Crimson Rain

by Meg O'Brien

  “I’m afraid so. There was nothing mean about it. We just thought it would help to forget.”

  Duarte nodded. “On other fronts,” he said, “I got your message a while ago, and I’d already thought about the possibility Rachel might have taken off for California. I’ve alerted the highway patrols in Washington, Oregon and California—all up and down I-5 and 101—just in case anybody’s seen her. Or does see her.”

  “Thanks,” Paul said, relieved. “By the way, I have a friend helping to look for Angela. She’s used to going on the Net and she said she can cover a lot of bases in a short time that way.”

  “A friend, huh?” Duarte’s face remained blank, but there was more than casual interest in his voice.

  Paul shrugged. “Just someone I know.”

  “Uh-huh. Would you like to give me this someone’s name?”

  “I…not really,” Paul said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s just that I wouldn’t want Gina to know my friend is doing this,” Paul said awkwardly. “I mean, I wouldn’t want it on your records here somewhere.”

  Duarte sighed and came forward in his chair. “You know, Paul—may I call you Paul? I been through a lot of tough cases, and this one could be the toughest. I liked your girl, Rachel, the minute I met her. And I could see the other day that she was dealing with something she didn’t want to talk about. Fine. People need their secrets, sometimes. But now she’s missing, and if she’d talked to us more openly, we might have found her already. See what I’m saying?”

  “You’re saying that secrets can slow things down.”

  “Or worse,” Duarte said. His voice hardened. “You want your kid coming home to you in a body bag? Dammit, man! This is no time to play games.”

  “I know, I know,” Paul said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Look, if I could just tell you and you didn’t write it down anywhere—”

  “Oh, for—” Duarte slammed his palms down on his desk. “All right, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You tell me the name of this person who’s supposed to be helping out, and I’ll keep it to myself. I just want to talk to the woman, see what she’s doing. Frankly, I don’t give a damn that you’re sleeping with her.”

  Paul blinked. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. You think I didn’t know from the first time you sat in that chair that you and Mrs. Bradley don’t always get along?”

  Paul was silent.

  Duarte shook his head and picked up the name plate on his desk. “You see this word, here? It says ‘Detective.’ I didn’t get this made up at some school carnival, for Christ’s sake.”

  Paul couldn’t help smiling.

  “What’s that for?” Duarte growled.

  “I was just picturing you at a school carnival,” Paul said. “I bet you’d drive those guys nuts, the ones with the phony games you never can win.”

  “Not at my son’s school,” Duarte said, grinning. “They know better.”

  Paul shook his head. “Okay,” he said, giving him Lacey’s name, phone number and address.

  Duarte wrote the information down. “I want to talk to this shrink of Rachel’s, too,” he said, scanning the yellow pad. “Victoria Lessing. Does she know Rachel’s disappeared?”

  “No. I’m going there when I leave here. I’ll tell her what’s going on.”

  “You know this woman well?”

  “Angela was treated by her for a year, before she went back to the orphanage. Gina and I have both seen her now and then. Rachel, too.”

  “So you trust this woman?”

  “I…yes. I’ve never had a reason not to trust her.”

  “But you hesitated,” Duarte pointed out. “There must be something.”

  “No…no, not really. I don’t know why I hesitated. Vicky has become almost like a member of the family. Not that she’s ever been anything but professional, but Roberta, Gina’s mother, knew her even before we did, so it’s been a lot of years—”

  “Gina’s mother,” Duarte said, interrupting. “I’ll need to talk to her.”

  “Sure,” Paul agreed. “I can arrange for her to come in. She’s just as worried about finding Rachel as we are.”

  “You know where I can reach her now?”

  “She was at my house when I left there a while ago.”

  Duarte pushed the phone toward him. “You mind?”

  “No, of course not.” Paul looked at him curiously. “You don’t want to call her yourself?”

  “Let’s just say I’d like to keep it as informal as possible. Nobody needs to feel like they’re a suspect and get all uptight about coming in.”

  “And the more informal it is, the more they’ll open up to you, right?” Paul guessed.

  Duarte shrugged. “Dial,” he said.

  Paul punched in the number to the house, and Gina answered. “Is Roberta still there?”

  “No, she left shortly after you did.”

  “I thought she was going to stay and keep you company.”

  “I’m not very good company today, I guess.”

  “Do you know where she is now?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I’m down here at the police station. Duarte would like to talk to her.”

  “My mother? Why?”

  Paul looked at Duarte. “Nothing special. It’s just that she might remember something that could help.”

  “Well, you could try her at home. I didn’t get the feeling she was going there, though. She said she’d be in touch in a few hours.”

  “Okay. Well, if she calls you, will you tell her Duarte would like to talk to her, and find out what her schedule is? Keep it casual, let it be her choice to set the time. But tell her to make it soon, okay?”

  “Okay. Paul? When will you be home?”

  “I’m not sure. I just remembered that Victoria doesn’t know Rachel is missing. I thought I’d go over there from here and talk to her. Maybe Rachel said something to her that could give us a clue.”

  “Oh, God, you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that myself. I just haven’t…oh, been tracking right, I guess. Mom put me through the wringer.”

  “Oh? In what way?”

  “About not being accessible enough to Rachel, not home enough, not close enough to her to know what she’s been thinking about or experiencing. You know how she is.”

  “I’m sorry she put you through that,” Paul said. “Are you all right now?”

  “About as all right as I can be, I guess.”

  “Try to get some rest. I’ll get home as soon as I can.”

  “Okay.”

  “Wait. Gina, did Roberta say anything about herself? Has she been close to Rachel recently? Enough to know what’s been going on with her?”

  “Well, she always talks as if she knows our daughter better than we do, but you know she’s been acting like that for years.”

  Paul sighed. “Maybe Detective Duarte can get something out of her. More than the usual harangue, that is.”

  He met the detective’s eyes, and Duarte nodded.

  “I’ll try to get home as soon as possible,” Paul said. “I’ll just run over to Victoria’s and talk to her, then I’ll come straight home.”

  Gina said, her voice thick with tears, “Paul, we’ve got to find our little girl.”

  “I know,” he said softly. “We’ll find her. Hang tight. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Let’s go,” Duarte said when he’d hung up.

  “Let’s go?” Paul repeated.

  “Well, look at it this way. When I asked you about this shrink and whether you trusted her, you hesitated. That’s enough for me. I say we both go and talk to this lady.”

  Duarte told the officer next to him that he’d be out awhile.

  “If she’s not there, we wait,” he told Paul. “Sometimes that’s all detective work amounts to, cooling your heels while the perps keep you waiting.”

  “You don’t really think of Victoria Lessing as a perp, do you?” Paul said, startled.<
br />
  “I think of everybody as a perp until it’s proved otherwise,” Duarte said, ushering Paul through the door ahead of him. “Even you.”

  As they walked to the parking lot, Duarte couldn’t help wondering what the hell he was doing. He never got this involved in cases anymore. There was just something about this one. Maybe it was the kid, Rachel. Something about her intrigued him, something secretive that her parents didn’t know about. He would swear to it. Maybe he wasn’t like a Dalmatian anymore, dashing after that five-alarm fire. Maybe he had become more like Lazybones, his cat. Curious, that’s all. Nothing wrong with that.

  Duarte frowned. Except that curiosity was what had killed the cat.

  Victoria had received Paul’s message, and had kept the hour open.

  “I am so sorry to hear this,” she said, after Paul told her about Rachel. Her brow furrowed. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Three days ago, around ten in the morning. She told Gina she was going to a friend’s house, but she never showed up.”

  “We hoped she might have said something to you that would give us a clue to where she might have gone,” Duarte said.

  Victoria turned to him. “You mean you think she just left? Went away somewhere without telling anyone?”

  “Unless maybe she told you,” Duarte said.

  Victoria shook her head. “Not a thing. In fact, it’s hard to believe that’s what she did.”

  “What about the twin? Angela? You think she could have done something to Rachel?” Duarte suggested.

  Victoria’s eyes widened. She looked at Paul, who nodded.

  “He knows,” Paul said. “You can speak freely.”

  “Only to a certain extent,” Victoria countered a bit stiffly. “So far as I know, Rachel is still my patient. There’s a matter of confidentiality.”

  “I understand that,” Paul said. “But if you know anything that could help us find her…Vicky, she might be in danger.”

  She seemed to be thinking it over, and finally she said, “Well, I can tell you that Rachel has been worried since she saw Angela on her campus at Berkeley. At least, since she thought she saw her.”

  “How did she react to that?” Duarte asked.

  “Somewhere between curious and frightened, I think,” Victoria answered. “She was afraid Angela had come back and would harm her. At the same time, I think she would have liked to see Angela, which is natural enough. They are twins, after all.”

  “Do you think Angela might have done something to Rachel?” Duarte asked.

  “That’s hard to say. I haven’t treated Angela since she was five years old.”

  “You were in contact with the psychiatrist at Saint Sympatica’s, though, right?”

  “Well, yes, but only by phone. Paul and Gina asked me to stay in touch with him and let them know how Angela was doing.”

  “And how was she doing?” Duarte pressed.

  “Angela had a hard time adjusting to the orphanage after having lived in a real home,” Victoria said. “She insisted she hadn’t done anything wrong, and she didn’t belong there. She missed Rachel, too. She kept asking when Rachel was coming.”

  “To the orphanage? To visit?”

  “Yes. Apparently, every time Paul and Gina went to visit her, she expected that Rachel would be coming, too.”

  Duarte turned to Paul. “Did you ever take Rachel there?”

  “No. We never felt it would be good for her, and Dr. Chase agreed.”

  “Speaking of Dr. Chase, Paul, he’s the person you really should be talking to,” Victoria said. “He would have more of a fix on whether Angela might still be a danger to Rachel.”

  “I forgot, you don’t know,” Paul said. “Dr. Chase is dead.”

  “Dead? My goodness, what happened? He was young, wasn’t he?”

  Paul told her about the way Chase had died, and how Angela subsequently ran away from the orphanage.

  “Was Angela a suspect?” Victoria asked.

  “Let’s just say her actions were suspect,” Paul said. “They never had enough proof to make her an actual suspect.”

  “But you’re thinking she was the one who did it,” Victoria guessed. “And now you think she has Rachel. Or worse.”

  Paul wet his lips, which had gone dry. “We don’t really know, Vicky. But it’s possible.”

  Victoria tapped at her lower lip with a bright coral thumbnail. “The only thing I can think of,” she said, “is that it seemed as if Rachel really wanted to see Angela again. I know I’m not giving away anything if I say that Rachel has always had to deal with guilt over being left with you, while Angela was sent away. It’s a common survivor syndrome.”

  “I know. We’ve talked about that.”

  “Well, she may have felt that she needed to see Angela to apologize in some way. I wonder if Angela did make contact with her. And if Rachel met her somewhere. You say she told Gina that she was going to meet a friend?”

  “Ellen Stanaway. She and Rachel have been friends since high school.”

  “Have you talked with Ellen?”

  “Only over the phone. Ellen said that she and Rachel didn’t have plans that day. In fact, she hadn’t heard from Rachel since she came home for the holidays.”

  “So Rachel lied about that.”

  “So it seems.” Paul met her gaze.

  “Dear God. I can see why you’re worried.”

  Duarte spoke. “It’s possible Angela contacted Rachel, and Rachel made plans to meet with her. Then…” He shrugged and a small silence filled the room. “That’s what we have to find out,” he said finally. “What happened then.”

  Paul felt cold, suddenly. Terrified. And at fault. If only he had been a better father. If only all the moments he’d spent with Lacey since Rachel came home had been spent with her instead. If only he’d taken more time to e-mail her at school.

  Suddenly he knew beyond a doubt that he himself had caused all this to happen. Rachel’s disappearance was some horrible kind of punishment for his sins.

  “Paul?” Victoria’s voice came through to him. He forced himself to focus.

  “All of this is only speculation,” she said. “We don’t really know that Rachel went to meet Angela. It could have been anyone. A boyfriend from school…”

  He shook his head. “Rachel would have told us if that were the case.”

  “Rachel is a grown woman now,” Victoria pointed out. “She might not tell you everything that’s going on in her life.”

  “Did she tell you anything about a boyfriend?” Paul asked.

  “No. But that doesn’t mean anything, either. Patients lie to their psychiatrists all the time. Often, they want us to think they’re more well than they really are.”

  Duarte stood and leaned over the desk to shake Victoria’s hand. “Appreciate your time,” he said. He took a card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “Please call me if you think of anything.”

  “I will,” Victoria said, standing. “And Paul? Anything I can do, anything at all…”

  “Thanks, Vicky. Just let us know if you hear from Rachel.”

  “Of course.” But she avoided his eyes, leaving Paul to wonder why.

  With a sinking heart, he followed Duarte to the door.

  Once in Duarte’s car, the detective suggested they stop somewhere for coffee and a sandwich. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten all day,” he said. “Besides, we need to talk.”

  Paul called Gina on his cell phone to check in, telling her he was with Duarte and that they might have lunch, if she was okay. Gina assured him that she felt much better and asked about Victoria. “She wasn’t able to be much help, I’m afraid,” he said.

  “Well, you had to try.”

  He agreed, and asked if she was certain she’d be all right while he had lunch with Duarte.

  “Sure,” she said. “I feel better sticking by the phone, and I have some work to do, anyway.”

  “The Albright house?”

  �
��No, just some ideas I want to put on paper. It helps…well, you know. Paul? Tell Detective Duarte I really appreciate his help.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Paul said. “And Gina? Thanks.”

  “Sure,” she said. “I’m putting a pot roast in for dinner. Comfort food, you know.”

  Paul smiled and hung up. He turned to the detective, who was sliding the Vic into a parking place in front of a diner. “Been eating here for twenty years,” Duarte said. “Not many of these things left, you know.”

  They seated themselves at a booth along the window and made more small talk after the waitress took their orders. Finally Duarte said, “All right, give.”

  “Give?” Paul raised a brow.

  “What’s going on with you? You look like a man who’s carrying around a heavy weight.”

  “You might have noticed,” Paul said shortly, “my daughter is missing. She might be…” He couldn’t say the words.

  “Yeah, I think I noticed,” Duarte said. “That’s not what I mean. You practically drifted off the screen for a few minutes back there.”

  Paul shook his head and stared into his coffee cup. The waitress brought their sandwiches, and he slid the cup aside to make room for his plate. Toying with the toothpick in the club sandwich, he said, “Are you Catholic, Detective Duarte?”

  “Not so’s you’d notice. But yeah, I was baptized, a thousand years or so ago. And by the way…call me Al.”

  Paul nodded, but was silent.

  “You need a priest?” Duarte guessed. “I’m used to hearing confessions.”

  “Maybe that’s it,” Paul said. “The truth is, I haven’t been to confession in years.”

  “Well, something like this tends to send people running for God,” Duarte said. “Or at the very least, absolution.”

  “Absolution.” Paul’s voice was bitter. “I just feel I brought this all on. Like, if I’d paid more attention to Rachel, she wouldn’t have disappeared. Have you ever felt that way? If you just didn’t take your eyes off someone, they wouldn’t go away?”

  “Sure,” Duarte said. “I feel that way every time I see my son.” He took a bite of his grilled cheese and bacon sandwich, chewed and swallowed, then said, “This isn’t exactly about Rachel, though, is it?”

  “What do you mean?” Paul said.

  “That girl. Lacey? The one you told me about?”