Chapter 1
The bungalow was solidly middle-class. A neatly cut lawn shaded from the morning sun by a large sugar maple tree, leaves waving in the light breeze. Zachary walked up a flagstone path and admired the hydrangeas and black-eyed Susans as he mounted the steps to the front door. Fieldstones marked out the outer perimeter of the small gardens. The sun glinted off one of the windows and he could hear a child crying inside. He hesitated about ringing the doorbell, worried it would disturb the already upset child. But Erika was unlikely to be trying to put the baby down for a nap when she was expecting Zachary.
He pressed the doorbell and stood back slightly from the doorbell cam so that she would be able to see him clearly.
There were almost immediate footsteps, and the door opened. Not long enough for her to have looked at the camera. And maybe that was a good thing, since even freshly shaven and cleaned up, Zachary still looked a little like the homeless guy she would cross to the other side of the street to avoid. His dark, closely shaved hair was easy to maintain, and might have made him an imposing figure if he weren’t so thin and no taller than she was.
The woman who answered the door was in her late twenties or early thirties, old enough not to be called a kid, appearing confident and self-possessed. She was wearing worn jeans and a pink shirt that set off her dark brown eyes and hair nicely.
“You must be Mr. Goldman,” she said, bouncing the little girl on her hip and giving him a once-over.
“Zachary, please. No need for formality.”
She nodded her agreement. “Erika,” she said, confirming her identity. She gave a little bounce of her hip and looked down at the toddler, with wispy white hair, red cheeks, and wide eyes. “And this is Mirabelle.”
The little girl appeared to be just over a year old. Maybe fifteen months. Pudgy legs peeked out from under a flowered sundress and tear tracks streaked her face. A bubble of snot hung below one nostril.
“Hi, Mirabelle,” Zachary said, using a soft voice and not getting any closer to her.
Mirabelle turned away from him and pressed her face into Erika, wiping her eyes and nose on the woman’s sleeve for good measure. Erika inspected her dirtied sleeve and shook her head.
“Come in, please.” She held the door open wider and Zachary entered. Erika ushered him into the living room and they sat down.
She sat on a chair and motioned Zachary to the couch.
“Thanks for coming to see me,” she said. “It isn’t easy for me to get out with this one. Here, she can play with her toys once she gets bored and I don’t have to entertain her or worry about her disturbing anyone else.”
“Sure,” Zachary agreed. “No problem.”
He preferred to meet clients in a neutral location initially. A coffee shop or other public location where he could get a look at them and not have to worry that he would be ambushed by a cheating spouse he had caught or a felon he had put behind bars. The fact that Erika was a woman did not eliminate the danger. Someone with evil in his dark heart could easily prevail upon a girlfriend or acquaintance to call Zachary to avoid revealing his identity or intentions until it was too late. And of course a woman could be violent, a fact Zachary had learned early in life.
But Zachary was comfortable in Erika’s home. He didn’t see anything out of place or any sign of danger.
Of course, he’d been wrong before. But he didn’t think he was this time.
“So, how can Goldman Investigations help you? You said on the phone that it was something to do with your sister?”
“Yes. Karen. My younger sister.”
“Mommy,” Mirabelle said, tugging on her sleeve.
“And Mirabelle’s mother,” Karen finished, nodding to her again.
“Oh. I assumed she was yours.”
“I’ve probably taken care of her more than Karen has, so…” Erika trailed off.
Zachary had already started to build a mental profile for Karen with the little he knew. A young woman with a child. Maybe a teen mom. Irresponsible. Partying. Not wanting to be tied down to the child she had borne out of wedlock. And now, she was missing.
“Why don’t you tell me about Karen and why you are concerned.”
Erika cuddled Mirabelle and kissed the top of her head of fine, blonde hair.
“Karen is an addict. She first started using in high school, or maybe junior high. She has been in and out of trouble ever since. She’s been in rehab or other facilities half a dozen times. I can’t keep track of them all. Last time was while she was pregnant with Mirabelle. She wanted to give Belle a good start. It was the first time she showed any interest in getting clean and changing her lifestyle.”
Zachary nodded his encouragement.
“She’s been this rebellious party girl ever since we were kids. Never taking anything seriously, unconcerned about what she was doing to her body or where she might end up. ‘You only live once.’ She was determined to get all the fun out of life while she could. Only her idea of fun wasn’t the same as mine.”
Erika was the older sister. Probably the firstborn. A rigid rule-follower, responsible, high-achiever, a second mother to her wayward sister. Probably covering for her as well as trying to convince her to mend her ways. Karen hadn’t wanted any of it.
“But things changed when she found out she was pregnant with Mirabelle. It was the first time I think she ever thought of the future. About what she wanted to be when she ‘grew up.’ That she could be a mother, an adult responsible for another life. That she could… have a future.”
Mirabelle decided she’d had enough of sitting quietly on her auntie’s lap. She climbed down and crawled across the floor to a basket of toys, which she promptly tipped over, spilling out the toys.
“I think she was afraid of failing. Afraid that if she ever put an effort into something and didn’t succeed, that would prove she was a loser. If she was the perpetual party girl, not trying to be anything, she didn’t have to worry about failing. Just having fun. But then when she got pregnant, she knew that if she was going to be a good mom, she needed to get clean, find a job, a way to take care of herself and a baby.”
“And how did that go?”
Zachary already knew from Erika’s comment that she had taken care of Mirabelle more than Karen had. It had not been a smooth ride.
“She’s really been trying,” Erika acknowledged. “She went into rehab and they helped her to get clean, but it was the first time she’d been sober since she was a teenager. She didn’t have any tools in her toolbox. Mirabelle was not born addicted, and there were no early signs that she had FAS or any other disabilities from early exposure to drugs and alcohol. Thank heavens for that. Trying to support my sister and take care of her drug-addicted, disabled daughter would have been more than I could handle.”
They both watched Mirabelle play for a minute. Zachary could not see any developmental issues. She seemed like a normal toddler. She was curious and focused and used the toys appropriately rather than just sitting and screaming and smashing them in anger and frustration.
Good for Karen. Good for Erika.
“Mirabelle brought you closer together?” he suggested.
“Yeah, she really did. I don’t know how I would have related to Karen without her. Our conversations before that were always about how bad Karen was being and how it was hurting Mom and Dad. Why couldn’t she be responsible? Why couldn’t she see how much she was affecting everyone else around her? Couldn’t she see that she was never going to get anywhere in life? But with a baby on the way, we had something else to focus on. How she could be a mom. How she could keep this baby safe and provide a good life for her. How I could help her. Help them.”
“How long did she stay clean?”
“Almost a year. Then… I started to see the signs. I knew she was using again, even though she denied it and tried to hide it. Then I got a call from the police that she had been picked up, high as a kite, and they were looking for someone to take care of Mirabelle. She already had a case worker, Mrs. Kinard, and she knew I was set up to care for Belle. So they did a kinship placement and brought her to me.”
“You must have been pretty disappointed.”
“Yeah… it was hard. I knew Karen was trying, so I didn’t blame her. Not like I did when we were kids and she was just all about partying. I knew it was the addiction. We were both going to meetings, her to AA and NA, and me to family support groups. I knew she would need to get her head straight and get back on track. I couldn’t give her any excuses or help her to get out of the charges. She needed to take the consequences and recommit.”
“So you took Mirabelle until Karen could get clean again. And she did?”
“Thirty days, the first time. Then, a relapse. Getting clean again, lasting longer, using more resources, getting more help, building her community. Then another. She got into the program at Turning Trail Recovery Center. They have a three-month program. She was doing really well and was ready to come home.”
Zachary nodded. “And then…?”
“And then… she disappeared.”
Chapter 2
Zachary waited for more. He knew there was a complex story here, and Erika had plenty more to say than just that her sister had disappeared. If she wanted Zachary to do anything about it, she would have to tell him more.
Erika looked at Zachary and spread her hands, apparently tongue-tied. He gave her a few more seconds to get her thoughts in order and come up with the rest of the story, but she shook her head and didn’t seem to know where to start.
“What is the last place she was seen?” Zachary prompted.
“At the Center. The rehab facility.”
“When did she leave?”
“No one seems to know. Karen wasn’t in a locked ward; she could leave whenever she wanted to, just like a hospital. But she didn’t check out, and they haven’t supplied me with any video evidence or any statement from the staff about when she left. I guess she just… snuck out. But I can’t see Karen doing that. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would she do that?”
“There are a lot of reasons to leave a program or a building.” Zachary didn’t tell her that her sister had just walked away from the program because she was a junkie looking for her next fix. She was sure Erika had already heard exactly that from the staff at the Center. And the police, if she had gone to them.
There could be other reasons for her to leave. She was being bullied or was upset by something. Someone called her and said they needed help. She got a hankering for her favorite burger or brand of cigarettes and had intended to return, but then she wasn’t able to.
Zachary himself had left the psych ward when he hadn’t yet been ready to be released to look after Bridget’s newborn twins. Despite the fact that he and Bridget were divorced and the babies were not his, he still couldn’t just leave them at the mercy of a killer.
There had been other times when he had been admitted to the hospital to treat his injuries, but hadn’t been willing to stay around there until the doctors said that he was safe to go home. He always preferred healing at home to the confines and perpetual noise of the hospital.
“What else were you able to find out from the Center?”
Erika looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. She had obviously expected Zachary to tell her, like everyone else, that there was no point in looking for Karen. She had just gone on a binge and would be back when she was good and ready.
Zachary raised his brows and waited. He took the notepad out of his pocket and began to write down the essential points he had already learned from Erika.
“Well… they have been very uncooperative. They can’t tell me exactly when she left. They don’t have any surveillance video of it. They said… that Karen was struggling. That she wasn’t doing very well in the program. She wasn’t showing up for all her meetings and sessions, she was recalcitrant and rude to the staff. They weren’t surprised that she left.”
Zachary nodded his understanding. Addicts could be very difficult to deal with. Lots of emotions, defensiveness, and fear. As well as all of the withdrawal symptoms—at a minimum, irritability and mood swings. The Center would be used to dealing with anxious and angry participants, but that didn’t mean they had to put up with abuse or that they would go out of their way to stop someone from leaving or spend any time looking for her when she was gone.
“But that’s not right,” Erika argued. “I talked to her, and she was doing really well. She was in good spirits and had come a long way. She was taking responsibility, told me about the meetings she was going to and the sessions with her therapist and with her sponsor. She was doing the steps. She was feeling good. And she was excited about coming home and seeing Mirabelle again.”
“Does Karen live here?” Zachary gestured to their surroundings.
“She was going to stay here for a while for the transition. Get back into the swing of caring for a baby, making sure that Belle was used to her before she took her away from here. We set up the guest room for her. We were getting everything ready, and then… she was gone. No more calls. She wouldn’t answer her phone. We tried to reach her at the Center and were told she wasn’t there.”
“Did you go there to talk to them?”
“Yes. Talked to the receptionist and her doctor. But they said… she had just left. Participants could leave whenever they wanted.”
“Did you talk to any of the other patients?”
Erika shook her head slowly. “No. It never occurred to me.”
“Okay. I’ll follow up on that. And I’ll talk to the staff again to see if I can find anything else from them.”
“Would you? That would be so great. I’m sure they think I’m just the hysterical sister. They don’t think I know what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah. I’m not surprised at the reaction. They probably get jaded pretty quickly. Lots of promising participants who relapse again. Sometimes, people who have been sober for twenty or thirty years take a drink, and then the pressure builds up too much and they decide to have another drink, and everything goes sideways. It’s like the sober period never even happened.”
“Well, there’s no way that happened to Karen. I talked to her. She was clean and sober. She was coming home. She was excited about it. She was looking forward to seeing Mirabelle.”
“That’s a lot of pressure. What if she decided she wasn’t ready to take care of Mirabelle.”
“Then I’m here. I keep caring for her, just like I have been for most of her life.”
“But it’s a big failure in Karen’s mind. And how does she manage that?”
Erika gave this due consideration, not just snapping that she knew her sister and Karen would never have changed her mind about coming home or living a sober life.
“We had talked about all of those things. She knew that if she couldn’t take care of Mirabelle and needed me to stay involved, she could make that decision. She was nervous about it, yes, but she was looking forward to coming home and seeing her baby.”
Mirabelle turned her head to look at Erika. “Big girl,” she objected.
“Yes, Mirabelle is a big girl. But you’re still Mommy’s baby, aren’t you?”
Mirabelle considered this. She picked up a floppy baby doll and held him in the crook of her arm while offering him a spoon.
Zachary looked back at Erika. “Do you have any other support? Your parents?”
“Well… they support me, but not Karen. They think I should fight her for custody. They won’t look for her. They won’t do anything to ‘enable’ Karen or rescue her from the consequences of her actions.” Erika’s shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. “I can understand where they’re coming from and agree to some extent. But we don’t know what has happened. We don’t know that she’s relapsed.”
“Is that what they think happened?”
“Yes. Of course. It’s the most logical answer. The addict relapsed. That’s what everyone figures. They won’t look for her, and the police won’t help unless there is some indication of foul play, and of course there isn’t. I’m not convinced they would do anything even if there was evidence that something had happened to her.”
“I have a brother who is an alcoholic,” Zachary confided. “The police weren’t interested in doing anything when he disappeared, either. Neither was his ex-wife, even though they have a couple of kids together. They’d just… been through it too many times. I searched for him when he was on his last binge, and it was really hard. No one believed in him and wanted to help. I wanted to believe that he wouldn’t relapse again. I thought that something might have happened to him. And that was even more worrying than if he had relapsed. What if something had happened to him, and he died or was permanently disabled because no one would believe that he needed any help?”
Erika was quiet, watching Mirabelle. She eventually turned and looked at Zachary. “But he had relapsed.”
“Yes.”
“And you think that’s what happened to Karen. That’s a pretty convenient little story.”
Zachary was stung by the accusation, but tried not to let it affect him. Erika was in pain. She was worried. She had reached out for help, and he had just told her a story that might have been designed to make her admit that Karen might have just relapsed.
“No, it isn’t just a story. That’s the truth. I’m not saying your sister relapsed. I’m saying… I know what it’s like to have no one believe you or be willing to help you. No one willing to put aside the skepticism and just help out. The fact that he was on a binge doesn’t change how I felt when no one was willing to help.”
Erika nodded, rubbing her forehead. “Okay, yeah. Sorry to jump all over you, but I don’t want to deal with another naysayer who says she is just on a binge and I shouldn’t put any effort into finding her. First, because I don’t believe she’s just on a binge, and second because that’s a really crappy way to treat your sister. I know all about not enabling or rescuing. But that doesn’t mean I don’t even try to find out what has happened to her.”
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