part0009

Blake slowed the rented Nissan Sentra to a crawl. There was a small parking lot on the right, but it was nearly empty and much smaller than he expected. Enclosed by a white picket fence, the whole lot looked like someone had plucked it from a farm stand and dropped in the middle of the city.

He checked his rearview mirror. No cars behind him. In fact, the multilane US-44 appeared devoid of traffic all together. Before turning into the lot, he paused to read the message that swung from the arm of a folksy wooden signpost.

Pulling in, he chose a spot opposite the other two cars that occupied the lot.

Blake stepped out. He took a moment to stretch his legs and survey his surroundings.

Based on what he could see from his unremarkable vantage point, he suspected there was quite a bit of history to behold. A stately looking building rising from the far bank of the river. An impressive five-story mural of a Native American woman painted on the side of an old brick building.

But it was the people who stood out the most. Or, rather, the fact that he didn’t see any. Having never been to Providence, he envisioned it being busier. Even on a Sunday.

It was decided. He liked it. Despite the pothole riddled roads and clusters of loose trash that had taken up residence in every corner and recess, the place had a gritty charm.

Blake walked around the adjacent building in search of the main entrance. Along the north side, he found a tinted glass vestibule. There were no markings or any other indication that the building housed the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Nor did it appear to be open.

He considered calling Harrison but, before he could give it another thought, one of the dark glass doors rattled and then sprung open. Harrison took a step out and leaned back against the door to hold it open.

“Come on in,” he said.

Blake hurried over to greet his old acquaintance with a spirited handshake.

“Wasn’t sure I had the right place,” Blake said.

“Yeah, we like to keep a low profile. Follow me.” Harrison led the way through the empty lobby and toward the elevators. “Was your trip okay?”

“Fine,” Blake said. “That’s a nice little airport, T.F. Green. Twenty minutes after landing, I had my rental and was on the road.”

Harrison laughed. “Yeah, try doing that in D.C.”

“It’s good seeing you.” Blake said. “How have you been?”

“Great. The promotion’s keeping me busy. But it’s been pretty smooth. We’ve got a good team here.”

“How did you end up in Providence? Did you request it, or was it a ‘you take what we give you’ kind of thing?”

“I actually put in for Boston so I could see my kids. For reasons I won’t get into, Boston was out of the question. Providence was the next best thing. It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it’s been working out great. Takes me about an hour to run up there. I pick them up every other weekend and I can catch my son’s games or my daughter’s dance recitals. Plus, I really needed a clean slate after, ya know, everything.”

Blake did know. More than he was willing to discuss.

The elevator arrived, and the two stepped in. Harrison pressed the button for the fourth floor.

“How about you?” Harrison asked. “Keeping busy?”

“Not really. Mostly enjoying retirement,” Blake lied.

The elevator lurched to a stop. Blake stepped out and looked around. Typical to a government agency, the rows of messy cubicles, cheap commercial carpeting, and outdated decor brought a sense of nostalgia.

“We’ll be in the conference room.” Harrison motioned to a corner room partitioned off from the rest of the space by two walls made of floor-to-ceiling windows, covered with an opaque, mint green film.

“Why don’t you fill me in on the details before they get here?” Blake suggested.

“She’s already here,” Harrison said. “She’s waiting for us inside.”

“Oh. What are we waiting for then?”

Blake moved toward the conference room and reached for the chrome handle.

“Wait!” Harrison rushed past Blake and put his hand on the door. “Before you go in, I want you to take a breath.”

“Take a breath? What for? I thought we’re supposed to be meeting your friend about her missing kid.”

“We are. I just want you to prepare yourself. I’ll explain afterward.”

Blake couldn’t begin to decode what Harrison was getting at. But it was clear there was more to his visit than he had been led to believe.

“Open the door, Harrison.” The pitch of Blake’s voice dropped as drastically as his patience.

Harrison stepped back.

Blake pulled at the door and froze. His stomach sank and tears welled in his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, she was there. Alive and well.

Blake caught his breath.

In the many years that had passed since he last saw Christa Kohler, he had forgotten how much she looked like her sister. The dizzying effect of the initial shock had worn off, but he still could not take his eyes off her.

“Hi Blake,” she said. “I hope you’re not upset.”

“I’ll be in my office if you need anything,” Harrison said.

Blake waved him off without looking back. “Upset? Why would I be upset? It’s great to see you.” He moved around the table. Christa stood, and the two shared a brief hug.

“I thought…,” she hesitated. “...because of the way we left it….”

During the time he and Anja lived together, and Christa lived in Virginia, the three of them would get together often. So much so that he considered Christa a good friend of his own. That is, until he and Anja split.

A few hours after Blake had watched Anja leave in that taxi, there was a knock at the door. It was Christa. And she was angry. She cursed him out, called him selfish, spit on him, and told him never to contact any of Anja’s friends or family ever again. Blake did as she asked, out of respect. But he never held a grudge. She was understandably angry at the time and only trying to stick up for her baby sister. In fact, he remembered thinking it rather noble.

“Why didn’t you just call me directly?” Blake asked.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want to help if you knew it was me. I asked Andy not to tell you until I could talk to you, face to face. Until I could apologize.”

“I absolutely would have come if I knew it was you that needed help. Even more so. And really, you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“But I do,” Christa said. “Anja called me after you reconnected. She was so happy. Giddy, like when we were kids. I know she wasn’t supposed to say, but she told me what you used to do. And the real reason you pushed her away. I was wrong about you and I was wrong to act that way. It wasn’t my finest moment. I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

Blake sensed that this had been weighing on her. Her need to apologize wasn’t for his sake, but for her own. If it was peace she was after, he was happy to give it to her.

“I appreciate that and I accept your apology. And I’m glad I’m here, however it happened. I only hope I can be useful.”

Christa exhaled. The small lines at the edges of her eyes softened until they were barely visible.

“Harrison tells me your daughter ran away. Why don’t you fill me in on exactly what happened? To be honest, I didn’t even know you had a daughter.”

Blake felt a twinge of shame in the realization that in the few days he had spent with Anja before her death, he had never asked about Christa. What she was up to. How she was. But it was a chaotic time, and there were many things they never got the chance to talk about.

“Yes. Her name is Lucy,” Christa said. “My wife Gwyn and I adopted her about seven years ago.”

Blake was surprised to hear that Christa was married. Although, less surprised to learn that she had married a woman. For as long as he had known her, she had never had a boyfriend. He had even tried to set her up with a couple of his friends, but she didn’t have interest in either of them. He was happy to see she had figured herself out. That was more than anyone could say about him.

“Lucy came from a really bad home environment,” Christa continued, “but she was a sweet girl and never gave us any problems. Until, about two years ago when we left Virginia and moved to Rhode Island. That’s when things started to change.”

“She started disobeying our rules. Acting out. Normal teenage stuff, I guess. But then we found out she was involved with an older boy. A local kid named Owen, who everyone says is trouble.”

“And you think she ran off with him?”

“It’s the only explanation. Two days ago, she went missing. I went to the Jamestown Police and filed a missing person report, but I don’t think they’ll be much help. There’re only a few cops there and the Police Chief is a drunken idiot, judging by what everyone says. I actually tracked down the kid’s grandmother myself and she said that Owen hadn’t been home in two days either.”

“She didn’t know where he was?”

“No. And she didn’t seem worried about it. She said that sometimes he doesn’t come home for a week at a time.” Christa paused. The deep lines returned to her temples. “I’m worried about her, Blake.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find her if she doesn’t show up first. You have her phone?”

“It’s at my house. I thought we’d head there from here.”

“That’s fine. How far is it?”

“Forty minutes,” Christa said.

“Okay, I’ll let Harrison know I’m going to take a ride. And I need to find out from him where I’m supposed to be staying.”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d want to stay with us. I’ve made up the guest room for you.”

“The room he arranged,” Blake said. “It was with you.”

Christa smiled and nodded.

Blake laughed to himself. Seeing Christa, talking with her. It was the next best thing to seeing Anja again. The question wasn’t whether he wanted to stay, but whether he’d ever want to leave.