My Sister is Missing

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  Starla. What did I even know about her? Grimly, I considered the possibility that maybe she’d done something to my sister. After all, she had the most to gain from getting her out of the picture…

  CHAPTER TEN

  With a brave face on, I carried the boxes of school supplies and the children’s new clothes out onto the porch. At 7.05 p.m., there was still no sign of John. I started feeling hopeful, that maybe he’d had a change of heart.

  But those hopes were dashed as a blue-black Mercedes rolled up the drive at seven-thirty on the dot. The windows were dark, but I could tell that the driver was a woman. John stepped out of the passenger side, opening his arms to the kids once more.

  A little less enthusiastically, they gave their father a hug. ‘Pop the trunk!’ John barked through the passenger window. Suddenly, the trunk clicked open on its own. I began carrying boxes over, expecting John to come over and help me.

  But he didn’t. He smiled at me and chatted with the kids while I packed it all in. Asshole.

  I didn’t expect to meet Starla since she’d opted to stay in the car, but then, the driver’s door swung open and a young, leggy brunette stepped out.

  She was young – very young. I wondered if she was even twenty-one yet.

  ‘Hi. I’m Starla,’ she said, shyly.

  I looked away, sickened. ‘I’m Emily,’ I mumbled.

  Starla followed me up to the porch and helped me carry the last of the boxes. John looked pleased as he watched us, probably enjoying my discomfort.

  Starla was pretty, in a classic sort of way. She was wearing jean shorts; they were so short that the pockets hung down through the bottom. She was lean and tan, and as I draped several of the kids’ outfits over the boxes, I got a good look at her face. She was lovely, as much as it pained me to admit it.

  As Starla pushed the trunk closed, I took a chance and asked, ‘Do you know where my sister is?’

  She looked startled by my question. ‘No, of course not. I haven’t seen her.’

  I nodded, feeling disappointed. But even if Starla did know something, it wasn’t a guarantee that she would tell me.

  I kissed Ben and Shelley on their cheeks, trying to stay strong. My smile was strained as they were loaded into the car, with the car seats I’d bought only yesterday. I kept on smiling, so much so that my cheeks were beginning to ache.

  ‘If you need anything or want me to pick them up from school…’

  John snapped, ‘I can handle it.’ Starla gave me an apologetic look, getting back in the driver’s seat. I watched the Mercedes reverse down the driveway, wondering if I’d ever see my niece and nephew again. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  ***

  For the first time since returning to Bare Border, I cried – not just a few messy tears, but sobs. They wracked my body, making it difficult to breathe, and with my fists pressed against the closed door, I realized I was alone. I’d returned to the Bare Border Inn to be with my sister, niece, and nephew. But now it was only me here – what was I going to do?

  I sat down next to the pile of toys, my eyes burning from the hot angry tears. There was a sharp rap on the front door. I lunged for it, praying it was John again, that he’d changed his mind. But instead, Albert Tennors stood on the porch.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He looked genuinely concerned. ‘I saw some of what just happened.’

  ‘Of course you did.’ I no longer suspected him – John was suspect numero uno, in my mind. But I still wanted nothing to do with a man who had hurt another child. ‘You need to get the hell off my sister’s porch. Now.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked, his voice small, frightened.

  ‘Because I know about your history. I know you raped a child. I don’t think you did anything to my sister, but either way, don’t come around here no more. Don’t even look at those kids.’ I let out a strange grunt then slammed the door.

  ‘Screw him, too’ I muttered beneath my breath, pushing away the guilt threatening to creep up inside me. Why do you feel guilty – because he’s an old man?! He’s a pedophile, Emily! I admonished myself. But I still couldn’t wrap my brain around those charges; they didn’t add up with the man I knew, or thought I knew…

  I peeked through the front curtains to see if he was still there. His head hung low, Albert Tennors was walking slowly across the field, back the way he came. Why was he watching the house so intently, anyway? That in and of itself seemed odd. In Charleston, I didn’t even know my neighbors’ names. That was one reason I wanted to leave home – to become my own person, in a place where nobody knew my name. Or my past. Here, in Bare Border, I would always be the daughter of Robert and Lily Ashburn, the less attractive sister of Madeline Ashburn, and the girl who suffered that head injury in the woods. Oh, and don’t forget my personal favorite – the girl who got dumped by Paul Templeton.

  Speaking of Paul…

  I yanked my cell phone out of my pocket and redialed the Bare Border Sheriff’s Department. I wouldn’t swear to it, but the woman who answered sounded like the same croaky woman from before.

  ‘Hi. It’s Emily Ashburn again. I’m staying at—’

  ‘Yes, I know who you are. Any word from your sister yet?’

  ‘No. But I need to speak to Pa – Officer Templeton, please. Can you give me his cell phone number, or a direct line to his office?’

  The woman shuffled papers on the other end, and for a moment, I wondered if she’d put me on hold. ‘He isn’t in the office right now. And we don’t give out our officers’ phone numbers to…’

  Just say it. Ex-girlfriends. Everyone down at the station probably knew that little fact, too.

  ‘This isn’t some sort of social call. This pertains to my sister’s disappearance. Please. I need to speak with him. It’s urgent.’

  ‘I’ll let him know you called and have him phone you back as soon as possible.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I grumbled, shoving the phone back inside my pocket.

  I looked around my sister’s living room, at the scattering of toys on the carpet and her empty desk in the corner. The house had taken on a sad quality, something I couldn’t define. I paced up and down the hallway; the pictures on the walls were dusty, forgotten. I closed my eyes, imagining the repetitive squeal of Ben’s voice as he rocked back and forth and played Five Nights at Freddy’s. The whirring and clack clack clack of Shelley’s train set in her room. The grating sound of my sister’s laughter in the kitchen as she joked about the kids. And then I could hear even more – the click of my father’s pipe in his mouth and the sweet, heady smell of a Cuban cigar. The chukka chukka chukka of my mother on her sewing machine. The giggling of girls from my sister’s room – Madeline and her two best friends, Jessica and Rhonda. Memories rise up, then they come dislodged…

  I take soft steps on the carpet, my eyes still closed, trying to remember every detail, as though I’d never get them back again. But that’s what happened when I had my injury; I lost some memories from that day. And there was something terrifying about forgetting, almost like a piece of me had died, or been wrenched away from me…

  I opened my eyes. The sounds, the smells … they were like pieces of old ghosts, ghosts I could never get rid of. And where is my ghost? What sounds are indicative of me?

  Without even realizing it at first, I was wandering down the hallway and into Shelley’s room. Her pajamas from this morning lay limply on the floor. I picked them up and walked over to her closet. Even though it was still early evening, her lights were off, and her curtains were drawn, cloaking the room in darkness.

  Tentatively, I opened the pocket doors of her closet. There was one metal bar; her neat dresses and jeans hung stiffly on hangers. I tried to imagine my own clothes hanging in here so long ago … it felt like a different closet, but it wasn’t. I pushed the clothes on the rack apart, then tugged on the pull light string.

  The closet lit up, casting an orange smoky glow over the back wall. Madeline was tell
ing the truth – she did paint the inside of this closet. But even so, there were still traces in the paint of those big black ugly words … I don’t know if it was my imagination or not, but I could still see the bubbly outline of them under the paint – I HATE MYSELF. I WANT TO DIE.

  I wrote those words – me. And at the time, I meant them. I even had scars to prove it.

  Blame it on Paul Templeton or blame it on teenage hormones. I didn’t know why I did it. Maybe, deep down, it was a cry for help. Depression ran on my mother’s side of the family. When she died of her heart attack, she was only forty-eight, and the first thing my father and sister asked was if she took a fatal dose of pills or tried to off herself because of the divorce. She didn’t – she had a bad heart, according to the doctor. Nearly every single artery was plugged up tight. But her worst demon – the depression – was the first thing they suspected. And if anything ever happened to me, they’d probably think the same…

  My sister always acted like she was above it – that she never got depressed or anxious – but maybe it was all a façade. Was that why she’d ran away? What if she tried to hurt herself, just like I did all those years ago?

  I slammed the closet door shut, the white scars on my wrists burning…

  The scar tissue, the shiny white lumps and lines, were barely visible now. Like my past, they’d faded, making me doubt they were ever real.

  My thoughts felt warbled and strange. I drifted from room to room again, feeling lost, until I finally focused on the bed in the Mello Yellow room. Slowly, I took my time making it up. The corners weren’t perfect, the way Madi liked them, but they were damn near close, for me. After that, I made up the kids’ beds and Madi’s bed as well.

  I gathered up clothes from the floor and carried them out to the stacked washer and dryer in the hallway closet. Keeping busy kept my mind clear; my only thought was that maybe if I cleaned up for Madi, she would come home. That didn’t make any sense, but it helped motivate me.

  I scrubbed the dishes in the sink and swept the kitchen floor. I vacuumed the rug in the dining room. I even went back outside, gathering up the picnic blanket and empty food bags from our sandwiches earlier. The sun was dipping down low beyond the horizon. I hadn’t eaten all day except a few bites of my sandwich, but I wasn’t feeling hungry anyway.

  ‘Emily?’ I turned around and let out a sigh of relief. It was Paul. He will help me. He’s the only one who can.

  ‘I’ve been trying to call, and I rang the doorbell a few times…’

  ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you from out here. And I think I left my phone in Shelley’s room. Thank you for coming.’ I don’t know why, but I reached out for him. I needed someone, something to hold on to…

  He smelled so good again. Today it was Listerine and something fruity – cherries, maybe.

  ‘Let’s go in and talk.’ We sat at the dining room table and I told him everything that had happened since last night – the strange Facebook message from Jessica Feeler, and John’s suspicious behavior today.

  ‘I don’t know what Jessica’s deal is, but I don’t think we need to worry about her. Listen, Paul, John did something to my sister. I just know it. I mean, sure, it’s possible that she just ran off. Maybe she was depressed or needed some time away … but I keep circling back to him. He has a new girlfriend, he wants the kids to himself, and he didn’t even seem to give a damn that Madeline was missing…’ Up until now, Paul had been listening to me, staying quiet. In fact, he hadn’t said one word since he’d showed up.

  For the first time, I realized the intense way he was looking at me. It wasn’t desire this time, it was fear. ‘You finally believe me, don’t you?’

  Paul gave some sort of half-nod, half-shake. ‘I do. But I should tell you something. You won’t like what I’m about to say.’

  My stomach lurched and the air around me was suffocating all of a sudden. ‘What is it, Paul?’

  ‘We found your sister’s Jeep today. There was blood inside it.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The room was spinning as Paul filled me in on the details, his voice tinny and far away, like his words were flowing out of a broken speaker instead of his mouth.

  The Jeep was found near Henderson’s Bluff. Although it was technically ten miles from here, it seemed closer than that – you could see the edge of its jagged cliff poking out if you stood in the right spot in the woods behind my sister’s house. But what was she doing up there?

  At first, they wondered if she’d jumped from the edge, Paul told me.

  But he and two other officers searched the rocky stones below – my sister wasn’t there. The keys were in the ignition. Madi’s purse was on the seat. There were no signs of a struggle. But there was a red halo of blood on the headrest of the driver’s seat.

  ‘Enough blood to indicate she was killed?’ I asked him, the words coming from someone’s else mouth, not mine, it seemed…

  Paul shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so. But one thing is clear – your sister didn’t simply leave town. Either she hurt herself, or someone else did the hurting.’

  ‘You have to look into John. He was so heartless today, so mean, when I told him about Madi … and he has a motive.’

  Paul grimaced. ‘John has a lot of friends in the police department. In fact, he already came by today.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘He wanted to file another report on his wife. Wanted us to know she’s missing.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘He took the kids. They’re with him now. What if he’s abusive, Paul? I have to get them back somehow. At least until we know what happened to my sister.’

  ‘I don’t think you can do that. You’re not their legal guardian. He has every right to keep them with him. In fact, he said something along the lines of, “I don’t know her sister, Emily, very well. I don’t think she would hurt Madeline, but it’s possible. All I know is that when she came to town, my wife left it. She was always jealous of Madeline. Madeline brought that up a few times…”’

  I pinched my eyes shut. ‘He’s a liar. I would never hurt my sister. You know that.’ Although the jealousy remark … I could see Madeline saying that. She was always a little arrogant. She probably liked to brag to her husband about how popular she used to be, how I was always in her shadow…

  ‘I know you wouldn’t,’ Paul said, his voice tiny as a whisper. He believed me, didn’t he?

  ‘Will you at least go check on the kids? I need to know they’re okay. You guys could keep him under surveillance or do forensic testing on the inside of Starla’s house!’

  ‘This isn’t Forensic Files, Emily. This is a small town, with limited resources. But I will do everything in my power to find out what happened, I promise. We dusted for prints in the Jeep, and we’re going to try to compare them to your sister’s and see if we can get a match with someone else. And as soon as I find out more, about John, their financial situation, and if he has an alibi for the night she disappeared … I’ll let you know.’

  ‘You’ll let me know?! So, that’s it?’

  ‘Emily, I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t know anything yet. I’m waiting to hear back from the bank about your sister’s debit card. She and John apparently had separate accounts. I should know by tomorrow whether or not she’s used her card. John is the obvious suspect, but besides him, and this Jessica Feeler woman, is there anyone else who would want to cause your sister harm?’

  I tried to think back to every single conversation I’d had with Madi over the last few months. We mostly talked via text messages, and she hadn’t been texting me much at all lately. I’d assumed it was because she was mad over the funeral, but something more was going on. Obviously.

  ‘I still think it could be John, but we can’t forget about Mr Tennors. He’s the only other person I can think of. The window in my sister’s room was unlocked. He easily could have crossed the field and taken her. Although, I just can’t see it…’ I tried to picture Alb
ert Tennors, squeezing through my sister’s bedroom window – it was a ludicrous visual image.

  ‘I brought my fingerprint kit. If there’s a chance somebody left their fingerprints on the glass, or around the window … well, it will be worth a shot. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about when it comes to Mr Tennors.’

  ‘You keep saying that, but I looked him up. He might be a nice old man, but he was charged with rape, Paul. How can that not be of any concern to you?’

  ‘Albert used to be a truck driver. You probably don’t remember this, because you were so young, but he used to be gone from his wife for long periods of time. Well, Albert made the mistake of picking up a hooker, and they had sex. As it turns out, the girl was only seventeen. Afterwards, she threatened to turn him in if he didn’t give her money.’

  ‘Did he give it to her?’

  ‘No. He went straight home and told Lisa what he’d done, then they drove to the police department together. He turned himself in and the judge at the time took leniency on him. The court-appointed psychiatrist didn’t think he was attracted to children. Albert was guilty of being a bad husband. He cheated on his wife with what he thought was another woman. He got five years’ probation and a statutory rape charge on his record because of it. He lost his job permanently. That’s why Lisa went back to work at the school. I’m not saying he’s not a bad guy, but I don’t think it makes him a kidnapper.’

  ‘Why did Lisa stay with him after he cheated on her?’

  Paul shrugged. ‘I guess she loved him enough to keep him. I’m not sure. But I do know that he hasn’t caused any trouble in this town for twenty-five years. He pays his taxes and comes down to the police station every six months to get his updated picture for the registry. I hate to say it, but I kind of feel sorry for the guy. As it turns out, he wasn’t that girl’s only victim. She did the same thing to other men, too.’

  ‘She must have had problems. I can’t help feeling sorry for her, too. Seventeen might seem close to being an adult, but it’s far from it. Can you remember yourself at seventeen? I know I was screwed up. I wasn’t the same person I am now.’ But my stomach fluttered with guilt as I thought about how I’d slammed the door in Mr Tennors’ face. I’d jumped to conclusions, but who could really blame me? I was scared for my sister, and now, I was scared for Ben and Shelley too.