One Week After the Flight
I booked the 6:30 a.m. flight, threw everything into a hippie-inspired duffel bag I had gotten at a market in Ecuador, and left for the airport four hours early because I simply couldn’t stand the wait anymore. Sleep wasn’t even a thought.
Dave’s wife, Lisa, had offered to watch both Evita and Fred, so I rescued Fred from his side of the townhouse and brought him, and his favorite sleeping pillow, to my side so at least they could be together. It gave me hope that perhaps Stephanie and I would be reunited soon, sitting on the couch drinking champagne and singing our hearts out to My Fair Lady.
At the airport, I paced the gate and stalked the one coffee shop until it opened at five. It dawned on me suddenly that I hadn’t eaten in a full twenty-four hours. The only thing I felt I could stomach was a muffin. I added some coffee, but wound up dumping both after two sips and three bites.
Just as we were about to board, I heard a woman’s voice call my name and I turned around.
Lucy, Steph’s coworker, was walking quickly toward me.
“Robert, I decided to go with you. I bought my ticket at three a.m.”
“Lucy! Wow, thank you.” A rush of relief and affection for this near stranger came over me. She obviously felt as strongly as I did about finding Stephanie and figuring out what was happening.
“I have some new information from Stephanie’s sister. Here, come sit.” She motioned to chairs in the boarding area. “Dave texted me that he spoke to Steph’s sister, Renee, who spoke to her son, Evan. Evan was able to do ‘Find My iPhone.’ Robert—I don’t know if this is good or bad news, but it pinged at the address you told us about: 4240 Horizon Lane.”
“Oh dear God,” I said, clutching my heart.
“That will be our first stop when we land,” said Lucy. “Let’s see if we can sit together on the plane. I want to go over the entire timeline and put it on a spreadsheet. My brain works like that. Nothing else new from you?”
“Nothing,” I said. “No response to the approximately ten thousand texts I have sent her. That’s what scares me. Why is she not responding if she’s in his house? And police didn’t find anything. Unless. Unless he has her locked up elsewhere.” My whole body shuddered at the thought.
“If she’s anywhere at or near that house, we’ll find her and we’ll set her free,” Lucy reassured me. I marveled at her confidence. “Let’s just get our boots on the ground and see.”
On the plane, we managed to convince an urban-hipster type to switch seats so that Lucy and I could sit together, and as soon as we reached cruising altitude, she popped open her laptop on the tray table.
Lucy wanted to make a list of every day since Steph had left and the corresponding information we had gathered. She began typing and reading aloud.
—Thursday: Stephanie posted a picture on Facebook from the News Coverage Summit.
—Friday: Robert texted her a picture of Fred sitting on the chair licking his paw. That was when she said she met a guy and would be going to Atlanta with him.
—Saturday: She texted Robert to say that they were at the airport.
—Sunday: She reported that he wanted to stay in all day so they could get to know each other.
—Monday: Bruce texted her about work, and she wrote back asking him to cancel all meetings and then became snarky with him. She sent him a voice memo too.
—Monday: She texted Robert pictures and the voice memo, starting with Trent’s condo, then the lattes, Centennial Park, his station, and the Hot-lanta mug.
—Monday: She asked Lucy to change the meeting with “Mark R.” and then got a bit nasty about it.
—Monday night: For the first time, she expressed fear about Trent in a text to Robert.
—Tuesday: She was texting about a brother she didn’t have and just a short time later told Robert Trent was going to kill her. Then silence, the 9-1-1 call Robert had made, which, according to the police, had yielded absolutely nothing.
—Wednesday: Her phone pinged at Trent’s house.
It was all just mind-bogglingly strange and horrifyingly scary. But as we sat there staring at it, a new thought came into my mind.
That night at my place when Steph told me that she would be willing to endure a disease, a few nights in the woods, or a friendly kidnapper to get her son back in her corner. This wasn’t some giant cat and mouse game, was it? Was Trent the friendly kidnapper? Could she possibly have staged this to make Evan worry for a while and then return triumphantly?
Glancing over at Lucy, I wondered if I should tell her, but this tidbit felt too personal for a coworker. Lucy was so young and she was on Steph’s staff. She would be shocked to hear it. Yet as I turned my head to look out the window at the clouds, I wondered if I wasn’t being played for a fool here.