Searching for Sylvie Lee (32 page)

I pinched my lips together. I tried not to feel left out and failed. So he had been with Estelle instead of me. Had they talked about me? Had Filip been there too? Was that why I had been left alone? So much for the new Sylvie.

Lukas saw what was written on my face and came to stand beside me. His voice was gentle. “You should have joined us.”

I gave a little airy laugh. “You guys are a bad influence. Those who associate with dogs get fleas.”

I was not fooling anyone. Breakfast was quiet and Filip did not come at all. He met us after we had checked out. His face was closed, an angry scrape on his cheekbone below his dark sunglasses. When I touched him on the elbow, he shrugged my hand away.

Piazza San Marco was packed with people waving the Venetian flag in celebration of Liberation Day and Festa di San Marco. Men and women worked the crowd selling single roses to couples and lovers. Estelle and I chattered about meaningless things. The guys did not exchange a single word.

I sat in the water taxi, speeding toward Marco Polo Airport, and breathed in the salty air as the sun shone relentlessly upon the turbulent waves. Venice was hauntingly beautiful. I would never forget the images of the limpid canals and sparkling sunshine during the day, the labyrinthine alleys at night, redolent of passion and secrecy, flickers of bright gold against absolute black. Small details returned to me: the ice that came in a separate little bowl when you ordered a soft drink, signs forbidding gondolas from certain waterways, the way Lukas’s lips had felt against mine. I watched as the magic of Venice faded behind us, and wondered when I would come back and if I would return with him.

Chapter 22

Amy

Saturday, May 14

T
he rest of the week crawls by, the spring sunlight slowly turning into wind and rain, until it is finally Saturday and Epsilon can do a full search. It has been two weeks since anyone has seen or heard from Sylvie and I am a quivering wreck, worn thin by despair. Every morning, I wake certain that Sylvie’s safe and I imagined the whole thing. Ma and Pa sound more helpless each time I speak to them. I want to go home to New York but I won’t leave without Sylvie. I have a faint spark of hope that she’s run off. But deep inside, I know something has happened to her. I am beginning to realize we might never find out the truth. It’s like the Sylvie I knew has slowly spiraled away from us, out of sight and hearing and memory—the center of our little domestic world unraveling with the vacuum of her absence.

I hardly see Lukas, Helena, and Willem, but when I do, the strain of Sylvie’s fate reveals itself in the slow, careful way we maintain our distance from each other. No one wants to dig too deep, reveal too much. The police have no news. I found out from Helena that Sylvie had been taking cello lessons in the Brouwersgracht in Amsterdam, the area where I’d seen the houseboats. She gave me the likeliest route Sylvie would have driven with her rental car.

Filip finally returned my many texts with a suggestion that we get together but now I am too distressed to be distracted by a crush. Karin told me they’ve already gone over the main areas with their dogs and will start their intensive search this weekend.

I had phoned Karin yesterday to share the information about the music lessons, and asked if I could accompany her team today.

She hesitated. “We do not usually allow family members.”

Two weeks ago, I would have apologized and hung up the phone. But everything was different now. “Why is that?”

“Because if we succeed in our search, it can be . . . upsetting.”

The pit of my stomach dropped away. I tried to speak but had difficulty swallowing. I’d forced myself to face this possibility yet could barely utter the words. “You mean if you find a body.”

“Yes.” Her voice was quiet and compassionate.

“I know that Sylvie might be dead.” Was that my voice? It shook so badly, I wondered if she could understand me—just saying it made me want to burst into tears—but we still didn’t know anything yet. I would keep my hope alive until the very end. I tried to still my trembling by wrapping my free arm around myself. “I understand the situation. It’s just that I might think of something during the search that could help. I’d like to be there. None of us can predict how we’ll react in a bad situation, but I promise I’ll do my best not to become hysterical. Please. I need to do everything I can to help you find my sister.”

After a moment, she said, “All right. One of our divers is coming along too, which is unusual at this stage. They do not usually join until the dogs have found something. Since he is willing to help, I can give another member of my crew the day off.”

I had a suspicion. “Anyone I know?” Would he come?

“His name is Filip. I believe he is a friend of yours.” My fear for Sylvie had burned away my desire, but I was still glad he cared enough to come. I’d at least have someone I trust there with me.

N
ow I know why Dutch painters were obsessed with the sky. Stretched above the flat landscape, the morning boils and eddies, the roiling clouds battling a single sharp patch of obstinate sunlight. Filip’s eyes are bright against the gray water as he stretches out his arm to help me onto their floating rigid boat. His hand is warm and strong. I’m glad to have him with us. Karin holds on to the leashes of the dogs Ajax and Feyenoord, who are eagerly perched on the hull. I feel the craft sway as it adjusts to my weight and then we push off from the pier. I feel I am leaving all I have known behind.

Both Filip and Karin wear high-visibility one-piece waterproof coveralls, though I catch a glimpse of a black diving suit beneath Filip’s. He settles down behind the wheel, where a sonar screen is bleeping, as I take a seat in the middle of the boat. I pull on the life vest Karin hands to me. They’ve picked me up close to the café I visited with Lukas and Estelle what seems an eternity ago, and we’re heading toward Amsterdam alongside the roads Sylvie would have taken to her music lessons. Ajax and Feyenoord wag their tails, antsy and impatient, at the front of the boat.

I huddle in my seat, chewing my nails to the quick. “How can the dogs smell anything in this? The police seemed to think that there’d be no scent trail with a car. Is that why you use two dogs?”

Karin is busy checking some piece of equipment against her map, so Filip answers me. “Ajax is the lead dog. The little one is in training. We are not actually trying to track her scent. We are checking to see if she has gone into the water.”

For a moment, I’m confused. If she were in the water, wouldn’t we see the boat? Then I understand and feel like there’s a thick woolen blanket smothering me. “You mean if she’s drowned.” This is a dream, a nightmare. This can’t be true.
My beautiful sister, where are you?
This strange country, this landscape of water in the air, water in the sky, and water beneath our feet. We sail past once-vibrant flower fields now fading, their sagging blooms pulled back toward the earth.

He nods and there’s genuine grief in his eyes. He seems older today, the lines on his face etching his distress at accompanying me on such a dark day. He reaches out to give me a quick pat on the arm. “It does not mean she has done so. Just to rule it out. Human remains emit specific gases for a long time that rise to the surface. The dogs are trained to zero in on that scent. If they find something, they will jump in, but there can often be false alarms, which is why we have all this other equipment on board.”

Karin finishes fiddling with her gear and joins our conversation. “Then we search with sonar and if there is enough reason to believe it would be worthwhile, the diving team is called in, though we are lucky to have our own diver here today.”

I scratch at a small cut on my hand until a droplet of blood oozes onto my skin. My heart beats so quickly I can hardly breathe. How can we be having this discussion about Sylvie? “I thought—I thought bodies floated to the surface.”

Karin answers, “It depends on the time of year. Yes, if it has been warm, the chances of a body being washed ashore are greater, or that a fisherman would find it. But if it is a cold spring, like it has been this year, a body could never be found. It can be underwater, eaten by fishes, stuck in a hole or a cave.”

I bury my head in my hands. This is all too much. I refuse to believe this could be true.
Please, please, please, let this not have happened to my Sylvie.
I feel a comforting arm around my shoulders and realize Filip’s now sitting beside me.

I cling to him, trying not to cry, until I hear him whisper in my ear, “I know this is difficult. But Karin has that look on her face. You need to pull it together or she will remove you from the boat.”

This wakes me up. I take deep breaths and wipe my face. I sit up and indeed, Karin is assessing me with her sharp eyes. “I’m all right. It just got to me for a moment.” I try to think of something to say to distract her. I gesture to the expanse around us as a relentless drizzle begins to fall from the sky, soaking us. “The area is huge. How can you ever search it all?”

Filip pulls up his hood and says, “We try to proceed very logically. If it was suicide—”

“Sylvie would never kill herself,” I interrupt. I know my sister. She would never give up. So talented, so dazzling. Never.

“Okay, but to explore all the possibilities for a moment. Most people choose a spot where they liked to go. A place they went fishing, for example, or close to their family home, or a spot they met their lover. One man drowned himself near a fish stand where he always went with his son.”

I say in a small voice, “I was hoping you were trying to catch her scent from the trees or something, that she would be lost in the forest.” I was so naive.

Karin crosses over to kneel before me. Her weathered face is kind. She takes both my hands in hers. “We went through the area on land yesterday and came up empty. That is why we are searching the water today. If we do not find anything, we will look there again. Most of the time, Amy, if we succeed, then people can move on. Sometimes that is all we can offer.”

H
ours later, the weakened sunlight fading, the rain finally stops. There’s so much water in the air I can taste the humidity in the wind that whips through my clothing, hunting for gaps. We have stopped twice for restroom breaks, where Filip, to my surprise, pulled out a package of cigarettes to smoke. They offered to share their thermoses of tea and coffee with me, plus a lunch of salami sandwiches on light brown bread. I could not eat a bite. The mysterious expanse of water surrounds us, swelling and ebbing, and a cold dampness crawls underneath my clothing and burrows itself next to my heart.

This is the third time we’ve passed over the same territory. Karin explained that the breeze could be blowing the wrong way or the precise area obstructed by a passing vessel. The dog in training, Feyenoord, has grown agitated and jumped into the water twice now. My heart almost stopped each time until Karin indicated a false alarm.

She says, “Even if we find something, most of the time, it will be a mistake. So do not get alarmed if the dogs act. If there has been a lot of human contact inside a vehicle, the dogs could be reacting to that. We do hope to find our victims alive. The dogs are trained to search for life as well as corpses, so if there is a sunken automobile that has had many passengers, they might jump. And there are a large number of cars hidden in Dutch waters. People drive them in by accident or to cover up crimes like insurance fraud or carjacking.”

“Or to hide a body.” Filip stares into the distance, his posture rigid and tense.

I’m wondering if I’ve wasted everyone’s time and we are on the wrong track altogether when we turn onto the Amsterdam-Rhine Canal. The water feels surprisingly deep despite the fact we are not far from shore. The bank is lined with tall trees, swaying in the wind. I spot a grassy area behind a small group of ducks bobbing on the waves.

I press my lips together and cover my mouth with my hand. I will not burst into tears. Karin will make me leave. Still, my voice is broken as I say, “Sylvie loves places like that. She’s always had a thing for picnics.”

Karin says to Filip, “Can you take us closer to that spot?”

His face grim, he steers us toward the shore. Nothing happens. We draw closer and closer and then, for the first time, Ajax starts to wag his tail and bark. Feyenoord follows his lead. I am holding my breath. Both dogs jump into the water at the same time. They swim ahead of us, surprisingly quick, and then start turning in circles, barking maddeningly the entire time.

My chest seizes. Despite everything, I pray this is a mistake. I wish I could turn back the clock to a few minutes ago. I realize I prefer ignorance. If Sylvie is truly gone, I don’t want to know because the grief will tear my heart into pieces. I wish I wore my glasses so I could take them off for a respite from all this clear air, the sharpness of the waves in the water, the icy fear of what we might find. But I cannot. I must be as brave as Sylvie. I will not look away.

Karin is checking the machine she told me was the 360-degree sonar. “I can see from the Humminbird that there is something down there—probably a car.” She narrows her eyes at the bank. “If someone had driven off the road at high speed, aiming between the trees there, they would land right about here.”