She's Not There (2 page)

As a volunteer counselor on Monday afternoons, Lisa Rayburn had a schedule that was usually full, downtime a rare occurrence. She sat staring at the clock, wondering why her 5:00 appointment hadn’t arrived. During the five weeks she’d been seeing Jamie Denison at the Oconomowoc Women’s Center, she’d never known her to be late. She’d liked Jamie, a lovely young woman unsure whether to stay in a marriage no longer fulfilling.

Filled with a plethora of emotions, her mind wandered. She hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to the director of the Center about the statistics on the missing women; Amanda wouldn’t be in until the next day. And Tyler’s face, with its wide smile and rakish features kept intruding in her thoughts. Their night together had been wondrously passionate. But over coffee the next morning, he’d broken the news he’d gotten engaged, finishing with, “I’m sorry. But we can still get together sometimes.”

Lisa had wanted to throw something at him. She wondered what the fiancé would say if she knew about her. Lisa had never expected their relationship to be exclusive, although something as serious as an engagement had taken her by surprise. Lisa found endings painful, even when she knew them to be inevitable. One of these days she’d have to do something about the cycle of self-destruction she tolerated in her relationships.

At five-thirty she picked up the phone and dialed Jamie’s cell number. When there was no answer, she tried calling her work number—Jamie hadn’t come in that day. Worried about the girl, Lisa’s last resort was her home phone.

A male voice picked up. “Jamie? Jamie?”

Now she had a problem; confidentiality rules prevented her from revealing Jamie Denison as a client. “I’m sorry. I must have dialed the wrong number.”

Lisa wished she hadn’t called Jamie’s home phone. She’d be concerned about her until she heard from her. Something was wrong if Jamie wasn’t at work and her husband, assuming that was who’d answered the phone, didn’t know where she was.

After filling out a Missed Appointment Form, Lisa gathered her things and checked out at the front desk before heading to her car for the short trip home.

The next morning Lisa rolled over in bed, intending to sleep in. Her first client wasn’t scheduled to come into the office until eleven, giving her the luxury of a morning at home. A part-time insomniac, Lisa treasured nights that she got a full seven or eight hours sleep. This morning sleep eluded her. Maybe it had something to do with the phone call she’d gotten when she came in the night before. It had been after ten because she had group therapy in her office on Monday nights. Tyler’s words kept playing back in her brain.

“Hey. I didn’t like the way we left things. You okay?”

Tired, she hadn’t felt like hashing over the abrupt demise of their affair, and dating a man fifteen years your junior, had to be considered an affair, not a serious relationship. “It’s late. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Did I say I’m hurt?” She heard him exhale.

“We always said it was a casual thing.”

Lisa couldn’t argue with that and broke the connection.

There’d been nothing remotely stable about their relationship. Exciting, yes, predictable, no. She had to put him out of her mind. His pathetic attempt to smooth things over now that he was engaged angered her. It was no wonder she hadn’t slept well.

She saw Phanny, her mixed-breed dog, sitting patiently next to the bed, her dark eyes hopeful. She looked at the dog fondly, reached over and stroked her silky head. Lisa couldn’t imagine her life without her.

Last autumn, on a day much like today, Lisa had stopped to sit on a bench during one of her walks along the lake. She’d been nervous when a black dog appeared in front of her out of nowhere. But the animal had simply sat and stared at her—sadly, it seemed. After a minute it came closer and leaned against her leg.

Concerned about the animal, she’d taken time out of her schedule to drop it off at the county animal shelter. A day later, Lisa bought a crate, dog bed, food, and a leash. By the end of the next day the dog, who Lisa’s daughter Paige named Phantom because of her shiny black coat, became a happy resident in Lisa’s home. Her name quickly evolved to Phanny and she became Lisa’s best friend.

Through the window, she saw pink rays of sun seeping out from behind a low stretch of steel-blue clouds, promising a pleasant morning. She had time to walk into town with Phanny and pick up a cup of steamy designer coffee.

When she arrived back home an hour later, Lisa showered, dressed for the office, and settled in at her desk to answer calls and go over her schedule. A message from Amanda Hawkins, director of the Women’s Center, was tagged Urgent.

Amanda picked up her phone on the first ring. “Lisa, have you seen yesterday’s paper?”

“No, why?”

“It’s in a small column in the ‘surrounding counties’ section of the Journal. A client has gone missing. Jamie Denison.”

Lisa’s nerves coiled. “Are you aware that she didn’t show up for her appointment yesterday?”

“Yes. Donna said you filed a Missed Appointment notice.”

Lisa leaned back in her chair, attempting calm as a sense of foreboding overcame her. “Jamie’s always been reliable. When she didn’t show up, I tried her cell but she didn’t pick up. She wasn’t at her job, either. When I tried her home phone, someone answered and asked if I were Jamie calling. I couldn’t say who I was of course and apologized for dialing a wrong number. I’ve been worried about her.”

“I wasn’t sure if you knew and I wanted you to hear it from me in case you hadn’t.”

“I appreciate that, Amanda. Did the article say what happened?”

“No. It was only a small piece. It did say that her car hasn’t been found, so I would imagine they think she left of her own volition.”

“Hopefully, Jamie just needed to get away by herself to do some serious thinking. Amanda, I need to talk to you about something. I’m afraid it might be related to this. Someone informed me that there’s been a dramatic increase in the number of abused women who’ve gone missing. The numbers were based on figures accumulated by the Women’s Centers.”

Lisa heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. They made an appointment to talk and Lisa hung up the phone, noticing the clouds that had been dispersing earlier had regrouped, taking over the sky. A chill traveled through her as the two events, the missing women, and Jamie’s disappearance, merged in her mind like a bad omen

A coworker advised Jeff Denison to hire an attorney. A disturbing suggestion, but Jeff knew without being told if it turned out his wife’s disappearance was not of her own design, he would be the prime suspect. But this wasn’t about him—it was about Jamie. Where the hell was she?

He’d left the police station that morning with no more knowledge of what had happened to her than when he arrived. And he hadn’t had to be a detective himself to see what they were thinking—she’d left him.

It was noon before he arrived back at his townhouse to meet Jamie’s parents. They’d been in constant touch since Saturday morning when he’d gotten home after being in Appleton for three days and found his wife gone.

Sitting at a table centered by an untouched plate of sandwiches, the three of them, Jeff and Jamie’s parents, faced each other’s panic.

Jamie’s mother wiped her eyes. “Are they even looking for her?”

Jeff had already laid out every word of his meeting with the Brookfield police department. He was losing patience. Sitting here doing nothing but talking about it was killing him. “Yes, of course they are. There’s a statewide notice out for her car, and they’re questioning all her friends. I imagine they’ll talk to you soon.”

He couldn’t help but wonder what they’d have to say. Her parents shared his frantic concern about their daughter, but their eyes seemed to be glazed with suspicion. Or maybe that was just his imagination, lack of sleep, and too much coffee making him paranoid.

They admitted having an appointment with the police early that afternoon. Jeff felt a twinge of guilt at his relief that they would be leaving soon. He had to
do
something. Drive around and look for her car? Anything but sit here and endlessly discuss her absence, while the 911 call, with its subtle accusations, lay huddled in the corner like an evil presence.

He said, “They seem to think she’s just gone somewhere to be alone.” He didn’t add, “to get away from me,” but the thought had crossed his mind.

Her mother sniffled. “She would never go away without letting us know.”

Jeff didn’t think so either, but he had to keep hoping that was exactly what she’d done. Struggling not to think about the alternative, he told himself that any moment now she’d come walking through the door.

After Jamie’s parents left, Jeff drove around the area, searching for Jamie’s car until he finally admitted it was a senseless pursuit. He returned home to spend the evening searching through Jamie’s things, looking for any clue to where she might have gone. He was surprised to find her checkbook mixed in with the clutter in one of the drawers. But Jamie was an avid credit card user, and only wrote checks if she had to. As he flipped through the duplicates of the checks she’d written in the last few months, a name caught his eye. Each week for the five weeks before her disappearance, there was a check made out to the Women’s Center of Oconomowoc.

Jeff knew what that meant. She’d tried to get him to go to counseling with her but he had put her off more than once. Jamie must have decided to go by herself; the fact that she hadn’t told him about it added to his torment.

He lost himself in his work the next day, grateful that the others were leaving him alone. An electrical engineer, Jeff was a chip and circuit designer.

Jobs in the field were rare, and when he’d gotten the offer to work at Durand Systems, a company manufacturing state-of-the-art defense equipment, he’d been thrilled to find work in his desired field and still be able to stay in the Milwaukee area.

His coworkers were supportive and sympathetic. He hadn’t seen anything in their eyes like he had in Jamie’s parents. Not yet anyway.

Later that morning, thoughts of Jamie overwhelmed him. He was trying to force his thoughts back to the project he was working on when the piped in music caught his attention. Someone had put on an oldies station. His stomach knotted as he recalled the lyrics; they were from a haunting song he’d never given any thought to. But now . . .

“
Her voice was soft and cool, her eyes were clear and bright—but she’s not there . . .
”

He put his work aside and took out the slip of paper with the phone number he’d written down the night before. In the stark light of day, the numbers stood out as if they had something to tell him. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number of the Women’s Center.