My Sister is Missing

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  ‘Yes. I’m pretty sure they knew, and your sister too. But like I said, that was a long time ago and most people in this town think he got a bad rap. Mr Tennors is a nice old man.’

  ‘A nice old man?! I’m sure that’s what they say about all the creeps on the registry…’ Reaching out, I punched him in the chest, instantly stiffening as I realized he was a police officer now.

  ‘I could arrest you for that,’ he grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. He moved closer, resting his hands on my shoulders. He’d always been taller than me, but now my face lined up with his chest. I fought the urge to lean in, to let him hold me…

  There were other men in Charleston. Rewind nine years … there’d been three apartments, two jobs, and dozens of crappy dates. Sometimes they’d get to the first date, the second, the third … but eventually, the light in their eyes would fade. In a crowded restaurant, I watched their eyes – previously, fixed on me – start roaming the room. It was almost like a game to me. How long, how many dates, until the glimmer in their eyes died out? But Paul, his eyes were always drawn to me. That spark we used to have, it was still there. Even after he stood me up for prom, I could see it in his eyes as we passed in the halls – that want, that desire…

  I stared up at him, unable to move but unable to let him hold me. He hurt me, that I can’t forget…

  ‘Let me take you in. I think there’s vomit on your shirt.’

  ‘Ugh. So gross.’ He was right. I could smell my own puke permeating the night air. Mixed with the earthy smell of wet grass and clover, the aroma was unbearably putrid. ‘We have to be quiet. I don’t want to wake the kids. They’re really shook up about all this and I don’t want them to think something’s happened to their mom when they see you.’

  Paul placed a finger to his lips then pointed toward the door. I could feel him staring at my backside as I led him up the porch steps. Suddenly self-conscious, I smoothed my still-wet hair down and silently cursed myself for not wearing make-up. Paul Templeton. He’s the last person I expected to see right now. I’d always assumed he left town, like his older brothers did. This town is too small for the likes of me, I could remember him saying one night when we were drunk on Zimas.

  There was nowhere to sit in the living room, with only toys and my sister’s one desk chair to choose from. I led him back through the kitchen and out to the family room. It was further away from the kids, too, so this seemed like a good place to talk.

  As we reached the family room, his expression changed again. He was looking around my sister’s house, taking it all in. His eyes drifted from the carpets to the walls, and even up to the ceiling.

  ‘Looking for clues, Sherlock Holmes?’ I asked, keeping my voice down.

  ‘Something like that.’ He walked along the wall with the bookshelves and ran his fingers over the dusty spines. ‘Listen. I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe Madi just skipped town. The simplest explanation is usually the right one.’

  I shook my head. ‘Why would she tell me that she had a secret, or something important to tell me, and then sneak off during the night without ever telling me what it was? She hasn’t called to check on the kids. She didn’t show up for work. It doesn’t seem like her.’

  ‘Well, maybe she was trying to lure you back home. Maybe she wanted someone to watch the kids, so she could have her space. I heard about what happened between her and John.’

  ‘Lure me? You make it sound like she’s some sort of criminal!’

  Paul put a finger to his lips again, reminding me to be quiet. Again, a memory returned –Paul and I meeting in the woods well after dark, his finger pressed to my lips as he pushed me up against a tree…

  Shh. We have to be quiet. Don’t want anyone to know you’re out here with me, do ya?

  I tried to focus on his face and forget the past, but my eyes kept drifting down to his lips. Our first kiss – he tasted like spearmint and salt. He was nervous and sweating, but even his sweat tasted good on my tongue…

  ‘She wouldn’t lure me here,’ I shout-whispered again. ‘Why would she?’

  ‘Maybe she couldn’t take it anymore. She needed an excuse to get you here, and then she ditched you with the kids. She might show back up in a day or two.’

  Narrowing my eyes at him, I fought the urge to punch him again. ‘No way. I’m the last person she’d leave to take care of her kids. I’m not even close with them. Why pick me if she wanted to leave?’

  ‘Besides their father, you’re their last blood relative, aren’t you? Or at least the closest thing…’

  I gnawed on my lip. He was right about that. The rest of our family members were distant or dead. But still, Madi loved her kids. She wouldn’t just leave them with me without asking first.

  ‘Everyone knows she’s been having a hard time. With your mama dying, and then your daddy … and then finding out John left her for a younger woman. And I know that boy of her has something – autism, isn’t it?’

  ‘His name is Ben,’ I growled, feeling strangely protective of him suddenly. ‘He’s different, but nothing is wrong with him. And you’re wrong about my sister too. Yes, she was upset about John. In fact, she was planning to divorce his ass. But she seemed happy to see me, she seemed to be doing okay.’ But again, I remembered the worried look on her face. When she didn’t know I was watching, the mask slipped…

  ‘Sometimes people get happy before … well, before they make big decisions. Does Madeline own a gun, by any chance? She wouldn’t hurt herself, would she?’

  ‘You’re unbelievable.’ I stepped closer, pushing my face into his defiantly. ‘Thanks for wasting my time, Paul. But that’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Not showing up when I need you.’ Never in a million years would I talk this way to a cop, but this was Paul Templeton. He crushed me. And now he was only making my sister’s disappearance worse.

  ‘Emily, I’m trying to help. Any other cop would be asking the same questions I am. And, if it makes this any easier for you, let me just say that I’m sorry about the time I stood you up…’

  I shook my head and pointed in the direction of the front door. ‘Just go,’ I tried to say, but my voice cracked. I was thinking about my sister and Ben and Shelley, and about how I screwed up and left them with a supposed pedophile today, apparently. Mr Tennors, really? I still couldn’t shake that thought. He’d seemed so nice, so helpful today.

  My eyes were burning as I turned away from Paul. I didn’t want him to see me cry. Not again.

  ‘Did she give you any hint what this secret was, by any chance?’ Paul asked, looking away from me to save me some pride.

  I swiped at my cheeks, focusing on a dent in the wood-paneled walls in the family room. I’d wanted the cops to help me, but now I just wanted him to leave…

  ‘No, Paul. She asked me if I could stay for a while and help her out with the kids, but she said there was more to it than that…’

  Paul raised an eyebrow, his lips twisting to one side. Hearing myself say it out loud, I could see where his theory about her leaving me in charge of the kids made even more sense now. She did ask me to stay…

  ‘And then she was just gone the next morning? Any signs of foul play, or some sort of struggle? Anything off or unusual?’

  I tried to think back to yesterday. ‘The door to her bedroom was closed. Her bed was made up like she never went to sleep. Her Jeep was gone.’ I tried to remember every detail of that morning when Ben woke me up…

  ‘Her shoes were still here,’ I added, suddenly remembering that. ‘I’m wearing them now actually.’ I sniffled as I stared at my feet.

  ‘Does she have more than one pair of shoes?’ Paul pressed, gently.

  I nodded. ‘What woman has only one pair of shoes?’

  ‘Anything else? What about the bedrooms upstairs?’

  I froze. Stupid me. Never once had I even gone upstairs.

  Those rooms were guest rooms and storage, she’d said. Why didn’t it occur to me to at least che
ck them? I chastised myself.

  ‘Oh god, she could have fallen up there and I never even checked!’ I took off through the kitchen. Paul followed behind me, to where the door to the staircase was closed tight, in an alcove off the dining room.

  ‘Let me go up first,’ Paul insisted, gently nudging me aside. Slowly, he opened the door to the stairs. An instant smell hit my nostrils – nothing sinister, only smells of dust and mold.

  ‘I don’t think they come up here too often,’ I remarked.

  Following him up the stairs, I prayed my sister wasn’t up here. If she was, then something was deeply wrong.

  The upstairs looked the same as I remembered – deep red, knotted carpet lined the main hallway. There were two rooms off to the right and one to the left.

  We used to use these as play rooms when we were kids, as soon as we were old enough to go up the stairs on our own. And eventually, as a teen, Madi used one of them as her bedroom.

  Paul went into the first room on the right and I followed. It was mostly empty, besides a few boxes of books and an arm chair. Upon closer inspection, I realized the chair belonged to my dad.

  I touched the soft checkered fabric, remembering how he looked leaning back in it, his pipe tucked between his teeth.

  ‘Nothing here,’ Paul said, more to himself than to me. The next room was full of toy boxes. Some of the toys were old and broken; some still looked new, but I guessed she was trying to clear out space for the kids’ rooms downstairs.

  ‘Nothing here,’ Paul said again. He was really starting to annoy me.

  The largest upstairs room was across the hall, and I could tell immediately as we walked in that it was much fuller than the rest. An old twin bed sat in the sloped corner of the room. I instantly recognized it as my old bed.

  ‘I remember that bed,’ Paul said, reading my mind.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ I snapped. It was mostly true; he’d only been in my room one time, one day after school when my parents weren’t home. We’d sat on the bed, kissing feverishly, until we heard my sister come home.

  I blushed at the memory and coughed loudly to break the tension.

  ‘What are these?’ He pointed at rows of plastic tubs on the floor and neatly labelled cardboard boxes.

  Paul squatted down in front of the stack of tubs, and read, ‘School Clothes for Ben – Fall.’

  Underneath was another container, also for Ben, labelled for winter. Shelley’s bin was under his, labelled ‘Preschool Clothes for Shelley – Fall and Winter.’

  The cardboard boxes were full of what looked to be brand new school supplies – packs of pencils and loose-leaf paper. Packs of glue sticks and erasers. I quickly discovered that they were labelled with each kid’s name as well. Neatly folded school supply lists – with everything checked off – inside two of the boxes.

  I started lifting more of them and setting them aside. One contained new shoes for both children, the tags still attached, and another contained their important documents – social security cards, birth certificates, shot records…

  The only thing in the room that wasn’t well organized was a stack of old blankets and a scattering of old mail and postal boxes in the corner.

  ‘She was planning on leaving, Emily. I hate to say it, but doesn’t this make it obvious? It looks like she left everything here the kids would need…’

  I plopped down in the middle of the floor, tucking my legs up Indian-style.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe she was just really organized? Madi was always anal about everything. This doesn’t mean she had it all planned out …does it?’

  I looked up at Paul, my eyes searching for something. I needed him, or someone, to provide me with some answers. I needed my sister here to answer them for me, more like it.

  ‘I can’t be in charge of these children, Paul. You know how I am.’ Paul whipped around to look at me, locking in with those eyes again…

  ‘I do know. And you’re amazing, Emily. You always have been. They would be lucky to have you. You should give yourself a little more credit.’

  I don’t know why, but his words surprised me. His face was softer now, more vulnerable than it used to be. I directed my gaze away from him, quickly.

  Lifting a package of markers out of the box, I turned them over and back. What am I looking for? Some secretly coded message from my sister?

  ‘This still doesn’t make sense. She would leave a note, or she’d call. She would do something, dammit. Not just leave.’

  ‘Listen. I’m going to figure this out, okay? I’ll go down to the bank tomorrow morning. I’ll find out if she’s been using her debit card, or if she took out a large cash withdrawal. Also, I’ll keep an eye out for her Jeep. I’ll do everything I can to help, Emily, I promise.’

  Back on my feet now, I couldn’t help myself – I reached for the boy I used to know, the one I’d once loved and coveted, and even hated at times. I wrapped my arms around his neck. Gently, his hands slipped around my waist and I pressed my face to his chest. A rush of familiar smells – heady cologne and the faint scent of diesel fuel embedded under his nails and in the cracks of his hands.

  ‘I really missed you,’ he whispered in my ear.

  I pulled away without saying it back. My body was tingling, lighter than air, as I followed him back downstairs, then walked him to the front door.

  For a moment, I wondered if he would kiss me goodbye, but then I realized that would be ridiculous. Even if he tried, would I let him? Thankfully – or maybe not – he didn’t try to kiss me. ‘I’ll find out what I can for you. Trust me,’ he said again.

  I followed him outside and stood on the porch, watching the taillights of his cruiser grow smaller and fade away into the darkness. Katydids and cicadas were singing, the sound of them reassuring, like a reminder that the world would go on no matter what happened.

  I couldn’t shake off the daze – the buzz of excitement in the air. It’d been years since I felt this giddy. Somehow, it seemed so wrong. Your sister is missing for god’s sake and you’re thinking about a boy! I chastised myself.

  A couple lights popped on from somewhere inside Mr Tennors’ cottage. My thoughts grew dark again. How dare he volunteer to watch the children, knowing his history? Tomorrow I was going to give him a piece of my mind.

  Staring at his house, I could have sworn that I saw someone moving behind the window, the curtains slowly shifting. He must have been watching. What if he’d done something to my sister? Anyone capable of hurting a child, could surely hurt an adult, too.

  But did I really believe that? He’d been my neighbor most of my life, and he’d never harmed anyone. Well, not that I knew of until now…

  Suddenly frightened, I scurried back inside, quickly turning the lock and fastening the deadbolt behind me. Was it him I was afraid of, or something else?

  I peered through the curtains, watched the trees sway side to side, like some sort of grotesque dance they performed only for me.

  Closing the curtains tight, I then went room to room, checking locks on all the windows and side doors that led to outside. Lastly, I checked the windows in my sister’s room. I was surprised to find them unlocked. How long had they been that way? The fear of not knowing who I could trust bubbled deep in my belly.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I tossed and turned, struggling to find a position that was comfortable in my sister’s bed. I was restless, still trying to sort through the details in my mind. The neatly prepared containers of school clothes and supplies. All the kids’ documents stowed away – stowed away for me, perhaps? I rolled on my side, adjusting and readjusting the pillows. Madi’s ghostly scent was still embedded in the fabric. I could almost imagine her lying here. I blinked, seeing my sister’s face on the pillow beside me. Facing each other, our eyes interlocked. Who are you? Do I know who you are anymore? I whispered to her in the dark.

  Finally, I drifted off to sleep sometime after midnight, but I woke back up around 3 a.m. At first, I was panicky – was someon
e in the house? Were the children screaming? What woke me up at this hour? But it only took a few moments to understand why – my temples were throbbing, shooting pains coursing up and down the back of my neck and behind my eyelids.

  These headaches had been happening all my life, ever since I fell and hit my head in the woods and was knocked unconscious. Luckily, my mom and sister had found me and immediately rushed me to the hospital. I had a concussion, but no brain damage. Sometimes I wondered if the doctors had missed something – they must have because why else would I still have these debilitating headaches?

  I struggled to get out of bed, wincing at the blinding hot white pain rushing through my skull. Opting not to turn on the lights – I didn’t want to wake up the kids and the light would make the pain even worse – I stumbled down the hallway and into the bathroom. I rummaged through my sister’s cabinets, relieved when I found a bottle of extra-strength Ibuprofen.

  My doctor would prescribe me something stronger if I asked. But that was the problem – I hadn’t asked. The fear of becoming addicted to pain pills was greater than the pain I endured from the headaches.

  I tossed back four of the pills and used my hands to cup cold water from the faucet and into my mouth. I drank the water greedily then wandered out to the living room, massaging my temples.

  Once again, I went straight to the front window, in search of my sister’s Jeep. It was becoming a habit now. What if she never comes back? said a tiny, wriggling voice in my ear. I plopped down at my sister’s desk.

  Even if I was qualified to care for the kids – which I wasn’t – I didn’t have a job anymore to support them financially. My sister had taken off before I had a chance to tell her about the job I lost at the paper.

  I’d worked so hard, going to college and earning my journalism degree. All I ever wanted was to write stories – to share facts about the world with the general public, or present someone’s story in a fun, entertaining way.

  When I got the job at the Charleston Chronicle, I thought: This is it. Finally, I had a real chance to prove myself. I had an amazing office with a view of the harbor. And a plate on the door with my name on it.