Chapter 16 Lee
Lee
After dinner—McDonald’s burgers delivered by a Greek on a moped—Lee moved into Regan’s room and began looking through her sister’s things. Regan’s phone was missing, her car was missing, Regan was missing, and her laptop was missing.
Lee hadn’t really paid much attention to her sister for a long time.
She’d assumed Regan as a mother and adult was who she’d been as a kid: the one you didn’t have to worry about.
When Regan and Matt divorced and Regan moved to Greece, Lee had been jealous, but never concerned.
Now she felt guilty for not noticing her sister had been in trouble, but also weirdly glad to have a purpose to tie her to the world for a bit.
The only time Lee glimpsed happiness seemed to be when she was enmeshed, or codependent, or whatever you wanted to call it. When she was needed.
Regan’s bedroom had three Japanese fans affixed to the wall (why?).
Her bed was lumpy but the sheets seemed clean.
In the bathroom, Lee looked at her sister’s toiletries.
When she had been a doctor’s wife, Regan had used “Purple” shampoo to keep her blond highlights gleaming.
She’d ordered expensive skin care products, nicer than any Lee used and Lee’s face was literally her job.
But in her reimagined, Athenian life, Regan used cheap Suave products.
She had a large, almost empty bottle of off-brand vitamins for women. Her mirrored cabinet needed Windexing.
Lee ached. She’d imagined her sister’s life in Greece was glamorous…a whitewashed beachside cottage, furniture made of rattan. Instead, Regan’s home was well loved but sparsely furnished, a three-bedroom apartment with one room rented to strangers.
At least Regan still had her luxurious monogrammed towels and bath mat. Lee’s shoulders softened as she stepped under a stream of hot water in Regan’s shower. She exhaled and closed her eyes. Lee’s depression seemed distant—the need to find her sister had snapped her back to herself.
Sunday morning, Lee would rise early (she’d need to set an alarm!) and prepare breakfast for the girls (did they have English muffins?). Then, if Regan did not return or text, Lee would call the police.
Lee wasn’t terrified, not yet. Regan had obviously gotten into some sort of scrape, but lurid crimes seemed like something that happened to other families.
The Perkinses had had enough trauma to last them, and it seemed impossible that Regan had been randomly abducted or sold into sex trafficking. Who would abduct a mom?
Changing into pajamas, Lee opened the drawer of her sister’s nightstand: ChapStick, an unopened Kiss chocolate bar, a claw clip, three hairbands, CBD lotion, an eye mask, earplugs, measuring tape, cough drops, Sibley Backyard Birding flash cards.
While the private investigator part of herself had hoped to find a clue, she was relieved that the contents of Regan’s bedside drawer were innocuous.
She made a last swipe of the drawer and her fingers closed on a velvet box tucked into the back corner. Lee removed the box and opened it, her heart beating fast.
The box was empty.