Chapter Five #2
The interview ended shortly after, but the report included his phone records and her mother’s, showing they did indeed talk on the phone a lot, especially late at night. Charlotte got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Had her mother been having an affair? Had Svenson killed her? The room seemed to tilt as she processed what she’d just learned.
“Fuck.” Of course, she’d known there would probably be things in the sheriff’s report that she didn’t want to hear.
Difficult things. Maybe even shocking things.
Over the years, she’d considered as many possibilities for what happened to her mom as she could think of, everything from her father killing her to her mom falling victim to a random crime to her disappearing on purpose to live a life somewhere else without the burden of her family.
Charlotte closed her eyes. She remembered sitting at the kitchen table with her parents on weekend mornings, reading together. Riding their bikes through downtown Middleton. Walking from one parent’s office on the NU campus to the other between their classes.
They’d been an inseparable trio, or so Charlotte had thought.
Yes, she’d considered that her mother might have had an affair.
She’d done her best to consider every possibility, but apparently she hadn’t taken this one seriously enough, because with the evidence in front of her now, Charlotte felt as if she’d been gut punched.
Maybe she’d never actually known her mother at all.
On Wednesday, Charlotte visited the one place she’d been avoiding since her return to Vermont: Northshire University.
Even though she’d never been a student here, this campus held so many memories.
As she passed the maple tree at the center of the quad, Charlotte saw herself as a little girl, climbing through its branches so she could sit and spy on the students as they walked below.
Today, salt crunched beneath her shoes, but the sidewalks were clear of last night’s snowfall.
According to his schedule, Allan Svenson was teaching until two.
She planned to catch him as his class let out, having decided not to forewarn him that she was coming.
She’d always thought you could learn a lot by watching people in those unscripted moments when they were caught off guard.
Charlotte drew in a steadying breath as Wallis Hall came into view.
Her eyes were drawn to the last window on the second floor, her mom’s old office.
Her gaze dropped to the stretch of concrete beneath that window.
A black bike rack stood there now, but in her mind’s eye, she saw the makeshift memorial set up after her mom’s disappearance, a cluster of flowers, stuffed animals, cards, and other offerings left by students and colleagues.
Just as clearly, she remembered the candlelight vigil held there in her mom’s honor.
So many people had attended, staring at Charlotte and asking if she was all right.
She had not been all right, not then and certainly not now as she prepared to confront the man who might have been having an affair with her mom when she vanished.
Had he killed her?
After another fortifying breath, she entered Wallis Hall, lost for a moment as nostalgia crashed over her.
She’d spent so many hours here as a child.
She shook off the urge to gawk, instead making her way down the corridor to a large lecture hall at the end.
Svenson was just finishing up a class about military history.
Charlotte had a sinking feeling that she might have watched her mom teach in this very room. It was the worst kind of nostalgia.
Ugh.
She hated this, and she wasn’t even sure why. Obviously, it sucked to confront Svenson, but her emotions felt bigger than that. Being back in this building had shaken her more than she’d anticipated. She almost expected to turn around and see her mother walking down the hall toward her.
Tears pricked behind her eyes, and she blinked, forcing them back.
Before she could spiral any further, the double doors in front of her swung open, and students began to spill into the hallway, backpacks slung over their shoulders. Many of them were in the process of putting on coats and hats in preparation for the winter weather outside.
Charlotte stood out of the way until the majority of students had exited the lecture hall.
Then she stepped through the open door before she could overthink it.
A tall, slim white man stood at the front of the room, talking with two students.
He was probably in his mid-sixties, with gray hair that receded slightly in the front.
She walked down the aisle toward him, her stomach tight.
No, she wasn’t looking forward to this, but it had to be done.
The students he’d been talking to turned to leave, and he looked right at Charlotte.
Her lungs seized because she knew this man.
His face was undeniably familiar to her, and based on the way his eyebrows rose, he recognized her too.
“I’m Charlotte Danton,” she said, just in case she was reading too much into his expression. “I was hoping to talk to you for a few minutes.”
“Terri’s daughter.” His posture seemed stiffer than it had been when she first walked into his classroom. Was he about to blow her off?
She nodded in answer to his question.
“You look so much like her.” His eyes softened, and he reached for the briefcase on the lectern beside him. “Let’s go to my office. We can talk there.”
“Thank you.” She fell into step behind him as he led the way out of the lecture hall, turning off the lights and then closing the door behind them.
As they walked toward the stairs, she wondered if Marin was here today.
She only taught a few days a week, but right now Charlotte couldn’t remember which days.
Her brain had turned into an anxious mess.
Svenson led her up two flights to the third floor. He unlocked the door to his office and motioned her in ahead of him. She stepped into a small room that smelled vaguely of old books. Unsurprisingly, the large bookshelf behind his desk was packed full of them.
“I didn’t know you were back in Vermont,” he said from behind her.
“I didn’t know you knew anything about where I lived?” She turned to face him, wanting to hate this man and not even sure why. For all she knew, he’d brought some joy to her mother’s life, not that she wanted to consider any aspect of her mom’s love life.
He shrugged, gesturing for her to take one of the guest chairs in front of his desk. “Your mother was very popular in the department. A lot of us wanted to know how you were after her disappearance. People talk, that’s all.”
Charlotte resisted the urge to claw at her arms. Her skin was literally crawling with discomfort right now. “I left after high school. I just came back last fall.”
He settled in the leather chair behind the desk. “I’m sure your dad’s glad to have you back in town.”
“I’m not sure you of all people should be talking about my dad.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended, and Svenson flinched.
“Fair enough. I guess you’ve heard a few things about me too.” He looked down at his hands, hiding his expression from her.
Charlotte sat, clenching her hands into fists in her lap.
“You aren’t even going to deny you were having an affair with her?
” She hadn’t actually prepared herself for this possibility.
She’d been so sure he would deny everything.
Hell, he hadn’t even admitted to an affair in the police transcript she’d read.
“What would be the point?” He looked at her with sad, tired eyes.
“It ended thirty years ago. I was married at the time. So was your mom. We were in love, but we were trying not to hurt our families . . . our kids in particular. But I’m divorced now.
My kids are grown, and lying to you feels like it would hurt you more than telling the truth. ”
“You . . . I . . .” She was at a loss for words, angry tears gathering in her eyes.
“In anticipation of your next question, no, I don’t know what happened to her.
” He looked down at his hands again. “We’d decided the affair would be enough, at least until our kids were grown.
Neither of us wanted to break up our families.
I was at a conference in Virginia the week she disappeared.
The sheriff’s department checked my alibi.
I didn’t hurt her. I would never have hurt her. ”
“I have no idea what to say to any of that.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry I lied when it happened. I was scared, and I was trying to protect my family. I truly had no information about Terri’s disappearance. If I had, I’d have spoken up immediately.”
“What do you think happened to her?” Charlotte asked.
“I don’t know.” His expression seemed earnest, but Charlotte didn’t know him well enough to know if he was a good liar.
“And it’s eaten me up inside all these years, not knowing.
Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, but . .
. Terri was the love of my life. I never fully got over her, never remarried after my divorce. ”
“Oh,” Charlotte mumbled, more uncomfortable than ever.
The grief on his face seemed real and startlingly raw. “I can’t imagine her leaving you behind, so . . . I’ve always assumed she’s no longer with us. I’m sorry.”
Charlotte inhaled sharply. Deep down, she’d always believed the same thing, but it hurt to hear it from this man. Most people she knew—including her dad—perpetuated the idea that her mom might still be alive. Perhaps that made it even more jarring to hear Svenson say he thought she was dead.
So few people had ever admitted that to Charlotte before.
How dare this man—her mother’s lover, of all people—be the one who gave her brutal honesty, while her own father still tried to keep an unlikely fantasy alive?
Charlotte’s vision blurred. Her throat ached.
Suddenly, she was on the verge of tears.
She swallowed hard, then pinched the skin between her thumb and index finger.
It was a trick she’d learned after her mom disappeared, when she’d heard kids whispering about her and needed to fight back the tears. Thankfully it still worked.
“You must have a theory of what you think happened,” Charlotte insisted.
“Honestly, I think it must have been something random. I assumed she met with some kind of random accident or crime, because I don’t know what the alternative would be.”
Charlotte stood on wobbly knees, suddenly desperate to get out of here. “Thank you for your time.”
He nodded, reaching for something on his desk. He held out a business card. “If you ever have more questions, or . . . for any reason. Feel free to get in touch.”
She grabbed it, muttered another thank-you, and bolted for the door.
Out in the corridor, she leaned against the wall, gulping air.
Why did he have to be so nice? Was this another dead end?
Would she ever know what happened to her mom, or was she destined to spend her whole life chasing a woman she’d never find?