Thought I Knew You (19 page)

Pulling Hannah, and then eventually picking her up, I ran out the front door, down the block to the beach, yelling Leah’s name the entire way. When we got to the sand, I put Hannah down and instructed her to wait by the gate.

“Do
not
move. Do you understand? Your feet are glued to the sand.
Glued
, got it? I need to find your sister.”

Hannah nodded solemnly.

I ran toward the water, scanning the beach and screaming, “Le-ah!” as loud as I could. I ran parallel to the ocean to the jetty. Looking back, I saw Hannah parked where I’d left her. I scaled the rocks and looked over the other side. “Le-ah!”

No Leah.

I had no idea what to do. I ran as far as I could while still being able to see Hannah, up and down the shore. Leah was not on the beach. Backtracking to the house, we ran through the streets, calling Leah’s name.

No Leah.

When we got back to the house, I thought to check the car. No luck. I instructed Hannah to go inside and look everywhere she could think of for Leah. I started at one end of the house; Hannah started at the other. The house was small. In fifteen minutes, we had both searched the entire house, closets and all.

No Leah.

I sat down on the porch and pulled out my cell phone.
A person should not have to file a missing persons report twice in the same year.
It was unreal that I had to go through it again.

I dialed 9-1-1. “I need to report a missing child.”

As it happens, the response for a missing child is vastly different than for a grown man. Within ten minutes, four police cruisers had pulled up out front. Eight policemen descended on the living room like locusts, each with a distinct responsibility. I was reliving a nightmare.

“The last time I saw her was when I put her down for her nap.”

“No, I don’t have any pictures of her. We’re on vacation.” Then, I remembered I had digital pictures on my camera card, so I gave them those.

“I was in the pool during her nap.” That explanation was received with not a few raised eyebrows and exchanged looks, which I ignored.

With a basic description of what she looked like and what she was wearing, they wasted no time in spreading out and combing the town. One of the officers instructed me to wait at the house in case she came back and call his cell phone if I found her.

I sat on the porch with Hannah, my head in my hands. After a few minutes, my cell phone rang. I answered immediately with hope flying.

“Hi, Claire,” Drew said. “I’m glad you answered. I’m driving to your house. I need to talk to you about—”

“Drew, Leah is missing!”

“What?”

“I’m at the beach. They were taking a nap, and I went to wake them up, and Leah wasn’t in her bed, and I looked all over for her, and the police said for me to—” A sob caught in my throat.

“I’m on my way. Where are you?”

“Brigantine. Please come.” I gave him the address and hung up.

Hannah sat next to me, holding my hand in silent apprehension. A little adult. I sat on the porch for two hours, which felt more like six, until I saw Drew’s car pull into the driveway.

He parked, and I ran out to his car. My knees gave out as I reached him, and he put his arms around me to hold me up. I sobbed into his collar.

Hannah came over, and Drew extended the hug to include her. “We’ll find her, Claire. She hides, right? This isn’t Greg. She isn’t gone, okay?” He pulled me away, looking into my eyes. “We’ll find her. She’s hiding somewhere. That’s all.”

I believed him because I had no choice. With Drew there, I knew we’d find her, and everything would be fine.

He led me inside and poured me a glass of wine. “You need to relax. Here, drink a few of these, but not too many, and I’ll be back.” He left.

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

I checked the time—five o’clock. Leah would be hungry, too. I hoped that whatever she was doing, she would be reminded to come home to eat.
If she can find her way back.
Stop thinking like that.
I made Hannah a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and turned on the TV. I set up a tray in front of
Dora the Explorer
. She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Yes, you can eat in front of the TV. Right now, you can do anything you want as long as you don’t disappear on me.”

I was too anxious to eat, but I gulped down a glass of wine and was halfway through the second when my cell phone rang. I snatched it up and answered with a breathless, “Hello?”

“This is Officer Jones. Has your daughter come home?”

“No,” I said, heart sinking. I had hoped they would tell me they had her.

“In about an hour, if we still haven’t found her, we’re going to call the FBI.”

I laughed—a crude, guttural sound.
They did so much to find my husband.
But surely a child would be different. I hung up, despondent, and stared at the kitchen table, waiting.

The front door flung open.

“Claire! I found Leah. I have her!” Drew walked in holding a very startled-looking Leah.

I grabbed her from Drew’s arms and hugged her so tightly I thought I would break every small rib. I sobbed, crying in her hair, then sat on the floor with her simply because my legs would not support the weight of my relief. I kissed her cheeks, her hair, and ran my hands down her arms and legs.

“Oh, God, you’re okay. You’re okay. Where was she?”

I could tell by Drew’s face that he didn’t want to answer the question.

“Out on the jetty,” he said softly.

“Oh, God.” I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t catch my breath. I let Leah go and put my head between my knees.

Drew put his hand on my neck, his touch warm and soothing. “Take slow breaths, Claire. You’re hyperventilating.” He rubbed my back.

I raised my head. “Leah, if you
ever
do
anything
like that again, I will take your Uglydoll away forever. Do you understand me?”

She had tears in her eyes, and I knew she had no comprehension of what I had suffered. To Leah, nearly three years old, adventurous and unafraid of the world, she had merely been exploring. She nodded, understanding finally that she’d done something wrong.

Hannah cried and hugged Leah fiercely. “We thought you drowned in the ocean.”

“I was on the rocks!” she protested. “I’m not a’posed to go in the ocean without Mommy.”

I asked Drew to call the police and tell them she’d been found. “Drew, I don’t get it. We looked on the jetty. I ran up and down the beach, calling for her. Leah, did you hear Mommy calling you?” I asked.

She shook her head, still wary of me.

I realized that she didn’t have Uglydoll with her. “Leah, where’s Uglydoll?”

“In the car,” she said matter-of-factly.

The car? Why would Uglydoll be in the car? Unless.
Unless
. My heart sped up.

“Leah, were you in the car when Mommy was looking for you?”

“I was hiding! I was under the seat, and you couldn’t see me.”

She was there; she saw me search the car. I could have found her three hours ago. I had opened the car door and, in my panic, called her name, searched the seats with a cursory glance, and closed the door. To a child who loved to hide and had no idea how to read panic in a voice, she had probably been thrilled with her cleverness. I could envision her there, flattened under the seats with bated breath, waiting for me to come back and say, “Ah ha! I found you, Leah!” as I usually do when she hides. Then, she got bored and wandered down to the ocean. When? How? While we were in the house, before we called the police, was the only time that made sense. If I had looked out the window at any time while we were searching the house, I might have seen her.

My head pounded. Drew appeared out of nowhere, holding Uglydoll, retrieved from the car. Leah snatched her doll out of his hands and joined her sister on the couch for the rare treat of watching TV for an extra hour.

I poured another glass of wine and drank it down in two gulps.

“Can I do anything?” Drew asked, his hand on my back.

I looked at my watch—seven o’clock. “Yes. We need more wine. And pizza.”

Chapter 24

D
rew stayed the night because
we had split a bottle of wine, and he felt he shouldn’t drive home. He disappeared into the guest room without a backward glance, and I wondered if my jitters were caused by the adrenaline of the day or something else.
My very own Johnny on the spot
.

The next day, as he packed to leave, I stood in the doorway of his room. “Sure you can’t stay?” I was aiming for airy, but my words fell like lead weights to the floor between us. I self-consciously crossed my arms.

He half-smiled as he carefully folded yesterday’s shirt into his duffel bag. “Dinner plans.” He avoided eye contact, purposefully vague. My pride kept me from asking anything more.

Before he left, he awkwardly kissed my cheek, lingering a bit too long. His face felt stubbled and rough. I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around his neck, and for a moment, our breathing synced, and my heart picked up an uneven, staccato beat.

I stepped back, breaking the spell, and gave him a wide smile. “Call me, okay?”

He nodded and loped down the walk.

When I looked out the window five minutes later, the car was idling at the curb, but before I could open the front door, he pulled away.

Two days later, I packed up the car, loaded the girls in, and flipped on the DVD player to the Disney princess movie of their choice. An hour into the drive, I remembered the day Leah went missing, Drew had called to talk to me about something. I had been so caught up in Leah, I completely forgot to ask him about it. I picked up my cell phone and dialed his number.

“Hey!” I said when he picked up. “Remember a few days ago, when you called? You said you wanted to talk to me about something.”

“Um, yeah, I remember.” His voice was halting, evasive. In the background, I heard a voice. Female? I couldn’t tell.

“Is this a bad time? I can call back later. I just remembered it…”

“Let me call you back in five minutes, okay?”

I said, “Sure,” and we hung up. About fifteen minutes later, my phone rang again.

“Hi, sorry about that.”

“No, it’s fine. You didn’t even have to call me back. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Remember how I had said I was seeing someone? She was here, but she had to leave.”

“Oh.” I didn’t have any response prepared. I tried to come up with conversation. What would I have said if Sarah talked about a man she was seeing? “Tell me about her. What’s her name?”

“Her name is Olivia. She’s a food critic.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” I hoped I sounded enthusiastic. “How did you meet?”

“We met at a benefit. A mutual friend set us up. Like a blind date. It was so weird; I’d never been on a blind date before.”

“Well… what’s she like? You’ve been seeing her for a few months now, right?”

“Yeah, about three now. She’s pretty great, very funny. I actually think you’d like her. It’s what I was going to talk to you about. I want you to meet her.”

I felt sucker punched. I could handle hearing about his girlfriends. Sort of. Meeting them would be another story. I briefly flashed back to all the years Drew had endured me being
married
. The shoe was on the other foot. I had pretended for years that he was unaffected by my love life, my dating, my
marriage
.

“Oh. It must be serious, then?” I tried to sound casual.

He coughed. “Yeah. I think it might be.” He sighed. “Timing,” he said softly.

“Yeah, it always sucks.” But I knew that for Drew to want me to meet one of his girlfriends, he had to be at least halfway in love with her.
In love with her.
I banged the steering wheel with the heel of my hand. I thought of everything Drew had done for me in the last few months. And the years he’d remained my closest confidant when it must have killed him at times. He had always thought of me then.
The least I can do is think of him now
.

I put a fake smile on my face, even though he couldn’t see it. I hoped the big smile at least made my next words feel believable. “I’d love to meet her, Drew. When?”

“Thanks for that. For pretending.” He laughed quietly. “I don’t know when. Soon. Can I bring her for dinner?”

“Yes, call me next week. We’ll figure out a date.” I made the excuse of not wanting to talk long while driving and ended the call.

I had my monthly meeting with Detective Reynolds the following Monday. He brought me the customary Boston Creams. After monitoring credit card history, bank accounts, and general social security activity—meaning Greg had not applied for another credit card, a name change, or opened any bank accounts—the police were noting Greg to be “most likely” deceased in his file. But since no direct evidence had been found, the file would remain open, but unsolved. After a year of Greg being missing—the anniversary was only two months away—our monthly meetings would be replaced by a brief appointment every six months, and then eventually, only if new information arose.