She's Not There - Madison Marla - Страница 3
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She saw Phanny, her mixed-breed dog, sitting patiently next to the bed, her dark eyes hopeful. She looked at the pet fondly, reached over and stroked her silky head. Lisa couldn’t imagine life without her.
Last autumn, on a day much like today, Lisa had stopped to sit on a bench during one of her walks along the lake. She’d been nervous when a black dog appeared in front of her out of nowhere. But the animal had simply sat and stared at her sadly. After a minute it came closer and leaned against her leg.
Concerned about the animal, she’d taken time out of her schedule to drop it off at the county animal shelter. A day later, Lisa bought a crate, dog bed, food, and a leash. By the end of the next day, the dog, which Lisa’s daughter Paige named Phantom because of her shiny black coat, became a happy resident in Lisa’s home. Her name quickly evolved to Phanny and she became Lisa’s best friend.
Through the window, she saw pink rays of sun seeping out from behind a low stretch of steel-blue clouds, promising a pleasant morning. She had time to walk into town with Phanny and pick up a cup of steamy, hazelnut coffee.
When she arrived back home an hour later, Lisa showered, dressed for the office, and settled in at her desk to answer calls and go over her schedule. A message from Amanda Hawkins, director of the Women’s Center, had been tagged as urgent.
Amanda picked up her phone on the first ring. “Lisa, have you seen yesterday’s paper?”
“No, why?”
“It’s in a small column in the ‘surrounding counties’ section of the Journal. A client has gone missing. Jamie Denison.”
Lisa’s nerves coiled. “Are you aware she didn’t show up for her appointment yesterday?”
“Yes. Donna said you filed a Missed Appointment notice.”
Lisa leaned back in her chair, attempting calm as a sense of foreboding overcame her. “Jamie’s always been reliable. When she didn’t show up, I tried her cell, but she didn’t pick up. She wasn’t at her job, either. When I tried her home phone, someone answered and asked if I was Jamie. I couldn’t say who I was, of course, and apologized for dialing a wrong number. I’ve been worried about her.”
“I wasn’t sure if you knew, and I wanted you to hear it from me in case you hadn’t.”
“I appreciate that, Amanda. Did the article say what happened?”
“No. It was only a small piece. It did say her car hasn’t been found, so I would imagine they think she left of her own volition.”
“Hopefully, Jamie just needed to get away by herself to do some serious thinking. On another subject, someone informed me there’s been a dramatic increase in the number of abused women who’ve gone missing. The numbers were based on figures accumulated by the women’s centers.”
Lisa heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. They made an appointment to talk and Lisa hung up the phone, noticing the clouds she’d seen dispersing earlier had regrouped, taking over the sky. A chill traveled through her as the two events, the missing women and Jamie’s disappearance, merged in her mind like a bad omen.
3
A coworker advised Jeff Denison to hire an attorney. A disturbing suggestion, but Jeff knew without being told if it turned out his wife’s disappearance was not of her own design, he would be the prime suspect. But this wasn’t about him. Where the hell was Jamie?
He’d left the police station in the morning with no more knowledge of what had happened to her than when he arrived. And he didn’t have to be a detective himself to see what they were thinking—she’d left him.
He arrived back at their townhouse at noon to meet Jamie’s parents. They’d been in constant touch since Saturday morning when he’d gotten home after being in Appleton for three days and found his wife gone.
Sitting at a table with an untouched plate of sandwiches in its center, Jeff and Jamie’s parents faced each other’s panic.
Jamie’s mother wiped her eyes. “Are they even looking for her?”
Jeff had already laid out every word of his meeting with the Brookfield Police Department. He felt his patience with them dwindling. It killed him to be sitting here doing nothing but talking about it. “Yes, of course they are. There’s a statewide notice out for her car, and they’re questioning all her friends. I imagine they’ll talk to you soon.”
He couldn’t help but wonder what they’d have to say. Her parents shared his frantic concern about their daughter, but their eyes looked glazed with suspicion. Or maybe it was just his imagination, lack of sleep, and too much coffee making him paranoid.
They admitted having an appointment with the police after lunch. Jeff felt a twinge of guilt at his relief that they would be leaving soon. He had to do something. Drive around and look for her car? Anything but sit here and endlessly discuss her absence, while the 911 call, with its subtle accusations, lay huddled in the corner like an evil presence.
He said, “They seem to think she’s just gone somewhere to be alone.” He didn’t add, “to get away from me,” but the thought crossed his mind.
Her mother sniffled. “She would never go away without letting us know.”
Jeff didn’t think so either, but he had to keep hoping that’s what she’d done. Struggling not to think about the alternative, he told himself any moment now she’d come walking through the door.
After Jamie’s parents left, Jeff drove around the area, searching for Jamie’s car. A senseless pursuit, he returned home to spend the evening searching through Jamie’s things, looking for any clue to where she might have gone. At first surprised to find her checkbook mixed in with the clutter in one of the drawers, he recalled Jamie as an avid credit card user, and only wrote checks if she had to. Flipping through the duplicates of the checks she’d written in the last few months, a name caught his eye. Each week for the five weeks before her disappearance, she’d made out a check to the Women’s Center of Oconomowoc.
Jeff knew what that meant. She’d tried to get him to go to counseling with her, but he’d put her off more than once. Jamie must have decided to go by herself; the fact she hadn’t told him about it added to his torment.
He lost himself in his work the next day, grateful the others were leaving him alone. When he’d arrived, they had been supportive and sympathetic. He hadn’t seen anything in their eyes like he had in Jamie’s parents. Not yet anyway.
Jeff, an electrical engineer, worked as a chip and circuit designer. Jobs in the field were rare, and when he’d gotten the offer to work at Durand Systems, a company manufacturing state-of-the-art defense equipment, he’d been thrilled to find work in his desired field and still be able to stay in the Milwaukee area.
Later that morning, thoughts of Jamie overwhelmed him. Trying to force his thoughts back to the project he was working on, the piped-in music caught his attention. Someone had put on an oldies station. His stomach knotted as he recalled the lyrics from a haunting song he’d never given any thought to. But now . . .
“Her voice was soft and cool, her eyes were clear and bright—but she’s not there . . .”
He put his work aside and took out the slip of paper with the phone number he’d written down the night before. In the stark light of day, the numbers stood out as if they had something to tell him. Picking up the phone, he dialed the number of the Women’s Center.
4
Seven years earlier
The Grotto, one of the newer nightspots in the Third Ward, a tony area south of downtown Milwaukee, had a waiting line in front of its door by 10:00 any night of the week.
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