by Alice Ward
Asher’s stomach let out a loud grumble; I rolled out of bed and pulled on my bathrobe, remembering the trays of food stored in the fridge.
“Where are you going?” he called after me.
“You’re hungry. I stopped at the market and picked up all of your favorite things. I have smoked prosciutto, marinated artichokes. I’ll be right back with the trays. Do you want red wine or white?”
“White. I’ll come help,” he offered.
Asher followed me into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle from the wine fridge while I arranged the food on the island.
“We should go easy with this,” he warned. “We have an early day tomorrow.”
“We do?” I asked, at a loss for what he was talking about.
“We’re going to Vermont, remember? We leave at eight. I talked to Kennedy earlier tonight. We’re going to touch down in Boston and pick her up on our way.”
“I forgot all about the trip,” I confessed.
“You’ve had a lot going on,” he reminded me. “If you’re not up to it, I’ll understand. But I really feel like I should go with Kennedy. I need to learn as much as possible about what’s going on.” He popped a cherry tomato into his mouth and reached for his wine.
“I get it. I feel the same way,” I agreed. “And I’d never miss the trip. I’m surprised Kennedy didn’t mention it when we talked.”
“When I spoke to her, she said Claire’s joining us as well,” he replied.
That’s right. Shit, I need to tell him that Claire knows the truth.
“About Claire,” I began, my voice hesitant. I met Asher’s eyes and he studied me for a moment before lifting his brow.
“You told her?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t my secret to tell. I just—”
“It’s fine, baby,” he assured me. “You needed someone to talk to. You’ve known Claire your whole life. I’m not upset that you told her.”
Asher sat his wine on the island and pulled me into his arms. “I’m glad you had someone to talk to while I was being stupid. I like your friends, Lauren. I hope to make them my friends. Now, why don’t you let me carry you off to bed again and show you how much I love you?”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and laughed as he lifted me into his arms.
“I can’t think of any reason to say no to that.”
CHAPTER 3
“This is Captain Brooks. The Montpelier tower has cleared us to land. I radioed to the ground crew and confirmed that your car is waiting. Please prepare for descent.”
Asher and Kennedy closed their laptops while Claire and I cleared cups and snacks from the small table bolted to the jet’s floor.
“We have two hours before we’re scheduled to meet with the camp staff,” Kennedy pointed out. “We’ll have plenty of time to check into our rooms and grab something to eat. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.”
“I’d like to check out the town a little before we go to the camp,” Asher insisted. “I want to get a feel for the place, show Rachel’s picture to some of the locals. If this is where she was while I was at school, plenty of people are bound to recognize her.”
I felt the sudden sensation that I was being dropped and gripped the arm of my chair in panic. Asher took my hand as the landing gear bounced off the runway and then touched down again. The jet stabilized and slowed to a stop.
“Sorry for the rough landing,” the pilot called out over the speaker. “Enjoy your time in Vermont. I’ll be on standby when you need me.”
We unbuckled our seatbelts and Asher opened the jet door. The ground crew had already attached a staircase and was emptying our luggage into a large, black SUV. We filed out of the jet and Asher climbed behind the wheel of the truck. I took the passenger’s seat while Kennedy and Claire piled into the back. Kennedy opened her laptop again and tapped at the keyboard.
“Our hotel is on Main Street. Looks like pretty much everything is on Main Street, actually. We’ll check into our rooms and then split up. Looks like there’s a little diner across the street from the hotel. Claire and I will start there and then cover these little boutiques. You guys can pop in everywhere else. We should have plenty of time to regroup before we drive out to the camp,” she explained.
“Sounds good,” Asher agreed, steering the truck onto an old two lane highway. I turned the heat on full blast and dug through my carryon for a fleece pullover. Vermont was twenty degrees colder than California.
“I’m still a little mixed up on the details,” Claire chimed in. “Do the people at the camp know who we really are? Or do they still think Kennedy’s visiting on behalf of the Montgomery Foundation?”
“They know who we are,” Kennedy replied. “David Goins spoke to the director yesterday and gave the staff permission to speak with us. They won’t be able to answer all of our questions, but they’re willing to help with what they can.”
“I have a good feeling about this trip,” Asher announced. “I think we’re on the right track. From what I’ve learned about Rachel’s condition, she’s likely to go somewhere familiar. Her parents said she was really happy at the camp. If she did run on her own, I bet she’s nearby.”
Let’s hope so. I’m ready for this nightmare to be over.
I wasn’t as optimistic as Asher. Rachel may be troubled, but she was smart. If she’d run with the money, she’d never hide anywhere where anyone would think to look for her. And she had to have known that Vermont would be one of the first places Asher looked. I hoped to learn something useful at the camp, but I was under no delusions that we’d be taking Rachel home with us. Asher was in a good mood for the first time all week, so I decided to keep my opinions to myself.
“Didn’t you two stay near here before you went to MIT?” I asked as he navigated through the quaint, historic town.
He nodded. “We were in Middlesex. It’s a little to the west of here. It’s even smaller than Montpelier. Rachel and I worked at a small mountain resort. She cleaned rooms. I worked at the front desk.”
“Do you still know anyone in the area?” Kennedy asked. “We may as well speak with as many people as possible while we’re here.”
“I haven’t kept in contact with anyone. But I’ll make some calls,” he promised.
Downtown Montpelier looked like the setting of a Dickens novel. Original stone buildings lined the streets, their historic architecture holding modern boutiques and foodie havens. Gas lamps sat on corners and people strolled casually down the sidewalks. There was a calming sense of peace to the area and I understood why Rachel might be drawn there.
We arrived at the Montpelier Inn and Asher pulled up to the small valet stand. It was a small, family run hotel, much different than the resorts and penthouses Asher and Kennedy were accustomed to. I felt right at home.
“I’ll check us in and have our bags taken to our rooms,” Kennedy offered. “Let’s meet back here in an hour. We’ll compare notes and then head to the camp.”
“I’ll call if we learn anything. You do the same,” Asher instructed.
I circled the SUV and accepted Asher’s extended hand. He gave me a squeeze and turned toward Main Street.
“See you soon,” I called over my shoulder to my friends.
“Good luck,” Claire sang back at me.
Asher pulled me closer and draped an arm around my shoulders.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“A little,” I confessed. “But I know we have work to do. And look, there’s a coffee shop a few blocks up. I’ll just grab a muffin or something when we stop in with Rachel’s picture. Where do you want to start?”
Most of the storefronts around us held signs for insurance companies, lawyers, and other clerical type spaces.
“You’re hungry, so let’s start with the coffee shop,” Asher insisted. “From there we’ll go to that nail salon and then the bar, if they’re open.”
I nuzzled beneath Asher’s arm and we started for the coffee shop.
The air was crisp and a light breeze blew across the sidewalk. Most of the trees were still holding their color, but a few random branches had started to turn yellow.
“I bet this place is going to be gorgeous soon,” I observed, breathing in the fresh air.
“We’ll come back and see it for ourselves,” Asher promised. “I’ll find us a cozy cabin and we can drink cider, eat maple syrup, and make love in front of the fire.”
“I will be holding you to that one,” I warned with a grin.
“You can hold me to anything, baby,” he replied with a wink.
I slowed to a stop and turned in Asher’s arms. I cradled his face in my hands and stared into his slightly surprised eyes.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He lifted his brow in confusion. “You’re welcome. But for what?”
“For making the effort to think about us with everything else that’s going on. I know you’re stressed and worried about Rachel. But you’re staying in the moment with me, letting me help you. I just wanted you to know that I noticed that. And I appreciate it.”
Asher leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I promised to do better. I meant it. Now, let’s get you something to eat.”
He held open the coffee shop door and I stepped into the small, warm restaurant. Rustic café tables covered the hardwood floors and the smell of espresso filled the air.
“Good morning,” a friendly red head greeted us. “How can I help you today?”
I stepped up to the counter and studied the chalkboard menu on the back wall.
“I’ll have a praline latte with an extra shot of espresso and one of your sausage rolls, please,” I ordered.
“I’d like an Americano and a lox bagel,” Asher added.
The cashier nodded and hit a few keys on an outdated cash register. “Will that be for here or to go?”
“To go, please,” Asher replied, pulling a twenty from his pocket.
“Sixteen thirty-nine,” she announced. She took the bill from his hand and the register sprang open. Asher pulled Rachel’s picture from his wallet as she turned back with his change.
“My girlfriend and I are in town looking for my sister,” he explained. “I was wondering if you may have seen her?”
The cashier squinted at the photograph and then looked from me to Asher.
“Is she in some sort of trouble?” she asked, all perkiness now gone from her voice.
“No, nothing like that,” he quickly assured her. “In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Our family’s run into a bit of luck and I’m trying to get the news to her. My sister’s always been a bit of a free spirit. She likes to go off on these little solo trips without giving us any of the details. She left home a few weeks ago to backpack through the area as the season changes. We had a free day, so we decided to take a little road trip and try to find her.”
The girl studied Asher’s face for a moment, neither of them speaking. Her shoulders tensed and her eyes darted around the coffee shop.
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen her,” she insisted.
Oh, honey. Lying doesn’t suit you at all.
I expected Asher to push her for more information or offer her cash to talk. But instead, he smiled and returned the picture to his wallet.
“Well, thanks anyway. If you do happen to see her anytime soon, will you ask her to call home?”
“Of course,” she agreed, nodding her head a little too enthusiastically. She knew she’d been let off the hook and she was grateful for it.
“I’ll be right back with your order,” she added, turning for the small kitchen. She slid a ticket to the man near the espresso machine and he started brewing our drinks. Asher and I perched on a bench near the door and spoke in hushed whispers.
“She definitely knows something.”
Asher nodded. “Yes, but we can’t make her talk. You saw the way she was looking at me. Her entire demeanor changed when she saw the picture. She knew I wasn’t Rachel’s brother.”
“So what are we supposed to do now?” I whispered.
“We stick to the plan. We know she’s been here. We just don’t know when. But I think the more people who recognize her, the safer it’ll be to assume it was recently.”
He pulled his phone from the breast pocket of his wool overcoat and sent Kennedy a quick text message. Then, he called his assistant at EnvisionTech and fired off a list of names.
“I need contact info for everyone as soon as possible,” he instructed. “Preferably cell numbers and physical addresses. I know it’s your day off, but I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Your old friends?” I asked as he ended the call.
He nodded. “I probably should have made some calls before we left California. But this way, our visit will look spontaneous.”
“You’re not going to tell them what’s going on?”
“No. Rachel was much closer to these people than I was. Their loyalties will fall to her. We’ll just pretend that we’re in the area on vacation and wait for them to bring her up.”
“Order up,” the barista called out. He sat two cardboard mugs on the counter and set about cleaning his machine. The redhead returned from the kitchen with our food wrapped in butcher block paper.
“Here you go,” she sang. “Enjoy your stay in Montpelier.”
“Thank you,” Asher replied. He flashed her one last smile as we took our food and left the coffee shop.
“Has Kennedy replied?” I asked, stepping out onto the sidewalk. I unwrapped my sausage roll and devoured half of it with one bite. The soft dough melted in my mouth as I chewed the salty, smoky meat.
“Not yet. But they’re probably still at the diner. Do you want to find a place to sit down?”
I shook my head. “I can eat while we walk.”
To prove it, I shoved the rest of my sausage roll into my mouth and chased it with my coffee. Asher smiled and started on his bagel as we made our way down the sidewalk. Sadness sank his shoulders and an introspective glaze covered his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “I mean, besides the obvious.”
“Being here is completely surreal,” he confessed. “It’s so familiar and so strange at the same time. Rachel and I lived thirty miles away and she never once mentioned this camp. I have so many questions. I feel like I owe it to her to learn what her life here was like. But at the same time, I feel like we’re spinning our wheels. I know you all think that Rachel took the money and ran. But I just can’t believe she’d do that, even knowing everything we’ve learned since she disappeared.”
We slowed to a stop near the nail salon and I squeezed Asher’s hand.
“Earlier, you said you had a good feeling about this trip. And we’ve definitely found one person who recognizes Rachel,” I pointed out.
“I know. I’m trying to stay positive. But I can’t help but think that this is all just a wild goose chase. My money didn’t end up in Vermont, we know that much. And I’m afraid we’re getting distracted by what the Goins family has told us.”
I studied him for a moment, heartbroken by the helpless pain on his face. “You still think someone took her?”
He nodded and swallowed back his emotions. His eyes watered, but no tears touched his face.
“I know there are investigators working around the clock trying to figure out where she is. I can’t think of anything to do that isn’t already being done. I feel so damn helpless. And I’ve never in my life hoped so much to be wrong.”
I searched my mind for something poetic and inspiring to say to make Asher feel better, but nothing came to me. We were in an impossible situation with no right answers and any attempt to pretend otherwise would be insulting. Instead, I squeezed his hand again and gave him a sad smile.
“This sucks,” I agreed. “In the entire history of things that have sucked, this is the worst by a landslide. And it’s probably going to suck even more before it gets better. But we have each other. And we will get through it.”
***<
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“Dr. Winston, I’m Kennedy Montgomery. We spoke on the phone. Thank you so much for agreeing to speak with us today,” Kennedy greeted the doctor. Asher and I followed her into the small office and a kind, round, grey haired woman rose to her feet.
“Mrs. Montgomery, it’s nice to meet you. The moment David called, I knew we needed to speak. Of course, you understand that due to the health care privacy laws there will be some information I can’t divulge. But my staff and I are prepared to help with what we can.”
“Thank you, Dr. Winston. This is Asher Reynolds and Lauren Matthews. Mr. Reynolds is Cynthia’s employer and close personal friend. We’re all working in conjunction with the Goins family’s investigators. Everyone here has Cynthia’s best interests at heart.”
“Yes, David explained everything. I’m afraid there’s not room for us all to sit down. If you’ll follow me, we’ll move to one of the empty classrooms.”
“Of course,” Kennedy replied.
We followed Dr. Winston out of the office and down a wide hallway with linoleum floors and bright yellow walls. The main building of the camp looked like an elementary school, complete with buzzing florescent lights and a large electric bell hung over the office door. Bunk houses dotted the landscape around the school building and the presence of canoes and paddle boats out front told me that there was a lake or river nearby.
“How many campers do you house on average?” Kennedy asked.
“We’re a very small facility. We average one hundred campers at a time. Eighty percent are return visits and most parents book their child’s stays years in advance. We also hold special alumni events so campers can keep coming as adults.”
“Your methods must be very effective,” Asher observed.
Dr. Winston pushed open a classroom door and led us inside. Large tables arranged in a horseshoe took up most of the floor space; we arranged ourselves in the seats closest to the door.
“We’re hardly on the cutting edge of mental health,” she replied with a sad smile. “Don’t get me wrong. You won’t find a more qualified staff than mine. But this is a highly specialized youth camp, not a mental healthcare facility. The kids get to run, play, and act like kids. The parents get a two week break from worrying whether or not their teenager is going to light the house on fire while they sleep. Everyone gets a vacation.”