She's Not There (34 page)

“You don't understand.” Michelle shook her head in frustration.

“Then tell me. What am I missing here?”

“I was awake.”

Caroline fell back against the desk as if she'd been struck. “What?”

“The night they took Samantha. I was awake.”

“You were awake?” Caroline repeated, her brain struggling to catch up to her voice. “You know what happened? You saw who took her?”

Michelle's voice got very small, as if she were five years old again. “I don't remember what woke me up, whether I'd been dreaming, or whether I heard the door open and that's what woke me. I just remember lying in bed, and hearing someone moving around in the next room, and I was scared because, somehow, I knew it wasn't you. And they came into the room and I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I felt someone brush past my bed and I opened my eyes just a tiny, tiny bit and I saw them take Samantha out of her crib and put her in some sort of carrying case. And then I closed my eyes again and kept them closed, even after I heard the door shut. I could hear the music coming from the restaurant outside, people laughing. I kept waiting for them to bring Samantha back. I didn't understand what was happening. Eventually I fell asleep. And next thing I knew, you were screaming.”

Caroline fought to make sense of what she was hearing. “You saw someone take Samantha? Why didn't you tell us? Why didn't you say anything?”

“I did.”

“What do you mean, you did?”

“Not to you. You were beyond hysterical. So was Daddy. He was yelling. Everybody was running around, shouting that Samantha was missing, and then the police came and the room was full of people. Your friends were there, and Uncle Steve and Becky, and people from the hotel. Everybody was talking at once. I was scared. I was confused. And…and…”

The volunteer receptionist suddenly reappeared, opening the glass door and poking her head slowly through the doorway, like a turtle cautiously emerging from its shell.

“Go away,” Caroline said without so much as a glance in her direction.

The woman promptly withdrew.

“And then Grandma Mary came and took me home,” Michelle continued without prompting.

“You told her,” Caroline said, her voice flat. “You told your grandmother what you'd seen.”

“She insisted it was all a dream, that I'd been traumatized by what happened, that I was confusing fantasy and reality, and that I shouldn't say anything because it would only upset everyone even more. And time passed, and what can I say? I was a kid. Part of me was actually
glad
Samantha was gone. No more sweet little baby for everyone to fuss over. Just me. Somewhere in my twisted little five-year-old brain, I actually thought that with Samantha gone, I'd have you all to myself. So I pushed her out of my mind, convinced myself that Grandma Mary was right, that what I thought I'd seen was just a dream, a story I created after the fact, that what I saw happen hadn't really happened at all. At some point, I guess I just repressed the whole thing altogether. Until yesterday.”

“What happened yesterday?”

“It all came rushing back. What I'd seen that night, what I heard. It wasn't a dream.” Michelle stared at her mother. “I know what happened that night, Mommy,” she said, a name she hadn't called her mother since she was a little girl. “I know who took Samantha.”

I
t was after seven o'clock when they arrived home. They'd spent much of the last hour crying, their heads spinning from trying to make sense of the evening's revelations, but now their heads were clear and their eyes were dry. It was important to stay calm, to keep fury at bay. “You ready?” Caroline asked, turning off the car's engine and swiveling toward the girl in the seat beside her.

Michelle nodded.

Caroline gave her daughter's hand a reassuring squeeze. Then mother and daughter pushed open their car doors and exited the garage, cutting across the manicured lawn to the front door. A police car was sitting at the foot of the driveway, keeping the few still lingering reporters a respectful distance away. Hunter's BMW was parked a few houses down, just behind Steve's older-model Buick.

“Dad got here pretty fast.”

Caroline nodded. She'd called from the car and told him to get his ass back to her house as quickly as possible.

“Get my ass back…?” he was stammering as she disconnected the phone.

“Caroline,” a reporter called out now, “do you have time for a few questions?”

“Anything you'd like to add to what you said earlier?” another shouted as she opened her front door and stepped inside.

She turned toward them. “Stick around.”

“Stick around?” Hunter parroted from the foyer. “Did I just hear you tell a reporter to stick around?”

“Trust me,” Caroline said. “This is worth sticking around for.”

“You're back,” Samantha said, joining them in the foyer, her relief at their safe return evident on her face.

“Can't get rid of me that easily,” Michelle said, sniffing at the air. “What smells so good?”

“Grandma Mary ordered Chinese. There's lots left, if you want any.”

“Shit.”

“Is somebody going to tell me what's going on?” Hunter pleaded.

“In a few minutes.” Caroline walked into the living room, noting the open cartons of Chinese food and multiple empty beer bottles covering the coffee table. “As soon as everyone else gets here.”

“Who else is coming?” Hunter asked.

“I invited a few more people,” Caroline said. “Thought we should celebrate.”

“Well, I wish you'd called and told me,” Mary said from the sofa, where she was balancing a plate of food on her lap and struggling with a pair of wooden chopsticks. “I would have ordered more.”

“That's all right. I don't think anybody's going to be too interested in eating.”

“So,” Steve said to Michelle as he reached over from his chair to pile some more noodles on his plate, “I understand you were at the hospice. I hear people are just dying to get in.”

Michelle stiffened.

“Sorry. I guess you get that quite a bit,” he said with a laugh.

“I'd like to see it sometime,” Samantha said. “Maybe I could go with you one day.”

“Sure.”

“Are we really making small talk?” Hunter demanded. “Is that why I rushed over here like a lunatic? What the hell is going on?”

“I'm sorry,” Caroline said. “It shouldn't be much longer.”

“Who are we waiting for?”

A car door closed. Hunter crossed to the window. “I rushed over here for Peggy and Fletcher?”

“I thought they deserved to be here.” Caroline walked to the door and beckoned them inside.

“Welcome,” Mary greeted them. “Help yourselves to some Chinese.”

“Thank you,” Peggy said, looking anxiously around the room, “but no thanks.”

“None for me,” Fletcher said.

“A beer?” Steve held up a freshly opened bottle. “For some reason I'm getting the feeling that a little alcohol might be a good idea.” When both Peggy and Fletcher declined, he took a swig himself.

“Is that everyone?” Hunter asked.

“Not quite.”

“For God's sake, who else is coming?”

As if on cue, another car pulled up outside. “Sit tight, everyone,” Caroline said, heading for the front door and returning moments later, the latest arrivals in tow. “I think you know almost everyone,” she said.

“You gotta be kidding me,” whispered Hunter.

“Well, look who's here,” Steve said, setting down both his beer and his plate of food and rising to his feet.

“Do I know these people?” Mary asked.

“I don't think you've ever actually met,” Caroline said. “Mother, meet Jerrod and Rain Bolton. They were with us in Mexico. I believe they'd already left by the time you arrived.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Jerrod said, managing to sound as if he meant it. He smiled nervously at Caroline.

“And of course you remember Peggy and Fletcher.” Caroline smiled at Rain. She was wearing jeans and a mauve sweater, both of which were several sizes too small. Her hair still hung in long blond waves past her shoulders, as if she were auditioning for a part on one of those
Real Housewives
shows. But despite a face-lift that had rendered her once-lovely face almost immobile, her discomfort was obvious. There was a panic in her eyes that no amount of Botox could disguise.

“You probably don't recognize Michelle,” Caroline told them.

“Oh, my God,” Jerrod said. “Little Michelle.”

“You're so grown up,” Rain said.

“It happens,” said Michelle.

“And this is Samantha.”

“Samantha, my God,” Jerrod said. “I watched you on TV this afternoon. Could
not
believe my eyes.”

Rain released a long, deep breath, said nothing.

“I heard you two were separated,” Hunter said.

“We are. Thanks, in part, to you,” Jerrod acknowledged with a grin. “But when the FBI suggests a reunion, one is hard-pressed to say no. Especially when they send a car to pick you up.”

“The FBI?”

“That would be me,” Greg Fisher said, entering from the foyer, where he'd been waiting.

“What's he doing here?” Steve asked.

“He said he'd like to be here if we ever found out the truth about what happened the night Samantha disappeared. I thought it was only right to oblige.”

“What are you talking about?” Hunter asked. “We don't know what happened.”

“You remembered something?” Steve asked Samantha.

“Please, everyone,” Caroline directed. “Have a seat.”

Rain squeezed herself in beside Mary, Peggy, and Fletcher on the sofa, while Jerrod helped Greg pull a few chairs in from the dining room. Steve sank back into the chair in which he'd been sitting as Hunter lowered himself into its counterpart and Samantha balanced on one of its wide arms. Only Caroline and Michelle remained standing.

“I still don't understand what Jerrod and I are doing here,” Rain said.

“I thought it might be helpful to re-create that night,” Caroline told her.

“How can that be helpful?” Steve asked.

“I think we should start with a brief recap of that week,” Caroline went on. “Just to refresh our memories. Make sure we agree on the basic facts. So that we understand exactly how it all played out.”

“How
what
played out?” Fletcher asked.

“Samantha's kidnapping.”

There was a moment's silence.

“This is absurd,” Steve said.

“You all got to Rosarito before us,” Caroline said, ignoring her brother's remark. “I remember being so surprised to see you. And a little disappointed, if I'm being honest. I'd been hoping to spend more alone time with Hunter, and I was frankly a little shocked by whom he'd chosen to invite. I could understand Peggy and Fletcher. Peggy's been my best friend since forever. But Jerrod and Rain, well, we weren't particularly close friends. Of course, I didn't realize you were sleeping with my husband at the time, Rain…”

“Really? Is this necessary?” Rain glanced toward Hunter, who refused to meet her gaze.

“And as for you and Becky,” Caroline continued, looking at her brother, “well, as I recall, Hunter told me the whole surprise thing had been your idea, that you'd more or less invited yourselves along. But Becky and I hadn't been close in some time.”

“She was always jealous of you,” Mary said.

“Mother, please,” Steve said. “The poor woman is dead. Can we let her rest in peace?”

“No,” Caroline answered. “I don't think we can do that.”

Another moment's silence.

“What are you saying?” Steve asked.

“That our mother is right. Becky
was
jealous of me. She resented my supposedly stable marriage, my ease at having children, my so-called ‘perfect' life. And that when the opportunity presented itself…”

“You think she's the one who took Samantha?” Peggy interrupted. “How is that possible? How could she have pulled that off?”

“Think about it. I lost two keycards that week. I assumed I dropped them or left them lying around, but Becky could easily have taken at least one of them. She had plenty of opportunity. She was with us all the time. And don't forget, it was a woman who called and canceled the sitter the night Samantha disappeared.”

“This is crazy,” Steve protested. “These are wild suppositions. You have no proof that Becky took your keycard or canceled the sitter. Frankly, I'm astounded at your leaps in logic. You're the math teacher. Where's your proof?”

“I have absolute proof that Becky was involved,” Caroline stated.

“What kind of proof could you possibly have?” Disbelieving eyes shot toward Samantha. “Are you saying you remembered something?”

“Not Samantha,” Michelle said. “Me.”

“You?”

“I saw Becky.”

“You saw her? When? Where?”

“In our suite. In my bedroom. I saw her lift Samantha out of her crib.”

There were collective gasps from around the room.

“How could you have seen anything?” Rain asked. “You were asleep.”

“I wasn't.”

“You were awake?” Hunter said, his voice barely audible.

“I saw everything.”

“This is unconscionable,” Steve protested. “It was fifteen years ago. You were a child. It was dark. Even if you
were
awake, who knows what you really saw?”

“
I
know what I saw.”

“And you kept quiet about it for fifteen years?”

Michelle looked toward her grandmother. Her grandmother looked toward the floor. “I repressed it…”

“You repressed it? How convenient.”

“Steve…”

“For God's sake, Caroline. To do something like that, Becky would have had to more than resent you. She'd have had to hate you. You visited her in the hospice. You saw how much she cared about you. Do you really think she was capable of doing what you're accusing her of?”

“I don't think she hated me. I
do
think she was desperate and probably more than a little afraid.”

“Desperate about what? Afraid of what?”

“In the hospice, she kept apologizing,” Caroline continued, ignoring Steve's questions, “telling me how sorry she was. I assumed she was talking about our estrangement, how she hadn't been there for me after Mexico. But now I realize she was talking about her part in the kidnapping.”

“Her part in the…What are you…?” Steve rose from his seat, then sat back down, throwing his hands in the air. “Will you just listen to yourself? Do you hear what you're saying?”

“I know exactly what I'm saying.”

“That your former sister-in-law, my ex-wife, kidnapped your daughter. That's what you honestly believe?”

“She
knew
Samantha hadn't been taken by some pervert. She
knew
she was alive. She told me as much, said she was certain Samantha was with people who loved her…I thought she was just trying to give me hope. But now I know she was trying to tell me the truth.”

“The truth? She had a brain tumor. She didn't know what she was saying half the time.”