The Herd(41)

“We got a call from that detective last night. Ratcliff.”

“Ratliff,” Karen corrected.

“Just wanted to know when we’d last heard from Eleanor. We decided it was Thanksgiving. Hard to believe it’s been that long, but, you know—you blink, and it’s almost Christmas.”

“I know, I’ve been meaning to call home for too long too.” I gazed up at the ceiling; there was a small moon near the wall—a water spot? “How did Eleanor seem, back then?”

“Oh, fine, just normal,” Gary said. “She spent Thanksgiving with Daniel’s family, so she called that day to just chat. Said they were having a nice time in Peekskill. Daniel had a cold, and apparently her mother-in-law had burned the turkey.”

“And we went over plans for Christmas—she and Daniel are coming up on the twenty-third. It should be cozy, just the four of us.”

Their use of present tense, their dogged confidence that she’d be there in one week—it unnerved me. Did they have some reason to think Eleanor was safe, off taking care of something but about to reappear?

“Are you heading home to Minnesota?” Karen asked.

“Er—Michigan, yes. My sister and I are flying that same day, the twenty-third.” I cleared my throat. “I’m sure you guys will have a nice holiday.”

“Eleanor is fine,” Karen cut in, her voice a squeak. I winced, brought my hand to my collarbone. “She has to be.”

Gary let out what I think was an uncomfortable laugh, but it sounded more like a sob, and he cleared his throat to cover it. “What my wife means is that of course we’re worried sick. We hung up the phone with Daniel last night, and we looked at each other and swore—swore—we’d be strong. How else could—what else could we—?” He trailed off.

“Eleanor is fine,” she said again. “And we feel even better knowing you’re helping look for her.”

“Of course. Daniel, Mikki, Cameron—everyone’s eager to do whatever we can.” I waited for them to jump in about Cameron, how he was down here helping out, but they didn’t take the bait. I ran into Cameron today was almost out of my throat when I realized it would be strange to say I was poking around Eleanor’s personal effects on my own, for reasons mysterious even to me. “It’s really too bad Daniel wasn’t home Monday night, right?” Surely he hadn’t told them about his, er, extracurricular activities?

“Horrible. Some luck, spending the night in your office that night, of all nights.” Gary seemed grateful for the change of subject. “But you know Daniel. A workaholic, just like our Eleanor.”

I pulled at the toe of my sock. “Did Daniel say anything else?”

“Oh, the detectives had just left and so he kinda filled us in,” he replied. “Have you seen him today? I’m worried about him.”

“No, but I called him this morning. He was back at work.”

“See? What’d I tell ya. A workaholic.”

“It’s true,” I said. More silence. All these people, normally so skilled in the art of conversation, fumbling around for the right thing to say. “Well, I’m sure he’ll keep you posted, but I just wanted to check in. Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m happy to be your eyes and ears down here.”

“Thanks so much, sweetheart,” Karen said, and Gary echoed her. “We’ll do that.”



* * *



—

Work consumed the afternoon, a welcome distraction from my own maudlin imagination, an endless reel that made my stomach wrench: Eleanor locked in a basement, Eleanor chained up in a fallout shelter, Eleanor bound in the back of a speeding truck. I played Whac-A-Mole with journalists seeking updates and had about forty ninety-second-long calls with Stephanie in India, the reception ducking and weaving like Cosmo when I try to get him into his carrier. She was trying to move up her flight, but holiday bookings left her with few options. She was fine with leaving Aurelia, the head member relations coordinator, in charge until her return.

Finally I slammed my laptop closed and tossed my phone onto the rug. Eleanor’s bookshelf…I kept seeing it, the rainbow of spines, colors and words, matte and glossy. The royal-blue hardcover with the gold and silver lettering. I pictured myself pulling it out, flipping through. Her fingerprints on the pages smudging under mine.

The idea bloomed in my skull as if someone else had whispered it to me. My lips popped open, mouthed the words, Oh my God.

I lunged for my phone, Googled two words and two numbers. The split second between hitting Enter and seeing my results fattened and stretched, and then words swamped the screen. The ones at the top told me everything I needed to know.

Of course. Of course. It was so obvious I let out a little laughing scream. I brought my hand to my forehead, alarmed by how stupid I’d been.

I wasn’t sure whom to call first, so I sent a group text to Katie and Mikki: “Guys, I think I know where Eleanor is.”





CHAPTER 12





Katie


WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 18, 11:40 A.M.

I dropped my phone, theatrically, like a mime demonstrating shock. It slid off my knee and clattered to the floor, bounced once before settling.

Mikki looked alarmed: “Everything okay?”