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Authors: Katia Lief
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about Lauren going missing. He’s one of those people who hates the news, doesn’t watch TV, won’t read the paper. Travels a lot. Only likes the pretty picture, if you know what I mean.”
Alice heard sounds of shouting behind Frannie.
“What’s happening?”
“Some idiot’s blocking the box.” Traffic fools was what Mike called drivers who lamely jammed an intersection.
“Frannie, did he talk to Lauren?”
“They smiled at each other. Lauren seemed ‘pleasant and civilized,’ the guy said. She did not appear to be in labor.”
“Then?”
“He went back to his painting. Stayed another three hours, packed up and went home.”
The kids barreled in from outside and Mike indulged them in an extra round of TV so Alice could concentrate on the call. He turned off the flame under the risotto and sat next to her at the kitchen table, wiping his hands on his floral-and-stain-patterned apron. A trace of dirt darkened his fingernails. He had been working so hard lately, preparing for his booth at a big furniture expo in Las Vegas next month, dust and grime finding every exposed fissure of skin. She reached over and pressed her fingers between his; for twenty years, a perfect fit.
“So now we’ve got a more focused area to search,” Frannie said, “between the canal and the Pilates place, where she never showed up.”
“What?” Alice said. “She never got to her class?” The instructor had never called Maggie back; the storefront classroom hadn’t been open since after the Friday class, and presumably no one had heard the message.
“The teacher saw the article in the newspaper,” Frannie said. “She called us. Alice, I know this doesn’t sound like good news to you, but it’s going to speed things up. You’ll see.”
Alice closed her eyes and summoned an image of the canal and its scant neighborhood. The limo place on the corner. The parking lot with all those Mr. Frosty trucks. The place that made cast plaster reproductions. There was at least a block before it really got residential again.
“Listen, Alice, I’ve got to get going,” Frannie said. “I’ll call you if there are any more developments. And if you think of anything, anything at all, call me or just stop by. This morning was good. We’re going to find her. Together.”
Together, Alice thought, just as Frannie said the word.
Alice hung up the phone and told Mike everything.
“So that’s good,” he said in the same encouraging tone he used to placate the children when they were being irascible.
“You think it’s a bad sign, don’t you.”
“I don’t know. It’s just so specific. It makes me feel...” He shrugged his shoulders, clearly trying to slough off a sensation he didn’t wish to share with Alice.
“Say it,” she told him, fixing her gaze into his. “It’s creepy knowing someone actually saw her, and then she fell off the face of the earth. It’s bad news. Say it.”
“Okay.” He planted his hands on his waist, suddenly reminding Alice of Buzz Lightyear in the frilly apron at Mrs. Nesbit’s tea party, having given up the ghost of his identity. The lines of Mike’s face succumbed to gravity, vanquishing the essential yang of his personality. “It scares me.”
Alice nodded, grateful for Mike’s honesty in acknowledging that this could turn out to be something even his good humor couldn’t fix. She didn’t like to deny him the presumptions of his natural happiness, but she also didn’t like to pretend. The discovery of a witness might have been hopeful, but in truth it felt foreboding, pinning Lauren down in a specific place at a specific time heading in a specific direction. Her disappearance now seemed more tangible. Now they knew that between eleven forty-five that morning, when she was last seen, and noon, when she failed to arrive at Pilates, something had changed her plans. Possibly her life. In just fifteen minutes’ time.
“What do we do now?” Alice asked, surprised by the warble
Alice heard sounds of shouting behind Frannie.
“What’s happening?”
“Some idiot’s blocking the box.” Traffic fools was what Mike called drivers who lamely jammed an intersection.
“Frannie, did he talk to Lauren?”
“They smiled at each other. Lauren seemed ‘pleasant and civilized,’ the guy said. She did not appear to be in labor.”
“Then?”
“He went back to his painting. Stayed another three hours, packed up and went home.”
The kids barreled in from outside and Mike indulged them in an extra round of TV so Alice could concentrate on the call. He turned off the flame under the risotto and sat next to her at the kitchen table, wiping his hands on his floral-and-stain-patterned apron. A trace of dirt darkened his fingernails. He had been working so hard lately, preparing for his booth at a big furniture expo in Las Vegas next month, dust and grime finding every exposed fissure of skin. She reached over and pressed her fingers between his; for twenty years, a perfect fit.
“So now we’ve got a more focused area to search,” Frannie said, “between the canal and the Pilates place, where she never showed up.”
“What?” Alice said. “She never got to her class?” The instructor had never called Maggie back; the storefront classroom hadn’t been open since after the Friday class, and presumably no one had heard the message.
“The teacher saw the article in the newspaper,” Frannie said. “She called us. Alice, I know this doesn’t sound like good news to you, but it’s going to speed things up. You’ll see.”
Alice closed her eyes and summoned an image of the canal and its scant neighborhood. The limo place on the corner. The parking lot with all those Mr. Frosty trucks. The place that made cast plaster reproductions. There was at least a block before it really got residential again.
“Listen, Alice, I’ve got to get going,” Frannie said. “I’ll call you if there are any more developments. And if you think of anything, anything at all, call me or just stop by. This morning was good. We’re going to find her. Together.”
Together, Alice thought, just as Frannie said the word.
Alice hung up the phone and told Mike everything.
“So that’s good,” he said in the same encouraging tone he used to placate the children when they were being irascible.
“You think it’s a bad sign, don’t you.”
“I don’t know. It’s just so specific. It makes me feel...” He shrugged his shoulders, clearly trying to slough off a sensation he didn’t wish to share with Alice.
“Say it,” she told him, fixing her gaze into his. “It’s creepy knowing someone actually saw her, and then she fell off the face of the earth. It’s bad news. Say it.”
“Okay.” He planted his hands on his waist, suddenly reminding Alice of Buzz Lightyear in the frilly apron at Mrs. Nesbit’s tea party, having given up the ghost of his identity. The lines of Mike’s face succumbed to gravity, vanquishing the essential yang of his personality. “It scares me.”
Alice nodded, grateful for Mike’s honesty in acknowledging that this could turn out to be something even his good humor couldn’t fix. She didn’t like to deny him the presumptions of his natural happiness, but she also didn’t like to pretend. The discovery of a witness might have been hopeful, but in truth it felt foreboding, pinning Lauren down in a specific place at a specific time heading in a specific direction. Her disappearance now seemed more tangible. Now they knew that between eleven forty-five that morning, when she was last seen, and noon, when she failed to arrive at Pilates, something had changed her plans. Possibly her life. In just fifteen minutes’ time.
“What do we do now?” Alice asked, surprised by the warble
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