The Herd(48)

No one spoke. The static on the phone line seemed to swell.

“I know it’s shocking, but I think it’s true,” Hana said. “She’s so intelligent and strong-willed and…can’t you kind of see it?”

Give it a few days, maybe weeks, and Eleanor would reappear at the Herd, her swishy hair glistening, a smile molding her cheekbones, the wildest story on her berry-colored lips—

“I don’t really know what else to say.” The voice was rickety and it took me a moment to decide it was Mikki, not Hana. “Actually, I gotta go. I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Hana and I tried to jump in with something sympathetic, but when the kindness cleared we realized she was already gone.

“Well, I guess I’ll call Ratliff,” Hana finally said.

“Has anyone told Daniel?” I asked. “Or her parents?”

“I think we should leave that to the police. I’ll call Ratliff now and just say this is what we think happened. Her parents might have contacts down there. People who can look for her. They were always taking her there growing up.”

We ran out of things to say, like it was the awkward end of a Q&A session, and I hung up, jealous of Hana with her assigned tasks. I still had things I could do—chasing down the White Plains airport, rereading the messages from Eleanor’s new British friend in search of overlooked clues—but suddenly I was tired, my bones turning to lead. I felt the tears brewing and let the weird combo of relief, anger, exhaustion, and self-pity swirl: Eleanor’s alive and safe. Eleanor left you, a week after you came back into her life. I let myself cry, felt the cold tears collect in my ears. At one point Samantha, my roommate, knocked softly on the door, but I ignored her and she went away.



* * *



—

Thursday was cold, as cold as all the days before and all the days yet to come. I thought about staying home, keeping the curtains drawn, but instead pulled on my puffy coat and took the subway into the city. At first I thought the others hadn’t come, but finally Aurelia, all-seeing eye of the front desk (basically Sauron), pointed at the wall behind her. “They’re in Eleanor’s office.”

They’d closed the door, which meant I wasn’t welcome. But: Fuck it. I knocked once, twice, three times.

The hushed tones ceased.

“Who is it?” Hana called.

“It’s me.”

Dark figures moved behind the frosted glass, and then Hana pulled the door open. Hana was crying; Mikki’s face was contorted into…confusion? Concern?

“What is it?” I said.

Mikki tapped at her phone and handed it to me. As she did, I realized the look in her eyes was outrage, exasperation, wrath.

I had to blink a few times to put all the pieces together.

An email. To Mikki and Hana, their personal emails. From Eleanor, her Herd account. From the nineteenth—today—at 9:56 a.m. local time—less than fifteen minutes ago. It was short, like most of her emails. The brevity of a powerful woman who doesn’t need to impress anyone.


I’m so sorry, my lovelies, for all the worry and pain I’m sure I’ve put you through. I’m fine and safe and no longer in the country. I can’t explain why, but I need you to trust me: I’m happy, and I won’t be coming back. I trust you to tell all the right people and to continue all the amazing things we’ve begun together. xoxoxo



My ears buzzed, a staticky crackle, like when you rest your head at bubble level in a bath. My vision softened around the edges, but I breathed hard and thoughts began streaming back in, a trickle at first and then all at once.

“So she only sent this to you two. No one else.”

Hana swallowed. “As far as we know.”

“Not Daniel? Not her parents?” Not me?

Hana shook her head. “I texted Daniel and Gary, just said, ‘How are you?’ They both said they were okay. I can’t imagine they’ve gotten this.”

I handed the phone back to Mikki. “Did we trace the email back? The IP address? We can figure out where—”

“She doesn’t want to be found.” Hana stopped staring at the ground and looked at me, her eyes shiny with tears. “She’s done with us. Even if we found her. She’s gone.”

“No.” I darted my eyes between them. “No, we have to try. This doesn’t make sense. She can’t—she wouldn’t—” A swooping sensation climbed up my lungs and out of my mouth as a curdled sob. Hana crossed the three feet between us and wrapped me in her arms.

“Something’s wrong,” I said, shaking my head. “She always signs off with XX, right? And it’s cute, because it’s kisses but also the female chromosomes? And this is—”

“Katie, stop,” Mikki said. I felt Hana’s chin turn toward her. “This is it. She’s a fucking lunatic and this is how she’s ending it.” She began to cry, too, but they were fury tears, annoyance brought to a boil.

We stayed there for a while, Mikki pacing and cursing, Hana crying wetly, me shaking in Hana’s arms. Finally Hana swiped at her cheeks and somehow pulled herself into organizing mode, and she and Mikki made a plan. Their questions floated over my head like speech bubbles in a cartoon, and for once I was grateful that I was a hanger-on, a little kid in this adult situation. I heard snatches about press statements, a story that would resonate, legal counsel, grief groups.