Angela locked the bathroom door behind her. When she was done, she ran cold water in the sink and splashed some onto her face. Mary Beth’s words played in her head, a fascinating loop. Erica posted that photo on the tenth anniversary of their divorce. She regretted not fighting harder to hang on to Michael.
Angela knew she’d benefited from the decisions made between Michael and his ex-wife. If things hadn’t gone the way they had between them, then what would her life be like?
Angela took deep breaths. And Jake Little only wanted to be part of a little girl’s life, a little girl who might very well be his in every sense. Emotional. Biological. So much so, he experienced intense emotion when he thought he couldn’t see her anymore.
“Okay,” she said. “This is going to be okay.”
But Angela didn’t know where Michael was right then. All she knew for certain was that he was with Erica.
And not her.
She turned the water off and grunted in frustration. She looked around for a clean towel but didn’t see one. She’d thought girls might be neater than boys, but the bathroom was a wreck. Mold in the tub, hair in the sink. The towel she picked up, white at one time, smelled like a locker room.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door.
“Jake?” she asked. “Give me a minute.”
“Who’s in there?” a woman’s voice asked.
Angela patted her face dry and hung the towel back on the rack, promising herself she’d take a good, hot shower once she returned home. She undid the lock and pulled the door open, coming face-to-face with another female college student, no doubt the aforementioned Katie.
Katie was taller than Angela, her long brown hair a tangled mess from sleep. She opened her eyes wide when she saw Angela standing there, and then her face shifted and became indignant. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Are you Katie?”
“What? Who are you? I asked first.”
Angela saw all she needed to see. Like every member of her generation, Katie couldn’t even go to the bathroom in the middle of the night without bringing her phone. Angela stepped back and motioned to the girl. “I’m a friend of Mary Beth’s. Come in here.”
Katie looked around, and, for a moment, Angela feared she’d call for her roommate. But then Katie rolled her eyes and stepped into the bathroom, allowing Angela to close the door behind her.
“Are you a professor or something?” Katie asked. “Were you at that party she went to? The one at the history professor’s house?”
“Can I use your phone?” Angela asked. “I need to call my husband.”
Katie shrugged, but her face remained suspicious. “I guess so.” She handed it over after entering the passcode.
Angela dialed Michael’s number from memory and listened to it start to ring. “Thanks.” It rang and rang and then went to voice mail. “Shit,” she said.
What should she do next? Call Gail and have her keep trying Michael?
“Who are you really?” Katie asked. “I swear, Mary Beth always brings somebody random home with her.”
“Do you know the woman Mary Beth babysits for? Erica? I’m . . . well, not exactly friends with her, but . . . I kind of know her.”
“Did they find that girl yet?” Katie asked.
“No. She’s still missing.”
“The cops wanted to talk to me too. I babysat for her once when MB was sick.”
“What did you tell them?” Angela asked.
“Nothing. I was at work, and they said they’d come back later. The mom, Erica, she was kind of intense. Cute kid, though. That’s what’s so sad. She reminds me of my boyfriend’s little sister. She’s twelve.”
“I agree,” Angela said. “It is sad.”
“Can I have my phone back?” Katie asked.
“Yeah. Well, wait. Let me try my husband again.”
She dialed, waiting through the rings and rings. Voice mail again.
She ended the call.
“You said you’re friends with Erica?” Katie asked.
“Kind of. No.”
“Oh.” Katie pursed her lips, thinking. She had flawless skin and bright brown eyes despite having just rolled out of bed. Angela envied her for that. “I thought maybe you knew her friend who came by the house.”
“Whose friend? Mary Beth’s?”
“No. Erica’s. The day before Felicity disappeared, I guess, this guy shows up here at the house, knocking on the door. Kind of hard. When I answered, he said she was looking for Mary Beth, and I said MB wasn’t home. Then he asked me if I knew where Erica was. I guess he was supposed to meet Erica somewhere, but she didn’t show up. This guy seemed kind of unhappy.” Katie shrugged. “I said I didn’t know where any of them were.”
“And that’s it?” Angela asked. “Who was he?”
“He didn’t say his name.” Katie chewed on her thumbnail for a second. “MB came home just as he was leaving. And there was a woman in the car with him.” Katie moved over to the top of the stairs. “Hey, MB, what was that guy’s name? The one who came by the house the other day?”
They waited but received no response.
“Where did she go?” Katie asked, and started down the stairs with Angela following.
They found the kitchen empty and then went out the back door onto the small stoop. They stepped out just as Jake Little drove off down the alley.
“Hey,” Angela said. “Shit.”
But Mary Beth was there, walking back toward the house, stepping gingerly with her bare feet.
“Where did he go?” Angela asked.
“He took off,” Mary Beth said. “He said he had somewhere to go.” She held something out to Angela. “He gave me your phone. He said he was holding it.”
“Thanks,” Angela said. “I guess I’m taking Uber back to Cottonsville.”
“Hey, MB,” Katie said, “who was the dude who came to the house that day? The one who seemed kind of gay and was looking for Erica?”
Mary Beth’s face scrunched. “That’s so weird. I just told Jake about that.”
“What did you tell him?” Angela asked.
The morning lightened around them as the sun rose. A chorus of birds chirped from the trees. A beautiful day except for everything else going on.
“I told him about the music teacher and the woman he was with,” Mary Beth said.
“They came here looking for Erica. Or Felicity. Or both. I’m not sure.”
“Who were they? What were their names?” Angela asked. Despite the warming morning, she felt a chill on her back. Her lips felt cracked and dry.
“I don’t know who the woman was,” Mary Beth said. “She sat in the car the whole time. But the guy is Felicity’s music teacher.” She looked around. At her feet. At the trees. At the sky. “Wayne. That’s his name. Wayne . . . Oliver?”
“Tolliver?”
“That’s it,” Mary Beth said. “When I told Jake, he got into the car and took off.”