Williamsburg had transformed under the fierce grip of a winter blizzard. The snow, relentless in its assault, whirled around Vanessa as she braved the slippery sidewalks. Her breath formed clouds of mist in the freezing air, dissipating quickly but persistently replaced by the next frosty exhalation.
Vanessa’s hands, despite her gloves, felt numb, clutching a now soggy photograph of her mother. She had ventured out into the storm, driven by desperation. She couldn’t just sit at home and do nothing. The knowledge that Ru and the team were conducting their search did little to quell the storm of anxiety raging within her. She had seen the police cars – their lights a blur through the thick curtain of snow – and knew a recent photo of her mother was circulating in the media. But she needed to do something, too.
As she moved, Vanessa approached strangers, her voice barely audible over the howling wind as that frantic buzzing in her head grew to fever pitch. ‘Have you seen this woman?’ she asked, thrusting the dampened photograph towards them. But people only gave it a cursory glance then hurried by, heads bowed, their minds singularly focused on seeking shelter from the storm. The few who did stop squinted at the photo, shaking their heads apologetically before disappearing into the whiteout.
Frustration mounted with every unsuccessful attempt.
She’d have to head back soon. The roads would be impassable, even in her monster of a truck. She passed a man with dreadlocks who was sheltering under the awning of a closed coffee shop, seemingly at ease despite the chaos around him. Vanessa wrapped her coat tight around herself and walked over, holding the photo up at him.
‘Have you seen this woman?’
The man took the photo from her, studying it closely under the streetlight above. ‘Yeah, sure, I’ve seen her. That’s Audrey Vee, right?’
Vanessa frowned.
Audrey, her grandmother’s name. Vee … for Vanessa and Vincent?
‘You related to her?’ the man said. ‘You look like her.’
Vanessa’s heart ricocheted against her chest. ‘When’s the last time you saw her?’
‘Actually, come to think of it, not for a couple of days. I usually spot her every day; she goes for a long walk most mornings right past my window, even in the snow.’
Panic clawed at Vanessa’s insides. ‘Where does she live?’
He pointed down the road, towards a block of apartments. ‘Second floor.’
Without another word, Vanessa turned and ran, her feet slipping on the snow-covered pavement. When she got to the apartment block, she noticed graffiti on the wall outside depicting two laughing children and inside, through the glass doors of the entrance, one of her mother’s sculptures, an intricate blend of metal and glass. Just as she reached the door, a young woman stepped out. Vanessa quickly moved to stop the door from closing, but the woman blocked her way. ‘Not happening,’ she said, voice firm. ‘I don’t recognise you.’
Vanessa didn’t have time to be polite. She shoved the petite woman out of the way and raced up the stairs to the second floor. When she got there, she was horrified to see paramedics outside one of the apartments. Even more shocking, Dariel was there, too.
Vanessa regarded him with a frown. ‘What are you doing here? I – I thought you were in Cortland.’
‘Your mother’s inside,’ he said, without answering her question. ‘She’s not in a good way, Vanessa.’