“I remember the Sterns were so worried that something might happen to Meredith while she was wandering around Europe,” Caroline continued. “But it was less than a week after she’d returned home that it happened. She went with some girlfriends to see the Fourth of July fireworks at the park. I guess it was about twenty minutes before the fireworks were supposed to start when Meredith excused herself to go use the restroom. And she never came back….”
George once again studied the photo of the girl with the Rachel hair. “She was so excited about going to Chicago in the fall,” he heard Caroline say. “She’d been accepted into Northwestern. She was going to be a drama major.”
Caroline had a story like that for every one of the missing young women. Part of George wanted to hurry up and just get the photocopies made. The sooner he hit the road, the sooner he’d be home with his kids. He was worried about them.
But he didn’t rush through the task at hand, and he respectfully listened to Caroline’s reminiscences for each missing girl. The stories broke his heart. Each one was somebody’s daughter, sister, or fiancee. Each one had dreams and plans for her future. Each one had disappeared without a trace.
Twenty-two-year-old Nancy Rae Keller was an accomplished pianist who had performed in several concerts. She’d been earning some extra money as a waitress at a fancy restaurant called The Tides in Corvallis. The last person to see her alive was the restaurant manager. Nancy Rae had finished up her shift one Thursday night in March 2002 and headed out to her car. Nancy Rae’s car had still been in the restaurant’s parking lot on Friday morning. George couldn’t see it in the black-and-white photo, but according to Caroline, “Nancy Rae had the most beautiful red hair.”
The youngest to disappear was Leandra Bryant, nicknamed Leelee. The 15-year-old had been babysitting for two toddlers until 10:30 on a Saturday night in April, 2001. The children’s father had offered to drive her home, but Leelee lived only two blocks away and insisted on walking. She should have been safe. But somewhere along those two blocks in a quiet, residential area of Salem, Leelee Bryant vanished.
The last among the missing young women was Sandra Hartman, the 18-year-old who had disappeared on her way to the mall to meet some friends for a movie.
George looked at the slightly grainy photocopy of Sandra’s graduation portrait, and he saw a resemblance between the beautiful dark-haired senior and Amelia. It was the last photocopy he’d made. The Xerox machine still hummed for a moment before it wheezed and then switched off.
“Were any of these girls friends of Annabelle’s?” he asked.
Caroline arranged the yearbooks by year. “No, only two of the girls were in school at the same time as Annabelle. And I don’t think either one of them ever had Annabelle over to their homes or anything. And, of course, I’m sure they never went out to the Schlessinger ranch.”
George remembered Erin Gottlieb telling him that she hadn’t set foot in the place. “That ranch in the middle of nowhere,” she’d called it.
“You said the ranch house is still there?” he asked.
“Yes, but it’s just a burnt-out shell now,” Caroline replied. “There’s hardly anything left of it. I don’t think anyone’s been out there in years.”
George studied the photocopies again-all those pretty young women who had disappeared. “Could I ask you for one more favor, Caroline?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
“Could you tell me how to get to the Schlessinger ranch?”
Chapter Nineteen
WENATCHEE-23 MILES said the sign just past Leavenworth.
With a breathtaking view of the Cascade Mountains, the quaint Bavarian village was a big tourist attraction in central Washington, and one of the Route 2 landmarks Karen was supposed to look for on her way to the Wenatchee Public Library. The waitress at Danny’s Diner had given her directions. Just to be sure, Karen telephoned the library on Douglas Street, and found out that, yes, they were open until 8:00 tonight; and yes, they had available both the
White-knuckled, Karen gripped the steering wheel and studied the winding, hilly highway ahead.
She realized now it was Amelia’s twin in the hallway and basement of the convalescent home the day before yesterday. “Do it now,” she’d heard Annabelle whisper. “Get her!”
Karen had heard the same hushed voice last night: “She’s got a gun, for chrissakes…I can’t…goddamn mutt…” At the time, Karen had figured Amelia must have been talking in her sleep. But now, she knew it had been Annabelle, probably whispering to Blade.
If Annabelle had
Her cell phone went off, and Karen realized she was finally out of that call-restricted area. Eyes on the road, she blindly reached inside her purse. She checked the caller ID: her home phone number. “Hello?” she said into the phone, a bit wary.
“Karen, it’s me, Jessie. Thank God I didn’t get that stupid ‘Your call cannot be completed as dialed’ recording again.”
“You’re still at the house,” Karen said. “Is everything okay?”
“Hardly. I have terrible news.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I still haven’t told the kids. They’re in the kitchen with Rufus. Shane is dead. That poor dear boy, can you imagine? It looks like he shot himself….”
“Oh, my God,” Karen murmured, the cell phone to her ear. “Are you sure? How did you find out?”
“Amelia’s roommate told me. She called looking for Amelia. That’s the other thing, Amelia showed up here quite unexpectedly, acting very strange….”
A car horn blared. Karen suddenly realized she’d been drifting into the oncoming lane. A pickup truck barreled toward her. She jerked the wheel to one side. Tires screeched as she swerved back into her lane, and beyond, onto the shoulder off the highway. For a few, fleeting, gut-wrenching seconds, she thought the car would flip over.
“Good Lord, what’s happening?” she heard Jessie ask.
Karen caught her breath, and veered back into her lane. “Nothing, I just need to get off this road, that’s all.” She saw a turnoff to an apple orchard ahead, and took it. Slowing down, she crawled over to a gravelly turnaround area for the one-lane road. Then she put the car in park. She listened while Jessie told her about the disturbing episode with Amelia, who “just wasn’t acting like her sweet self.”
Yes, Jessie said, she’d called the police after Amelia had made her hasty exit, and a patrolman had stopped by. He’d checked around the premises, and that was it. “He seemed to think I was a major kook,” Jessie said. “I mean, Amelia never really threatened me or anything. But she had that knife in her purse, and it gave me the heebie-jeebies. Still, the worst thing she actually did was hit me in the chest when she grabbed my arm, and that might have been an accident. And here I was, trying to slip her some of those knockout pills, because you told me she was dangerous.”
“Jessie, she is,” Karen said. “She’s very dangerous.”
“I know, I believe you,” Jessie replied. “But when I told this patrolman that the police were looking for her, he didn’t know a thing about it.”
Apparently, Amelia Faraday had not yet officially become a person of interest in Detective Koehler’s disappearance.
“Anyway, we’re still at your house,” Jessie said, her voice a little shaky. “The cop said they’d call back here if he found out anything more. But I want to get these kids home.”
“Have you talked to George, yet?” Karen asked.
