Chapter Sixty-One. Riley, Present Day
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
RILEY, PRESENT DAY
I’m on my way. Sandra’s reply lands on my phone five minutes later, just as heavy footsteps thud on the floor above me.
The clatter of dishes tells me Sam is in the kitchen.
I moved things around in my search for the key, but surely he won’t notice in that mess.
I can’t stop the horrifying thought: Unless he already knows I’m here and he’s toying with me.
I’m still crouched down behind a stack of boxes, my thighs straining, trying to find a connection for all the strange threads I’ve encountered: Alex’s disappearance, the apparent resurrection of the Ganzfeld experiments, the theft of Alex’s student ID, her affair with her professor Josh Woods, and the break-in at Betty’s house.
I have edges of the puzzle, but not the inner connecting piece.
Maybe I’ve got it all wrong; the sisters could just be friendly acquaintances of Sam’s. Josh could be behind everything—and perhaps his wife, Elizabeth, is an accomplice. I reassure myself that at least the police must be looking at him carefully.
Suddenly the television cuts off and I hear Sandra’s voice. Relief weakens my body; she got here so quickly it feels like a miracle.
“I know it’s out of the blue, but I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve decided I can share a few pages of my mother’s diary with you,” she says. “But just a few pages for now.”
“Amazing! Where is it?” Sam replies, so loudly it’s as if he’s next to me.
“In my car.”
I hear the front door close and I stand up, wincing, and hurry to the stairs. I climb them as quietly as I can, skipping over the creaky second step, and open the door to the kitchen.
It’s now or never. I walk into the living room and peer out the window.
Sandra is leading Sam down the sidewalk.
If he’s wondering why she didn’t park in front of the house, his body language doesn’t show it.
He’s hurrying, seemingly eager to get his hands on another piece of his grandfather’s dark legacy.
I reach for the front door and open it, then slip across the porch and run in the opposite direction, praying Sam doesn’t look back.
When I turn the corner, I see Betty waiting, her face creased with worry.
“What happened?” she cries.
Another fifteen minutes later, we’re in Sandra’s sedan as she drives out of Sam’s neighborhood.
“What were you looking for in his house?” she asks.
I start to tell her about Alex’s disappearance, but she interrupts. “I think I heard about it on social media. She’s the girl who lives in a sorority house, right?”
I nod. “Anyway, for one crazy minute I thought she might be there.”
“Why would Sam take Alex?”
Betty and I explain everything to her, our words tumbling out as we each share pieces of the story. Sandra is silent. She’s a good listener—either by nature or by training.
Finally, she says, “I’m glad you called me for help.” She reaches for Betty’s hand. “If things had been different—if my mother had lived—you’d be like my aunt.”
“I feel that way, too,” Betty replies.
“What happened to the four of you … my mother wrote about the experiments in her diary. If someone is doing that to young women again…” She shudders. “Should we call the police and tell them we think Sam is involved in Alex’s disappearance?”
“We don’t have any proof,” I say. “It could be someone else. Josh, or even his wife. She seemed to have it in for Alex. She thought Alex made up the affair, but I believe it happened.”
Sandra nods. “So what’s next?”
Betty speaks up. “If it isn’t too much of an imposition, could we go to your house? My head is aching. I wouldn’t mind resting for a bit. And then we can talk more.”
“Of course.” Sandra makes a left, turning onto a main artery. “We can circle back for your car later.”
“But don’t you have a busy day?” I ask, remembering her back-to-back appointments.
“Not anymore. I canceled everything when I got your message.”
We pull up to Sandra’s house a few minutes later.
Since Sandra doesn’t have a ramp, we lift Betty into our arms and carry her inside together.
Once she’s settled on the living room couch I go back out for her chair.
Sandra disappears into the kitchen, returning with glasses of lemonade and a plate of banana bread.
Betty takes a bite. “Oh, this is delicious! What is it?”
“You’ve never had banana bread?” Sandra asks, feeding a bite to Hank, who wags his tail in glee.
“There are so many things I’ve never tried.” Betty says it without a hint of self-pity. I notice her gaping at the flat-screen TV and modern sculpture atop a marble stand.
“What is this?” She points to an object that’s positioned on the big wooden bookshelf to face the front door.
“It’s a Ring camera,” Sandra explains. “Since I live alone and Hank would make best friends with an intruder, it provides a layer of security. I get notified if someone is coming in through the front door. I can even see through the camera if I’m not home.”
“How marvelous!” Betty cries as Sandra shows her the app on her cell phone. “Look, there we are coming in a moment ago, just like you said!”
“Technology is a mixed blessing,” Sandra replies. “But at least with cameras everywhere, the police must have leads about Alex.”
“I hope so.” I take a sip of my lemonade. It’s tart and sweet, just how I like it.
“Tell me more about yourself,” Betty prompts Sandra. “Do you have children?”
Sandra shakes her head. “I’ve never married. I guess it just wasn’t in the cards for me.” Sorrow crosses her face.
“But you’re seeing someone special,” I say.
She cocks her head to the side. “I am?”
“The carpenter,” I prompt.
“Oh, him.” Sandra shakes her head. “Turns out he’s married. He said he and his wife are having a trial separation, but there’s no way I’m getting in the middle of that mess.”
She sounds so resolute. Sandra isn’t willing to settle; she’s honoring her instincts. Once again, I feel like there’s so much I can learn from her.
“You’ve had a rough few days,” Sandra says. “Why don’t you two rest a bit? I have some emails to take care of. Then we’ll figure out what to do next.”
I exhale and lean back, feeling some of the tension melting from my limbs. Whatever is happening—and whatever is going to happen—at least there are three of us now.