She's Not There (7 page)

Caroline watched her husband and Rain go their separate ways at the restaurant's entrance, Rain to one wing, Hunter to the other.

“Well, that was a lovely little surprise,” Peggy said.

“It was,” Caroline agreed.

“Hunter certainly knows his way around a grand gesture.”

“He certainly knows how to make the rest of us look bad,” Fletcher groused good-naturedly. “Not that there are many of us left.”

“Yes, it's starting to feel a bit like musical chairs around here,” Jerrod concurred.

“Think your brother and Becky will ever come back?” Peggy asked.

Caroline shook her head. “I wouldn't be surprised if they've already checked out. Frankly, I don't know why they wanted to come at all.”

“Maybe they hoped a romantic holiday might be good for their marriage.”

Caroline couldn't argue with that. Hadn't she been hoping the same thing for hers?

Two waiters approached.

“Would it be too much trouble to hold off on dessert until the others get back?” Caroline asked them. “They should only be a few minutes.”

In reality, it was more like fifteen.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” Hunter said as he reclaimed his seat. “I waited forever for an elevator, then finally gave up and took the stairs. The kids are sound asleep,” he continued before Caroline could ask. He looked around the table. “Where is everyone?”

As if on cue, Rain suddenly appeared, Steve at her side. “Look who I found in the lobby,” she said, gathering her newly acquired shawl around her.

“I was about to send out a search party,” her husband said.

“I forgot I'd already packed the damn thing. Had to unpack my whole suitcase to find it.”

“Serves you right for being so organized,” Peggy said. “I haven't even started packing.”

“I take it you couldn't convince Becky to come back,” Caroline said to her brother.

Steve shrugged as he pulled out his chair. “Women,” he said to the men present. “Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em.”

“Nice talk,” Caroline said.

“Kids okay?” Steve asked Hunter.

“Kids are fine.”

The waiters returned and everyone watched in silence as one prepared the crêpes while the other set them ablaze, the flames stretching like angry claws toward the darkened sky.

“Home, sweet home,” Hunter said, waving the keycard in front of the door to their suite. The small light at the lock flashed red, indicating that the door remained locked. He staggered slightly as he tried again and got the same result. “That's weird. It was working fine earlier.”

“Try mine,” Caroline said. She'd gotten a new one before dinner.

He did, and it worked. “Stupid thing,” Hunter muttered, throwing the keycard down on the coffee table as they entered the living room, then flopping down on the sofa.

“Maybe you had it too close to your cell phone.”

“Maybe. Come sit with me,” he said.

“I'll just check on the kids.”

“The kids can wait two minutes.”

Caroline walked over to the sofa and sank down beside her husband. He quickly surrounded her with his arms and kissed her neck, his breath warm and carrying the trace of at least one drink too many. The drapes were open and the reflection of the light from the outside lanterns danced on the walls, mixing with the soft glow of the moon. “So, did you enjoy your anniversary after all?”

“I did.”

“Liar,” he chided.

“No. It was lovely. It was.”

“You hardly touched your dinner.”

“I wasn't that hungry.”

“You were worried about the kids.”

“I got over it.”

He kissed her neck again. “Did you enjoy your serenade?”

“Very much.”

“Were you surprised?”

“I was. I didn't realize you were such a romantic.”

“I can't take all the credit. It was actually Steve's idea.”

“Really? Too bad he can't come up with any good ideas where Becky is concerned.” Caroline's hand moved to the front of her husband's pants. “And speaking of coming up…”

Hunter stilled her hand. “I'm really sorry, babe. I think I may have overdone it with the celebratory toasts.”

“Oh, dear.” Caroline tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She'd been looking forward all day to making love to her husband, had been fantasizing about prolonged foreplay, maybe even trying something new. “Maybe there's something I can do about that.”

Hunter moved her hand away from his groin. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not that I wouldn't appreciate the effort but I'm afraid you'd just be wasting your time.”

“We could try, see what happens.”

“Please don't make me feel worse about this than I already do,” he said, effectively ending the conversation.

Caroline withdrew her hand, sat up straight.

“Now you're angry.”

“Just disappointed.”

“We can do it in the morning.”

Sure,
Caroline thought.
When the kids are up and we're hurrying to pack and check out.

“And tomorrow night.”

When you're exhausted from driving and the kids are cranky and we're unpacking and you're preoccupied with getting back to work.

“And every night after that for the rest of our lives,” Hunter said, giving her his best little-boy smile. “Please, Caroline. I'm really sorry.”

“I know. Me, too.” She pushed herself off the couch. “I'll go check on the kids.” Once again she found herself in the doorway of the girls' bedroom, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark.
So much for romance,
she thought, moving toward Michelle's bed and stepping on something hard.

Wonder Woman, she realized, picking the doll up off the floor and returning her to the pillow beside Michelle's head. The child immediately swatted the doll away with her hand, although she didn't wake up.
Another rejection,
Caroline thought, crossing over to Samantha's crib.

When she didn't see her immediately, Caroline assumed that the toddler had merely shifted positions, that she'd somehow turned herself around in her sleep, as she often did, her head now at the opposite end of the crib, her feet where her head should be.

Except her feet weren't there either.

Caroline leaned in closer, her eyes trying to pierce the darkness, her fingers grasping at the covers, finding nothing but an empty quilt.

Samantha wasn't there.

No,
this can't be,
Caroline thought, panic filling her lungs.
It's impossible. It can't be.

She moved quickly to the light switch and flipped on the overhead light, then raced back to the crib.

It was empty.

“Samantha?” she called out, wondering if her daughter had somehow managed to climb out of the crib. She fell to her knees, checking under it in case Samantha was lying unconscious on the floor.

She wasn't there.

“Samantha!”

“Mommy?” Michelle sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes as Caroline began spinning around in helpless circles.

“Samantha!” Caroline called again, hysteria clinging to the name, as she raced through the living room into the master bedroom.

“What's going on?” Hunter asked, emerging from the en suite bathroom.

“She's not there! She's not there!”

“Mommy?” Michelle cried, coming up behind her.

It was then that Caroline's rising panic broke loose, exploding violently into the air and filling the suite with screams.

T
he plane touched down in Calgary at precisely twelve minutes after noon. Caroline's forehead had been pressed against the window of the small aircraft ever since they'd left San Diego, her eyes following the gradual muting of the sky as it dulled from bright blue to steel gray over the course of the flight.

“It looks like we've landed on the moon,” Michelle said from the seat beside her, probably the most words she'd uttered all trip.

It certainly looks cold,
Caroline thought, noting the large piles of shoveled snow on the ground along the edge of the runway. She was glad Michelle had persuaded her to wear boots, even though they weren't lined and likely weren't waterproof. She was also glad her daughter had insisted she bring her heavy down coat, a coat she'd purchased on impulse immediately following her divorce and had rarely had occasion to wear. In fact, she was glad that Michelle had insisted on accompanying her, even though it gave her one more thing to worry about. Maybe worrying about Michelle would take her mind off the insanity of what she was doing.

“Coming?” Michelle asked from the aisle as the plane was emptying.

Caroline scrambled to her feet, grabbing her coat and overnight bag from the overhead bin. She hadn't slept more than a few hours all night and she was exhausted. Also hyper.
Not a great combination,
she thought, following Michelle to the front of the plane. She thanked the flight attendant, then struggled to catch up to her daughter, who was walking very purposefully, her bag thrown across one shoulder, her arms swinging at her sides.
Does she always walk this fast?
Caroline wondered.
And has she always been so thin?

She's so thin because all she eats is raw fish and vegetables,
she thought with her next breath. Or maybe it was the bulky down jacket that was making her hips seem so narrow, her thighs so inconsequential.

“Holy crap,” said Michelle, the words disappearing into tufts of steam upon contact with the frigid air. “How does anyone live here? It must be forty below.”

Caroline shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her legs growing numb inside her thin wool pants, as they waited in a small line of travelers for a cab. “The Fairfax Hotel on Stephen Avenue Walk,” Caroline directed the driver as they climbed into the backseat.

“Is it always so cold here?” Michelle asked. “My ears are frozen.”

“It takes some getting used to,” the cabbie said pleasantly, his Pakistani accent melodic and thick. “Summer is very nice.”

“Too bad Lili didn't call in July,” Michelle said to her mother.

They didn't speak again until they reached the hotel half an hour later. The drive into the city had been as uneventful as it was uninteresting. A flat landscape covered in snow. Michelle was right, Caroline thought. It did feel as if they'd landed on the moon.

The hotel was an old gray stone building, maybe ten stories high. Caroline paid the cabdriver in American dollars and they hurried into the lobby to escape the bitter wind. The lobby was surprisingly warm, the walls painted eggshell beige, the carpet a rich weave of brown and gold. Brown leather sofas and chairs were strategically placed throughout the large room, and a round oak table stood in the middle of the rug, a huge arrangement of colorful silk flowers at its center. But Caroline noticed only the empty sofas and chairs.

“She's not here,” Michelle said, giving voice to Caroline's thoughts.

They approached the reception desk. “I'm Caroline Shipley. I have a reservation,” she told the young man behind the counter. He had curly blond hair and a gap between his front teeth that seemed to widen when he smiled.

He typed something into the computer in front of him. “Yes, here you are. You're booked for one night, possibly two. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that's right.”

“Wait a minute,” Michelle said. “We're not actually going to check in, are we? I mean, what's the point? She's not here.”

“What else would you have me do? There isn't another plane till tomorrow.”

“Is there a problem?” the clerk asked.

“No,” Caroline told him. “We're good.”

“We're good and crazy,” Michelle said, not quite under her breath.

“Could you see if there are any messages for me?” Caroline asked.

The young man glanced back at his computer. “No. Nothing.”

“You're sure? Could you look again?”

Michelle groaned audibly. “There are no messages, Mother.”

“No messages,” the clerk repeated. “Do you prefer smoking or nonsmoking?”

“Smoking,” Michelle said.

“Nonsmoking,” Caroline said, their voices overlapping.

“Come on, Mom. Give me a break.”

“If you have to smoke, you'll do it outside.”

“I'll freeze to death.”

“Better than dying of cancer.”

“Nice one, Mother.”

“Nonsmoking,” Caroline said to the waiting clerk.

“King-size bed or two doubles?”

“Two doubles,” Caroline and Michelle said in unison.

The clerk pushed a piece of paper across the counter. “If you'll just fill this out and sign here. And I'll need an imprint of your credit card.”

Where are you, Lili?
Caroline was thinking as she handed over her Visa card. She glanced around the lobby, her eyes seeking out every nook and cranny in case the girl was hiding, waiting for the right moment to announce her presence. Or maybe she knew the young man behind the desk. Calgary wasn't that big a city. It was entirely possible Lili had come to the hotel, recognized the clerk, and made herself scarce before he spotted her. But she saw no one. “Have you noticed anyone hanging around the lobby? A young girl, about seventeen…?”

“Sorry. I just started my shift.”

“She isn't here,” Michelle said. “She's not coming.”

“You don't know that.”

“You said she'd be here waiting.”

“Maybe something came up. Maybe she got delayed.”

“Or maybe she's not coming.”

Caroline pushed the completed form back to the clerk, noting the unobtrusive security camera mounted on the wall behind his head. Maybe if they'd had security cameras at the Grand Laguna…But that was fifteen years ago, she reminded herself, before such precautions became the norm. And it was Mexico, where even today such measures were haphazardly taken. “I'm expecting either a visit or a phone call from a girl named Lili,” she told the clerk, pushing such thoughts from her mind. There was no point in speculating about what might have been, and even less in torturing herself about what never was.

“Is there a last name?” the clerk asked.

“Just call us if anyone shows up,” Michelle said.

“Certainly. Can you describe her?”

Caroline pictured the sketches in yesterday's paper. “She's a pretty girl, brown hair, blue eyes, a strong jaw…”
Hunter's jaw,
she thought.

“We don't know what she looks like,” Michelle interrupted. “Just call us if you see some strange girl hanging around.”

“And if anyone phones,” Caroline added, bristling at Michelle's dismissive tone, “please connect them to our room immediately.”

“Of course. Would you like one keycard or two?”

Caroline hated keycards, had hated them for fifteen years. Maybe if she hadn't lost her keycard that awful day, she wouldn't be here now.

“Make it two,” Michelle said.

The young man placed the keycards in a small white envelope and handed them to Caroline. “You're in room 812. Enjoy your stay.”

“You didn't have to be so rude,” Caroline told her daughter as they waited for the elevator. “He probably thinks we're nuts.”

“We
are
nuts.”

The elevator doors opened and the two women stepped inside and turned to face forward. Michelle leaned over to press the button for the eighth floor. “Wait,” Caroline cried, her hand reaching out to prevent the door from closing.

“What is it?”

“Someone just came into the lobby.”

Michelle stepped in front of Caroline. “For God's sake. That woman is a hundred and ten years old.” She stepped back as Caroline let her hand fall to her side again. “Get a grip, Mother,” Michelle said as she pressed the button and the elevator doors closed.

The room was large and traditionally furnished, with two double beds occupying most of the center space. The carpet was soft and brown, the bedspreads a silvery beige, the papered walls a subtle flowery print. A large-screen TV sat on the bureau across from the beds. A desk stood on the opposite wall, close to the window overlooking the pedestrian walkway that was Calgary's main street. Caroline stared down at the parade of people braving the elements. The cold weather didn't seem to bother them, she thought, shedding her heavy coat, and trying to make out the faces beneath the ubiquitous winter hats and scarves. Was one of those people her daughter?

“She's not there,” Michelle said, as if reading her thoughts.

Caroline sighed. “Which bed do you want?”

In reply, Michelle threw her bag onto the bed closer to the bathroom. “So, what now?”

“I think I'll go back to the lobby, wait there.”

“Is that really necessary? We already told the guy at the desk to call us if she…”

“You can stay here.”

“As if,” Michelle said, following her mother to the door. “You do realize that somebody somewhere is having a good laugh at your expense.”

It won't be the first time,
Caroline thought, heading for the door. She'd been betrayed before.

They returned to their room at four o'clock, having seen no one who even remotely resembled Samantha. By four-thirty, it was already growing dark. By five, the only light came from the streetlamps along Stephen Avenue Walk and the television across from the beds on which they were sitting. The TV was on CNN: a disgruntled man in North Dakota had gunned down his boss and six coworkers after being fired from his job earlier that afternoon. “Maybe we should order room service,” Caroline said, turning on the lamp and reaching for the menu, almost knocking the phone off its hook. She stared at it, as if willing it to ring. But it remained stubbornly silent.

“I'm not really hungry,” Michelle said.

“We haven't eaten all day. You have to have something.”

“I said I'm not…Fine. I'll eat. What are my choices?”

Caroline scanned the menu. “They have steak, hamburgers, prime rib…”

“Really, Mother? Prime rib?”

“You used to love prime rib.”

“I haven't eaten red meat since I was twelve years old.”

“You need protein…”

“I don't eat meat.”

“How about fish? They have a tuna melt.”

“Tuna smothered in cheese. No, thank you.”

“What about a BLT?”

“I don't eat bread.”

“For God's sake, Michelle…”

“Look. Just order me a bowl of fruit.”

“They have milk shakes.”

“Are you kidding me? Am I a child?”

“I don't know. You're certainly acting like one.”

“Why? Because I like what I like?”

“You don't like
anything
.”

“I like sushi. Do they have sushi?”

“No. And maybe you're eating too much raw fish. You'll get mercury poisoning.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake, would you just stop?”

A phone rang.

“My God,” Caroline said.

“Relax,” Michelle told her. “It's my cell.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “It's Dad,” she said, glancing at the caller ID.

“Don't answer it,” Caroline urged.

“Yeah, right. Hi, Dad.”

“Don't tell him where we are.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry I haven't called. I'm in Calgary with Mom.”