Chapter 29
She told one more lie and vowed it would be the last one. She claimed she was dropping out for a few weeks and going to Paris to be with Paul, who was supposedly fighting some virulent strain of kidney infection that was baffling the doctors. No one knew when he was coming home.
Luckily, Sam’s classes were over and it was easy convincing him to skip summer school again.
His hours at the bar were flexible, and with the students gone for a few weeks, central D.C.
was quieter as it waited for the flood of summer tourists.
Her car, a two-door sedan, had far fewer miles on the odometer than his Jeep, so that decision was easy.
They tossed their light bags in the trunk and left the city midmorning, after the rush hour crunch, with a general destination in mind but no schedule to get there.
They went south to the Outer Banks and spent two days drifting along the coast. They took a ferry out to Ocracoke and were the only guests in a cozy bed-and-breakfast. In Charleston, one night turned into three as they explored the islands around it and ventured into the Lowcountry.
They were in no hurry to get to Tampa and the trip took a week.
Chelsea wasn’t sure she wanted to meet Beth Snyder, but something kept pushing her.
Sam, never one to hold back his opinions, especially now that his sister needed plenty of advice, liked the idea.
It would certainly be good for Chelsea, and perhaps Beth too, to talk to someone who was sleepwalking through a nightmare like no other.
Chelsea and Sam found rooms in a high-rise on the beach at Clearwater, just west of Tampa. Beth lived nearby in an apartment complex. She was from the Sarasota area and her family was still there. She, like Chelsea, had to get away from the people she knew.
—
They met at a vegan deli near the beach and found a table on a veranda under an umbrella. Sam made it clear that he was more than happy to disappear if the two women were more comfortable without him. The decision was left to Beth, who asked him to stay.
The first question was: How are you holding up?
Chelsea wanted to know because Beth’s ordeal was now a year old. Where would she, Chelsea, be in a year, or two? How long could the nightmare last?
Beth was twenty-six, three years younger than Chelsea, and had the Florida tan and freckles that made her look about seventeen.
But her eyes were weary. Physically, she was about the same, though she struggled with her appetite and had lost a few pounds.
Her mother was a nurse practitioner and monitored things.
She monitored too many things, but that was another story.
Emotionally, she was up and down and had been seeing a therapist for the past six months.
She began each day with the belief that Jason was still alive and the State Department and CIA would find a way to bring him home.
If she couldn’t believe that, she couldn’t survive.
Chelsea also believed that Paul was alive. She told a similar story of wanting to get away from friends, all well-meaning but still bothersome, and hiding somewhere. The worst part was the cover-up, the necessary lies.
“Why can’t we just tell the truth?” Beth asked.
“Great question,” Chelsea said. “I’m fed up with these stories. They make me feel like I’m living a lie.”
“Tell who?” Sam asked.
“Our friends, for starters,” Chelsea said.
Sam asked Beth, “What do the big boys say about that?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. Gotta keep it quiet because if some reporter finds out then we’ll be on the front page.”
“That’s true,” Sam said. “You gotta admit that. If that story broke, you guys would get hounded night and day.”
“You sound like my father,” Beth said with a smile. “And that’s not a good thing.”
Sam said, “Well, our father knows everything and he thinks we’re lucky the story has been kept quiet.”
“I have a question for you,” Chelsea said. “When they released you, did they warn you against going to the press?”
“Oh yeah, big-time. My guy, whoever in the hell he was, told me that I would never see Jason again if I went to the press. And I believed him.”
“Probably the same guy who told me the same thing. And I was terrified. Still am.”
Beth said, “The badge boys—that’s what I call the FBI and CIA—they’re adamant in their belief that going public has no benefit and could be dangerous, even deadly. So we keep our mouths shut, tell all our lies, and pray for a miracle.”
A waiter stopped by and they ordered salads and designer water.
Sam said to Beth, “If I may, I know Chelsea’s story because she’s told me, but I don’t know yours. How did they pull off the kidnapping without getting caught?”
Beth’s face folded into a sudden sadness and Sam felt awful. “I’m sorry if it bothers you. Let’s not go there.”
“It’s all right. I haven’t told the story in a long time.
At first, the badge boys wanted all of it, and of course I told my family.
Every detail I could recall. That was months ago.
” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, exhaled, then opened them.
“We took the train to Giverny early one morning, a perfect spring day in early April. We toured Monet’s gardens and his home and everything was lovely.
Then we rented bikes, we had them reserved, and took off around the town and the countryside.
Early April is the perfect time because the scenery is beautiful, the weather is perfect, and it’s not crowded.
We stopped for lunch at a tiny café somewhere in the country.
The guy at the hotel desk recommended it and made the reservation.
We had a quick lunch, and when we got on our bikes Jason noticed that mine had a low tire.
It was almost flat. Looking back, they, whoever they are, had followed us and sabotaged the tire.
We rode for a few minutes and the tire went flat.
What do you do in the middle of the countryside with a flat tire on a rented bike?
We were lost until this guy appeared in a little white van and offered to take us, and our bikes, back to the village.
He and his buddy helped load up the bikes, and we took off.
At some point we passed out. Never got the flat tire fixed. ”
The salads arrived and they ate for a moment.
Sam said, “Sounds familiar. Where did you wake up? And if you don’t want to talk about it, forgive me and I’ll be quiet.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not sure I woke up. I was in a room so black and dark I could barely see my hand.”
“I think I’ve been there,” Chelsea said. “Let’s talk about something else.”
They ate some more and thought about the next subject. Chelsea said, “I saw where you were planning to go to med school.”
Beth gave a sad smile and tapped her lips with a napkin.
“That was the plan. I’ve been admitted to South Florida and was ready to start last fall.
Jason had a good job with the U.S. Attorney’s Office and had everything planned.
But things are on hold right now. I have a couple of part-time jobs to keep me busy, but I’m not ready for med school. Not until Jason comes home.”
“Have you spoken to the Stockman lady, Milly?” Chelsea asked.
“Yes, don’t go there. About a month after Jason disappeared I called her. My FBI contact at the time thought it might be beneficial. It was not.”
“How so?”
“She’s very angry. She was pregnant when they got married so she has a child now, a toddler with a lot of medical issues.
They were on a wine tour and she didn’t know she was pregnant.
The two families had an extremely hard time scraping together the money for the ransom, and I got the impression there is a lot of drama and bad feelings.
It was not a pleasant phone call and didn’t help either one of us. ”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s bad. She’s bitter at the government for not doing more, and so on.
His name is Alan, and his family wanted to call the FBI immediately, so they had words.
As you know, it’s a complete nightmare to begin with, then add a sick child and missing husband for three years and I can understand her anger. ”
“Poor girl,” Sam said. To change the subject he asked, “How much confidence do you have in the badge boys, as you call them?”
Beth shrugged as if she didn’t know, didn’t care. “They’re nice guys, just doing their jobs. I’ve never believed for a moment that they were telling me everything, and I guess they cannot. They check in once a week but have nothing to report.”
Chelsea asked, “When did they tell you about Paul?”
“Last week. My contact, a guy named Thad, nice guy from the Tampa office, stopped by the store, asked me to meet for coffee. He told me that there had been a third kidnapping, in Paris, newlyweds, same ransom and so on, and that because of the similarities they were assuming it was the same gang. I’m so sorry it’s happened to you, Chelsea. ”
“I’m optimistic, Beth, I really am.”
“So was I, for the first few months anyway. But the days and weeks pile up and nothing happens. I’ve gotten accustomed to being alone, and it’s not any fun. I know Jason is alive, somewhere, yet he can’t come home. It’s a struggle.”
For the first time, Beth’s eyes watered and her voice cracked.
They had been at the table for two hours and it was time to go. They hugged each other with promises to keep in touch.