RACHEL’S DISAPPEARANCE.
The words slammed in Rath’s brain as he drove Moose Alley at a reckless speed.
Rachel’s disappearance.
RATH MET FELIX at his apartment, a tight one-bedroom tucked under the steep eaves of a Victorian attic, a living area just spacious enough to wedge a futon couch and stretch your legs without quite touching the opposite wall.
Rath did not sit and stretch his legs. He paced as Felix told him what he knew about the meetings and the strange girl Rachel had met at both meetings. The girl didn’t match Mandy’s description, but she’d been at two different locations. She’d been forceful and insistent, trying to convert Rachel.
A sound in the apartment came from the bathroom. A sharp squeak.
It festered in Rath’s ear.
“Why was this girl at two different meetings?” Rath asked as he trod back and forth.
“I don’t know,” Felix said.
Rath paced. The odd chirping sound came again from the bathroom, needling. “What’s that damned noise?” he said.
Felix looked at him, confused.
“Can’t you hear that?” Rath said. “That noise in the bathroom.”
“Oh, Ernie and Bert. Canaries. We have two canaries.”
“I can’t think in here.” Rath clunked down the steep staircase.
Outside, he paced on the icy sidewalk. The snow was falling harder, in ghostly motes.
“Tell me more,” Rath said, “about this girl.”
“She doesn’t fit the girl you thought. She was older, mid-twenties. Lived somewhere closer your way than the second meeting place.”
“Where was that?”
“Danvers. Some old church rectory. I was supposed to go, but Rachel insisted I study. I couldn’t stop her, she’s—”
“I know.”
“She left a message on my cell after the meeting sort of in hysterics, about how this girl was evil. And how she, Rachel, needed to be alone. Needed a break.”
“Did you check to see if her car was parked near the rectory?”
“I don’t have a car, and I just found out she wasn’t at home when I called you.”
Rath wasn’t thinking clearly, his mind a walled maze that led to the center of one chronic thought: Rachel’s missing.
“Fuck.” Rath ran to his Scout and jumped in, fired her up. “Get in,” he barked. As he pulled onto the street, he snapped his fingers at Felix. “Tell me more.”
“I don’t know more,” Felix said. “I should have never talked her into doing it.”
“You talked her into it?”
“She wanted to. She just needed a nudge. Because of what happened last month. I told her that was exactly why she should do it.”
“What happened last month?” Rath wanted to throttle Felix.
“The pregnancy.”
“Pregnancy?”
“That’s why Rachel was so busy not returning your calls.” Felix’s voice was shaky. “You got my daughter—”
“Not Rachel. Penny. Her roomie.”
“You got another girl—”
“No. Penny got pregnant on a one-night stand. And she went bat shit, screaming how her life was over. Rachel thought Penny was going to hurt herself, so she finally dragged Penny to Family Matters. Just to get, you know, perspective. While we were at the place, these protestors kept calling Penny and Rachel sluts and murderers who were going to burn in hell. It was a shit show. We went a few times, but Penny miscarried, so—”
“You went, too?”
“Rachel needed me.”
Rath shook his head, just when he wanted to kill the kid. “This girl Rachel thought might be our girl. Did she have any tattoos? Piercings? Scars or birthmarks? Anything that sets her apart?” Rath said.
“Purple hair.”
“OK, good. Anything else? The way she talked?”
“Nothing.”
“Did she dress weird? Slutty or like a Quaker? I don’t know. Anything.”
Felix rubbed his face. “There was one thing.”
“Tell me.” Rath squeezed the steering wheel.
“She wore the same shirt, just two days later. I mean, I’ve done that. Who hasn’t?”
“What kind of shirt?”
“A New England Patriots jersey.”
Rath stared ahead in astonishment. It hit him like a sledgehammer in the chest. The baby seat. Gale, Mandy’s roommate, had said she worked for a day care. She had claimed she was a virgin. She’d ripped him for thinking she was easy, for judging her. When she’d talked about Mandy’s books, she’d said it wasn’t like they were the copies of the Bible. The plaque on the wall, for Race for Life and the trophy for Hero for Life. Not for cancer. But for saving lives of the unborn. Pro Life races and rallies. Gale had told Rath it was Mandy’s note on the refrigerator. Mandy’s handwriting. And he’d taken her word for it. Mandy hadn’t written the notes. Gale had. It all fit.
A truck horn blared behind, and a logging truck whooshed past him. Rath slowed to dial Grout. The call didn’t connect. No bars.
He hit the gas, the Scout chugging up to 67 mph when it started to shake. He kept it pegged at 67 mph and dropped the cell in Felix’s lap. “Check for bars and hit redial as soon as you see even one; when it rings, give me the phone.”
They didn’t get service until an hour later, five miles outside of Canaan.
Felix hit redial, and Rath held his palm out for the phone.
Voice mail. Damn it. “Grout. Call me. Now. Rachel’s missing.”