“Did you grow up in the church? Only, her message sounds a little off the beaten path.” I raise my hand. “I’m not criticizing, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want. I’m just trying to understand the type of person she was, the kind of people she had around her.”
Claire answers slowly. “I’ve always had faith in a higher power, but just got to a point where the dogma didn’t do it for me anymore. And I don’t want my spiritual life cluttered up with all that secular political crap, you know? And Pastor Harkness doesn’t care who you vote for. Her only mission is to help people get in touch with the Spirit. She trusts the Spirit to handle the rest.”
Interesting. Whereas the Reverend Takahashi seems to be afraid that letting people communicate freely with the Spirit will lead to all kinds of mayhem. I like the woman Claire is describing. Her organization sounds tolerant and welcoming, centered around positive activity.
“If I’m going to track her down, I’ll need all the information you can give me, however trivial. Tell me about the move from Portland. Had Victoria been threatened or been in trouble with authorities? Did someone or something drive her away?”
“Victoria says it was to get closer to the source of the Spirit. She thinks water is an especially spiritual medium, and the confluence of the river and the ocean here make the location cleansing and beneficial.” Claire shivers and puts her hat back on.
I didn’t miss the slight emphasis on ‘says.’ “Do you believe her?”
“Yes. At least, I believe that she believes, if you know what I mean. But —”
At that moment, the group of high school students leave their corner, the girls squealing with laughter and the boys jostling each other.
“But?”
Her cup clinks on the table top. “This was a couple of years ago, and I wondered at the time if there was more to it. I mean, moving the church, that’s a big deal. It meant losing most of the congregation. She’d have to start from scratch again. Although, I understand about the river. The whole tradition of baptism confirms the importance of water. And I love being so close to the ocean. I grew up in the midwest, like I said — I couldn’t have been further from the shore if I’d wanted. But Daniel, he tried to talk her out of it. Tried hard. I mean, the church finances were really going to suffer.”
Hmm. At some point I need to talk to her husband. “Was he angry about the move?”
“Not angry, no. He came over here, too, after all. He was just aware of the business side of things.”
I’ll bet. “How about other people?”
“Clearly, only the most dedicated followed her here. But maybe that was what this was, a winnowing. Separating the wheat from the chaff.”
I dredge up some long ago Sunday school lesson. “Sheep. Goats. Like that?”
“Exactly."
We sit in silence for a few moments, and then she says, “Please find her, Audrey. I’m scared. I don’t care what Daniel says — something’s wrong.”
Yeah, and maybe it begins with your husband, I think. Claire has been forthcoming, but I have a lot of unanswered questions. Is there more behind the church moving to Astoria? And what about Daniel Chandler’s unaccountable reluctance to go to the police? Does he have something to hide?
Claire leans forward, kneading her hands together. “You’ve seen cases like this before, you must have. What might make someone want to disappear?”
“There’s a lot of reasons. Ruling out foul play, I would say that certain people, for whatever reason, just decide they want a different life. Their problems feel too pressing, or too complicated, and running away seems to be the only way out.”
“Dodging the bullet rather than facing up to their issues?” Claire crosses her arms.
“There might be all kinds of reasons that drive people to leave: abusive relationships, bankruptcy, even just a longing for adventure. Or just general overwhelm. In general, men choose to disappear because of financial difficulties, and women —” I stop myself, because I don’t want Claire to worry more than she is already.
She won’t let me soften the stats. “And women?” she prompts.
“Women tend to vanish because of danger.”
She catches her breath. “What kind of danger?”
I shrug, leaning back in my chair. “Abusive partners, obsessive lovers, stalkers. Those are the usual suspects.”
“I see. And that’s why you’ve been asking me about her associates.” Claire traces the grain of the table top with her index finger.
I nod. “Since I don’t have any other leads to follow at the moment, I’m relying on statistics.” And those statistics are pretty damn bleak.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFTER LEAVING THREE Beans, I go by the towering Queen Anne where Victoria lives. Each floor of the former house has been converted to a single apartment, four total including the basement. Wooden stairs switchback up the exterior and I hike up to the third floor. The fog is breaking up into scattered rags, and from here I can see the working piers that jut out over the river, the fish processing plants and the timber yard. I catch a glimpse of the Best Western Hotel a couple of blocks away, and feel a knot of tension form under my sternum. Behind that hotel is the little riverside beach where I had the hallucination, where I thought I was being attacked and drowned.
My armpits prickle with a cold sweat, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my suddenly dry mouth. I squeeze the railing at the top of the stairs and will my hands to stop shaking. Just because I’m close to that place doesn’t mean I’m going to have another episode. That’s not how it works. It’s stress, stress and trauma that brings them on.
Yeah, and
