Chương 2
“You started it.”
The empty kitchen offered no opinion.
She set the phone facedown.
The townhouse was still temporary in ways that irritated her.
Two framed prints leaned against the dining-room wall because she had not decided where to hang them.
One cabinet contained wineglasses and batteries because she had unpacked badly.
A box marked DANIEL—MAYBE sat unopened beneath the stairs.
She had begun to suspect that the word maybe was less an organizational category than a diagnosis.
At 6:43, the doorbell rang.
Mara froze with her fork halfway to her mouth.
Nobody visited without texting.
She checked the doorbell app.
A man stood on the porch holding a padded envelope.
He wore jeans, a navy windbreaker, and the mildly irritated expression of someone performing an errand he had not volunteered for.
Mara spoke through the door.
“Can I help you?”
The man looked toward the camera.
“Mara Ellison?”
“Who’s asking?”
He rubbed his jaw.
“Evan Rourke.”
The name meant nothing.
“What do you want?”
“I’m trying to figure that out.”
“Good luck.”
She started to step away.
“Do you know a girl named Lucy Vale?”
Mara stopped.
The house seemed to become very quiet around her.
She unlocked the deadbolt but left the chain fastened and opened the door three inches.
Evan Rourke looked about forty, perhaps younger, with tired eyes and rain beginning to darken the shoulders of his jacket.
“What did you say?”
“Lucy Vale.”
“How do you know what happened?”
His confusion looked genuine, which did not make Mara feel better.
“What happened?”
“This afternoon.”
“I wasn’t there this afternoon.”
“Then why are you at my house?”
He looked down at the envelope.
“Because my brother asked me to bring you this if anything happened to him.”
Mara stared at him.
“Your brother knows me?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“What’s his name?”
“Caleb Rourke.”
Nothing.
She shook her head.
“I’ve never heard of him.”
Evan studied her for several seconds.
“Then this is worse than I thought.”
“People usually say things like that right before I close the door.”
“Fair.”
He did not move closer.
“My brother disappeared yesterday.”
Mara’s fingers tightened around the edge of the door.
“Disappeared how?”
“His car was found at a commuter lot in Rockville this morning.”
“That doesn’t mean he disappeared.”
“He left his wallet in the glove box.”
“Maybe he wanted to leave.”
“He has a seven-year-old son.”
“So?”
“So Caleb forgets birthdays and loses chargers and once went to Baltimore for a conference on the wrong weekend, but he doesn’t leave Noah.”
Mara looked at the padded envelope again.
“And this has something to do with Lucy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know her name?”
Evan hesitated.
“That’s the part I’d rather explain inside.”
“No.”
“Okay.”
His acceptance unsettled her more than persistence would have.
He held the envelope toward the narrow opening.
Mara did not take it.
“What is it?”
“No idea.”
“You didn’t open it?”
“It has your name on it.”
“People open other people’s mail every day.”
“My brother is missing.”
“That wasn’t a moral judgment.”
A faint, exhausted smile touched his mouth and vanished.
“Caleb gave it to me two months ago.”
“He gave you an envelope addressed to a woman you’ve never met?”
“Yes.”
“And you waited until now?”
“He told me not to contact you unless he missed two scheduled calls with Noah.”
Mara felt irritation pushing against fear because irritation was easier to manage.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I expect you to decide whether you want to know why a missing man had your name and home address two months before his disappearance.”
Mara glanced automatically toward the street.
A delivery truck rolled past.
Across the way, Mrs. Keating was dragging her recycling bin toward the curb in slippers and a winter coat, conducting a losing argument with one crooked wheel.
Normal life had rarely looked so deliberate.
Mara unhooked the chain.
“Come in.”
Evan stepped into the entryway but stopped on the mat.
“You can take your shoes off or not,” Mara said.
“I haven’t established a policy.”
He looked down at his wet sneakers.
“I’ll take them off.”
The ordinary gesture made the situation worse.
Mara led him to the kitchen.
She did not offer coffee.
She did offer him the chair farthest from the knife block, which she noticed only after he sat down.
Evan placed the envelope between them.
Her full name was written across the front in black ink.
Beneath it was her address.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
Mara touched one corner.
“Why today?”
“I got the second missed-call alert at four twenty.”
“What alert?”
“Caleb and I share a family calendar for Noah.”
He pulled out his phone, then paused.
“Can I?”
She nodded.
He showed her two recurring entries marked CALL NOAH.
One was from the previous evening.
The second had passed that afternoon.
“He asked you to monitor his parenting schedule?”
“He asked me to pay attention if he ever missed twice.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“When he gave you this.”
“Yes.”
“What was he afraid of?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Mara pushed the phone back toward him.
“And Lucy Vale?”
Evan’s jaw shifted.
“When I got here, you asked if I knew her.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Caleb said one other thing.”
Mara waited.
“If I had to deliver the envelope, he said I should ask you whether Lucy had recognized you yet.”
The refrigerator compressor clicked on.
Mara heard the tiny electrical hum as distinctly as if someone had increased the volume of the room.
“Recognized me.”
“That was his word.”
“I met that child for the first time today.”
Evan looked at the envelope.
“Then maybe you should open it.”
Mara tore the padded seam.
Inside was a portable solid-state drive no larger than a deck of cards and a folded sheet of paper.
May you like
The note contained one sentence.
Mara, if Lucy finds you before I can explain, do not let anyone convince you she is confused.
