“It’s about my niece, Anna. Anna Goyette. She’s the one I spoke of on Wednesday.”
“Your niece?” I couldn’t imagine where this was going.
“She’s my sister’s child.”
“I see.”
“She’s . . . We’re not sure where she is.”
“Uh-huh.”
“She’s normally a very thoughtful child, very reliable, never stays out without calling.”
“Uh-huh.” I was beginning to get the drift.
Finally, she blurted it out. “Anna didn’t come home last night and my sister is frantic. I’ve told her to pray, of course, but, well . . .” Her voice trailed off.
I wasn’t sure what to say. This was not where I’d expected the conversation to go.
“Your niece is missing?”
“Yes.”
“If you’re worried, perhaps you should contact the police.”
“My sister called twice. They told her that with someone Anna’s age their policy is to wait forty-eight to seventy-two hours.”
“How old is your niece?”
“Anna is nineteen.”
“She’s the one studying at McGill?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded tense enough to saw metal.
“Sister, there’s really noth . . .”
I heard her choke back a sob. “I know, I know, and I apologize for bothering you, Dr. Brennan.” Her words came out between sharply inhaled breaths, like hiccups. “I know you are busy, I know that, but my sister is hysterical and I just don’t know what to tell her. She lost her husband two years ago and now she feels that Anna is all she has. Virginie is calling me every half-hour, insisting I help her find her daughter. I know this is not your job, and I would never call you unless I was desperate. I’ve prayed, but, oh . . .”
I was startled to hear her burst into tears. They engulfed her speech, obliterating her words. I waited, my mind in a muddle. What should I say?
Then the sobs receded and I heard the sound of tissues pulled from a box, then a nose being blown.
“I . . . I . . . Please forgive me.” Her voice was trembling.
Counseling has never been my strong point. Even with those close to me, I feel awkward and inadequate in the face of emotion. I focus on the practical.
“Has Anna taken off before?” Solve the problem.
“I don’t think so. But my sister and I don’t always . . . communicate well.” She had calmed somewhat and was back to word sifting.
“Has she been having problems at school?”
“I don’t think so.”
“With friends? A boyfriend, perhaps?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you noticed any changes in her behavior lately?”
“What do you mean?”
“Has she changed her eating habits? Is she sleeping more or less than usual? Has she become less communicative?”
“I . . . I’m sorry. Since she’s been in university I haven’t seen as much of Anna as I used to.”
“Is she attending her classes?”
“I’m not sure.” Her voice faded on the last word. She sounded completely drained.
“Does Anna get along with her mother?”
There was a very long pause.
“There is the usual tension, but I know Anna loves her mother.”
Bingo.
“Sister, your niece might have needed some time to herself. I’m sure if you wait a day or two she’ll either show up or call.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right, but I feel so helpless for Virginie. She is totally distraught. I can’t reason with her, and I thought if I could tell her the police were checking, she might be . . . reassured.”
I heard another tissue pull and feared a second round of tears.
“Let me make a call. I’m not sure it will do any good, but I’ll give it a try.”
