by Eileen Cook
My dad would tell me that crying is a waste of time and energy. He believes emotion gets in the way of action and that the difference between leaders and followers is the ability to put your emotions in place when you need to. If he was here, he would give me a hug and wipe my face. He’d want me to be strong. He wouldn’t waste time crying, so I made myself stop. I made myself focus on what action I could take. Thinking of what to do next kept my mind from wandering off to places I didn’t want to think about. I went into the bathroom and washed my face. I pulled out the new clothes and yanked off the tags. The fabric felt cheap and thin.
The underwear they brought me was a six-pack of Jockey for Her. Cotton granny panties in bright colors. I wondered if the fact it was a six-pack meant anything, that they’d set me free by day seven, or if they expected me to wash them, or if they didn’t think it would matter after that. I made myself pull each item out of the bag slowly and inspect it. I acted like it was my Christmas stocking, where every item had to be oohed and ahhed over.
I pulled out the tube of Crest Pro-Health and the new toothbrush. I squeezed out a tiny dollop of the sharp mint paste onto my tongue. Then I carefully folded the box down. I put the toothpaste on the shelf in the bathroom next to my new deodorant, toothbrush, and comb. When I reached into the bag again, I realized what else was there—a newspaper. My heart slammed into my ribs.
I laid the paper out on the bed, the sheets rustling. My face stared up at me. Next to my senior picture was a smaller photo of my parents and sister. I devoured the article, tasting each of the words. My family had made a public statement. They were doing everything to find me. They wanted me to know they loved me. My finger traced the letters, turning black with ink, before I began reading the rest. There wasn’t much else. The police representative didn’t say much, but the paper said there were leads. Witnesses. Someone thought they heard me scream. Someone else was pretty sure they saw me in my car with the two guys in the back. The article didn’t say who it was, but there was an “unnamed source” who had led the cops to my car at the airport.
There would be evidence in the car. They’d worn gloves, those thin plastic ones that people who work in delis wear, and knit masks over their heads, but they still must have left something behind. A few stray hairs or some DNA. I needed to have faith the police will do their jobs. I looked down at the picture of my parents.
I haven’t had many interactions with the police, but I know my dad. He will find me. I just need to do my part—stay alive until he comes for me.
I know you’ll come, Dad. I love you.
But please come soon. I don’t know how much more I can take.
Thirteen
Judge Bonnet stared across the dining room table. I made sure to hold eye contact. The end of his nose was practically twitching as he searched for a weakness. Like a rabbit hiding from a hawk, I did my best to be very still until his gaze went elsewhere. I was on his turf, and I needed to be careful.
The Bonnet house was decorated like a Pottery Barn catalog, all tasteful neutrals, varied textures, and natural fabrics. Everything looked like it had been carefully placed, even the casually tossed knitted blanket on the sofa. The house wasn’t as large as I’d expected—just another McMansion on the west side of town doing its best to be more impressive than it really was—but I still felt nervous to be inside. When I sat in the fancy dining room chair, I almost slid off the slick silk fabric, as if the house and its contents wanted to reject me. I tried to take in as many details as I could in case I needed them, but it was hard to focus. My gaze kept flying around, pulling in the wallpaper pattern, the reflection off the glass-fronted cabinet, the silver bowl in the center of the hutch, but I was unable to settle on any one thing, to put the pieces together to make a picture I could use.
“May I get anyone some iced tea?” Ms. Bonnet offered from the doorway.
“No thank you.” Judge Bonnet waved his hand dismissively, and then remembered his manners. “You should feel free to have something of course.”
My glance slid over to Paige’s mom. Her outfit was perfect, crisp, clean, ironed into sharp pleats. A pink and blue floral shirt with a matching cotton sweater. Talbots, if I had to guess. The only sign of upset was the thick smear of concealer under her eyes, doing its best to hide the dark circles.
I turned back to the judge. He was the one I needed to read. I wasn’t going in cold. I wouldn’t have to count just on lucky guesses today. Pluto had made certain I had enough inside information to pull this meeting off, but now that I was here, I wasn’t completely sure I could do it.
“Pay attention,” Pluto had snapped. “The judge isn’t a joke. You need to take him as seriously, no, more seriously, than the cops. He’ll want to look you in the eye. He thinks that after years on the bench he can tell if someone is lying just by being across from them. You need to be sharp for that meeting. Don’t trust him. He may try and suck you in by being nice.”
“Great,” I’d mumbled.
Pluto smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m going to tell you everything you need to play that bastard like a violin.”
I looked the judge over to see what else I could glean now that we were actually across from each other. I’d heard and read so much about him, the meeting felt almost anticlimactic. He had on a suit, but the jacket was tossed over a chair and he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves as if he was ready to take some kind of action, like fix a tire, or single-handedly rescue a plane by taking control of the cockpit when the pilot dropped dead. He was fit, like he worked out. He had the body I imagined a military dad might have.
He drummed his fingers on the polished table. That was when I noticed it. Faint, but there, a tinge of yellow. Nicotine stains on his fingers. I’d read an interview with him where he mentioned how he’d quit years ago and talked about the importance of willpower and focusing on health. I also know nicotine stains fade with time. I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. He was a secret smoker. One of those people who keep a pack hidden in the glove box of their car. Who puff away out of sight and then pop Tic Tacs to mask the smell on their breath. Or maybe he was smoking again because of the stress—either way, I filed away the detail.
Detective Jay and Detective Chan smiled as Ms. Bonnet came back in the room carrying a silver tray with glasses of iced tea, complete with a sliver of lemon balanced on the crushed ice for each of us. It was like I was in Downton Abbey all of a sudden. The judge stood quickly and took the tray from her and placed it on the table.
Detective Jay smiled at me. “As you might imagine, the Bonnet family wanted to meet you. We appreciate you coming here with us and answering some of their questions.”
“I’m not sure if I can help, but I’m happy to try.” I folded my hands into my lap. My throat was dry, but I was certain my hands would shake if I tried to pick up the glass of tea.
“I should start by saying I have zero belief in any kind of psychic whatever,” Judge Bonnet said, almost as if he were apologizing. “I asked you here because my wife and I will do anything to get our girl back.” His voice caught, and he looked down for a second, then cleared his throat.
I kept my breathing even, forcing myself to count to three with each inhale. The last thing I could afford was a panic attack. I had no interest in meeting Paige’s parents, but it would have looked weird if I’d refused. When the cops ask you to help with something, it’s pretty much a command performance.
“We want to assure you we’ve checked out Skye’s story.” Detective Jay looked down at his notes. “There’re no indications that she and your daughter had any kind of interaction. She has an alibi for the date in question. And our interviews with people who know her haven’t led us to anything unusual.”
“Fair enough, but it’s possible that she has some kind of connection to what happened even if she didn’t do it herself?” The judge raised his hands. “I’m not trying to accuse anyone, but I am skeptical by nature.”
Detective
Chan shook his head in agreement. “I understand, sir. I’m skeptical myself.”
“But,” Detective Jay interrupted, “we’ve checked out Skye and her mom. They have no connection to Paige or your family. There are no links to anyone with a criminal history. We’ve got no motivation for Skye to be involved, and if she were, there’s no compelling reason we can identify why she would come forward.” Detective Jay glanced at me, then quickly away again. “And to be honest, we don’t think Ms. Thorn has capacity to pull this off. To grab your daughter and keep her hidden takes resources and planning. This isn’t something a high school kid is able to mastermind. The people behind this have specialized knowledge. The FBI agrees. Whoever is behind this is very likely a pro.”
“FBI?” I sat up straighter.
Detective Chan nodded. “There’s a chance Paige’s been taken out of state. That would make it a federal offense. They’re acting as a resource for us and can step in if we need them to.”
I smiled like I was happy about the idea of interagency cooperation instead of breaking out in panicked sweat. Pluto had never mentioned that the FBI could be involved. I pinched my thigh under the table. I was an idiot. Oh Jesus, I was going to end up in jail.
“How does it work?” Ms. Bonnet leaned forward. “Your visions, I mean.” Her giant emerald-cut diamond engagement ring winked in the sunlight from the window as she twisted it around her finger. She’d lost some weight; the ring was loose.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Sometimes I just know things.” I had to keep things vague. Details could be checked. But it was hard when people kept pushing, wanting answers. I had to fight against the urge to fill the void, to provide answers that could damn me if I wasn’t careful.
“You saw my daughter’s abduction,” Ms. Bonnet said. “Can’t you tell us anything else? Any detail may help.” Her voice shook.
I frowned. “I want to, but it’s not like a TV that I can turn on or off. Sometimes there are clear images, but other times it’s fuzzy.” I shrugged to show how it was all a mystery to me. “The detectives were the ones who put it all together, that the woman was a billboard picture and what the number meant. They should get the real credit.” Praising the cops was important. I needed to keep them on my side. “Sometimes it is easy for me to guess what I’m seeing, and other times it’s just a feeling.”
“So you don’t even know if what you tell us is useful,” Judge Bonnet said.
“No.” I said it simply with no apology. My answer took him off-guard. He’d expected excuses.
Ms. Bonnet reached into a drawer on the base of the china cabinet and pulled out a tiny, formerly white, stuffed bunny. The fabric on its ears was worn to a shiny pale gray texture. She also held a necklace, a tiny sapphire pendant, that swung back and forth above the table on a fine gold chain. “You told us to have a few things of hers for you to look at.”
“Thanks.” I reached for the bunny first. “It might not help, but sometimes having something that belonged to a person is useful.”
Paige’s mom nodded. She gestured to the stuffed animal. “She’s had that thing since—”
“It’s better if you don’t tell me,” I said, cutting her off. “That way anything I say isn’t influenced by information you gave me.”
Her mouth closed quickly. I held the bunny and let my gaze turn soft and unfocused.
I snapped my eyes open. “The bunny has a name—it starts with a vowel.” I frowned. “An A, I think,” I said. “No wait, an E.”
Her mom gasped. “Elliot. She calls him Elliot.”
I nodded as if I wasn’t surprised, which I wasn’t. Pluto had told me the rabbit’s name. “She was really sick once, when she was young. She was in a hospital, but I don’t have the sense it was an accident.” I cocked my head to the side. “It wasn’t anything serious, nothing like cancer. She had this toy with her.”
Paige’s mom covered her mouth with both hands, her ballerina pink polish glinting in the light from the large windows.
“She had her tonsils out,” Judge Bonnet said. “She was five or six at the time, but she was brave as buttons.” His Superman chin was thrust out like he was grinding his teeth. “Our family knows to stay strong when they’re scared.”
“She’d never been away from family before—she was just so young,” Ms. Bonnet said, looking around the dining room table at the rest of us. Her lower lip quivered. “We got her the bunny to keep her company. She hasn’t held on to any of her other stuffed animals, but this one’s still on her bed. Her sister teases her about Elliot all the time.”
Detective Jay regarded me, impressed. He should have been, but not because I was psychic, rather because of how many things I had to commit to memory to pull this trick off. Pluto had sent me lists of possible objects Paige’s parents might bring out. I had no idea what they would actually pick, but Elliot the bunny had been one of the first things I’d memorized.
I wasn’t as lucky with the other item. I’d told Paige’s parents to select things Paige kept close to her. I’d counted on them picking some item of jewelry. I’d guessed they would choose the pearl ring Paige had inherited from her grandma, not some pendant that hadn’t even been on the list.
I’d have to go more general. Use other information I had, to distract from the fact I didn’t have a clue about this particular necklace. The room was silent while I let the chain puddle in the palm of my hand, the cool metal links warming to my body temp. There was a chance it was a ringer item. Something that didn’t belong to Paige that was being used to see if they could suss out if I was lying, but I didn’t think so. Her parents were entirely too interested.
“I get the sense that she wore this a lot.” I let the necklace pour from one hand to the other. Now to connect it to something I didn’t have to guess. “There’s an image of all of you traveling. Italy, I think.” I could see the judge wanting to chalk that one up to random chance, but he shifted in his seat with discomfort. It unnerved him that I’d guessed the country correctly.
“I’m not trying to insult you, but she probably told everyone in school about where we went,” he said.
“Was there some kind of accident on that trip?”
Paige’s mom’s face screwed up in confusion. Powder had settled into the fine lines by her eyes, making her look older. “Accident? I don’t think so.” She turned to the judge. “Donald?”
“There wasn’t any accident,” he confirmed. “I think you must be getting crossed signals.” He leaned back.
I stared at the wall with intensity, as if I were trying to look through the plaster at something a long distance away. “There was water, a sense of falling.”
Ms. Bonnet laughed. “Oh my god, I know what you mean. When you said accident, I thought you were talking about with a car or something. Do you remember, Donald? You tripped into that fountain in Rome and came up spitting and spouting water. Everyone was laughing, but you were so mad.”
The judge looked annoyed. “Of course I remember. In case you forgot, it ruined my Nikon camera.”
She wiped the smile off her face, but you could see it hiding there, under the skin.
“Did Paige get the necklace on the trip?” Detective Chan asked.
The Bonnets shook their heads in tandem. “No. It was a gift on her thirteenth birthday. My family always believed a young lady should get her first piece of real jewelry at that age, something you’ll have forever,” Ms. Bonnet said. I nodded like it made sense to me, as if everyone I knew also got expensive keepsakes for birthdays, destined to be treasured for a lifetime.
I can’t even remember what I got for my thirteenth birthday, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was a board game my mom picked up at a garage sale—it didn’t even have all the pieces.
“I can’t even recall if she had the necklace with her on the trip.” Judge Bonnet stroked his chin as he thought. “I wouldn’t have wanted her to lose it. The girl can barely keep track of her own head half the time, and that’s attached. All I needed was for
her to leave a thousand-dollar pendant in some Italian hotel bathroom.”
There was an awkward pause, and he flushed, the red creeping up from the collar of his starched shirt. I wanted to wag my finger in his face. Tacky, tacky, criticizing your missing kid. “I have no idea if she had the necklace with her or not, just that an image of Italy comes through when I touch it.” I said. “I sense the trip was important to her.” Let them come up with some reason the items were linked. All they would remember is that I knew about the fountain accident. The fact I didn’t know about the necklace would be forgotten. I cocked my head to the side like a dog hearing one of those supersonic whistles. “She felt connected to Italy. She wanted to live there.”
That was the final straw. Ms. Bonnet began crying. “She did! She always said that.” The judge reached over and took her hand into his giant fleshy grip. “We always teased her about it, how she must have lived there in another life. And after that murder case last year, that high school girl who everyone thought killed her best friend? She was obsessed with going again.”
Judge Bonnet was pale. He didn’t want to believe me, but he didn’t know how to explain what I knew.
“Are you connected to her now?” Ms. Bonnet asked, leaning forward. “Have they hurt her?” She swallowed hard.
Judge Bonnet squeezed her hand again and then covered his face. “She must be so very scared. She tries to be brave, but she’s actually a very sensitive young woman.”
Ms. Bonnet was now the one to comfort him, placing her arm around his shoulder. “Paige was always a daddy’s girl. Neither of us has been able to sleep not knowing if she’s okay.”
I shook my head. “I’m certain she’s alive. Scared and frightened, but she’s okay.” I had to turn away from her mom. I couldn’t face how upset she looked. The back wall of the dining room was full of framed pictures of the family. Paige stared back at me from one of the photos as if judging my performance. My throat tightened.