by Alice Ward
“What type of criteria do you set for the campers?” Kennedy pressed.
“We evaluate each camper on an individual basis and we have a very strict code of conduct. The first time a code is broken, the camper is separated from the others and their behavior is addressed. The second time, they’re sent home. We don’t have nearly as many disciplinary problems as you’d expect. The kids want to stay here. Most would move in, if we let them.”
“Do you have a maximum allowed stay?”
“Sessions last two weeks and no one is allowed more than four sessions a year.”
“And how often did Cynthia stay?”
“Four times a year, every three months like clockwork.”
“In her time here, what type of impression did you have of her?”
“Cynthia was a very sweet little girl. I’d been her for about three years before her first visit and I remember being struck by how easily she walked away from her parents. Most of our campers go through some intense separation anxiety on drop off day. But not Cynthia. She was very independent, very hesitant to get to know the other kids in her bunkhouse. Social issues are common with these kids, so it wasn’t anything I worried about.”
Asher cleared his throat. “What did you worry about?”
Dr. Winston shifted nervously in her chair and stared at the table. “Nothing I could ever put words to. On the surface, Cynthia was a model camper. She took care of her things, she participated in group activities, and she never acted out. Most of the time, she was a downright pleasure to be around. Some of the staff even questioned if she was troubled enough to need to be here.”
“But you didn’t question that,” Kennedy finished for her.
The doctor shook her head. “Cynthia was exceptionally bright. After her first few stays, I started noticing little glimmers of her true personality. She’d drop her act when she thought no one was looking. More than once I saw detached, cold evil behind that child’s eyes.”
Dr. Winston shuddered and wrapped her arms around her chest as if she’d caught a chill. Asher let out a long breath while Kennedy stared back at the doctor.
“Dr. Winston, while Cynthia was in your care, did you develop a professional opinion in regards to her diagnosis?”
She nodded. “I share the opinion of Dr. Griner in Philadelphia. I believe Cynthia Goins is a sociopath. For whatever reason, she’s incapable of feeling for anyone other than herself.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” Asher interjected. “She’s troubled, sure. But she feels for people.”
The doctor raised her eyebrow. “You think she feels for you?”
“She’s my family,” he replied, his voice stubborn and defiant.
“Dr. Winston, you’ve spoken frankly with us so I’m going to return the favor. I trust that nothing I tell you will leave this room,” Kennedy warned.
“Of course,” she agreed with a wave.
“When Cynthia was sixteen, she developed a heroin addiction. She witnessed multiple crimes and fled home in fear of her life. For the last decade, she’s lived under an assumed name with her only contact to her old life being Mr. Reynolds, who was unaware of her medical history. Early last week, Cynthia disappeared again, this time with a large sum of Mr. Reynolds’s money. What we’re trying to determine is whether or not she disappeared of her own volition.”
“I’m aware that she goes by Rachel now,” Dr. Winston confessed. “She came to an alumni event nine years ago. I also know what happened in California and her relationship with Mr. Reynolds.” She turned to me and raised an eyebrow.
“Is your relationship with Asher fairly new?” she asked.
I nodded and swallowed nervously, feeling suddenly put on the spot.
“And let me guess. Strange things started happening shortly after you started dating. She found a way to dominate his attention and insert herself deeper into your lives.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” I agreed, my voice barely a whisper.
“It doesn’t surprise me.” She straightened her shoulders and turned back to Asher.
“If you’ve been under the impression that Cynthia feels for you, it’s because she sees you as her possession. What you’ve been through together would bond anyone. But Cynthia isn’t capable of forming healthy bonds. What happened immediately before she disappeared?”
The answer hit me like a ton of bricks. “Asher and I went to London. Arts, International recognized my work at their annual banquet. They said I was revolutionizing the art world as well as EnvisionTech.”
“The company Rachel and I built together,” Asher finished with a groan.
“Well then, I think you have your answer,” the doctor replied. “I would certainly recommend that someone still investigate the possibility that Cynthia didn’t disappear of her own free will. But I think chances are good that this is a very dramatic, dangerous temper tantrum. It wouldn’t be her first.”
“What would you recommend going forward?” Kennedy asked.
“I would keep using every resource available to find her. Other than that, just watch your back and expect the unexpected. Right now, Cynthia is capable of anything.”
***
“Lauren, can we come in?” Kennedy pushed open the bathroom door and she and Claire stuck their heads into the room. I sat on the edge of the tub, wiping my eyes after a hysterical breakdown.
“Yes,” I agreed, half laughing and half sobbing.
They rushed to my side, locking the door behind them.
“Kennedy told me everything the doctor said. This is insane, Lauren. What can we do?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out. If either of you have any ideas on how to achieve time travel, now would be a great time for you to speak up. Just throw me back a few months and I’ll warn myself not to poke the psychotic, vindictive bear.”
“God, how I wish we could do that,” Kennedy replied with a sigh. She sat down on the closed toilet while Claire settled in on the floor in front of me.
“I knew she was unstable,” I continued. “I knew right away that she didn’t like me. I should have followed my gut.”
“You did,” Kennedy reminded me. “We all did. There’s no way you could have possibly imagined something like this would happen. You haven’t been letting Asher blame himself. We’re not going to let you take any of the blame either.”
I looked to my friend’s eyes, thankful beyond words that she was there. Kennedy always knew what to do.
“What the hell are we supposed to do now?” I asked. “You heard everything Dr. Winston said. She was spot on when she was talking about how Rachel reacted to Asher and me. There’s not a doubt in my mind that she’s right about the rest of it too. Rachel took the money and ran because she hated the attention I was getting. She wants Asher’s attention for herself. Are we supposed to give her her way so she comes home? Am I supposed to let her dictate my life like that? Or do I stay put and piss her off even more? I’m seriously asking, Kennedy. I have no idea what’s right here.”
“I don’t know either,” she confessed. “Selfishly, I want you to get off the plane in Boston with me instead of going back to California. We know Rachel’s dangerous. But I think we should probably sit down with a few of the Goins doctors and get their opinions before we make any decisions. We’re walking a very fine line here and we can’t afford to make any ignorant mistakes.”
I sighed, feeling slightly better to have some sort of plan, however small it may be.
“That’s a good idea. How’s Asher holding up?”
When I’d excused myself for my breakdown, Asher had been on the couch staring blankly at the television. The meeting with Dr. Winston had rattled him more than anyone, which was why I’d refused to cry in front of him.
“He’s on the phone with someone from Middlesex,” Claire told me. “From what we heard, the guy’s coming here. Asher’s pretty agitated. I think the guy had more bad news.”
I stood and moved for the vanity. “Go
d, I must look like a disaster.”
Kennedy rose to her feet and gestured for me to take her seat.
“Sit down. I’ll fix your makeup,” she insisted.
“I’ll go see if Asher needs anything,” Claire offered.
“Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”
Kennedy wet the corner of a washcloth and wiped mascara from under my eyes.
“I’ve really gotten us into some shit, haven’t I?”
“Yep,” she agreed. “She scares me, Lauren. Everything about this scares the shit out of me.”
“I think that’s a pretty common sentiment at the moment. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too.”
We heard a door open and a muffled, unfamiliar voice filled the next room.
“I guess Asher’s friend drives fast,” she observed, swiping a final layer of foundation under my puffy eyes.
“No matter, we’re all done. Come on, let’s see what this guy has to say.”
I glanced at my reflection on the way out the door. I didn’t look like a raccoon anymore, but it was obvious that I had been crying.
Oh well. If Claire’s right and we’re about to get more bad news, I’m just going to start crying again anyway.
I followed Kennedy out of the bathroom and found Asher, Claire, and a tall blond man seated around the small coffee table in the living area of our room. Asher and the man stood to greet us.
“Lauren, Kennedy, this is Sam Lisbon. Sam, this is my girlfriend Lauren Matthews and our friend Kennedy Montgomery. Kennedy is also our attorney.”
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Sam replied, extending his hand. We took turns shaking it and then sat down on the couch.
“Sam grew up in Middlesex. His parents own the resort where Rachel and I worked,” Asher explained.
Sam nodded. “I’m so glad you called, man. I’ve been going back and forth on whether or not to get ahold of you for days.”
“You’ve heard from Rachel,” Kennedy assumed out loud.
He nodded again. “I saw her three days ago. She showed up at the resort and paid cash for a room. At first, I was thrilled to see her. I’ve followed your careers, of course. And I love the games.”
“Thank you,” Asher replied. “You said you were thrilled to see her, at first. What happened?”
“When my shift was over, I found her at the bar. She was eight shots into a bottle of Jack and more than a little out of control. She was dancing around, but not so steady on her feet. I helped her back to her room and she made a pass at me. Completely caught me off guard. I mean, I tried to pick her up back in the day. She always told me she didn’t like guys.”
“She always told me that too,” Asher agreed.
“It threw me for a loop. I turned her down and she just fucking lost it. She started pulling shit out of her bags, destroyed the whole god damn room. Then, she broke down crying and apologized. I helped her into bed and stayed with her until she fell asleep. I didn’t want housekeeping to see the mess, so I cleaned up before I left. She had a lot of cash, man. Like a scary bunch of cash. And she had an ID and passport that said her name was Sharon Parker.”
Asher sighed and closed his eyes. I knew what was happening inside his head. Sam’s story killed any hope that Rachel had been forced to steal from him. I reached across the table and put a comforting hand on his forearm.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” I whispered.
“It means she’s safe… or at least she’s safe from everyone but herself. I guess that’s something,” he replied.
“Did you see Rachel again after that night?” Kennedy pressed.
Sam shook his head. “No, ma’am. I checked her room the moment I got to work the next day. She’d already cleared out.”
“Did you happen to get a look at what she was driving?”
“No. Normally, we make guests fill out paperwork listing their make, model, and tag number. But since she was a friend and she paid cash, I let her skip that part. I’m not sure she had a vehicle.”
“When you were cleaning the room, did you find anything to suggest where she might be heading next?”
“I didn’t see anything. But with the passport and all of the money, I assumed she was heading to Canada. What the hell happened to her, Asher? How much trouble is she in?”
“The company payroll account was drained right before she disappeared,” he confessed. I was surprised he was giving Sam the details, but I didn’t comment.
Sam let out a whistle. “Don’t you have thousands of employees? That must have been a huge chunk of dough.”
Asher nodded. “We’ve learned quite a bit about Rachel’s history over the last few days. She’s dangerous, Sam. You have to know how much it pains me to say that. But we’ve been warned that she’s capable of anything. I doubt she’ll show up again, but—”
“If she does, I’ll call you immediately,” he promised. “I saved your cell number. It’s good to see you again, Ash, despite the circumstances.”
“It’s good to see you too. Lauren and I are planning on coming back when the leaves start changing color. We’ll have to get together then and catch up properly.”
“Not much to catch up on here,” Sam told him. “But I’d love to hang out and hear stories about the high life. And if you need a place to stay, I can hook you up with one of the presidential cabins.”
“That would be perfect,” Asher agreed.
“I’d love to see where Asher used to work,” I said with a smile.
“It’s settled then. As soon as you guys get this mess dealt with, take a look at your schedules and give me a call. Mom and Dad will be thrilled to see you again. They brag to all of the guests that you designed our computer system.”
“Tell them I said hello.” Asher rose to his feet and Sam followed.
“Thank you so much for coming over and telling us all of this. I’ll be in touch soon.”
“You’re welcome, man. Good luck. Ladies, it was nice to meet you.” Sam nodded his goodbyes and Asher walked him into the hallway. I met Kennedy’s gaze.
“So, we know she has the money. And we know she’s already left the area. Is there any reason we need to stay?”
She shook her head. “No. In fact, it’s probably best if we get back to California and arrange a meeting with those doctors as soon as possible. I’ll call the pilot and have him meet us at the airport.”
CHAPTER 4
The Goins’ team of doctors confirmed what we already suspected: there was really no right or wrong answer for what to do next. If Asher and I stayed together, it could further Rachel’s rage and provoke her to do something even more drastic. If we separated, or at least pretended to, it would feed her warped sense of reality, which could end up being just as dangerous. Kennedy tried to convince me to return to Boston with her, but I couldn’t be persuaded to leave Asher’s side. He increased security at the house and the office and we tried to carry on with our lives as best as possible.
Asher came back to work and threw himself into a new project using his technology to improve military training tactics. He formally fired Rachel from the company, to the collective relief of the board members. I was quietly promoted into her position and Merritt moved into mine. A week passed with no news and no new catastrophes, lulling me into a false sense that life was finally stabilizing. On Friday afternoon, disaster struck again.
I was at my desk, looking over an advertising layout when a message alert chimed through the room. I glanced up at my computer screen and saw an unfamiliar email address in my inbox. I clicked on the message and my blood ran cold.
Thought you should know the truth about your boyfriend.
- A Concerned Friend
Under the cryptic message were crime scene photos from what I could only assume was the night Asher killed Miguel Chavez in self-defense. The pictures were graphic, some taken before the bodies had been moved. Several document files were also attached to the email; I debated w
hether or not to open them and decided against it.
There could be viruses, or spyware, or God knows what else attached to this. I need to call the tech department. I need to call Asher.
I stood up and immediately sat down again, dizzy with nerves. I took a few deep breaths and willed my heart to stop racing. When I’d gathered my composure, I set off for Asher’s office. I found him at his desk, bent over his laptop.
“Hey, baby.” He looked up and then jumped to his feet. “Lauren, you’re white. What’s wrong?” He put an arm around me and led me toward the sofa. I pulled away and moved to the desk.
“I just got an email from an account I don’t recognize. It’s full of pictures from the cabin… pictures of Miguel and the federal marshal. There were doc files too, but I didn’t open them.”
Asher groaned and collapsed into his chair. He hit a few keys and turned the board to me.
“Type in your password.”
I blushed slightly and typed his name and birthday. My email account popped up and Asher opened the message.
“I checked the system myself. If there’s any malware in the message, the firewall will catch it and track it,” he assured me. He scrolled down past the text and the images filled the screen. He immediately turned and vomited in his deskside trash can. I rushed to the mini fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.
“I’m sorry. I should have warned you how bad the pictures were.” I unscrewed the lid and passed him the bottle. He took a long gulp and wiped his face with a tissue.
“It’s okay. It’s just… I’ve never had a clear picture of that night in my head. Everything happened so fast that night. I don’t remember seeing that much blood.”
“Let me look at the rest of it first,” I insisted, turning the laptop away from him. I clicked on the first document and photocopies of Asher’s foster care records filled the screen. The next file held his financial records, the third an FBI file.
“Did you know the FBI has a file on you?” I asked, frowning at the screen.
