Amanda was so right about having the wool pulled away from her eyes. These city officials of ours really are something else.
Sending this one detective could merely be checking the box for the police department on behalf of Mark Miller and his camp. Questioning me will confirm that my passport has never shown up, but it doesn’t prove Sabine has it or intended to use it to leave Mark. She didn’t fake her own disappearance or create some sort of elaborate ruse.
I answer a total of five questions before Detective Matthews excuses himself and says he has everything he needs. Just as I thought, he doesn’t write down any of my answers.
But what comes next makes me jump from my seat. With the detective gone, someone else is banging steadily on my door—their ferocious knocking followed by an urgent cry.
Twenty-Nine
Monica and Carol don’t wait for me to turn the doorknob before they’re barreling inside my home. I step back, the women pushing past me to the living room.
Monica says, “He was here less than ten minutes.” Her voice is shrill, her hands shaking. “They don’t want to think it’s true.”
She moves closer to the couch, Carol following, the two of them panting as if they’ve run a half-marathon to be here despite Monica’s monstrous black Escalade I see parked in the driveway. I slam my front door.
Monica’s eyes are wild, pupils dilated as she blinks repeatedly. Her dark hair falls on either side of her face; she hasn’t bothered to pin it up. Long gone is the signature green visor I’m used to seeing her wearing, Carol too, their coordinated ponytails and meticulous looks. But with everything that’s happening—their world flipped upside down—the glamor is over for now.
Without a stitch of makeup, Carol’s face is stark against her bright red hair. Thin blue veins ripple at her temples. But not those green eyes—eyes that are fierce and leveling me with a gaze that says she wants to get to the bottom of this. Monica too.
But get to the bottom of what?
These women have never been to my house before, and honestly, I didn’t think they knew where I lived. I’ve never had a reason for them to visit, not that I’ve visited their homes on Honors Row either. But here they stand, the great Monica Claiborne and Carol Troy, looking very much like women who no longer have their acts together—or their lives together, for that matter. In the few seconds they’re before me, they look seconds away from coming unhinged.
Tish joins me at the elbow. This isn’t a confrontation per se, but a line has certainly been drawn in the sand and we can both sense it. Tish and I stand on one side as we wait to hear what is raging through Monica and Carol’s minds.
“The passport!” Monica says. “When did you know it was missing? Did Sabine say anything to you? What do you know?”
I give her a startled look. “I only realized yesterday that it never turned up.”
“When should you have received it?”
“A couple of weeks ago. Look, I just told the detective the same things. I don’t have to tell you.”
“But your passport,” she insists. “This could help. They think I hurt Sabine but they’re wrong. It was only a letter.” She shoots Carol a look. “Tell them it was only my stupid drunken words. I didn’t mean any of it.”
“She didn’t mean any of it,” Carol repeats. “This is being blown completely out of proportion. Sabine should have torn it up and we wouldn’t be dealing with this part right now.”
“Is there a chance she took it?” Monica asks, flashing her eyes at me. “She took your passport and went somewhere? Did you get an alert about someone booking a flight? Have you checked?” She jabs a finger at me. “Tell us, Erica! What do you know?”
Tish’s face blooms bright red. “Monica, stop it! You’re only latching onto this because you wrote those threats to Sabine. You’re only trying to get yourself off the hook.”
“We said Monica didn’t mean it.” Carol says.
Monica spins away, looking both horrified and guilty. “Everything has gotten so screwed up. We had that fight Friday night before everything happened. It was awful. Sabine didn’t mean what she said to me either, I know she didn’t.” She is rambling, her gaze darting from one corner of the room to the next. “Something was off—I knew it the moment we sat down for dinner. Sabine and Mark were already arguing about something. The mood was terrible. Sabine finished a bottle of wine, so did I, and we said those things to each other.”
Dumbfounded, I say, “Why are you telling us all this?”
“Because we want you to know. We need someone to believe us.”
“Aren’t the police?” I question her. “You haven’t been arrested.”
Monica reels at the word arrested. “No. But your passport, as soon as we heard.” Her eyes light up. “We thought it could be connected somehow.”
I grit my teeth. “So what else happened?”
“I’ve never seen Sabine be so cold, and Mark in return was furious. After Jacob called, it sent everyone over the edge. Especially Mark.” For this, she looks at Tish. “He claimed to know something about Mark misusing campaign funds, which is entirely wrong, by the way. We thought it was nonsense. It was just a way for his opponent to get a rise out of him—you know, dirty politics.”
Tish doesn’t say a word.
“But Sabine started freaking out. She got really scared. It was like she was doubting her husband. She was turning on him.”
“So you went after her to silence her?” Tish says. “You wanted Mark for yourself? You couldn’t believe she’d accuse him of anything?”
Monica swings her arms around. “Are you crazy? Why would I do something like that?”
I step forward, shielding Tish, but she doesn’t back away.
“I would never hurt her. Never!” Monica screams. She cuts me a look next. “You’ve argued with Sabine before too. In public. And no one’s ever said you wanted to hurt her.”
My mouth drops open. “That’s not even close to being the same thing.”
“It’s certainly not a hate letter,” Tish reminds her, folding her arms. “And how do you know that’s what Jacob told him anyway? I’ve never heard him talk about Mark misusing funds. He never said he was going to pull something like this over him to win the election. How do you know that’s what he said to him on the phone?”
“Because Mark told us,” Monica answers. “He came back to dinner and repeated everything. He said Jacob warned him about dangerous people who were watching. Some business deal that went terribly wrong and they’re going after Mark. Planting cameras. Monitoring the house.”
They won’t try it again, the words repeat in my head. When Monica said this at the pool, had they been worrying about multiple culprits?
Monica says, “Everyone was pretty shaken up and we drank some more. Sabine kept asking Mark if there was something he was hiding—she wouldn’t let up. It was like she knew something. Like she had found out something—”
“Like what?” My voice cracks. I find I’m getting caught up in their story until I’m breathless.
“I don’t know, she wouldn’t say. She was hysterical,” Monica tells us. “At one point, I was trying to console Sabine. Tried convincing her that Jacob was only trying to get under our skin. I tried consoling Mark too and that’s when she turned on me; it was crazy. She brought up all this stuff about me wanting to get back together with Mark—which is ridiculous—it was so long ago.”
“We’ve never seen Sabine act like this before,” Carol insists.
“She kept talking about my marriage. How I didn’t love Frank anymore and wanted to leave him, but that’s not true. Frank was so appalled he could barely look at me. But I knew Sabine had had too much to drink. Her emotions were all over the place. She’d accused her husband for no reason. She accused me, and I think this was her way of lashing out. She took it out on us instead of facing the truth about herself.”
I narrow my eyes. “What truth?”
“That she wanted to leave her marriage. That ge
tting a divorce from Mark wasn’t the right option. He’d never allow it. She had to do something else.”
Stunned, Tish asks, “Why would she want to leave him?”
“She hasn’t been happy for a long time. People don’t know this, but a lot of things have changed with Sabine.”
“Why can’t she leave him?” Tish asks. “Why is that not an option? He’d never allow it. What does that mean?”
She gives a tight smile. “A successful politician like him can’t afford a messy divorce.”
“So now you’re saying he hurt her?” Tish scoffs. “He didn’t want a divorce so he hurt her instead?”
Monica’s eyes grow big. “No, Mark would never do something like that!”
“We told you, we think Sabine took off,” Carol says. “She only made it seem like everything was okay the next day so she could run off and disappear.”
“Mark is the one who suggested we go to the pool,” Monica tells us. “He said it would be good to keep everyone out of the house while he tried to figure out what in the hell Jacob was talking about—if anyone was planting cameras and monitoring their home like Jacob said. I was just glad Sabine and I could be okay again. The letter, forgotten. That Carol was with us and we could sit by the pool with our kids. The fireworks…” Her voice drifts.
Carol says, “We didn’t know this but he didn’t want Sabine coming back to the house on her own.”
“I know,” I tell her. “I heard him.”
Carol turns. “What do you mean, you heard him?”
“At the pool. I overheard you guys talking. Sabine had already left and Mark was sitting with you. He said she got spooked.” I look at Monica. “You said you were all spooked and that you didn’t think they would try it again.”
“I didn’t think Jacob would—I hoped he wouldn’t and not someone from his group either. I was trying to calm Mark down.”
Tish launches forward again. “Jacob wouldn’t say that stuff to Mark! He sure as hell didn’t go after Sabine like everyone else is saying.”
“He made that phone call the night before Sabine disappeared,” Monica says. “Mark saw him driving in the neighborhood so of course the cops focused on him. But now they’re also considering my stupid drunk letter and thinking I might have hurt her even though I swear I didn’t—why in the hell would I?”
“You look pretty guilty to me,” Tish says, and Monica sucks in a shocked breath. “Because if Sabine left, she hasn’t taken any money. She hasn’t done anything to look like she packed any clothes or hopped on a bus. No signs of her at an airport. No wonder the police are considering whether you have a motive.”
Monica cries, “It’s not true! You have to believe me! The idea she has Erica’s passport and could be using it is our only hope.”
“Wait,” I say, cutting my hands through the air. “You said that Sabine getting a divorce from Mark would never be allowed. She had to do something else.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“But if you’re saying Sabine wanted out of her marriage, that divorcing Mark wasn’t an option, then why aren’t you just letting her go? If this is really what happened and she’s not locked in someone’s basement—or something worse—then why not let her take my passport and get out of here? Let the woman leave if that’s what she really wants.”
Monica meets my eyes. “Because the cops need to follow this up and track her down. If they do that, they can stop trying to pin this on me.”
And there it is. My head drops forward in disbelief until all I can do is stare. The best friends showing their true colors. Saving their necks only when push comes to shove.
I stammer. “You guys are horrible. Why didn’t you help her?”
“You can’t blame me!” Monica screams. “What are we supposed to do?”
“I don’t know, protect your friend?”
“You know,” Tish says. “I feel sorry for Sabine, thinking she has two best friends when you’re nothing of the sort.” She grips my arm in solidarity. “Erica has stuck with me through everything. Amanda too. Our friendship is rock solid. But you guys are…” A trembling shake rolls through her voice. “You’re horrible, just like Erica said.”
But Monica shrieks, “You don’t know what it’s like to have the police come down on you!”
“The police have talked to us too,” Tish tells her.
“But not like this!”
“We just need to figure out where she would go,” Carol says. “If we can find out she’s safe then there won’t be any more suspicions against Monica.”
“We have to find her.” Monica is tugging at her hair now, her hands ripping at her scalp.
“Maybe she went home,” Carol continues. “Maybe she’s finding family.”
“But wouldn’t the police have checked that too?” Tish asks. “They’d make calls, go talk to a few neighbors in Louisiana, find out her parents are dead. There’d be no reason for Sabine to go back to Slidell.”
Oh, Tish.
Monica stops. She gives her a strange look. “Wait, how do you know her parents are dead?”
Carol says, “How do you know about Slidell?”
Tish whirls her eyes to me—her face frozen by her blunder. She stammers, “That’s just what I heard.” But she’s clearly horrified she’s opened her mouth.
Monica steps forward peering at Tish, then at me. “Wait, how?”
The pause is never-ending. A twenty-five-year decision for Sabine and I to stay out of each other’s lives bursting at the seams and coming out in the open.
“From high school,” I confess.
And the way Monica is glaring at me, this new information, something sets tight in her jaw, her eyes lasered on mine. I know she isn’t going to let this extra detail slip.
Thirty
I tell Monica and Carol to leave—I insist they go, practically shoving them out the door. I’m still reeling after all that’s been said, plus the new specifics they’re pushing for, wanting to know about Sabine from St. Mary’s and why we’re no longer friends. But I don’t want to talk to them anymore. They can follow up with their own private investigators and chase down finding Sabine back home in Louisiana if that’s where she’s ended up.
Behind me, Tish sinks against the couch. She looks astonished—speechless. And also apologetic.
“I’m sorry.” Her hands rise to her face. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, but I can’t shake the queasy feeling inside my stomach. We’ve kept quiet for so long and now, of all people, Monica and Carol might start looking into our past. What Sabine has so desperately tried to keep hidden.
Outside my door, Monica’s monstrous Escalade roars to life before careening out of my driveway.
“I shouldn’t have let it slip you knew each other.”
I start to say something to her but a message buzzes on Tish’s phone and two seconds later she’s leaping from the couch, her eyes stricken with fear. “Erica!”
My stomach leaps to my throat. My God, what else is happening?
“A video,” she says. “An unknown number. I have no idea who this is, how they got this. How they could—”
I’m struggling to keep up.
She thrusts the phone in my face and presses play.
It’s a video of Tish’s kitchen. Jacob Andrews is stooping in front of the dishwasher and opening a toolbox as Charlie walks into the frame. The little boy pats Jacob on the shoulder before walking out again. “Bye, buddy,” Jacob calls to him. Then Tish appears. She’s dressed for meeting me at the pool, sunglasses on her head with several towels in her arms. She gives him a kiss.
The video ends.
What is this?
Tish is in tears. “How did they get that? Is there a camera—is there something hidden inside my house?”
I stare at the screen. The words Caller Unknown staring back at me. “Was it Jacob?”
“Why would he hide a camera?”
She snatches back
her phone and types, Who is this??
But no one answers.
I stare at her. “Was this so he could have more proof?”
“Proof of what?”
“To show he was really at your house?”
“Erica! He doesn’t need that! He didn’t know what was going to happen to Sabine. How many times do I have to tell you? He didn’t plant this camera.” She races for the door. “I have to find this thing—I need to know where it is. I’m going home!” Her voice trails outside.
Facebook Group Post
Praying for Sabine Miller (Private Facebook Group)
Tamyra Meeks
July 6 at 7:35 p.m.
Who believes what Monica’s saying about Sabine taking off and leaving?
Carolyn Castillo I don’t believe a word.
Kerry LeBlanc Tamyra, don’t let this turn into another poll.
Tamyra Meeks I’m not. I didn’t start the first one. I’m just asking.
Alexis Redfield I’ve heard some of the rumors. There’s no way she faked her own kidnapping.
Scott Wooley If this was a poll, I’d vote Monica went after Sabine.
Alice Chin Me too.
Anthony Castillo I agree. This is her way of throwing everyone off her trail.
The Missing Woman: Utterly gripping psychological suspense with heart-thumping twists Page 18
