there myself.” But Celeste had a thought. Dawn hadn’t been wild about rooming with Allison. She claimed Allison was too neat, too studious, too prim. “Might she be staying in another room?”
“No. No one’s seen her. I’ve been asking. Besides, her stuff is all here. If she moved out, she’d have taken something, wouldn’t she have?”
Celeste would have thought so. “This is strange,” she said aloud. “What about a guy?” Dawn hadn’t mentioned anyone over the weekend, but it would have been typical of her to keep a secret like that from Celeste. It certainly would have explained her good mood. “Is there someone special she was seeing there, someone she may be staying with?”
“No. I asked guys, too. No one’s seen her since before Thanksgiving.”
Very strange, Celeste decided. Maybe even alarming.
Allison said, “I thought for sure she was at home sick or something, but when she didn’t come yesterday or today, and didn’t call, I figured I’d call there.”
Celeste curbed her alarm. Dawn was known for her antics. “Have you spoken with anyone—a dorm head or anything?”
“No. I didn’t want to get her in trouble.”
Celeste barked out a laugh. “Oh, she does that on her own, thank you. Listen, Allison, I’ll make some calls. Do me a favor, and keep asking around. If you hear anything, call me back?”
Remembering fall break, when Dawn hadn’t shown up, Celeste quickly called Jill, but Jill hadn’t seen her. Nor, a second call revealed, had Marilee.
Still, Celeste wasn’t panicking the way she had done then. Dawn pulled stunts all the time. This one, no doubt, was in compensation for having behaved over the holiday.
Telling herself that, Celeste downplayed the concern of the dean of students, even the campus police. Jackson was another matter. The instant his voice came on the phone, she felt the full weight of responsibility for Dawn.
“You have no idea where she is?” he asked.
“I thought she might be with you.” It was possible. Dawn did see him every few months. “We had a great time over Thanksgiving. I thought maybe if she felt guilty about it, she might have wanted to give you equal time.”
“Dawn doesn’t feel guilty about much,” Jackson said with what Celeste found to be surprising perception for a man obsessed with the innards of computers. He ruined it by asking, “If you dropped her back at school, where did she go?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be calling!”
“No one’s seen her there?”
“No.”
“Has there been any recent trouble on campus?”
“You mean, like a serial rapist? Come on, Jackson. We’re talking Dawn here. She’s up to something.”
“She hasn’t ever done anything like this before.”
“Yes, she has.” Celeste told him about fall break.
“Well, you’ve already called Jill, and you’ve already called Marilee, and those are her two best friends, and since neither of them has heard from her, I repeat—she hasn’t ever done anything like this before.”
Around her thumbnail, Celeste said, “I suppose.” She was annoyed as hell with Dawn, and, against her better judgment, just that little bit worried.
“Shouldn’t you call the police?” Jackson asked.
“Not yet. She’s over eighteen. There’s no sign of foul play. I can’t call them in until I’ve done some looking myself.”
“Like where?”
“More friends, I guess.”
“Call me back later, Celeste?”
“Sure.”
Celeste spent the next hour calling others of Dawn’s friends besides Marilee and Jill. It took some doing, since many were away at school, and even then the effort proved futile. Celeste herself had apparently been the last one to see Dawn.
She ran out of calls to make at nine o’clock. Not knowing whether to sit back and wait until morning, or panic then and there, she drove to Emily’s.
Emily felt a churning at the pit of her stomach when she heard Celeste’s tale. She immediately thought of Jill, of the years and years she had fought down panic at the prospect of something happening to her. And she thought of Daniel. She was thinking about him more and more.
Daniel touched every part of her life—Doug, Jill, the house, the town, her friends, even potentially Brian, and now Dawn. Dawn was different, of course. She was eighteen—and, granted, striking enough to attract attention, but she was tough.
Still, tough people got hurt sometimes, too.
Anxiously, Emily led Celeste across the driveway and up the far side stairs to the apartment over the garage. Brian was watching the Celtics, and looked as wonderfully disheveled to Emily as anyone could look, given her own distraction.
He sensed that distraction instantly, drew them in, and made them sit down. Emily found solace in watching him as he listened to Celeste. He would know what to do. She was glad he was there.
“Do I panic now?” Celeste asked when she finished telling Brian everything she had told Emily moments before.
Emily saw through her dry little quips. It didn’t matter how many times Celeste insisted that Dawn was playing games, or how many times she insisted that Dawn was an adult and on her own, Celeste was worried.
Brian sensed that and spoke calmly—though Emily suspected some of the soothing was direc
ted at her. He knew why she had dragged Celeste over to see him, rather than waiting for morning. She tried to tell him she was all right, but her insides wouldn’t help her out. They insisted on quivering, just faintly, enough to betray themselves to Brian, whose leg touched hers.
“Don’t panic yet,” he told Celeste. “There’s still more to consider.” They were grouped at his coffee table, Emily and Brian on one side, Celeste across. He had jotted names on a yellow legal pad as Celeste had tossed them out. Beneath those was a list of possible motives for Dawn’s running off. At his elbow, Emily could easily read that list. It assumed Dawn’s willing flight.
The alarmist in her wanted to argue, but the realist couldn’t. There was no sign of mayhem. And Dawn had a history of getting into trouble.
He put the tip of his pen to the list and looked at Celeste. “You’ve called friends from school and friends from home. None of them claim to have seen her. Do you think any are lying?”
“I don’t know why they would.”
“To protect Dawn.”
“From me? My disapproval is nothing new. She’s used to it.”
“What if she’s done something unforgivable this time?” Emily asked. She couldn’t begin to count the number of times Celeste had sworn she would kill Dawn if she ever did such and such.
Celeste’s memory faltered. “Like what?”
Brian picked up. “Like commit a crime—or, forget that for now, like flunking out. Do you think she is?”
Celeste guffawed. “Not quite.”
“Dawn is brilliant,” Emily explained. “She understands things with the first run-through. She remembers everything. She speedreads and remembers everything. She studies very little for very good grades.”
“If she studied that little bit more,” Celeste injected tartly, “she’d be at the top of her class. She has her father’s brains.”
“Okay.” He put a line through FLUNKING OUT. “Is she pregnant?”
“God, no.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure, unless her stealing my tampons when she got home last week was for show.”
He crossed off KNOCKED UP. “How’s she set for money?”
“Fine.”
“She wouldn’t be trying to scrounge up more—selling something illegal, prostituting herself?”
Emily saw Celeste pale. But the question was necessary. It had come up in the earliest stages of the Demery case, before the ransom note had arrived. While Susan hadn’t wanted for money, some coeds did. Hooking offered fast cash.
“Dawn’s father is paying for college,” Celeste said. “He gives her a generous expense account.”
“Maybe she’s gone through it.”
“The bank statements come to the house. I read them. She has a healthy balance, at least she did as of last week.”
Emily watched him put a line through SEX.
“Has she ever done drugs?”
“No.”
He put a line through HABIT. “Does she drink?”
“Not much,” Celeste said. To her credit, she slid a look toward Emily, then sighed. “Well, maybe much, but only at parties. I’ve never known her to have anything during the day or alone. Aside from the wine she had with Carter and me last week, I don’t think she had another thing to drink, and she wasn’t suffering withdrawal.”
“Has she ever had a run-in with the law? Disturbing the peace? Disorderly conduct? Drunk driving?”
“No.”
“So if I boot up my computer at the station, I won’t find her name?”
“No.”
“Nothing formal. What about informal? Was she ever picked up by anyone in the department, given a good talking to, and sent home?”
“No.”
He crossed off RECORD and moved on to BOYS. “What about the guy she was with when she didn’t show up for fall break?”
“As of last week, a total loser. That’s a quote.”
“Have you called him?”
“I called Jill, who called the friend whose brother he is, and he hasn’t seen her in five weeks.”
“What about other guys? Someone else’s brother?”
“She didn’t mention anything to either Jill or Marilee when they were home, and they’re her best friends.”
Emily watched his pen move to cross off BOYS, but it stuttered and came to a rest somewhere beyond the word, and, guilty as she felt, Emily agreed. Dawn had boys high up on her own list. Brian was right to put boys on hold now.
“Does she get along with her father?” he asked.
Celeste waggled a hand. “They aren’t best of friends, but they’re not enemies either. He lives in southern New Hampshire.”
“Would she be trying to get his attention?”
“If she is, she’s wasting her time. He doesn’t see beyond his own desk, his own work, his own daily schedule.”
“Does she resent him for that, or for not being around more?”
Celeste certainly did, even after all these years. Emily could hear it in her voice. It would have been a miracle if Dawn hadn’t picked up on it.
But Celeste said, defensively, Emily thought, “Not terribly. We’ve done fine without him—well, as fine as two people can do who don’t get along, but last weekend was so nice, really it was.” She included Emily in her bewilderment. “We did get along. I actually liked it. And I honestly think that if she were bothered by something, I’d have detected it. We spent more time together than we have in the last three years combined.”
“You, Dawn, and Carter,” Brian said, which, in the wake of Thanksgiving, was how Emily saw them, too. They had been a tight threesome at the Davieses’.
Celeste smiled. “Dawn liked him a lot. He knew just how to handle her. He treated her like a person, like a grown-up. I have to take a lesson from that.”
Emily wasn’t sure she wanted Celeste taking lessons from Carter. There was something about him. Emily couldn’t put her finger on it. He was too good, too smooth, too perfect.
“Where’s Carter now?” Brian asked.
“Paris, until Sunday.”
“When did he leave?”
“Yesterday.”
“Would he have any idea where Dawn is?”
“I don’t see how, if I don’t know.”
“She might have talked with him.”
Celeste shook her head. “If it was about anything sneaky, he’d have told me. And he’d have given her hell.”
“They were on close enough terms for that?”
“We were together for the better part of five days.”
“The three of you?”
“Yes.”
Surprising, Emily thought. Interesting, actually, coming from a woman who professed to be thrilled to have her daughter grown up and out, who professed to want nothing more than to have fun in the second half of her life.
“Did that get on your nerves?” Brian asked.
“No. She was reasonable for a change. We didn’t argue. It’s the first time in my adult life that I’ve been part of a family unit.”
Emily hadn’t thought Celeste wanted that. Interesting, indeed.
“Only Carter isn’t family,” Brian reminded her.
“You know what I mean. It was the closeness. He was a father figure for her. She’s never had that around here. She ate it up.”
“Did she have trouble saying goodbye to him on—what was it—Sunday?”
“Sunday. No. No trouble. She was fine.”
“Smiling? Hugging?”
“Yes. What are you getting at?”
“Does she have a crush on him?”
“She wouldn’t dare.”
“Daring has nothing to do with crushes.”
“He’s mine. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Try to explain ‘appropriate’ to impressionable young women,” Brian remarked.
Emily agreed. “If Dawn went ga-ga over Carter’s looks and his manner and the attention he paid her,” which, to her eye, Dawn had done,
“that’s halfway to a crush. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
But Celeste was insistent. “She didn’t. She just liked him.”
“Can you reach him?” Brian asked.
“Now? No. I told you. He’s in Paris.”
“You don’t have a phone number there?”
“No.”
“Can you get one?”
“I could call his office here. They must have a number. But I don’t want to do that. I might embarrass him, chasing him down that way, and besides, he doesn’t know anything about Dawn. Believe me. If he knew anything, he’d have told me.”
To listen to her, Emily might have thought she was talking about her sweetheart of umpty-ump years.
“How long have you known Carter?” Brian asked.
Celeste hesitated. “Four weeks.”
“Not very long to be so sure about what someone would do.”
“We’re very close.” To Emily, she said, “Why’s he attacking me?”
“He’s not,” Emily said as gently as she could. “He’s trying to narrow the field down to those people who may either be with Dawn or know something about her. Your relationship with Carter has been a whirlwind affair. Realistically, Celeste, there’s a lot you don’t know about him.”
“You’re jealous.”
Emily choked on a breath, shot a quick look at Brian, and said, “No. No, I’m not.” But she wasn’t arguing that point. “You haven’t known him long, Celeste. You haven’t lived through enough with him. You haven’t seen him in different situations.”
“I trust him.”
“Yes, trust him, but realize that since he didn’t raise Dawn, and since he’s spent even less time with her than he’s spent with you, he may not know the rules. He may not know that if she shares certain kinds of plans, he’s supposed to tell you.”
“He may not want to betray her.”
“Exactly. So, with the best of intentions, he may know something about Dawn right now that would explain where she is.”
A full minute passed before, begrudgingly, Celeste said, “I suppose.” She faced Brian a bit more humbly. “Even if his office has the Paris number, no one will be there to give it out until morning. Maybe I should be waiting at home in case he calls me there. He said he wouldn’t. He said he’d be running around so that he can get back in a week, instead of the ten days he originally planned for the trip. But there’s always a chance. Same with Dawn calling. Not likely. But possible.”
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