Still Missing (22 page)

This one morning Gary came to visit me the first time I was in the hospital still stands out in my mind, Doc. He'd been out "in the field," whatever that means, and he was wearing jeans and a black Windbreaker with the RCMP logo on it. He even had a baseball cap on. I asked him if all his suits were at the dry cleaner's, but the truth is, I thought he looked tough. As much as I tease him about his fancy clothes, that guy has a serious don't-fuck-with-me vibe.

I stayed over again at Mom's last night, but after listening to her and Wayne fight all night--she's been drinking like a fish since my latest stay in the hospital--I had another nightmare about the white van, only this time the nightmare ended on a good note: a man was shielding me in his arms. When I woke up I realized the arms were Gary's. I felt guilty as hell. I mean, here's poor Luke who's tried so hard and been so patient, and I'm having dreams about the cop who put him through hell.

Sometimes I wish Gary could go everywhere with me, like a bodyguard. Then I mentally kick my ass, because I know that no one can make me feel safe all the time. It's funny, because I always thought I felt safe with Luke, but it was a different kind of safe--a calm,
simple
safe. Nothing about Gary feels simple.

After I got back to my house this morning, I did a perimeter patrol with Emma, jumping at every shadow, then checked the alarm a gazillion times. To distract myself I had another look at that brochure for the art school I told you about. It's in the Rocky Mountains and so beautiful--like how I always imagined Harvard would look. I even downloaded some forms from their Web site. God knows why. Only damn thing I have left that I give a shit about is my house, and I may be crazy freaked out, but I'd have to be certifiable to sell it so I could pursue some adolescent dream. What if I tried, and I never got anywhere as an artist? Then what?

On that note, we better call this session quits, Doc. I still have to go down to the station on my way home to look through more photos. Least it's a good excuse to call Gary tonight.

Sorry about calling you on such short notice for this session, Doc, but so much shit happened in the last couple of days, I couldn't wait for our regular appointment to roll around.

After I left here last time I drove straight to the cop shop in Clayton Falls and spent an hour looking through photos. I was just about to quit because my back was killing me, and all the freaks were beginning to look the same, only one guy looked familiar but I remembered seeing his picture in the paper recently. Then I thought of Gary out there showing the sketch around and made myself keep going. I almost flipped past a picture of a guy with a shaved head and a full beard, but something about his guileless blue eyes, a contradiction to the rest of his face, made me look closer.

It was him.

My body broke out in a cold sweat and my vision blurred. To stop myself from passing out, I tore my gaze away and laid my forehead down on the table. Focusing in on my frantic heartbeat, I took a few deep breaths and chanted in step with the thuds,
He's dead...He's dead...He's dead.
When my vision cleared up and my heartbeat had slowed, I faced his image.

I motioned for one of the cops to come over, and when I told him what I'd found, he called Gary on his cell. None of the photos had names, and the cops wouldn't answer any of my questions, so I insisted on speaking to Gary.

"I don't understand why nobody will tell me who he is--he has a
record
. I've spent hours looking through these
fucking
photos, the least you can do is give me his name."

"It's great you've identified a picture, Annie, but first we have to verify the information. I don't want you getting all worked up over this and finding out it's the wrong guy--"

"It's him. I spent a
whole year
with him."

"I don't doubt you for a second, and I'll call you as soon as I have the full story on him. Meanwhile, just go home and try to get some rest, all right? And I need you to make me a list of anyone you think might want to harm you."

"There isn't
anyone
, I already did one for my shrink, listed every damn person I know. The Freak must have had a friend who--"

"And that's what I'm working on finding out. Now go home, send me the list you made, and we'll talk soon."

The next day I paced around my house waiting for Gary to call, which he didn't, nor did he answer his cell. I killed a couple of hours cleaning, then, curious about the guy whose picture at the cop shop had looked familiar, I went through all my recycled newspapers, page by page. In the very last one I spotted a headline about the "recently released felon wanted in connection with a convenience store robbery" and took a closer look at the article. As soon as I read the name I knew who he was. Mom's stepbrother. The date told me he'd been released a few weeks ago and I wondered if Mom knew, or if I should tell her. All afternoon I weighed the pros and cons of being the one to fill her in. By five I was like a squirrel on speed, so when my mom called and invited me over for pasta, I said yes.

Dinner wasn't so bad, but when we finished eating and I was still debating whether to tell her the news about her stepbrother, Mom started talking about a little girl who just went missing in Calgary. I told her I didn't want to hear it. She sailed on without skipping a beat about how the mother was pleading on TV for the daughter's return, but Mom didn't think she was handling the press right.

"She's rude to them--if she wants help getting her daughter back she better lose the attitude."

"Reporters can be pretty rough, Mom, you know that."

"The press is the least of her problems right now--the police are questioning the father, apparently he had a girlfriend on the side. A
pregnant
girlfriend."

"
Mom
, can we please drop it?"

She opened her mouth but before she could get going again, I blurted out, "I saw Dwight's photo in the paper."

She closed her mouth with a snap and stared at me.

"Your stepbrother? He's been released, Mom, but he's wanted for questioning in a robbery of a--"

"Did you want anything more to eat?" We held eyes for a moment.

"Sorry if I upset you, I just thought--"

"There's more sauce?" Her face revealed no emotion, but her hand twisting the napkin told me to back off.

"No, I'm done. My stomach's all messed up because I finally identified a photo at the cop shop today. Gary wouldn't give me his name yet, but he's looking into the guy's history--he said he'd have more information for me soon."

Mom paused for a second, nodded, then said, "Good. Maybe now you can put this behind you, Annie Bear." She patted my hand. Wayne got up and headed outside for a smoke.

After he left I said, "Well, not quite yet. Gary thinks the guy could've had a partner, that's who may have tried to grab me the other day."

Mom frowned. "Why on earth would Gary try to scare you like that?"

"He's not
trying
to scare me, it's because of this one photo The Freak had of me. I just figured he'd taken it from my office or something, but Gary's questioning why he'd want that one, you know? He even got me to fax him this list...." Shit. In my zeal to defend Gary I'd not only told Mom about the photo, I was about to spill my very own personal shit list.

"What list?"

"Just this dumb thing my shrink suggested I do--it's nothing."

"If it's nothing, why did Gary want it? What was on the list?" Damn. She wasn't going to let it go.

"Just a few people from my past who might have a grudge or whatever."

"Like who?"

I sure as hell didn't want to tell her I put everyone close to me on it, so I said, "Just some exes and a couple of old clients. Oh, and the 'mystery' Realtor I was competing against."

"You mean Christina."

"No, the Realtor I was
competing
against in the beginning."

Her eyes narrowed. "She didn't tell you?"

"Who didn't tell me what?"

"I don't want to stir up trouble."

"Come on, Mom--what is it?"

"I suppose you should know." She took a deep breath. "You remember my friend Carol? Well, her daughter Andrea works in your office and she's friends with Christina's assistant...."

"So?"

"So Christina was your competition for that project all along. She was the other Realtor."

"No way. Christina would've told me. The developer just picked her because I was gone."

She shrugged. "I thought the same as you, but then Andrea said Christina's assistant was working weekends to get the proposal done. She said she even saw some marketing Christina designed for the developer."

I shook my head. "Christina would never screw me over like that. Friends are way more important than money to her."

"Speaking of money, I heard her husband is having some financial problems. That house he bought her wasn't cheap, but she sure doesn't seem to be putting the brakes on her spending. He must be a very understanding man--Luke and her were awfully cozy while you were missing."

"They were trying to find me, of course they spent time together. And Drew didn't buy the house
for
her, they bought it
together.
So she likes a nice life, what's wrong with that? Christina works hard for her money--"

"Why are you getting so defensive?"

"You just implied Christina and Luke were fooling around!"

"I never said any such thing--I was just telling you what I heard. She was at the restaurant night after night, a lot of times right until closing. Which reminds me, did you know things weren't going so good for the restaurant before you went missing? Wayne was talking to the bartender down at the pub just the other day, he knows Luke's head chef and he was saying there was even talk about the place maybe having to close, but then after you were missing he got all that news coverage and things picked right up. I guess something positive came out of all this."

The chicken Alfredo I'd enjoyed now sat like a lump in the pit of my stomach.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

For a minute I thought I might be sick, but I ran some cold water on my hands, splashed my face with it, and leaned my forehead on the vanity mirror until the feeling passed. My hair was hot and sweaty on the back of my neck, so I rummaged around in the drawer and used a pink hair elastic to pull it back. When I got out of the bathroom Mom was pouring another drink.

"I have to get going, Mom--thanks for dinner."

"Call me if you find out anything else." She rubbed her hand down my back and said, "I'm sure everything will work out."

By the time I got back home the sick feeling had turned into a restless energy, so I decided to go for a run. It wasn't that late yet, but I couldn't have gone to sleep even if it was bedtime--I was wired for sound. While my feet pounded the pavement, my thoughts ran wild.

Did something go on between Luke and Christina? I couldn't recall them ever being overly friendly when we were together in the past. Then again, I never picked up on the fact that she was my competition for the project. Had she known from the start? Was that what she was trying to tell me when I interrupted her? Or was she trying to tell me about her and Luke? And how come Luke never told me the restaurant was having troubles? Questions crashed around in my mind, smashed into each other, and splintered into more questions.

After a half hour's hard running I'd calmed down a lot, but a vague sense of unease followed me home and into the shower. If I just heard their voices all the crazy thoughts would go away. Still wrapped in my towel, I called Luke at the restaurant. He answered abruptly.

"Am I catching you at a bad time?" I said.

"I got a few."

"I just wanted to tell you I identified a photo of the guy down at the cop shop today. I don't have a name yet but Gary's going to fill me in as soon as he can."

"Hey! That's good news."

"I guess. I still need to know more."

"Keep me posted on what they find out, but I gotta go--I'm sorry, there's a lot going on around me, place is packed."

Still feeling unsettled, I almost told him I'd stop in for a drink so we could talk, but I hesitated too long and he was gone.

I called Christina on her cell, but she told me she'd have to call me back because they were doing the launch of the waterfront project that night and she was greeting people at the door. After we said good-bye, I stared at the phone in my hand. Emma, sitting at my feet, looked up at me with her big brown eyes.

"I'm being a dumbass, aren't I?" She wagged her tail furiously. I took that as a yes.

But then, on the way to my bedroom, I finally remembered where the photo came from.

It took Gary a while to answer the phone. I didn't realize I was holding my body rigid until I heard his calm voice, and the tension in my muscles eased a little.

"I've been trying to call you all afternoon," I said.

"Sorry about that, my phone battery died."

"I need to talk to you." I hated how desperate I sounded.

"I'm listening."

"I was just thinking about this little shelf cluttered with photo frames I used to have in the hall outside my bedroom, and--I remembered. There's this pewter frame I'd stuck in behind the rest because it had an older picture of me in it, the same picture The Freak--"

"The photo was from
inside
your house?"

The sick feeling was back.

"The Freak could never have gotten past Emma, so it has to have been when we were out on a walk. But why would he risk breaking in for that photo?"

"That's a good question. Did anyone have keys to your place?"

"I lost my set on a hike a few months before I was taken, so I had the locks changed--I hadn't given anyone a spare yet."

"So it was probably someone you let in, Annie. They gave him the photo--presumably as a way of identifying you."

My heart started to pound. "But why that one?"

"Might've thought it was one you wouldn't miss. Could be any number of reasons."

"And whoever tried to grab me--"

"Could be the same person who took the photo or someone they hired to finish the job."

"This doesn't make any sense. Why would someone want me abducted? There were never any ransom demands."

"We don't know that you were supposed to be
abducted
. It's possible he was hired for a different reason, then decided to keep you for his own purposes."

"You think he was actually supposed to
kill
me? Jesus Christ, Gary." My eyes went to the alarm.

"They're not going to try anything again this fast--there's too much attention on you right now--but I'll make sure the patrol cars are still driving by. And I'm going to need the names of anyone who had access to that photo."

"Lots of people have been in my house, I'd just had some work done on the furnace--"

"This is too complicated to be a crime of opportunity. It has to be someone with a personal motive."