She's Not There (13 page)

“Would you like to try it?”

“Yes, please.” I spooned it over to her plate; she speared it with her fork and popped it in her mouth. “Yummo.” Then she picked up another roll and started buttering it. The other girls did the same, all three taking a good long time about it. We waited.

Finally, it was Christen who broke the ice. “See, we've already asked Stupid if Rachel had sex with the guy.”

Kate looked up from her roll. Butter now glistened on her chin. “I go to Christian school, but I still know about sex and all that stuff even though we don't have sex ed. That's because my family has horses. We have a man who breeds them. They actually
tie
the stud to the mare, and then—”

“Skip the horses, kid. Back to—”

“I know. To Rachel. Okay. Rachel and the man didn't, like, do it. After Rachel lay down she got right back up again. Then she stood there for a few minutes talking to the man, and then she walked back toward the point. Toward me. So me and Elijah Leonard ran back to our camp beach. The
skank
beach.”

Fitzy was chewing his own steak. “Kate, who was the man?”

“What man?”

“The man having the picnic.”

“I don't know.”

I said, “Had you ever seen him before?”

“I don't know. He was too far away to really see his face or anything.”

“What can you remember about him?”

“He had on a baseball cap. I think it was a baseball cap. I couldn't tell the team.”

“Was he young or old?”

“I couldn't see him good.”

We all chewed. Then Samantha said, “Stupid, tell them what Rachel said to you later.”

Kate put on an especially emphatic pout. “She came up to me on our beach. She said she'd seen me, and if I ever followed her again she'd rip Elijah Leonard inside out and throw him off a cliff into the ocean.”

Christen said, “That's what
I'd
like to do with him.”

“No, you wouldn't!”

“I was only kidding, Stupid.”

I said, “Kate, what else did Rachel say to you?”

“She said,
He's all mine
. And then she, like, walked away from me. I asked Samantha what she meant. Sam said she meant the
man
was all hers and I shouldn't get any ideas about going over to that beach in case he was there again having another picnic. But, jeez, he must be a nice man to—”

Christen said, “No, he's not a nice man. He bribed Rachel with food. So obviously, Rachel made plans to see the guy again. Obviously, tonight. And they probably
will
have sex this time around.”

Kate said, “Blech.”

Samantha continued. “She gave her bunkmate ten dollars to keep quiet. She either hitched into town or took a taxi, I don't know. But since she probably used up what money she had for the counselor, I think the picnic guy came to get her. I don't know that either, but she hasn't come back. Just like when Dana took off that night after dinner and never came back. I mean, Rachel's done this before, but still.… Because of Dana we wanted to tell the cop. That's why we stole the van. We couldn't call a taxi. The counselors were watching our phone girl. They know she has it so she has to be careful before she can pass it on.” She swallowed. Then, with a quaver in her voice, she said, “What if Rachel—” She looked down at her plate.

I asked, “Did you tell Dr. Irwin what you told us, Kate?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She looked at Christen. Christen had taken a couple of deep breaths. Her voice was haughty once again. “Frankly, we were going to. We went to his office but he was a little busy, fucking his favorite counselor. Another reason we stole the van.”

Kate said, “Gross-out.”

“It took us an hour to get to the police station, because I went the long way around so no one would see us.”

Kate knew better. “It took us an hour because she, like, stalled the van a billion times. Some of the times, we had to wait for someone to drive by and start it up again.”

Christen said, “I told you. I haven't learned stick yet.”

Fitzy said, “Well, somebody eventually interrupted Irwin's activities with the counselor. While you girls were stalling the van all over the island, he came in and reported Rachel Shaw missing.”

Samantha said, “He did?” And she and Christen exchanged glances. Worried glances.

I said, “So why are we sitting here?”

“Because we're eating,” Kate told us all. “Real food.”

We told the waiter we had an emergency and to put all our dinners in doggie bags. I told the girls, “We'll eat the rest at the camp. It's time to see if Rachel is back, isn't it?”

5

Fitzy didn't drive to the camp with us. He'd catch up. Something alcoholics say a lot. Had to brace himself. “Leave a message on my machine if she's at the camp. I'll stay in town and have a look around in case she's still hanging out.”

I volunteered to drive the van back to the camp, with Joe following in the jeep. Samantha and Kate were much relieved. Christen said, “Just when I was getting the hang of it.”

Joe and I didn't worry about whether Irwin might be bothered by visitors. “After all,” I said to Joe as we left the restaurant, “the Everetts should be expected to get some feedback from the campers before making a decision about Suzie.” And then I whispered, “Besides, he's probably gone back to fucking counselors and won't even notice us.”

Samantha said, “I heard that.”

Joe said, “Maybe it's not what you think. Maybe the counselor is his girlfriend.”

Christen corrected him. “She's not a girlfriend. He pays her. She's a ho'.”

“We know what that means, don't we, Elijah Leonard?”

I found myself glancing at the doll as if he were going to answer. His eyes remained blank. I found him menacing. Or maybe it was the situation we were in that gave the doll his discomforting expression.

At the camp, the girls made sure everyone in Lancelot House was decent, calling out, “Man on the premises.” We heard a bit of a scramble, and then Joe and I were escorted inside. I was immediately struck by the riot of color from the junk food wrappers and Snapple bottles littering the beds and the tops of trunks. The girls had arrived at camp prepared. They were gathered at one end of the bunkhouse sitting together on the floor, noshing. It was past the hours of allotted electricity, so they had surrounded themselves with candles.

Christen said to them, “Did Rachel get back?”

“No. But Irwin broke down. He's out looking for her. In a
cab
. You should have
seen
him running around. ‘Where's my van, where's my goddamn van?' So what took you guys so long? Did you find the cop?”

“Yes. He's looking too. But first we went to dinner with him. And with these people. We told you about them before.” She introduced us. They loved my dress. They wished they could fit into a DKNY dress. And then Christen distracted them by describing what she and Samantha and Kate had ordered for dinner, eliciting moans and groans of greater envy. She mentioned Elijah Leonard's rice pudding. Then the three girls broke out their doggie bags and Joe and I offered up ours. All of Lancelot House dug in.

I observed them, sitting there in their T-shirts and shorts. The amount of bare skin seemed like a sea. They all had great hair—a girl doesn't have to be skinny to take care of her hair and then flaunt the results. There was a mane of chestnut brown highlighted with perfect streaks, scrunchies holding back two flowing blond ponytails, a cloud of red curls spilling down the back of a fourth girl, and a black girl with short hair like Halle Berry's. They talked about the food they were eating, comparing flavors, wondering what ingredients went into my bouillabaisse … guessing. Besides the contents of the doggie bags, they munched away on chips and Tostitos, cookies and crackers, and those orange things, Cheese Doodles. They held the big cellophane bags under their arms like footballs.

Christen was reading my expression. She said, “We tend to binge. My psychological counselor at home that my dad sends me to says that when you eat a ton of carbohydrates, there's this natural opiate in your body that builds up, just keeps building up, and then you get dependent on the carbs. This guy says it goes beyond craving. He told me I was an addict. He recommended a camp.”

The redhead said, “Oh, the guy's full of shit. I just like to eat. Am I bored? Am I stressed? Am I worried? No. I just like food. I'm interested in food. I'm very strong. I lift weights at home. I never catch colds.” She held out a bag of Doritos to me and Joe. “Have some carbs.”

Joe declined, explaining that we'd really been able to eat most of our dinner, and Samantha's eyes lowered, embarrassed. So I said, “But we didn't have a chance to order dessert, Joe,” and then thrust upon us were a large assortment of goodies: Milky Ways and M&Ms, any number of candy bars, plus Twinkies, Hostess cupcakes, Devil Dogs, and Kate's Drake's Cakes. Samantha said, “Wait,” dashed to her trunk, and came back with a box of Turtles. “These are for special guests.”

Kate said, “Like, you guys are our only special guests so far.”

Someone else: “Elijah Leonard is our special guest.”

Kate blushed.

Samantha said, “Here, Kate, take a turtle for Elijah Leonard. We don't want him to feel deprived.”

I tried not to look at him but I couldn't help it. He didn't look menacing any more, he looked grateful.

The teenage girls had new-millennium names reaching back throughout the history of English literature: Amanda, Emily, Lucy, Charlotte, Tessa. I asked where they were from. California, Michigan, then a twang—a girl from
San Antone
.

The black girl said, “Jamaica.”

Christen said, “We all thought she meant the island. She was talking about Queens: New York.”

Kate said, “I'm not the only stupid one.”

Food had brought us into their circle. Once they trusted us, their conversation became spigots turned on full. Like Delby's daughters. When I'd first met them, they watched me. When they were assured their mother was right—that I was a friend—I could count on hearing the plots of their new books and their favorite television shows. When Delby took them on a trip to visit grandparents, they were allowed two stuffed animals and two dolls each. While they were gone, I had to baby-sit for the rest of the shortlist—a purple thing from the youngest, Barney, a red item for the middle kid, Elmo, and seven Barbie dolls belonging to the eldest, lined up in a row on the floor.

Now I brought the girls around to why we were there. “Would Rachel have stayed out this late?”

“She stays out this late whenever she can. She doesn't have much money so she doesn't get in to town a lot. Mostly, she hitches.”

Joe said, “Maybe the picnic man gave her money.”

Christen said, “Omigod, I bet he did.”

I asked, “Does she do drugs?”

“Yes. Sometimes. Not Dana, though. The girls in Dana's house were really worried that night. The night she didn't come back. She never stayed in town very late. Not like Rachel.”

Christen said, “We already told them Dana didn't want trouble.”

“But Rachel, the one who's in town right now, she smoked pot all the time. And she'd snort cocaine if the opportunity arose. She'd trade stuff to the counselors for it.”

“Trade stuff?”

“Yeah. Her watch. Stuff like that.”

“She sounds tragic.”

Christen said, “It's hard to feel sorry for her. She's really never liked the rest of us.”

Kate said, “She, like, hates us.”

“The thing is, it's not so much drugs. That isn't her big problem. The big problem is that Rachel will do anything for a meal. She had these earrings. They were diamond studs. I know she sold them in town. Because she'd stopped wearing them and then she had a whole bunch of food around. I did feel sorry for her when that happened.”

“So did I.”

“Dana had plenty of money. Rachel doesn't have any.”

Samantha said, “Most of us don't want to go to those clubs in town. Older people go there. We go into town to stock up, or we go to the library and study stuff for the fall, things like that. Or we hang out on Crescent Beach, watch the skinny kids play volleyball. Sometimes we play. I'm pretty good.”

The black girl said, “Me too. I have a mean serve.”

Another: “None of us can spike a ball, though.”

Kate explained. “Like, I can't get high enough off the ground.”

Christen said, “You couldn't get
two inches
off the ground. Nobody can play volleyball holding a Cabbage Patch Kid.”

“Well, I can't just leave him sitting there.”

“So someone must have grabbed Dana. Because she wouldn't hitchhike.”

Joe said, “Grabbed her?”

“Well, I hate to say it,” Samantha said, “but if no one just grabbed Dana, maybe one of those cab drivers murdered her.”

Unanimous affirmation.

“Let's not get melodramatic, here. There is nothing—”

Joe was interrupted. The girls were all anxious to spill what they'd been deliberating. I touched his wrist. They had a right to express what was on their minds. I discovered very early on that listening is a strong investigative tool.

“From what we heard … I mean, everybody's talking about it … we think Dana was kidnapped and
tortured
to death.”

Joe said, “Now hold on. It's dangerous to start—”

But they ignored him. “Maybe that Chinese water torture where someone puts this metal helmet on you and then they keep dropping these little drips of water down on your head until you confess or else it kills you.”

“Chinese water torture kills you by driving you mad and then you strangle, I think. Choke to death on your own vomit.”