The Missing

by Kiersten Modglin

  I smiled humbly and shook both of their hands, starting with the oldest one. “Please, sit,” I said, and once they had, I did the same, tucking my hands under my legs to smooth the pants as I went.

  I rested them on my lap when I was done.

  “Thank you both for meeting with me at my home. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it into the office today, and I’m also sorry I was late. I had a conference call that ran over. I hope this hasn’t given you a bad impression of me.”

  “No, ma’am,” Lester, the older one, said and I noticed a more-than-slight Southern drawl. “Thank you for meeting us, ’specially because we weren’t sure you would. We know your secretary said your prices start out at much more than we can afford, but it’s Tom’s wedding, you see.”

  “My fiancée's from New York,” Tom chimed in, as if that explained everything. “And she just loves your work.”

  “I was more than happy to meet with you. Like my assistant told you, my prices for weddings start at thirty-five thousand and go up from there. Now, keep in mind, I’m going to be able to get everything from catering to floral arrangements at a discount no one else in the industry can get you. Not to mention, my events aren’t just events. They’re pieces of your life. Pieces you don’t get to redo. Pieces you’ll have pictures and memories of for the rest of your life.” I smiled patronizingly. “You can’t put a price tag on that, now can you?”

  The old man looked at his son, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob.

  “But, as my assistant also told you,” I went on, “I like to do a few heavily discounted events throughout the year, just as a way of giving back. I’m required to do them off the books, which is another reason I’ve asked you to meet me here, rather than at the office. If people found out about this… Well, you know how it goes, you do someone a favor and twenty more show up looking for favors, too. Are you from here in Naples, Tom?”

  “We’re from Savannah,” he told me. “Drove overnight to get here.”

  I smiled again, reaching forward and patting his hand. “I’m so glad you did. Now, tell me, would the event be in Savannah—beautiful city, by the way. Or would you prefer to travel? What would the guest list look like? Tell me exactly what you’re looking for. Describe your dream wedding.”

  I leaned forward, reaching for the digital tablet on the coffee table and opening the folio to begin taking notes as they spoke.

  “Well, Alyssa wants…decently small. Just a few close friends and family, her sorority sisters and co-workers. And a few of my buddies. We’d probably do it in Savannah or outside the city somewhere close ’cause a few of our relatives are older and don’t travel well. We aren’t picky about most of it. She wants coral and gold colors, we don’t care if it’s inside or outside, and we haven’t set a date yet, so we’re flexible on that, too. As far as food, I thought we could just do a potluck and BYOB to save money there. We don’t want anything too fancy, you know? But…she’s got this Pinterest board, and she’s always talking to me about how much she loves your work. I thought, well, I thought maybe this could be my wedding gift to her. If I told her you were planning our wedding”—he looked at his dad, who was smiling fondly back at him—“she’d be over the moon.”

  “Is that why you haven’t brought Alyssa today? Is this meant to be a surprise for her?”

  He nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to get her hopes up if it wasn’t going to work out. Truth is, if I brought her here and we couldn’t afford to do it, she’d be devastated. I know it’s a long shot. I just couldn’t do it to her…”

  I watched him closely, his innocent blue eyes staring at me, pleading with me. I closed the folio after I’d written down the last of what he’d said and leaned forward. “She’s going to be so happy.”

  His expression lit up. “You mean you’ll do it?”

  “I can’t do it for free, but how does twenty thousand sound? I have a friend who owns some event space in Savannah. I can call in a favor and get that for free. And I know if you can get the guest list under one hundred people, I can get the catering—two food options and a cash bar—for under three thousand. We could plan it for December, so you’d have six months to save in case anything came in over budget, but I don’t think that’ll be the case. Flowers can be something simple. I think we could do it for just a few hundred for the bouquets, as long as she doesn’t want the venue decorated with them, but even then, I think we’d be looking at around a thousand if I can get a few favors there, which I’m positive I can. It’ll be tight, but if you can do the twenty thousand, I’m sure I can pull together an event that you two will remember for the rest of your lifetimes.” I paused, letting it sink in, then added, “Alyssa is going to get the wedding of her dreams, Tom. You’re going to give that to her. Your first gift as man and wife.”

  His face flushed red, and he looked at his dad. For just a moment, I was worried they’d say no. Then, at the last second, Lester patted his son on the shoulder, his lips pressed into a tight line and looked back at me. “We’ll do it.”

  “Oh, excellent. I’m so excited to plan this event for you.”

  Tom’s eyes clouded with tears. “Thank you, Dad. Thank you both.” He nodded toward me.

  My smile was genuine as I watched them, a moment of true appreciation and love for each other. “I’ll just have to cancel your honeymoon to Cabo,” the man said with a laugh, and Tom joined in, pulling his dad into an emotional hug.

  When they were done, both looking slightly sheepish for the emotional outburst, Lester cleared his throat. “So, when do we pay you?”

  I clasped my hands together in my lap. “Well, now, ideally. It’s the only way I can officially get your event on my books. As I’m sure you understand, I get hundreds of requests like this a year, and I’m only really able to do three or four, the ones I feel truly deserve it… But until you’ve paid, I can’t hold your spot, and I can’t start calling in any favors.”

  The man nodded, albeit hesitantly. “Do you prefer a check or card?”

  “Neither,” I said firmly. “It will have to be in cash. I’ll give you a receipt, of course, but I no longer accept checks and, because I’m not in the office, I’m not able to accept cards. Like I mentioned, this event will be off my books anyway, because I’ll end up losing money on the deal in all actuality. And I’m afraid I don’t deal with the online payment systems, PayPal and the like. I’m old school.”

  The men exchanged a worried glance, and I quickly added, “Of course, if you’d rather not… It’s not a problem for me. Don’t feel like you’ve wasted my time. But I do have another appointment this afternoon. Would you like an autograph for Alyssa anyway?”

  “No, no,” Lester said quickly. “I’ll just need to run by my bank. I don’t have that much cash on me.”

  “I can get some out, too,” Tom said, speaking to Lester.

  “Will that be okay? If we leave to do that, will you still be here when we come back?”

  I tapped the Apple Watch on my wrist and sighed. “I can be here for the next hour, but I have an appointment after that. How long do you think you’ll be?”

  “That’s all the time we need,” he said, standing up abruptly. “Our bank has a branch here in town. Let us just run over there, and we’ll be back.”

  “Thank you again, Ms. Sheridan.” Tom shook my hand, a genuine appreciation in his panic-filled eyes. It was likely more money than either of them had in their bank accounts. Likely more money than they’d ever spent on any one thing, but for his fiancée, he was willing to do it. To let his father fall further into debt. To mortgage his own future for a moment of happiness. It was why I did this. Why I’d built a career doing what I did.

  After the front door had closed, and I heard the truck’s loud engine pulling from the driveway, I stood, walking toward the kitchen.

  Belinda was there, cleaning up the last of the dishes from the hors d'oeuvres she’d prepared. When she heard me coming, she turned off the water and glanced over her shoulder. “Did they dec
ide to do it?”

  “I think so,” I said. “I never know once they leave. Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don’t.”

  “How much are you charging them?” she asked.

  “Twenty thousand,” I said. “Five to split between you and your sister.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “They didn’t look like they had that much.”

  A sly smile played on my lips. “I very much doubt that they do. Love makes people do crazy things.” Without another word, she turned the water back on and resumed her work. “I’m going to go up and get ready. Listen for the door.”

  A few minutes later, I was upstairs, packing my things into my suitcase. I unclipped my hair and ran my straightener through it. It was blonde now, but I was thinking I’d go dark next. Or maybe red. Extensions might be nice. I’d chopped it off months ago, and it didn’t seem to be in any hurry to grow back, resting comfortably just above my shoulders.

  I glanced at the clock. Nearly an hour had passed, and they hadn’t returned. Had it been a waste of time? Were they going to back out on me, after all?

  Once my hair was straight, I put the straightener in my bag too, loading up the toothbrush and toothpaste and looking around the room.

  What else?

  As I packed the last of my things up, I heard the familiar rumble that told me the truck was back. I couldn’t stop my brow from raising instinctively. Hm.

  Within a few moments, as I waited silently with bated breath, I heard the thump, thump, thump of a knock on the door.

  Then, I heard footsteps climbing the stairs, and finally, Belinda pushed the door open gently. There was a pink to her olive cheeks that hadn’t been there before. “They’re here, ma’am.”

  I smiled at her with an I told you so sort of grin, and sauntered past, my shoes clicking against the hardwood as I made my way down the staircase. They were there, in the foyer, Tom looking nervously at his dad, who was sweating profusely.

  “Gentlemen, you made it.” I clasped my hands together in front of my waist. “I was beginning to get worried.”

  “Sorry it took so long. The man at the bank had to do some sort of report for…a withdrawal of this size.”

  “Of course. I understand completely.” My eyes traveled to the overstuffed envelope of cash in Lester’s hands. “Were you able to get it, then?”

  “We were. Twenty thousand. It’s all in hundreds,” Lester said, holding the envelope out with trembling hands.

  I took it from him carefully. “You don’t mind if I count it?”

  “Of course,” Tom said quickly, and I turned away from them, walking back toward the thin table in the foyer and pulling out the two strapped bundles of cash. I thumbed through them quickly. Two hundred bills, all pristine and crisp, as if they’d come straight from the Federal Reserve. I inhaled the scent and slipped them back into the envelope.

  “Everything looks to be in order.”

  “Do we need to sign anything?” Tom asked, eyeing me.

  I straightened my shoulders. “Oh, certainly. I’ll email the contract over to you, but I’ll need both of your signatures, yours and Alyssa’s. We’ll probably need to meet once or twice in person, but most of the work can be done via video chat or phone. Once you get home and break the news to the bride, you can have her reach out to my assistant with any specific requests she may have—keep the budget in mind, of course—and as soon as you send the contract back to me, I’ll be able to get to work.”

  “She’s going to be so excited,” Tom said, his eyes glimmering with hope. Life hadn’t yet crushed it out of him.

  “You said there’d be a receipt?” Lester asked, calming his son’s excitement.

  “Of course,” I said, pressing my lips together and giving him a condescending look, as if the request were unnecessary, impractical. I walked back across the room and opened the drawer of the table, pulling out a small receipt book.

  I scribbled the amount on the first carbon copy. Twenty thousand.

  “Whose name do you want on here?”

  “His,” Lester said, jutting a thumb toward his son. “Tom. Thomas Clancy.”

  “Hm,” I said, jotting it down. “Like the author.”

  Lester smiled, his tanned skin wrinkling with suppressed delight. “My wife’s favorite.”

  I scribbled a signature on the receipt and wrote Tom and Alyssa’s Wedding at the top, underlined it twice, then tore the top copy off and walked across the room with it in my outstretched hand. “Here you go.”

  Tom looked down at it carefully, then looked back at me. “Thank you so much, Ms. Sheridan. I really can’t thank you enough.”

  “No thanks necessary. It’s my pleasure. I look forward to working with you.” I rested my hand on his bicep, noticing how muscled and firm it felt despite his relatively small stature. “My secretary has your email, correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s right.”

  “Excellent. I’ll have her send over a copy of the contract first thing tomorrow, then. Once you and Alyssa sign it, you can just send it back to me, and we’ll get to work. How does that sound?”

  “Great. Thank you. Thank you so much.” He pressed his hands together in front of him as if in prayer. His face pinkened as he took a step back, practically radiating with glee. Within seconds, they had both turned away from me and were on their way out the door with little more than a wave over their heads.

  I stood in silence, listening as the truck started up and the sound traveled farther down the street, taking my guests with it. I heard the sound of my suitcase being rolled carefully down the stairs, one step at a time, and when I turned around, Belinda had made it to the bottom step with my suitcase and purse.

  “Everything ready?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’ve got to grab the bag of trash when we head out, but the dishes and laundry are done and I’ve double-checked each room. Everything’s in order.”

  “Perfect,” I mused, opening the envelope and pulling out five thousand dollars. I handed the cash over to her. “Please thank your sister for me.”

  “Always a pleasure doing business with you,” she said, a sly smile on her lips as she counted the money then slipped it into her bra.

  With that, I tucked the remainder of the cash into my pocket, lifted my bags, and carried them toward the door, slipping outside and shutting it behind us. I opened my phone and clicked on the travel app, tapping the button for the garage to open and the button to check out.

  As it asked me to rate my stay, I tapped the envelope resting in my pocket and grinned, then clicked five stars.

  Would definitely stay again.

  With that, Ms. Sheridan of 52 Wimbledon Way disappeared.

  Just like all the others.

  Chapter Four

  In the beginning, it wasn’t supposed to be something I did regularly. It started in college, when a girlfriend mused about how easy it would be to fake an identity while traveling. Fake phone, preloaded debit card, fake ID, and voilà! You were a new person.

  Wanting to test the theory, we decided to try it out by renting a place in Miami, convincing a group of naïve and miserably plain girls to come back to our house with us. We convinced them that we were beauty moguls, who were starting a makeup and fashion empire.

  They’d melted into our hands when we offered to show them how to do their makeup and to give them designer dresses for just a hundred dollars each. There were five of them, so we made two hundred and fifty dollars each by applying some makeup to their pudgy faces and giving them dresses we’d picked up at a local thrift shop. They weren’t new, and some of them weren’t even a perfect fit, but we convinced them it was vintage and trendy, and they went on their way none the wiser.

  We left that night with money in our pockets, checked out, and heard nothing else about it. From there, the cons grew larger, the targets bigger, the profits as large as the one I’d made today, and sometimes even larger.

  When my friend got married, she told me she wanted out of the game.
She wasn’t interested in continuing the cons. Her husband made enough money, and she wanted to grow up. To be established. These days, the cons were rare, but I’d kept up the tradition. I was married now, too. My husband made plenty enough for us to survive and, if I wanted to, I could’ve gotten an unexciting job like the women I knew from our neighborhood or gone to six a.m. Pilates classes—perhaps I could work in a florist shop like Darla or at the local library like Kate, I could be a substitute teacher like Anna or a nanny like Paige—but the truth was, none of that was exciting enough for me. I needed more. I needed adrenaline rushes and huge payoffs.

  Over the years, I’d done everything from convincing lonely seniors that I was their only surviving granddaughter to telling board members I could make them a buttload of cash if they’d just invest in my startup. Nearly every time, they bought. Not only that, they bought hard.

  Men were easy. Wave a bit of blonde hair and a low-cut shirt in front of them, and most would pull out their pocketbooks before you’d finished talking. And, once they’d figured out that you’d lied to them, they almost never turned you in. Not when it was a couple thousand here or there compared to the millions in their accounts.

  No, they didn’t want to seem foolish in front of their friends.

  Or embarrass themselves in front of their wives.

  That was why Lester and Tom hadn’t asked more questions.

  Why none of them did.

  Because they couldn’t be outsmarted by a woman. What would that mean for their inflated man-brains?

  I pushed open the front door, stepping inside the house and dropping my bags at the sight of my husband.

  “You’re back!” he said, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement. I’d never grow tired of seeing that happiness on his face. I moved forward, wrapping him in a hug and inhaling his scent. “You look beautiful. How was Maui?”

  I rolled my eyes with delight and pulled back just a bit, keeping my arms wrapped around his neck, my hands cradling his skull. “Amazing. How was it here? I missed you.”