“I remember that day well for several reasons, one being that Maren seemed to have done a lot of research before coming to me. I had the feeling she had interviewed women who had been abused. Specifically, she wanted to know how secure our building is. She wanted to know if anyone had experienced a domestic partner coming to the shelter and accosting her. I assured her that this is a locked facility, and it would be improbable for that to happen. She also wanted to know about our confidentiality protocol. Again, I assured her that any woman coming here is safe and anonymous. The only way anyone finds out about our clients is if that client tells others where she is.”
“This is a judgment call, Joan, but did she seem upset, as though she might have been talking about herself?” Deidre wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“No, on the contrary. Your daughter was poised and calm. I did get the feeling that she might have been here at the behest of a friend, but I didn’t think it was my place to ask. I tried to answer her questions as straightforward as I could. Eventually, she got around to asking me why I thought women stayed in abusive relationships.”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Deidre interjected. “What did you tell her?”
Joan thought for a time, and Deidre tried to discern if it was because she couldn’t remember, or if the question had become too personal. After a period of silence, Joan realized her mind had drifted to another place, and she focused again on Deidre.
“There are so many reasons that women stay in abusive relationships. I’m sure I don’t know them all, but most often it comes down to finances. Many women have nowhere to turn for financial support. They may have small children at home who need childcare they can’t afford. Or they may not have an education that allows them to enter the job market. Some are afraid to leave for fear of what their partner will do to them. I suppose many don’t have a clue about why they stay, they only know they do. Perhaps many are too embarrassed to admit they’re being taken advantage of by a person who they thought loved them.”
Deidre looked squarely at Joan. “Do you think Maren was searching for answers for herself? I mean, do you think she was in trouble and was using an interview to find answers?”
Joan didn’t hesitate in answering. “If she was, she was an awfully good actor. I’ve had a lot of experience with sorting through the B.S. in people’s lives, and I didn’t get that sense at all. Like I mentioned, my own evaluation is that she was running interference for a friend.”
Deidre looked at her watch and saw that she had been there an hour. “I’m sure you’re very busy, and I’ve taken up a good chunk of your morning. Thanks so much, Joan. This has been a big help to me.” Joan walked her to the door and waved as Deidre got into her car.
As she drove away from the curb, she thought, Is it possible that Maren was helping a friend get ready to leave her partner, and he found out? What if a disgruntled abuser wanted Maren to stop interfering in his life? She made a mental note to speak with Megan about that possibility, among other things.
*****
DEIDRE WAS SCHEDULED to pick up her sons from their school orientation in an hour, and she used that time to stop at the sheriff’s office. She met Jeff as he was coming down the stairs.
“Deidre, glad you stopped by, but I’m on my way to a council meeting. Anything serious you wanted to see me about?”
“Nothing urgent,” Deidre replied, hoping the disappointment of not being able to sit down and talk wasn’t reflected in her voice. It seemed that as the days crept past, she had a need to continue talking to people about Maren. “I was hoping you could run a check on something for me.” She and Jeff walked together toward the council chambers.
“Sure. Have you found something we’ve been missing?”
Deidre shrugged. “I just came from the women’s shelter. Had a talk with Joan about Maren. Last spring she asked Joan for an interview about domestic violence issues. Maren said it was for a college class paper she was writing. The only thing, Jeff, is that I don’t think Maren was taking any classes last spring. I won’t be able to access her college records, so I thought perhaps, with the backing of your office, you could find out. Maren said she was taking a class at St. Scholastica.”
Jeff let out a “hmmm” of acknowledgement. “Why do you think she’d say she was taking a class if she wasn’t?”
Deidre felt a pang of guilt over the fact that she was doubting her daughter’s word. “She told us she was taking a year off from school to work until Dave graduated. Then she was going back to school this fall to finish her degree. She hadn’t said anything to anyone about changing her mind. Then, too, Joan said she picked up on subtle clues that Maren was using the interview to gain information for a third party, she thought maybe a friend who was in trouble and wanted a way out. I was thinking on the way over here, what if she did have a friend in trouble, and that friend’s partner decided to get rid of Maren? Maybe she was becoming a thorn in his side. I know it’s a weak argument, but will you check her story for me?”
By that time they had arrived at the council chambers, and Jeff promised he’d get on it as soon as the meeting ended. He gave Deidre a hug.
“Hang in there, friend. We’ll get a break sometime. Believe me when I say we’re not giving up on finding an answer for you and Ben. I mean it.”
Two hours later, Deidre received a call from him. “I’ve checked five colleges in the area, including the two community colleges, and none of them have a record of Maren being enrolled in any classes this past year. I think you’re right, Maren was on a fishing expedition for someone, or maybe even herself. It’s something we have to seriously consider.”
As she sat at her table, nursing a cup of tepid coffee, the thought came to mind that perhaps Maren was taking a correspondence course, but Deidre thought that highly improbable. With so many colleges within a twenty-mile radius, it made no sense for her to go out of the area. Besides, wouldn’t she have told Joan if that were the case, rather than saying she went to St. Scholastica? Another alternative was that she was gathering information for herself, sort of the old “I have a friend” ploy, only this time saying, “I’m taking this class.” Deidre quickly discarded that idea. Surely Maren would have come to her for help if she needed it.
The only plausible answer to the question of why Maren would have masqueraded as a student was that she was trying to help a friend, and Deidre knew how volatile domestic issues could become. She could easily envision Maren intervening in a dangerous situation to help someone who was in trouble.
Chapter
Thirty-Four
SEVERAL DAYS PASSED without any mention of Maren. For the Van-Gotten family, life had assumed a certain sense of normalcy, although Deidre suspected things could never return to what they had been before Maren’s disappearance. It was as though a cloud hung over them, one that felt as if it would drop at any instant, bringing with it more trauma.
Megan’s life had a hollowness to it that defied explanation. When she was out with friends, she might suddenly be engulfed by a surge of melancholy and loneliness and would simply shut down in front of them. They knew what the problem was but had no clue what to do to help.
Ben went to work, came home, and sometimes just sat on the porch, looking out over the neighbor’s hayfield. Deidre could tell that he often forced himself to play with the boys, and sensed that his frequent periods of joviality were forced. As for herself, she most often busied herself by caring for her home: weeding the many flower gardens, touching up spots in need of paint, and trying to rearrange pictures to give the walls a fresh look. These inane activities left her feeling impotent and uncaring of the fact that her daughter was lost somewhere and might be needing her. But what else could she do?
Finally, more out of a need to feel she was trying than anything else, Deidre decided to talk to the employees of the restaurant one more time. If Maren was helping a fellow worker, one of them might talk. On the way to town, she decided to cross the male workers from he
r list.
Then a revelation hit her. She didn’t like the idea and wished she hadn’t thought it, but it occurred to her that perhaps it wasn’t a man who had taken Maren. What if her daughter had become the third person in a love triangle and the other woman had retaliated? No, she thought. I’m letting my imagination run a little too wild here. Stop the foolishness.
It was late morning, and Deidre hoped that she wouldn’t be interrupting the workers’ sleep. She knew both Andra and Jessica worked the late shift at the restaurant. By the time they had an opportunity to unwind, drive home, and go to bed, it was often two in the morning. Deidre checked her watch, which read eleven thirty. She hesitated but rang Andra’s doorbell.
It took a few seconds, but Deidre heard the sounds of movement inside and the door opened a crack. Andra’s hair was still a rat’s nest, and she was in her nightgown, but Deidre saw she held a cup of coffee. Andra had been awake, but not for long.
“Hi, Andra,” Deidre began apologetically. “Do you have time to talk a bit? I’ve got some things I’d like to ask about Maren. Would you mind?”
Andra invited her in, and after they visited a couple of minutes she proposed that she call Jessica, and the three of them could think together.
“Jessica doesn’t need as much sleep as I do,” she said after hanging up the phone. “She was outside working in the yard and said she needed a break. She’ll be here in five minutes.”
Andra had just finished setting out two more coffee cups for her guests when Jessica rapped on the door and walked in without waiting to be invited. “Hey, Andi,” she said, using Andra’s nickname. “What’s up? Do you have news about Maren, Deidre?”
Deidre cleared her throat. “No, unfortunately, nothing has surfaced. I may be grasping for straws, but I had a thought a couple of days ago.” She went on to explain that Maren had posed as a student when she requested an interview from the director of the women’s shelter. Then she postulated the idea that perhaps Maren was trying to intervene on behalf of a friend or colleague. Both young women looked pensive for a moment. Suddenly Jessica became animated.
“Andi, remember that waitress who was hired last winter? She only lasted a couple of months and then quit. What was her name?” Jessica groped for it. “Swerlee . . . Shonlee?”
“I remember,” Andi spoke up excitedly. “She called herself Swania. She was from Germany and told me her real name was Svanja, but nobody ever pronounced it correctly. That was her name, Svanja, Svanja Birkebach. She met a U.S. military man who was stationed near her hometown. They married and she followed him to the States when his assignment was up.”
Jessica broke in. “Shortly before she quit, she came to work pretty beat up. Her face was bruised, and she had marks on her arms. I asked her what had happened, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it. I couldn’t do anything. Just before closing time, I saw her and Maren having a deep discussion about something, and they left the restaurant together. A couple of days later, Swania quit. I didn’t give it a second thought until now. That was at least three months before Maren disappeared. You don’t think she had anything to do with it, do you?”
Deidre’s heart jumped at this news, and for a moment, she was sure her made-up scenario was true.
“Do you have any idea what became of this Swania? Is she still in town?”
Neither Andra nor Jessica had any idea where she had gone after quitting her restaurant job. Deidre checked her watch and said she had to excuse herself. Before leaving, she thanked the two and told them how helpful they had been. Both young women hugged her and wished her the best in her search for answers.
Deidre called ahead to see if Jeff was in the sheriff’s office and was relieved to find him there. In a few minutes she had bolted up the stairs to his office, was buzzed in, and was telling him about her theory and discovery.
“It shouldn’t be too difficult to track her down,” Jeff said reassuringly. “That’s a pretty unusual name, even in Germany, I’d bet. Let’s start with court records in our county and see if she has left a paper trail.”
He turned his computer monitor so Deidre could eavesdrop on his search. In seconds he was logged into the district court records, and the instant he typed in the woman’s unusual name, a match came up.
“We’re in luck. According to this, she filed for divorce the sixth of May. Their final appearance before a judge is scheduled for September seventh, three weeks from now.”
Deidre sat back in her chair and let a stream of air escape through her pursed lips. “I know this is asking a lot, Jeff, but will you give me her address? I’d really like to talk to her about Maren.”
Jeff didn’t hesitate. “This is public record, although I’d hate to have it get out that I was the one who gave you the info. Take a look.” He turned the computer so she could get a better view without craning her neck. She wrote down the address on a notepad and tore off the top sheet of paper.
“Thanks, Jeff. You know this will remain between us. Take care.”
On the way home, Deidre wondered if she and Ben would ever get an answer to Maren’s disappearance. She had faith that the boys would bounce back. Their lives would unfold, they would probably marry and have families of their own, and Maren’s memory would fade. It was her and Ben she worried about. Their lives would forever have a hole in it, and she wondered if, as they aged, the emptiness would grow rather than fade. She was home before she could ponder more. Supper had to be prepared for when Ben and the boys came home, he from work, they from ball practice and swimming lessons.
After supper, when the boys were settled in their room, Deidre and Ben sat on the deck, which had become their retreat at the end of most days. She made them each a gin and tonic, and they each took a first sip.
“I picked up another lead today,” Deidre announced. “It’s pretty flimsy, but it’s something.” Ben hardly reacted. They had been steered down so many roads that ended in dead ends that he had a difficult time allowing himself to believe any answer about his daughter’s disappearance would ever be found. Her disappearance seemed to have happened a century ago, and to him, seemed more like a bad dream. He shifted in his chair so he was looking directly at Deidre. She took that to mean he was listening.
“I told you that I wondered if Maren went to the women’s shelter to get information for a friend, so today I followed up on it. I spoke to her two best friends at the restaurant, Andra and Jessica. They said there had been a waitress who started work sometime in January. She quit after only about two months, but shortly before quitting, she came to work pretty beat up. They said they saw Maren talking to her at closing that night. I managed to track down her name and address, and I’m going to try to visit her tomorrow.”
Ben had nearly drained his glass by that time, and he sat for an uncomfortably long time without saying a word. Deidre was beginning to think he had tuned her out.
“Deidre, I fear that you are going to continue to butt your head against this stone wall until you fall apart,” Ben finally said. “How can you keep going when you meet one disappointment after another? I feel so worn down that I don’t think I can face another round of getting my hopes up and then having them dashed. You go ahead with what you have to do, but I think I’m ready to admit to myself that too much time has passed without a clue as to Maren’s whereabouts. I can live with that, I think. At least, I’m going to try.” He hung his head in dejection.
Deidre’s heart sank. She had hoped for some encouragement, but instead she felt as though she was more alone than ever. She wasn’t angry at Ben. She felt sorry for him more than anything. Deidre slid her chair over and placed her hand on the top of his. Ben looked at her and smiled sadly. Then he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Deidre felt a tear drip onto her skin, and at that instant, she loved her husband more deeply than ever.
Chapter
Thirty-Five
SWANIA HADN’T LEFT the area, and her phone number had the Two Harbors prefix, 834. At nine the next mornin
g, Deidre punched in the number on her cell phone and anxiously waited for a number of rings, until she was about to disconnect. When Swania answered, Deidre hesitated, thinking a machine had picked up the call. After stammering the question, “Is this Swania Birkebach?” she composed herself, and before Swania could hang up, continued.
“Swania, this is Deidre Johnson. I’m Maren VanGotten’s mother. May I speak to you for a minute?”
She was hopeful when Swania responded, and at the same time was surprised at the confident, heavily accented voice she heard.
“Of course I’ll talk to you. I remember Maren well, even though I didn’t work with her very long. She helped me through a most difficult time in my life. I must tell you that I was saddened when I heard she was missing. I hurt for you and your family. I assume you’d like to talk with me about Maren?”
Deidre affirmed that was indeed the case, and Swania agreed to have Deidre come to her home later in the day. Swania lived a way out of town, and Deidre thought it took courage, or perhaps foolishness, for her to be staying alone in the country.
After hanging up the phone, she called the church she and Ben attended and asked to speak to Pastor Ike. Fortunately he was in and said he had time that morning to meet with her. They set the meeting for ten o’clock.
Deidre puttered around the yard, cleaned up, and drove to town. At ten, she knocked on the pastor’s office door. Pastor Ike was busy at his computer, and hearing Deidre’s knock, he looked up.
“Deidre, I’m glad you called. For some reason, you and Ben were on my mind last night before I went to sleep, and I made a mental note to give you a call this morning. Just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Come in, come in.” He stood and arranged two chairs so they were near each other at a table in the corner of his office. “How are things going for you and your family? We haven’t talked for a few weeks.”
An Iron Fist, Two Harbors Page 15