Page 47

Julia

It was a two-hour trip south to Bennington, Vermont, the town where Fiona inexplicably did her dry cleaning. Julia had never been there before, but after finding the receipt in the Porsche, she felt compelled to investigate further.

It had been a grueling morning with Taylor, who wasn’t interested in talking about her time with Erika, and she vehemently refused to discuss anything relating to her father. Julia’s attempts to connect at the breakfast table were met with a mix of indifference and defiance.

“I don’t want to talk about Dad. He keeps asking me about you, and I shouldn’t be in the middle,” Taylor grumbled between bites of her blueberry muffin, a breakfast treat from a local bakery that never went light on the butter. “I’ve read that it’s supposed to be bad for my mental health.”

Julia knew she was being goaded into an argument, but didn’t take the bait.

“I believe you’re confusing your father’s relapse with divorce, and that’s not our situation,” she said.

“You’re not in the middle of anything, but the whole family is affected, and I want you to be able to talk about your feelings.

Naturally, we should be supportive of your dad, but his sobriety is his battle.

I’m more concerned about you. Did you and Erika talk about it? ”

Taylor’s expression was a blank canvas. Julia could project whatever emotions she wanted onto it, but Taylor wasn’t about to reveal anything.

“Like, yeah, we talked,” she said. “But what do you want from me? This is between you and Dad.”

And with that, Taylor abruptly left the table.

“What are you going to do today?” Julia called out as she walked away.

“Be bored,” Taylor called back, stomping up the stairs.

Guilt kept Julia from calling out her daughter’s thoughtlessness for leaving her dirty breakfast dishes behind.

Taylor’s barb had stung. The lake wasn’t a place for boredom.

The kids had always loved being here. They never complained about having nothing to do.

Their lake activities had always been enjoyable and family-centered.

But now it was none of those things. Those days were relegated to the past, to old Instagram posts and the few associated likes and comments that could only hint at the real magic those pictures had captured.

Although Taylor’s words left a mark and Julia felt a strong pull to call Christian—to talk it out and share the burden as they usually would—she couldn’t lean on him right now. Besides, she might say something she’d later regret—like the truth.

“Don’t worry about a thing, hon,” she imagined herself confessing. “I’m just going to let David have his way with me… yeah, in bed… and we’ll get ourselves back on track financially, so no big deal.”

She fantasized about making a sex tape, too, so she could torture Christian with it later.

Then she’d divorce him, and in the end, she’d get both houses and the car, and Christian would be left to find a buyer for the business and pay back all the debt he’d incurred.

But this was nothing but pure fantasy, and nobody—not Erika, not Taylor, and certainly not Christian—could ever know the whole truth if Julia went through with the bargain.

Julia was, however, honest with Detective Baker about her discovery.

Before starting her drive to Bennington, she stopped at the search and rescue station down the road from the lake house.

As Rick predicted, the media were gone. Fiona was already yesterday’s news.

There wasn’t the usual crowd of searchers, either—only a handful of police and an equal number of trained volunteers were on hand.

The thermos of coffee Julia had brought would be more than enough for this skeleton crew, and it earned her a round of thanks, although Baker was the least smiley of the bunch.

“We’re probably going to make this our last day,” the detective said morosely.

“My team says it’s unlikely she’s out there.

There are no signs of her. She’s left no markers, no scent trail of any kind—nothing for us to follow.

We have another K-9 unit from Rutland coming to help, but nobody is optimistic.

Any luck getting your friend to cooperate?

We’d really like to search the house for clues. ”

Evidence, you mean, thought Julia. It wasn’t lost on her that she and Baker had similar aims. Both wanted David either cleared of wrongdoing or not, but for strikingly different reasons.

“No, he’s not going to budge. I guess you’ll need to get a search warrant, if you can,” Julia answered before showing Baker the dry-cleaning ticket. “I found this in Fiona’s car. It’s from a place in Bennington, Vermont. I don’t think David or Fiona have ties there, so it’s curious.”

Baker barely gave the dry cleaning ticket a passing look. So much for Julia’s detective work. “I guess you don’t know Fiona all that well,” she said. “That’s where she’s from. We’ve already told the Bennington PD to be on the lookout. So far, nothing.”

Julia was nonplussed. “David should have known that. You’d think that her being from Vermont would have come up in conversation before they came here. He thinks she’s from the city, meaning Manhattan, or at least that’s what he told us.”

Baker eyed Julia as if she was being dim. “Yeah, you would think. He either didn’t pay much attention during their conversations, or David keeps a lot of secrets. I know which one I’m betting on. The best way you can help is by convincing him to let us search his property.”

Julia screwed up her face. Baker would need probable cause to get a warrant, and for that she needed evidence that a crime had been committed. Good luck there. Fiona was a ghost who had left no trace behind.

“Every thirty years,” Julia said under her breath.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Julia decided not to say more. Baker might know about the lake lore, but better she focus her efforts on David.

“I’ll do my best to help out,” she promised, knowing she’d have little sway.

Baker didn’t want to keep the dry-cleaning ticket, which showed Julia how little she thought of her discovery. But for Julia it was a lead, a breadcrumb to follow.

Downtown Bennington was what most people expected from a quaint Vermont town.

Main Street evoked the nostalgic feeling of days gone by.

Old brick buildings lined a broad road of mom-and-pop stores interspersed with bustling cafés, art galleries, and enough Americana charm to satisfy the most discerning tourist. A scattering of flower boxes added a splash of color, as did a long array of American flags set out in anticipation of the Fourth of July.

While this dream town was home to the elite Bennington College, it also housed a dark underbelly.

According to Julia’s research, Bennington was among the ten most dangerous cities in Vermont.

Most of the crime was related to drugs and gang violence, and the northern section was considerably less secure than other areas.

Of course, the dry-cleaning business Julia came to check out was located in the not-so-great part of town.

Julia had no trouble finding parking, since several shuttered businesses meant plenty of empty spaces.

Thankfully, Kelly’s Cleaners was among those still in operation.

She double-checked that the key fob had locked the car doors.

It would be hard to explain how her trip to see a financial advisor (a white lie she’d told) ended with Erika’s car being disassembled and sold for parts.

Relax, she urged herself. This was still Vermont, after all. Plenty of green spaces and several thriving businesses were nearby, including a convenience store and an Irish pub that, surprisingly, had quite a bit of foot traffic before noon.

Kelly’s was like any dry cleaner. It had that pervasive chemical smell of who-knows-what they put on the clothes to get them clean, and a huge conveyor belt system that delivered garments cocooned in plastic bags.

An older woman with a hard-bitten face and sallow skin greeted Julia with a joyless glare as if a customer was the worst part of her day.

“Can I help you?” The woman’s froggy voice betrayed a smoking habit. Sure enough, Julia picked up a faint whiff of tobacco that even the powerful chemicals couldn’t mask.

Julia produced the receipt from her pocketbook with the store’s name printed on the top.

“I’m supposed to pick up for a friend, but someone may have already done it. Could you look? It’s for Fiona Maxwell.”

Julia was relieved her voice remained steady. The clerk didn’t bat an eye. Kelly’s might not be the most upscale establishment, but it had a computer system.

“Sorry you went out of your way. Someone got it already,” the woman said after squinting at the computer screen for a moment.

Julia feigned disappointment. “Oh, no worries. I guess we had a miscommunication. Glad it’s taken care of. Just curious… do you know when that was?” Calculating backward from the clerk’s date, Julia deduced that Fiona had likely snagged her clothes on her way to the lake.

“Did Fiona pick them up herself? Do you know her?”

The clerk’s eyes narrowed. She stood straighter. “You ask a lot of questions. What are you getting at?”

“I’m a friend of Fiona’s. You know she’s missing, right? She was staying at a lake house two hours north of here, and she vanished. Nobody can find her.”

The clerk acted more suspicious of Julia than concerned for Fiona.

“I know Fiona, but I don’t know you, and I’m not answering any more of your questions. I like to mind my own business. I suggest you do the same.”

The clerk retreated to the back room without a goodbye, leaving Julia flummoxed. Why the strong reaction? Instead of expressing worry, the woman had seemed defensive and… frightened ? Julia couldn’t make sense of it.