by Julia Dahl
“The whole thing is kind of weird. I never actually saw them together, but when I got back from break he was acting weird. And then he lost his phone. And then Whitney came over and had a little fit at him. She was like ‘Claudia’s a slut.’ Sorry, that was her. So when she left I was, like, did you hook up with Claudia Castro? Because, I mean, that’s a step up. He said no, but he was super cryptic. He was, like, something happened to her over break.”
“Something happened? What does that mean?”
Byrd paused. “I’m sorry, that was a bad way of putting it. I really don’t know. He was, like, she’s all alone except for me. Which didn’t make any sense. She’s, like, kind of a celebrity, right? Anyway, I just figured it was drama. There’s a lot of drama around here. But then, two different random guys came here looking for Trevor. One was older, in a suit. The other one said he was friends with Claudia.”
“What did the friend look like?”
“He was our age. Really cute. Mixed-race, with sort of an afro.”
Ben. She opened her phone, got on Instagram, and found a photo of Claudia’s ex in her sister’s feed. “Is this him?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Edie texted Ben immediately: Is Claudia with you?
Not even a minute later, Ben called back.
“Is she with you?” asked Edie.
“No,” said Ben. “I’ve been trying to find her. Can you come over? There’s something you need to see.”
EDIE
Edie hadn’t liked Ben Herman even before he started cheating on her little sister and calling it enlightened. Claudia had this idea that she’d won something when Ben asked her to be his girlfriend. He’s so talented, she’d say. And yes, Ben had been well-reviewed for supporting parts in a couple off-Broadway shows, and did a three-episode arc on an HBO drama, but it wasn’t like he’d just wandered into auditions and won everybody over: his father’s production company won two Oscars and was bought by Disney before Ben was even born. It was sad, of course, that his dad had died, but when Edie looked at Ben she saw a person who’d never really had to work for anything. A good-looking guy with family money and lots of connections. She’d grown up with those guys; she’d been infatuated with her share. She knew all about them. Which is why she’d married Nathan.
They’d met walking across the Mid-Hudson Bridge early the spring before. Edie was finishing her senior year and not looking forward to going home, or to the Vineyard, for the summer. Claudia had just called with news that their parents had a big fight and their mom hadn’t slept at the town house in almost a week. Edie went out for a walk and when she stopped to lean over the railing and look south toward the city, Nathan walked by.
“Gorgeous, right?” he said, smiling.
They hadn’t been apart more than two days since, and when they were together they were at each other. Once or twice they ran out of condoms. When she told Nathan that she was pregnant, he asked what she wanted to do.
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “What do you want to do?”
“I know it’s up to you, but if you want, I’m ready to just do this thing. Get married, start our lives. I can keep working for my family until I get something full-time.”
They talked about all the options. Nathan’s family owned a landscaping business and he made decent money planting gardens and mowing lawns and doing simple stone work. He’d gotten his degree in Environmental Science at Marist and was interviewing for jobs at some of the state parks in the area, hoping to eventually get into upper management. Edie was planning to apply to grad school and become a high school teacher, or maybe a guidance counselor. All through college she’d mentored girls in Poughkeepsie, helping them with their homework, taking them for ice cream, talking to them about contraception and consent. The irony. She could stay home with the baby for a year or two, then look for nearby or online programs that offered a master’s in Education. They had Edie’s trust fund money and they loved each other. What could go wrong? She was starting a new life! So, her patience for her sister’s Ben Herman drama—which had always been thin—plummeted. It wasn’t fair, she realized as she stood outside his brownstone. Claudia hadn’t deserved her scorn.
Edie knocked, but when the big wooden door opened it wasn’t Ben who appeared—it was Ridley Drake. Forty-whatever, dark suit, dark hair, brown eyes. Those eyes. She felt everything she’d felt that first night he’d put his hand on her leg at the club in Edgartown. His attention made her feel confident and beautiful. She’d been so stupid. She hadn’t expected Ridley would propose when she told him she was pregnant, but she also hadn’t expected that that would be the last conversation they’d have in person. Until now, five years later, when he was fucking her mom.
“Eden,” said Ridley, putting his hand on her arm. He rubbed it lightly then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Congratulations. You look great.”
He looked good, too. Like he always did. But something was different. He seemed edgy. That easy smile wasn’t so easy.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Ben appeared at the door.
“Don’t let this change anything we just talked about,” said Ridley.
“What?” asked Edie.
Ridley was already walking to the SUV idling at the curb.
“I was talking to Ben, honey,” he said, not even turning back. His driver stepped down from the front seat and opened the door.
“Have you seen Claudia?” she called.
Ridley didn’t answer. He hopped up and into the car and was gone.
“Do you want to come in?” Ben asked.
“What’s going on?” asked Edie, following him down the stone steps into the garden entry. They passed through the dark entry hall and into the living area. Edie had been here about two years before for Ben’s graduation party. That night, the cavernous space was strung with lights and stuffed with people. Claudia had pointed to the interior balcony and giggled. We had sex up there like two hours ago. Empty and unlit, the room now felt like a mausoleum.
“Why was Ridley here?” she asked. “Have you seen Claudia?”
Ben stared at her, his eyes glazed. Was he stoned? “What do you want me to answer first?”
Before she could say, Edie’s phone pinged. She pulled it from her pocket fast: Please be Claudia.
“Is that her?” asked Ben.
It was a text from Nathan: are you ok? she needs to eat. should I give her a bottle of what you pumped? Edie silenced the phone.
“No,” she said. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“Last weekend.”
“Why were you at her dorm?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re going to lie to me?” It was like talking to a child.
“I’m not lying, I’m just…” Ben gnashed his teeth and groaned. The sound was low, like a moan, and it surprised Edie. Ben was in pain. “I don’t know what to do. Last Sunday, the night after I saw Claudia, Chad Drake sent me a video. But he sent it to my old number and I didn’t see it until a couple days ago.”
“What’s the video?”
Ben hesitated.
“Let me see it.”
Ben handed over the phone, then turned away. Edie watched all fifty-eight seconds without breathing. Her sister’s face, the bodies, the laughter. She began to shiver. Her heart itched in her chest, flaring like a rash. Chad Drake and some other guy raped Claudia. And filmed it.
“Why didn’t you do something?” Edie said finally. Her voice was low and she spoke through her teeth, her tongue and lips weighted with what she’d seen.
“I did do something! I tried to find Claudia. I tried to find Chad.” Ben dropped onto the sofa behind him. “Why would he send me a sex tape of him and Claudia?”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Ben? Does she even look conscious to you?”
“What?”
“You think that’s a sex tape?”
“Stop yelling at me!”
Edie stopped. Ben was scared, too. Maybe he’d actually loved Claudia. She was never sure from the outside.
“Is that why Ridley was here?” she asked.
“I went to their building after I got this and the doormen wouldn’t let me up. Then, like an hour ago, Ridley showed up.”
“Does he know where she is?”
“He said he doesn’t.”
“What about the video? Does he know about that?”
“I think so. He didn’t say specifically, but he was, like, whatever happened between Claudia and Chad is their business. He was, like, as we both know, Claudia isn’t exactly a virgin. And then he was, like, getting involved in this would be a mistake, son.’”
“He threatened you?”
“I mean, he didn’t have a gun.”
Actually, thought Edie, he might have. The summer they spent in bed together, Ridley showed her a handgun he’d just purchased. He was representing a football player who’d gotten caught picking up an underage girl in the Bronx, and the girl’s pimp was bothering Ridley, asking for money to convince the girl not to testify. It’s not easy to get a gun permit in Manhattan, Ridley had told her. He insisted she hold it and she remembered it had seemed enormous and frightening in her hands. Like it might spontaneously blast her in the face. She also remembered, with a cold shower of shame, that she’d found it sexy.
“When you saw her did she say anything about a guy she was dating? From school? Trevor?”
“She was with him at my party, but he didn’t seem like her type.”
“What do you mean?”
“He seemed intimidated by her.”
Neither of them said anything for a few seconds. A horn blared outside. Another horn answered, louder and longer. Edie pulled out her phone.
“Who are you calling?” Ben asked.
“My mom.”
EDIE
Ben gave her his phone, and on the way home Edie tried to turn what she’d learned in the last three hours into a path that led to her sister. But there was way too much she didn’t know. When was the video made? And where? And what happened after it ended? Was Trevor involved? Who was Trevor? As the cab rolled past Union Square, Edie tried to ignore the growing anguish of her rapidly swelling breasts and started creating a story: Chad found out that Ridley was fucking their mom, and he decided it was his turn to bone a Castro girl. And Claudia, who’d felt bad for him since breaking his teenage heart, who saw Chad as pathetic when she should have realized he was dangerous, never saw it coming. Her sister was smart about so many things, but who could expect her to be smart about men yet? Edie remembered with a shudder that Claudia had texted her last fall after she’d drunkenly kissed Chad. Edie could have called—should have called. But she didn’t. Instead, she’d sent a series of emojis: grimace, lol, facepalm.
The pressure in her breasts was almost unbearable when she finally got back to Gramercy. She walked in, breathless and bent over, her shirt now soaked with milk. Nathan was in the kitchen, and he wasn’t happy.
“I just gave her a bottle,” he said. “It’s been almost four hours.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“Can you get me the pump? And call my parents?”
“Edie, you can’t just disappear.”
“I didn’t disappear! I was gone for a couple hours! You can’t take care of her for a couple hours?”
“Whoa,” said Nathan. “What’s going on?
“Just … please.” She looked around for the pump, gestured to her wet shirt. “Please. Can you help me with this?”
He did as she asked, and in ten minutes they were all gathered in the living room. Edie told her parents what she thought she knew and handed over Ben’s phone.
“You don’t have to watch the whole thing,” she said. “But you have to watch a little so you understand.”
After fifteen seconds, Gabe dropped the device. The sound continued. Chad’s laugh. His disgusting voice. Nathan picked up the phone and silenced it. None of them spoke. The only sound in the room was the emphatic squish squish of the pump strapped to Edie’s chest.
Edie’s mom tucked her legs beneath her on the sofa. Her eyes looked like they’d moved closer together. It was as if what she’d seen had rearranged her features and they were now less symmetrical. Like the video was a mule that kicked her. “What did Ridley say to you at Ben’s?”
“He barely said anything. I asked if he knew where she was and he ignored me. And Ben said that before I got there, he called Claudia a slut and told him not to get involved.”
“Involved in what, exactly?” asked her dad.
“I don’t know. But nobody’s seen her at the dorm. Ben can’t find her. And she’s been hanging out with a new guy nobody really knows.” Edie watched them take all this in. The next step was obvious, right? “I think we should call the police.”
Her mother stood up and walked to the dining room table where her phone was. “I think we should call Jim first. His firm has a partner who handles things like this. She can give us advice.”
“Why do we need advice?” asked Edie. “That happened to Claudia and now no one has seen her in a week. Something’s wrong.”
“And Jim will tell us what to do.” Michelle started texting and pacing. “You don’t want to get involved with the police, or Ridley, without a lawyer.”
“Is that who you’re texting? Ridley?”
“No, I’m not texting Ridley! What do you think I am?” Michelle’s voice cracked. Edie had never seen her mother cry, and as she watched her struggle to compose herself Edie wondered, who is the grown-up here? Who is going to take care of this?
“I don’t know if they can get here tonight, but probably first thing,” said Michelle after a moment. “Jim’s partner was in the Manhattan DA’s office for years. Ingrid, that’s her name. Her father was a state judge. She knows everybody.”
“Can Jim get into Claudia’s bank account?” asked Edie’s dad.
“Yes,” said her mom, a light coming into her eyes. “But so can we.”
Gabe left the room, heading for the office computer on the garden level. Michelle’s phone rang and she took it, hurrying upstairs. The pumps finished emptying Edie and she turned off the machine at her feet. Her hands shook as she unscrewed the half-full bottles. Careful not to spill. She set them on the coffee table, twisting a cap on each.
“I’m going to go talk to my dad,” she told Nathan. Edie wrapped her sweater around her chest and closed her dad’s office door behind her. She said it quickly: “The summer after high school I slept with Ridley and I got pregnant and he got me an abortion and I haven’t talked to him since.” And then: “Should I tell Mom?”
Her father sat silent at first, then he stood up and came over to her, wrapped his arms around her body, and let her cry.
“She probably thinks it’s her fault Chad did that to Claudia,” said Edie. “But I’m the one that brought them into our lives.”
Gabe kept hold of her. “You aren’t responsible for what Chad did. Neither is your mother. Let’s focus on finding Claudia, okay? We need your mother strong right now.” He lightened his embrace and looked at her, trying a smile. “Thank you for telling me. You didn’t do anything wrong. Do you understand that?”
She nodded, though she didn’t agree. Maybe sleeping with Ridley wasn’t wrong, but forgetting she had a sister the past two weeks was wrong. Chiding Claudia for being a party girl was wrong. She could have given her a break, but she hadn’t. Edie wiped her eyes and sat on the office sofa.
“Did you find anything?” she asked.
“I was just about to log in to her account,” said Gabe. He sat down and clicked at the computer.
“Oh my God,” he said, leaning toward the screen.
“What?”
“Claudia withdrew fifty thousand dollars in cash last week.”
Neither spoke for a moment.
“She could be anywhere,” whispered Edie.
Jim Morgan and Ingrid Wythe arrived just after eight a.m. Jim, in his sixties, in a light gray suit, neck and face golf-tanned; Ingrid, her mom’s age or a little older, tall and blond, toned by a trainer, dressed by a stylist. They all sat down in the living room and Jim explained that he had accessed Claudia’s credit card and found almost two thousand dollars in charges at Macy’s, another thousand at The Towers hotel in Times Square, and several hundred at a Bubba Gump restaurant.
“Bubba Gump in Times Square is literally the last place she would eat,” said Edie.
“I’ve got a call in to the hotel,” said Jim. “We need to know if Claudia was the one using the card. The charges stop after the cash withdrawal. I’ll call the bank as soon as we’re done here. Ingrid has some other suggestions.”
“Thanks Jim,” said Ingrid. She leaned forward. Ingrid and Jim were the only people in the room wearing shoes. Nathan and Gabe hadn’t left the house in days; even Michelle was disheveled. Her hair was clumped at the roots, shooting up at angles; her fluffy pink socks were gray with wear; she was getting a breakout of rosacea across her cheeks and upper lip.
“The hotel and the banks may have images of her on surveillance cameras,” said Ingrid, “though some places don’t keep the video more than a few days. We’ll see. We want to know if she came in with anyone, or if someone else was using the cards in her name.” She paused. “Jim told me about the video. I know this seems grotesque, but I’d like to see it.”
Nathan found a pair of headphones and inserted them into the phone, then handed it to Ingrid. Her parents averted their eyes. Ingrid watched with an unchanged expression of concentration, then took off the headphones and handed the phone back to Nathan.
“Do you have any idea when this was recorded?”
“No,” said Edie. “But the guy filming, the guy whose voice is loud, his name is Chad Drake.”
Ingrid raised an eyebrow. “Jim mentioned a connection to Ridley Drake. We’re sure this is his son?”
“Yes,” said Edie.
Ingrid turned to Michelle. “I have to ask: When was the last time you spoke with Ridley?”