Paradise Falls

by Jacobs, Jonnie

  “I don’t much watch the news.” Mrs. Holiday hoisted Mary higher on her hip. “What is it you want?”

  Grace wasn’t sure what she’d been imagining. Certainly not that she and Karen’s mom would wrap their arms around one another in commiseration and become instant friends, although she wouldn’t have ruled it out. Now, she wasn’t sure how to respond. She felt foolish for coming.

  But she was also desperate to know how another mother handled the roaring fear and despair. “I was hoping . . . I mean, your daughter disappeared, too. You suffered through what I’m dealing with, are suffering still, I know, I didn’t mean to imply . . .” Grace took a breath. She was coming across like a crazy woman. “I feel so lost,” she said finally, with a voice that cracked. “I thought talking to you might help.”

  The woman regarded her for a moment, then pushed the screen door open. “You might as well come in. My name is Beth.”

  The door opened directly into a small, cramped living room. The beige wall-to-wall carpeting was stained, as was the green and brown plaid recliner positioned in front of the television. Prints of the masters—Grace recognized Monet’s water lilies and a Cezanne landscape—hung on the walls in cheap metal frames. Although the room was surprisingly orderly given the presence of young children, it was, to Grace’s mind, cluttered with knickknacks, lace doilies, and dusty, artificial plants. The stench of stale cigarette smoke permeated the air.

  The corner table next to the couch held a collection of photographs, the largest a portrait of five children, ranging in age from the toddler on Beth’s hip to a slender teenager Grace recognized as Karen. All were girls.

  Beth must have followed Grace’s gaze.

  “It was taken late last summer,” she said. “Not long before Karen disappeared. It’s the only one we have with all the kids. Pure luck. I had a discount coupon for that new photo place in the mall, or I wouldn’t of done it. I told my husband, God musta’ been looking out for us.”

  Her daughter had been missing since October and Beth believed God watched over her? The statement seemed absurd.

  Beth hastened to clarify, probably in response to Grace’s expression of horror. “I didn’t mean we’re lucky to have lost her or something. Goes without saying we want Karen home. I miss her every day. But after awhile, you begin to appreciate what you’ve got, no matter if they’re small things.” She repositioned the frame on the table, pausing to gaze at the faces of her children. “I’m real glad we’ve got this photo, you know what I mean? That smile of Karen’s helps me remember the joy as well as the pain.”

  Grace wondered if she’d ever be able to say the same thing. Caitlin’s photograph—whether hanging framed on the wall of their family room, peering out from the pages of the newspaper, or hanging on the flyers about town—did nothing but suck the air from Grace’s lungs.

  Beth gestured to the frayed, square-cushioned sofa. “Have a seat.” Beth sat down on the far end, bouncing the toddler on her knee. The older child had wandered off into another room. “Tell me about your daughter. Kate?”

  “Caitlin.”

  “Is she a friend of Karen’s?” Beth lit a cigarette from the pack on the table near the sofa and inhaled deeply.

  Is. Present tense. Did Beth truly believe Karen was still alive?

  “I don’t think they were friends,” Grace replied. “They go to the same school but they’re a couple of years apart.” It felt odd talking about Caitlin as though she and Beth were simply two mothers who’d met at a school function. “It was after school this last Friday that she disappeared. She was waiting for her dad to pick her up. That’s the last anyone saw of her.”

  Beth blew out a plume of smoke. “What do the police say?”

  “Not much. They’re looking for her, of course. They’ve talked to her friends and questioned possible witnesses. But so far, nothing.”

  Grace sucked in her breath. It was a mistake to have come. What had she been hoping for—a magic cure for grief?

  “Karen went missing at night,” Beth said matter-of-factly. “She snuck out to go a friend’s house. We didn’t even know she was gone till morning. It was a regular thing with her. We’d ground her, she’d find a way to get out. Got so we more or less gave up.” Beth shrugged. “Kids get to be teenagers, what are you going to do?”

  Not give up. Grace was beginning to realize how different she and Beth were. She doubted their lives intersected anywhere, except in the disappearances of their daughters.

  “Did the police come up with any leads?” Grace asked. She’d followed the news reports, of course, but after the initial burst of publicity, there’d been very little in the press.

  “At first they thought maybe she’d run off. Then when they found her abandoned car, they thought she might’ve met up with someone or hitched a ride with a stranger. Truth is, they don’t know what happened.”

  “That’s it? They don’t have anything? No evidence whatsoever?”

  “They found her purse,” Beth said after a moment. “In a Dumpster out at the east end of the mall. Still had money and credit cards and everything. But the cops never did find a single person who might’ve seen anything.”

  Beth set the toddler on the floor with one of the throwaway catalogues from a pile on the coffee table. “Here, Mary, see if you can find the doggies, okay?” She turned to Grace with a softness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I know how hard it is, waiting and hoping and worrying.”

  Grace nodded, feeling the sting of tears.

  “It doesn’t go away,” Beth continued. “But it does become . . . not easy, exactly. I guess what I mean is familiar. Like a bum knee or something. You learn to live with it.”

  For the first time, Grace was glad for the rawness of her emotions. The thought that she might someday lose that and become accustomed to Caitlin’s absence was as frightening as Caitlin’s being gone itself.

  “Anyways, the other kids need me,” Beth added. “I have to keep going.”

  “Maybe that makes a difference.” Although Grace didn’t honestly believe it could. “Caitlin is my only child.”

  “I had Karen when I was very young. Too young. The second time, I did it right and got married first.”

  “Your husband isn’t Karen’s father, then?”

  Beth waved the smoke from her face with her hand. “Her father is long gone.”

  “How does your husband feel about Karen being missing?”

  “He feels awful, of course.” She frowned at Grace. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s a good man. Works hard to put food on our table and clothes on our back. What are you implying?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that I’m remarried, too. Also to a wonderful man. But Caitlin’s not his daughter. He can’t feel what I’m feeling.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Grace hadn’t considered that before. Carl cared about her. He cared about Caitlin, too, but even if they hadn’t been close, Carl would feel sad for Grace’s sake. Why wasn’t that enough?

  “I don’t know,” Grace said. “All I know is that I feel so helpless. Hollow, afraid, alone. I feel as though I can’t catch my breath.”

  “Well, gosh yes,” Beth replied. “I felt that way too. But the Lord don’t give us more than we can handle.”

  “It sounds like you have a strong faith.” This wasn’t the first time Grace had envied those who found solace in religion. Unfortunately, belief wasn’t something you could pick up and learn, like skiing or dancing the samba.

  “Yeah, guess you could say that,” Beth said. “Me and my husband both.”

  “Don’t you ever despair?”

  “More than you’d believe. Or maybe you would, being there yourself.” Beth grew quiet for a moment. “Karen was a difficult child. And me being a single mom for so many years, that didn’t help. But she was turning herself around, getting on the right path. That’s what makes what happened even harder to accept.”

  Grace nodded encouragingly, although Karen and Caitlin were not
hing alike. Grace could almost understand that something bad might happen to a girl like Karen, and, at the same time, she felt guilty for thinking that way.

  “Karen’s counselor made her enroll in that tutoring program they have at the school,” Beth continued. “Kids helping each other. Her grades improved. Not a lot, but enough. She met kids who wanted to make something of their lives. Good kids, you know? Not that she hung around with them, but just knowing kids like that was a good influence.”

  “My stepson is part of that program,” Grace told her. “Adam tutors in math. I think he sometimes gets discouraged, so it’s good to hear you say it can make a difference.”

  “Oh, it makes a big difference.” Beth’s gaze followed her youngest daughter, who’d grown bored looking for dogs in a catalogue that appeared aimed at car enthusiasts. Mary had toddled over to the recliner and was trying to climb into it when she let out a howl.

  In one swift movement, Beth extinguished the cigarette and rushed to her daughter. She began kissing the child’s fingers. “Let’s make it all better,” she cooed.

  “Is she okay?” Grace asked.

  “She got her fingers pinched, but she’ll be fine. Won’t you Mary berry?” Beth turned to Grace. “I’m sorry about your daughter. I’ll add her to my prayers.”

  “Thank you.” Grace felt it would be heartless to point out that praying hadn’t helped Karen at all.

  Chapter 10

  Adam glanced at the clock on the wall above the chalkboard. Fifteen minutes until lunch. By then he’d have four classes down. Two more to go in the afternoon, although he was giving serious consideration to ditching them. He was way behind in French already, and history—well, Adam was a history buff of sorts, but Mr. Tedesci could suck the life out of even the most exciting Civil War battle or congressional debate. And the exams were taken verbatim from the textbook so there was really no reason to go to class.

  The next fifteen minutes might just test the limits of his endurance, anyway.

  He certainly didn’t plan to hang around during lunch. He’d already fielded enough questions about Caitlin to wear him down. Kids who normally didn’t acknowledge his existence were all of a sudden swarming around him. Like vultures, he thought. Pecking and picking and then flying off to savor whatever tidbit they’d been able to glean. Not that he had much to tell them.

  He hadn’t had much to say to the cops on Sunday, either. Unlike Lucy, who’d repeated the story about how she’d seen Caitlin at the oval but didn’t think Caitlin had seen her, and how she thought Caitlin might have gone back to her locker or something because next time Lucy looked, she was gone.

  Big fucking deal, like that was important.

  He shouldn’t blame Lucy. She just wanted to help. Adam could tell by the way she’d clung to their dad when they’d played miniature golf on Saturday that she was upset. Miniature golf, if you could believe it. As if things were perfectly normal.

  No, that wasn’t true. The four of them had never played miniature golf before. His dad had suggested it, and Grace had acted like it was a brilliant idea. Adam knew they wanted a “relaxed setting” where he and Lucy would be comfortable airing their fears about Caitlin, but it seemed like a stupid idea since nobody paid the least bit of attention to the game and no one but their dad had much to say.

  At the front of the classroom, the clock hand ticked the last few seconds to noon. Adam timed his internal b-r-r-ing with the bell so he could be the first person out the door.

  Heading to the student parking lot, he passed Rob Hardy, who’d obviously gotten a jump on the bell. He looked half stoned.

  “Yo,” Rob said, like they were buddies or something.

  “Yo, yourself,” Adam muttered. Rob was weird, but then a lot of kids thought Adam was weird too.

  “Bad shit about Caitlin.”

  “Yeah.”

  Adam tossed his backpack into the passenger seat of his car and drove out to the river, where he parked and climbed down the rocky bank to the wooded cove, his own private retreat. The roar of the river here was deafening, thundering all around him like a powerful ancient god.

  The ground felt damp, but Adam lay down anyway. He spread his arms and aimed his face toward the sky. A fine mist rose off the river. Droplets, rendered faintly violet by the refracted sunlight, danced above him. The icy wind grazed his skin with razor-like sharpness.

  He remembered meeting Caitlin for the first time, over barbecued baby-back ribs at the apartment his dad had moved into after the divorce. He should have known something was up, the way his dad had been busy cleaning up the place, chortling over nothing the least bit funny.

  “There’s a woman I’m seeing,” he’d told them casually over breakfast that morning. “She and her daughter are coming for dinner tonight.”

  Lucy, who was only ten at the time, turned on him like a coiled spring. “You invited strangers to dinner?”

  “They’re not strangers, sweetie. I know them both—”

  “Adam and I don’t.” Lucy stuck out her lower lip. “I don’t want them to come. I’m not sharing my toys.”

  “No one’s going to make you.”

  “Who’s the woman?” Adam had asked. He was fourteen. Not any happier than Lucy about the prospect of sharing their evening with people he didn’t know (no matter what his dad said, they were strangers). But he understood the ramifications of seeing someone. Adam wondered if his dad and this woman were already having sex. He couldn’t imagine his dad doing it. It would be too weird.

  “Her name is Grace.” The way his dad’s face softened when he said her name sent a shiver down Adam’s spine. “Her daughter’s name is Caitlin. I think you’ll like them.”

  ~~~~

  Adam’s initial impression of Grace wasn’t anything special. She was a mom kind of woman. Not as lean and fit as his own mother, nor as talkative, but she seemed okay.

  Caitlin didn’t make much of an impression, either. She was twelve, right between Adam and Lucy. She wore her dark hair pulled back from her face with a yellow ribbon. She was polite and sweet, maybe a bit too sweet, like that movie he’d seen where all the women in town turned into robots, probably because she’d gone to Catholic school where they didn’t let kids be kids. His mom had told him that.

  His dad had iced a bucket of sodas and beer, and he steered them all outside the small yard for some refreshment. Adam wondered if his dad had turned into a robot also. He’d never heard him say refreshment before.

  The conversation that followed felt stilted and uncomfortable. Mostly it was the two adults trying hard to involve the kids. Finally, Lucy took her can of soda and announced that she was going to her room.

  “Can I come?” Caitlin asked. Politely, of course. And sweetly.

  Lucy turned quickly, her ponytail bouncing like a rubber toy. “No, you can’t.”

  Adam caught the chagrined look on his dad’s face and came to the rescue. “I’ve got a model train in my room. You want to see it?”

  “Sure.” Caitlin smiled.

  Grace and his dad exchanged meaningful glances. “I think,” his dad said uncomfortably, “that’s probably not such a good idea.”

  It felt like a reprimand, and Adam started to argue. Then suddenly he got it. Caitlin was a girl. A Girl.

  Not that he knew a lot about girls. Lucy, of course, but she didn’t count. He had a couple of girl cousins, but they were family. Caitlin was a girl. And Adam a boy. She didn’t belong in his room.

  So instead, they’d played a boring game of Scrabble and the ribs had burned.

  ~~~~

  Adam stood, brushing loose soil and debris from this clothing. He felt the need for a memorial of some sort. A farewell. Whether people said it or not, he knew Caitlin wasn’t coming back.

  He reached into his pocket for the mood ring he’d given her last Christmas in her stocking. It was a silly, plastic thing he’d bought at a dollar store, but it had been a big hit for a while. He found a protected spot next to a stone outcropping and
buried it in the soft soil. Then he broke off a bare lilac branch from the bush nearby and planted it on top of the ring. He hoped, with all the rain, that it would sprout.

  Lastly he took his pocket knife and scratched Caitlin’s initials into the stone. As an afterthought, he added his own.

  “Goodbye, Caitlin. I’m going to miss you.”

  He thought he could hear her answer him, but it was probably the wind.

  It sounded like “Come on, Adam. Please.”

  That was the Caitlin he wanted to remember.

  Chapter 11

  Rayna entered the alcove where Hank’s and her desks were located.

  “Good job with the media,” Hank said.

  “Thanks.” The press conference had gone well, she thought. Now she could only hope that the exposure would trigger helpful input from the public—someone who’d seen Caitlin or maybe had suspicions about who might have taken her.

  “It will be interesting to see what Seth Robbins does with it,” Rayna added. She’d seen the columnist in the cluster of reporters, standing nonchalantly toward the back, not even bothering to take notes. Not that Robbins let facts guide his diatribes.

  Hank pushed aside some papers and leaned back in his chair. “Neither Jake Whittington nor his fiancée have shown up for a polygraph yet. Think we should lean on them?”

  Rayna had trouble understanding how the parent of a missing child could do anything but cooperate fully, yet she’d seen it happen before. And while the odds of either Whittington or his girlfriend having been involved in Caitlin’s disappearance were slim, Rayna wasn’t ready to rule them out.

  “It couldn’t hurt,” she told him.

  Hank grinned. “Good. I already left a message telling them to get their butts down here.”

  “Not in so many words, I hope.”

  Hank looked hurt. “You really think I’d be that stupid?”

  Yes. “No,” she said diplomatically. “Of course not.”

  “Liar.” He pointed a finger at her in a gotcha motion.

  “I’d especially like to get a handle on the fiancée,” Rayna said, hanging her jacket on the back of her chair and sitting. “Have you been able to verify the timing of the flat tire?”