Searching for Sylvie Lee (14 page)

“I understand she was here because her grandmother was dying. Did she seem depressed after her grandma passed on?”

Helena snorted. “She was off having a grand time celebrating her birthday in Venice when her grandma died.”

“Wh-what?!” I protest. “Sylvie wouldn’t do that. She loved Grandma deeply. She came all the way here to be with her.” Venice! Why in the world would Sylvie go to Venice? Had she gone alone? But indeed, Sylvie hadn’t called me on her birthday. She’d texted me that she had too much going on with the family and that with the time difference, it was too hard to talk. My gaze darts around the room. Lukas has averted his eyes and his neck has reddened.

Helena presses her lips together, as if she’s holding the words inside by brute force alone.

“Did Sylvie ever talk about hurting herself?” Danique asks.

“Sylvie d-did not commit suicide,” I say.

“When somebody disappears and does not return within three days, there are usually only four main possibilities: suicide, murder, kidnapping, or flight.”

I gasp at her plain words. Pim shoots her a look, and says, “We do not know the reasons yet.”

Looking mildly chagrined, Danique continues her questions. “She has many impressive diplomas, is that correct? And a very good job? Sometimes, a person who is very successful, if they lose face, can become depressed. They can do something about it or they can flee. Perhaps it can be issues in their relationship. Were there any changes in her circumstances recently?”

I don’t want to reveal Sylvie’s troubles in front of Helena, but I want the police to be able to help her too. Before I can decide what to say, Lukas speaks up. “She was having problems with her marriage. Her husband was stalking her. He even showed up here. They had a fight.”

I drop my teacup onto the saucer with a loud clank. Hot tea splashes in my lap but I don’t feel it. “Jim was in the Netherlands?” Did Sylvie go to Venice with him after all? Helena tsks and rubs at my jeans with a napkin. I take it away from her. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“About a week before she disappeared. She thought he had gone back to the United States. But no one knows for sure.”

“I saw Jim on Monday, before I flew here,” I say. “He did act a bit strangely. What did they fight about?”

Lukas draws his eyebrows together and slams his fist into his palm as if he wished it were Jim’s face. “I only overheard the last part of the conversation. He asked her not to destroy his life and she said she had no choice. He had grabbed her and was threatening her when I walked in.”

I can’t imagine easygoing, patrician Jim doing such a thing. Destroy his life? Threatening Sylvie? This was crazy. What could Jim have to hide? Or did he mean the divorce? Were there parts of Jim that I never suspected existed? If a woman disappears, the husband or lover is often involved. But Jim? Or is Lukas not telling the truth?

“So it is possible he left the Netherlands only after Sylvie disappeared,” Danique says. They ask me for Jim’s contact information. I am still so stunned by the revelations that Willem has to nudge me to answer. Then Danique says, “Amy, what was Sylvie’s life like back home? Would you say she was happy?”

A week ago, I would have said yes with complete confidence. Now, I hesitate before saying, “I don’t know.”

“Would she have any reason to run away?”

After a moment, Helena answers for me. “I think anything is possible. After all, our own house was broken into just a few weeks ago.”

Pim checks his printed notes. “Yes, there is a record. Nothing was taken.”

Helena laughs shrilly. “My inheritance was stolen. A fortune in gold and jewels.”

Danique steps over to Pim and they both scan the papers. Pim clears his throat. “That was the claim but there was no proof.”

“It belonged to Grandma,” Helena said. “She never wore any of it and we did not think to take photos. She was very secretive. Did not show it to anyone, or tell us where it was hidden.”

Danique asks carefully, “Are you certain it existed?”

“Absolutely,” says Helena, the color rising in her face. Her eyes are two black furnaces. “That treasure was a legend in our family. I saw it myself, many years ago.”

“Back to Sylvie,” Willem says gently. “That has nothing to do with her disappearance.”

“Of course not,” says Helena, but her tone belies her words.

“Can’t you set dogs on her scent or something?” I ask, knowing I sound like a cliché from a television series. They are the professionals here. Aren’t they going to take action?

“She disappeared with her rental car,” says Danique. “The dogs will not be able to track anything. There is no scent trail and the car has not been found.”

“Maybe she was in an accident.” I get up and move behind the couch. I can’t stand being stuck on the sofa. “Somewhere no one can find her—in the woods or mountains. Maybe she’s wounded right now.” My breath comes quickly. Sylvie with a broken leg, dying of thirst, lying next to her car.

“There is no great wilderness in the Netherlands,” Danique says. “We are a very civilized country. It is difficult to leave no trace. The healthy people who disappear usually do not wish to be found.”

Willem asks, “Have you been following her bank accounts and mobile telephone?”

Danique looks uncomfortable. “We are not permitted to access that information due to privacy laws unless we have reason to suspect criminal activity.”

“But it’s completely out of character f-for Sylvie not to tell anyone where she is. I’m afraid something happened to her.” I wring my hands. How can we all be sitting around drinking tea when Sylvie might need us?

“I am sorry, but we need special permission from the public prosecutor to get into her records.”

Pim speaks up, his low voice confident. “You will not get it. For this case, I am sure. I have many years experience.”

Danique asks, “Did she leave a note or something else?”

Lukas squirms in his seat but again we are silent. Finally, the police liaison officers stand to leave, after more promises to do their best for us.

After the front door closes behind them, I say, “I’m not sure they’re going to be very effective.”

Willem rubs the skin behind his ear. “To be fair, they do not have the legal right to do much in this situation.”

Lukas is staring out the window, as if he expects Sylvie to materialize in the front garden. “She is an adult and maybe she just wanted to think things over.”

I say, enunciating each word carefully, “Sylvie would let us know. She wouldn’t worry us like this.” Then I take a deep breath and crumple into a chair. I’d had such hopes for the police. What else is there? “I’m sorry I made them speak English. Pim is the older officer. You might have gotten more out of them if I hadn’t been here.”

Helena stands and starts clearing the cups. “It would not have made a difference. But enough of Sylvie at this moment. Nothing was ever enough for her. Even now, she has gone somewhere and all we can do is talk about her. Sylvie, Sylvie, Sylvie.”

I draw in a sharp breath. I want to stalk over and slap her. How dare she? From the way Lukas’s head whips around, I know he feels the same. “How can you say that? Don’t you care?”

“Of course I do. But I am sure she is fine.”

Despite my anger, hope rises inside my chest cavity like a bubble. “What do you think happened to her?”

Helena gives a short laugh, devoid of humor. “I have no idea.” There is rage and an old pain in her eyes. She steps out of the living room and I hear her heels click their way upstairs. This woman, who seems to hate my sister so much, was the one who raised her? Does she know something about Sylvie that I don’t?

Dutch Local Newspaper

NOORD NEDERLANDS DAGBLAD

Friday, 15 April

Yesterday on Thursday, 14 April, in between 13.15 and 14.00, a house on the Prins Bernhardstraat was broken into. It is lucky that there was no damage and nothing was stolen. The police believe the in-breaker was surprised by the return of the elderly inhabitant, who was taking a walk, and thus the thief could take nothing.

Alas, not every burglary walks off so good. Please remember to set your doors and windows to locked and to ring Burgernet if you see any sign of strange incidents. If anyone has any other information about this break-in and attempt at thievery, please contact the local police.

Part 3

Chapter 12

Ma

Friday, May 6

P
a and I silently revolved around the absence of our two girls, circling this core of emptiness until we collapsed inward. Neither of us wanted to give voice to our dark thoughts.

My poor Amy sounded so distraught when she spoke to me from Holland. It was even harder than usual to understand her English over the phone and I had to do my best to keep up with the conversation.

I asked her, “How are Helena and her husband?”

“They’re a bit strange, Ma. Helena is kind to me, but sometimes, I’m not sure how she feels about Sylvie. And I can’t figure out Willem.”

“Why not?”

“He seems to be watching me a lot, when he thinks I’m not looking.”

I caught my breath. Then I gave a little laugh. “Oh, all girls think he was very handsome back in the village.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant.” Amy lowered her voice. “Ma, do you know anything about a treasure?”

I said in my careful, useless English, so long trained not to speak of it, “What you mean?”

“Cousin Helena was going on about some incredibly valuable jewelry that she thinks Grandma had. There was a burglary and then it disappeared. Helena seems to think it has something to do with Sylvie.”

That Helena dared accuse my daughter of such a shameful thing. But if Sylvie had taken the jewelry—not stolen, because my ma would have meant to give it to her—then it might mean she was still all right. Rage and hope warred inside me. Perhaps Sylvie was waiting for the calm to come and then she would reappear, as the goddess Kuan Yin manifested herself on the surface of a muddy lake, the beauty of a lotus that bloomed above the muck.

“There was something,” I said. “But it has been many years since anyone has seen it. I not know if it still there. Maybe Grandma sold it.”

“Helena says she saw it herself. Do you think there’s any chance Sylvie took it?” Amy sounded so young, a cub reaching out for her mother. If only I could tell her that when we get to the mountain, there will be a way through it. When the boat reaches the bridge-head, it naturally goes straight with the current.

Instead I said, “Try find out. If treasure still there, Grandma give to Sylvie. Will be okay. Not worry.”

After we hung up the phone, I thought about the gold. Of course Helena wanted the jewelry more than anything. We were distant cousins who had never met until she returned from Holland with her wealthy parents. Some who would put the tall hat of flattery on my head had called me the beauty of our village, but Helena had something more valuable to offer: a foreign road. Any man who married her would be able to leave the Central Kingdom and all of his family could follow, one by one. She was a lifeline. She had no trouble finding a husband there.

Helena did not want the gold for the value of it. She had enough wealth of her own. She desired it to spite me, to take something of mine from my mother. She had already had Grandma to care for her boy all these years—must she steal my inheritance as well? That jewelry had been passed down in our family from mother to daughter, hidden away through wars and revolutions, accumulated through pain and death.

I had seen it long ago and remembered it: the finest jade, which grew greener and more vibrant against the skin of the deserving owner; twenty-four-carat gold, untainted, unlike silver, considered undesirable because it tarnished. That gold was too soft, helpless in its purity, too yielding to be of this world. Like my mother and me, it belonged to an age gone by. Its strength was in its ability to bend, but how much could it withstand before it broke for good?

Chapter 13

Sylvie

Wednesday, April 6

A
fter excluding me from their meal last Saturday, Helena had tried to make up for it in her own way.

The next morning, she had spoken to me at breakfast. “I got you a few things. Here is an OV-chipcard. Do you know what that is?”

I shook my head.

“You can use it to check in and out on any type of public transportation. It is loaded with enough money for you to travel for a while. I also bought you some toiletries.”

I opened my mouth to say I had plenty of my own, but recognized this as a peace offering and thanked her instead. “That is very kind of you.”

Helena handed me the OV-chipcard and a wicker basket filled with shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, and hair gloss.