Chapter Three #2
Olivia stepped out of the vehicle and stared out over the water.
September in upstate New York was usually pleasant, but the breeze warned of an incoming chill.
A heavy, clouded sky reflected on the surface of the water, turning it a murky gray.
The lake was U-shaped, and the road ran along the bottom of the U.
On the other side, a peninsula jutted into the lake.
The wind gusted, whipping the water into choppy, angry whitecaps.
She shivered. The last time she’d seen the lake, she’d almost drowned in it.
Three years had passed since her abduction, since she’d nearly died being held captive on that point of land.
Would she ever be able to fully put the trauma behind her?
She paced, checked the time, and paced some more.
No Zoe. Olivia pulled out her phone and checked the text.
Zoe hadn’t suggested an alternative meeting location.
Zoe was as punctual as a Swiss watch. When she was fifteen minutes late, Olivia sent her friend a quick message: WHR R U?
No response. She waited another five minutes, then called Zoe’s number.
No answer. Olivia left a short voice message. “Call me. I’m worried.”
The sound of an engine carried on the chilly wind.
Relieved, Olivia looked beyond her Prius, parked on the shoulder of the country road.
An SUV approached. She was expecting both Zoe and Zoe’s producer, Wendy Simon, whom Olivia had never met, since Zoe had hired Wendy recently.
But when the SUV parked behind the Prius, it held only a single occupant.
The woman who stepped out was tall, with a long auburn ponytail. Not Zoe.
“Olivia?” the woman called out as she walked closer, zipping her puffy jacket to her chin. “I’m Wendy Simon.”
Olivia accepted a quick handshake. “Where’s Zoe?”
“She should be here.” Wendy glanced over her shoulder, but no vehicles approached.
The small, unnamed lake was in Middle of Nowhere, Upstate New York. Not much traffic passed through this area. It could be hours before they saw a vehicle.
Wendy pivoted to face the water. The peninsula on the other side just looked like woods. The only sign of the original camp was a rough dock. “The property used to be a survivalist camp?”
“Yes,” Olivia said, not elaborating.
“It’s changed ownership?” Wendy asked.
Olivia nodded.
“We can start without Zoe,” Wendy suggested. “I have the sound equipment with me.”
“I’d rather wait.” Olivia and Zoe had discussed beginning at the road, where Olivia would recount the abduction from her home in the middle of the night.
Then they’d proceed to the camp itself, where Olivia had been kept in a root cellar.
She would walk Zoe—and her listeners—through the rest of her ordeal—suffocating asthma attacks, multiple escape attempts, being chased through the woods, and almost drowning in the lake—before Lincoln had found her.
Olivia had obtained permission to visit the property from the current owners, a charity group that had purchased the land with the intention of repurposing it into a summer camp for kids from underserved communities.
She wondered if they’d torn down the buildings.
Would it look the same? Would it feel the same?
A shudder rocked her bones. She shoved her hands into her pockets and clenched them into fists.
Wendy squinted at her. “Is there some reason you don’t want to talk to me?”
I don’t know you? That sounded defensive, even if true.
She’d been counting on her friendship and familiarity with Zoe to ease the way through the interview.
They’d weathered the changes in journalism—and job losses—together.
They’d supported each other on their respective career paths.
Zoe understood things about Olivia no one else would.
They had history. But Olivia didn’t want to explain.
She said, “I only want to do this once.” Which was also true.
She hadn’t told her story since she’d given her statements to the police three years ago.
Her abductor had negotiated a plea deal and was currently in prison.
There’d been no trial. Going over the entire ordeal one final time felt like the best way for Olivia to purge any remaining demons.
With all the details out there, she should have no more secrets.
In her previous investigative journalist career, when a story caught her attention, it held it.
Telling that story was the only way she could get it out of her head.
She hoped her personal trauma could be expelled the same way.
She had no doubt she’d always carry the trauma with her, but the burden could hopefully be eased if shared.
But Wendy didn’t take the not-so-subtle hint. “How does it feel to be here on the three-year anniversary?”
Olivia didn’t answer. The producer’s attitude felt prickly, like cactus barbs. Olivia stepped away. “I’m going to call Zoe.” Again.
For the second time, her call went directly to voicemail. “Zoe, this is Olivia. Where are you? Call me, OK? I’m getting worried.” She lowered the phone. “I don’t like this.”
Wendy shrugged. “Zoe and I worked late last night after the show, prepping for today. Maybe she overslept.”
Ever-punctual Zoe was more than a half hour late, and she knew how important today was to Olivia. She knew Olivia would be on edge. Zoe and Olivia had worked tight deadlines together. Zoe was not the type of person who overslept when she had an important meeting.
“I’m going to call Dylan,” Olivia said. Zoe had married Dylan Sanders almost ten years before.
“I’d like to call Dylan,” Wendy muttered under her breath. “That man is fiiiine.” She fanned herself.
Olivia shot her a look. She didn’t know Wendy. Was she usually this inappropriate? Olivia had expected more professional behavior from Zoe’s producer. Feeling uncomfortable, she stepped away before dialing Zoe’s husband.
He picked up the phone on the first ring. “Hello,” he said in a rushed voice.
“Hey, Dylan. This is Olivia. I’m looking for Zoe. She was supposed to meet me this morning.”
“She didn’t come home last night.” Dylan sounded worried. “I can’t talk. I’m on hold with the police.”
“Are you reporting her missing?”
“Yes.” His voice was clipped. The line went dead.
Clutching her phone, Olivia turned back to Wendy. “Dylan doesn’t know where she is.”
“What time did she leave the house?” Wendy asked.
“Zoe didn’t come home last night.”
Wendy’s eyes widened. “Are they having marital problems?”
“Not that I know of.”
The producer shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s a lot younger than she is.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he has someone on the side. Zoe does work a lot.”
Olivia didn’t respond. Speculating with little to no information was counterproductive. It felt intrusive, like gossip, a betrayal of her friend’s privacy. “What time did you finish up last night?”
“Around midnight.”
Olivia pictured the parking lot of their studio. It would have been empty at that hour. Zoe would have parked near the door, but still . . . “Did you see her leave the office?”
A hair blew across Wendy’s eyes, and she anchored it behind her ear. “We walked out together.”
“You’re sure her Jeep started?” Olivia asked. Zoe’s SUV was old.
Wendy nodded. “I saw her leave. I got a text from a man I’ve been dating. I answered him from behind the wheel. Zoe drove out of the lot before I did.”
“And she didn’t say she was going anywhere else?”
“No. I assumed she was going home.” Wendy’s mouth opened, then closed.
“What?”
“Nothing. She was just a little weird after the show. There was this caller that freaked her out.”
“In what way?”
“Nothing specific,” Wendy said. “He was just creepy. We get those sometimes.”
Olivia made a mental note to listen to the show. “Nothing else happened?”
“No.”
But something had happened to Zoe on the way home.
Had her Jeep broken down? There weren’t any areas between the office and her house where she would have been out of cell service.
If she’d gotten a flat, she would have changed the tire.
If she’d had engine trouble that she couldn’t fix, she would have called Dylan, a tow truck, or an Uber.
Maybe her phone had run out of charge. Engine trouble combined with a dead phone battery was possible.
She considered Wendy’s marital issues comment. If Zoe had been mad enough to check into a motel, her credit card would show the charge. Dylan could check their accounts. Though Zoe could have stayed with a friend, Olivia supposed.
Her mind churned with investigative steps. She’d reviewed missing persons cases in the past. “I’m going to start looking for her.”
“You don’t want to do the interview?” Wendy asked.
“I want to find Zoe.”
“She was fine at midnight.” Wendy frowned.
“Dylan is concerned enough to call the police and report her missing.” As was Olivia. As she’d expect Wendy to be.
But Wendy shrugged. “She’s an adult. If she doesn’t want to go home, then she doesn’t have to. Maybe give her more time before you start looking for her?”
“No. The warmer the trail, the better.” Olivia turned toward her Prius.
“Zoe will turn up,” Wendy called.
Olivia slid behind the wheel and shut the door.
Through the windshield, she studied Wendy for a few seconds.
She didn’t move. Her face was locked in the same irritated frown.
Olivia had no proof that Zoe and Wendy had left the office at midnight.
What if Wendy was lying? Zoe rented space in a Scarlet Falls office park for her small sound studio.
Did they have surveillance cameras in the parking lot?
Olivia did a U-turn. As she drove away, she glanced in the rearview mirror. Zoe’s business partner jerked open her vehicle door, as if exasperated. Why wasn’t she more concerned?
A little voice inside Olivia said, Wendy was the last person to see Zoe.