Searching for Sylvie Lee (28 page)

“She is fine.” Lukas’s eyes are feverish and overbright. His gaze darts around the room. “She has to be fine.”

“I thought you were on my side,” I snap. I thrust my arms out wide. I hate them all. “Don’t you want to find her?”

“No one wants to find Sylvie more than I do!” Lukas yells. He dares to jab a finger in my face. Oma and Opa can’t understand a word and appear alarmed. “Where the hell do you think I go every night?”

I slap his hand away. I’m shouting as well now. “What? You’re looking for her by yourself? That’s fine, but why can’t we bring in professionals too? Why are you all resisting me on this?”

“Calm down.” Willem tries to put his arm around both me and Lukas.

I jump up off the couch, upsetting the saucer on my lap. My cookies fall onto the floor and break, leaving crumbs everywhere. “Oh, I’m sorry.” I am almost in tears. I fall to my knees to clean up the mess.

“Stop, I will do it.” Helena grabs me by the arm and pulls me upright. She settles me back on the couch and quickly removes the saucer and cookies. She speaks slowly and clearly, as if I am an imbecile. “This organization is not necessary. It is a waste of money. She will turn up. You mark my words.”

I need to remain calm; alienating them won’t help. “I know you want to believe that, but what if it’s not true?” All of my despair sinks into the pit of my stomach. I’ve been trying Sylvie’s email and phone nonstop and there’s been no response. It’s been too long. My hope is deflating like an old balloon. The possibilities for a happy ending are dwindling.

Lukas, stiff, uptight prick that he is, says, “We should not involve extra people. We will get in the way of the police. I have heard of these types of organizations and I do not trust them. They specialize in finding people who are—” He swallows his words suddenly and hugs his chest, rocking on the couch. There is such a look of despair and anguish in his eyes that I almost feel sorry for him.

Willem says in his smooth voice, “I do not think we should interfere either. The police know their job. We should let them do it.”

Opa, who has probably only understood the word
police
, says, “We want no trouble.”

And everyone takes this as the final word on the subject. I sit on the couch and try not to scream. This is just like dealing with Ma and Pa: everyone afraid of any tiny change. Why are they all so scared? I can’t get rid of the nagging feeling that there are things no one is telling me about Sylvie’s visit. But she still hasn’t come home and if I don’t do anything, it’s possible that she never will.

I
t’s now Monday morning. The neighbors have heard rumors of Sylvie’s disappearance, and yesterday evening, after Oma and Opa’s strained visit, Helena found a casserole and a bouquet of tulips by the front door. Only a few of the people in our building in New York even know who Sylvie is. I am grateful for this kindness.

“That is the thing about a small village,” Helena said. “We are all dependent on each other.”

Willem and Helena had taken the weekend off for Mother’s Day and plan to go to their restaurant today. “If the workers don’t see the bosses regularly,” Helena says, “they get up to no good.” They start their car to leave, and I notice the next-door neighbor, a tall, stooped older gentleman, waving for them to stop at the end of the driveway. Willem rolls down his window, and the man says something and then clasps him on the shoulder before Helena and Willem drive off. The neighbor catches sight of me watching from the window and gives me a friendly nod before returning to his house.

There’s no sign of Lukas. I go into the kitchen and light some incense at the altar for Grandma and the gods. As I bow to the photo of Grandma, I see Ma in the shape of her face, this woman I never knew.
Grandma, please keep Sylvie safe.
I called Ma yesterday to update her and to wish her a happy Mother’s Day. She sounded so frail and sad, with both her daughters far away. After I change the water in the little vase of flowers in front of the altar, I phone the police again.

Danique sounds surprised to hear from me, but she is warm and polite. There have been no further developments. Yes, they are checking all possibilities and if they find anything, they will certainly contact us right away. Have a nice day, goodbye.

My hands are shaking when I disconnect the line. Then I take out the card Filip gave me and call Epsilon.

The connection is bad but I reach the Karin that Filip had mentioned and she sounds smart and competent. I explain the situation with Sylvie, and she says, “I will come to your house and we can talk further. Is tomorrow all right?”

A wave of relief floods through me. At last, someone willing to take action. “Can you tell me what your fees are?” I hold my breath, waiting for an answer. I have never wanted anything as much as I want this woman to come and help me. I would pay anything, somehow.

Her soft voice fades in and out as she says, “We are [
static
]—not need to worry.”

I decide to leave it at that for now.

T
he next day, after Helena and Willem leave, I wait anxiously for Karin to arrive and text Filip again to thank him—in case he missed my earlier texts. He still hasn’t responded. I’m sure his schedule is busy and he forgets to check his phone. I am pleased to see Lukas roar off on his Vespa as well. He’s carrying his camera bag. I hope this means he will be away for much of the day. I shouldn’t be sneaking around their house like this when I’m a guest. But Sylvie’s more important.
Please let this woman not be a fraud.

Karin pulls up a few minutes early in a black minivan with a pet barrier and two large dogs inside. She strides toward me and shakes my hand with a firm grip. She’s probably in her midforties, with short tawny hair and stocky, muscular legs. She is dressed like a hiker in heavy-duty climbing pants and solid boots. “Can I bring the dogs inside?”

Her eyes are direct, her grip firm. She seems solid and dependable. Maybe this will work out after all. I relax a little. “We have a cat. Would that be a problem?”

“Oh no, they are very well-behaved.” She clicks leashes onto the dogs, one brown and one black, and leads them inside. Despite their tails, which are waving furiously, the dogs are calm. I hear a hiss from the staircase and see a flash of orange as Couscous bolts upstairs.

The dogs sit quietly at Karin’s feet. I make coffee while we chat a bit. She’s warming me up before we get to the real deal. I learn that the smaller black dog is named Feyenoord and the brown one Ajax, after two rival Dutch soccer teams.

I take the coffee to the dining room table. After she sits, I pour us each a cup and then start to pace in front of her. I should sit to be polite, but there’s too much adrenaline coursing through me. The dogs perk up at the motion and follow me with their heads, wagging their tails. This could be it. This could be our breakthrough. Or it could be yet another big disappointment. “So can you tell me a bit more about how you work?”

Karin leans back in her chair and gestures with her left hand. “We are mainly a volunteer organization. It depends on the case, but mostly we use our dogs, which have been specially trained. In addition we also employ sonar, underwater cameras, GPS, ground radar, metal detectors, and magnetometers. If we need to search in the water, we have our own specialized diving team. The dogs can greatly reduce the possible area and then our divers, for example, can do a more specialized search.”

Yes! This is exactly what I’d been hoping for. I start bouncing from foot to foot. Ajax gives a little bark, wagging his tail, but quiets after Karin shushes him. “That’s wonderful! You’ll be able to follow Sylvie’s trail and bring her back from wherever she’s gone.” I am beaming.

Karin’s face turns severe. “We will do our best. Do you know why we are named Epsilon?”

I shake my head. Why does she look so serious all of a sudden?

Her brown eyes pierce straight through to my heart. She says gently, “Because while we approach the limit of what the human soul can bear, we always attempt to remain a small positive force. Sometimes, Amy, we are the takers of the last hope. Do you understand me? We cannot take on a case unless the family accepts this possibility.”

I draw in a shuddering breath. She thinks Sylvie might be dead. It’s not true. I know it’s not but I need to play along so she’ll help me. In a small voice, I say, “I understand.”

Then she asks me a number of questions about Sylvie, and takes down the license plate of her rental car, which the family also gave to the police. “Can you tell me about her daily habits? Does she have a job here? Any hobbies?”

“Sylvie mainly came to see our grandmother before she passed away.”

“So Sylvie did not leave the house much?”

I scratch my head, trying to remember. “I don’t really know because I wasn’t here. I was told that she was taking some kind of music lessons. Bass or cello or something, I think. But I don’t know where.”

Karin purses her lips. “That could be important. I would like to know where the lessons were and the route she took to get there. Also if you could find out if there were any spots she liked to visit in particular.”

“All right, I’ll ask.” I worry my lip with my teeth. “What about your fees?”

Karin waves a square hand. “Oh, that is not a problem.”

I know it is unwise, but I let it go. I want her help too much. I cannot bear anything else on my shoulders right now.

She wants to walk the property with her dogs. I follow along as the dogs sniff all of the bushes and trees. It is a cloudless day and the air smells like spring.

We pause underneath one of the trees in the front yard. The dappled light plays over our faces, first light, then dark.

Karin asks, “Is there anything else about Sylvie that might be useful? Places or people she likes? Things she is afraid of?”

I lean back against the rough bark of the trunk and fiddle with my hair, trying to think. “She can’t swim. There was a prophecy that Sylvie would die by water and so she’s supposed to avoid it. When a baby is born, Chinese parents sometimes ask a feng shui master, a kind of mystical specialist, to write their destiny. It’s just superstition.”

“We should search the water, to be sure.”

I tip my head to the side, giving her a sidelong glance. She doesn’t seem to be the mystical type. “Why? Do you buy into that stuff?”

She stares into the distance. “It does not matter if I believe. What matters is if Sylvie believes.”

After this, Karin bids me goodbye and tells me they will begin combing the area immediately but that their most intensive search will start the following weekend.
Please let Sylvie be back before then.

As she pulls out of the driveway, I realize she didn’t ask for an item of Sylvie’s clothing or anything else with a scent on it. I am about to run after the car and call her back when understanding strikes like a blow to my chest.

Karin is not looking for Sylvie. She is searching for her body.

Chapter 21

Sylvie

Friday, April 22

L
ukas and I were packed and about to leave for the airport. But when I went to Grandma’s room to say goodbye, it seemed like she was hardly breathing. She had shrunk so deeply into her bed that the shape of her body was barely visible beneath the sheets, as if she were already starting to leave us. I could feel death in the room, like a presence waiting behind the heavy curtains to claim her fully. Isa hovered over Grandma, a strained look on her usually cheerful face, fussing with the oxygen tank.

“Maybe we shouldn’t—” My eyelids felt hot and gummy. How could I leave Grandma like this? My time with her was precious. Every bite I fed her, every song I sang to her, I feared would be the last.

She opened her mouth but no words came out. She started to cough, a delicate skull fighting for air. I helped her sit upright. She held on to my arm and pulled my ear toward her lips. “Go.”

With a barely discernible gesture, she pointed toward Tasha, who sat on the bedside table with her serene smile, and then to the Kuan Yin in the corner altar. “I am in the hands of the goddess.”

Lukas bent over the two of us, his forehead furrowed. “We could still cancel. It would be no problem.”

“It is your birthday weekend,” Grandma said. After all these years, she had remembered. “I did not call you back here to watch me die. I would never wish that burden on the ones I love most. I only wanted to see you live. Go. For me.”

I took her frail body in my arms and murmured into her wispy hair, “I love you. We will be back in a few days.”

She nodded and made an impatient gesture with her hand for us to leave. When Lukas bent down to say goodbye, she caught his shirt. “Take care of her.”

He hugged her and said, “I will.”

Her next words were a whisper of air. “Open your hearts, be happy.”

A
t our meeting point at Schiphol Airport, I spotted Estelle from a distance. She wore an exotic linen dress that accentuated her defined collarbones underneath a fringe-trimmed opera stole in rich beige, the same color as her golden skin. She grabbed me first, kissing me fully on the lips, practically sticking her tongue down my throat. That was Estelle. “I always wanted to do that, you gorgeous thing.”