Chris Mooney - The Missing

You can keep her, Daniel. You can keep all of them.

How?

Why should I tell you? After what you and Richard did to me when you came back home? I kept your secret for all those years, and you repaid me by burying me alive out in the woods. I told you then you'd never get rid of me, and I was right. You kill all these women who remind you of me and I'm still with you – I'll always be with you, Daniel. Maybe I'll just let the police come and take you away.

They won't find me. Everything leads to Earl Slavick. I've already planted the pictures on his computer. I've printed out the maps from his computer so the FBI can trace him. With one phone call I'll lead them to Slavick's doorstep.

But that doesn't solve your problem with Rachel, does it?

She doesn't know anything. She doesn't -

She made her way into your office, remember? She went through your file cabinet. Who knows what she found in there?

She's never seen my face. And I have Slavick's blood. I slipped inside his house with the copy of the keys I made and I put the chloroform rag over his face while he was sleeping and I took his blood, the tan carpet fibers from his bedroom -

You're very smart, Daniel, but you made a mistake with Rachel. She outsmarted you, and when she wakes up – and you know she will – she'll tell the police everything she knows, and they'll come and take you away. You'll spend the rest of your life locked inside a small, dark room.

I won't let that happen – I'll kill myself, if I have to.

You don't have to kill Carol, but you have to kill Rachel. You need to kill her before she wakes up. I know how to solve your problem with Rachel. Would you like me to tell you?

Yes.

Yes what?

Yes, please. Please help me.

Will you do what you're told?

Yes.

Shut the door.

Boyle did.

Go back to your office.

Boyle did.

Take a seat. That's a good boy. Now here's what you need to do…

Boyle listened to his mother explain what needed to be done. He didn't ask any questions because he knew she was right. She was always right.

When she finished, Boyle stood and paced the room, pausing several times to stare at the phone. He wanted to call Richard, but Richard had strict orders never to call him on his cell phone. Boyle knew he should wait until Richard arrived to tell him about the plan but he couldn't wait. Boyle was too excited. He needed to talk to Richard now.

Boyle picked up the phone and dialed Richard's cell. Richard didn't pick up. Boyle hung and dialed again. Richard picked up on the fourth ring. He was angry.

'I told you to never call this number -'

'I need to talk to you,' Boyle said. 'It's important.'

'I'll call you back.'

The wait was excruciating. Boyle rocked back and forth in his chair, staring at the phone, waiting for Richard to call back. Twenty minutes later, he did.

'We can connect Rachel to Slavick,' Boyle said.

'How?'

'Slavick's a member of the Aryan Brotherhood. When he was living in Arkansas, at the compound for the Hand of the Lord, he tried to abduct an eighteen-year-old woman and failed – he would have gone to jail if the woman had been able to pick him out of a lineup. He also trained at their weapons facility, worked in their gun shop. And he fire-bombed black churches and synagogues.'

'You're not telling me anything I don't already know.'

'Slavick's planning his own underground movement here in New Hampshire,' Boyle said. 'I've been inside his compound. He has fertilizer bombs in the shed, and in his basement there's a batch of homemade explosives – plastic explosives. We can use them to create a diversion to get to Rachel.'

'You want to bomb the hospital?'

'When a bomb goes off, it creates instant chaos. People will think it's a terrorist attack – they'll be reliving nine-eleven all over again. While everyone's running around, nobody will be paying attention to us. One of us can slip inside and kill Rachel, pump some air through her IV line and she'll go into cardiac arrest. It will look like she died of natural causes.'

Richard didn't answer. Good. He was thinking about it.

'If we bomb the hospital, not only will we kill Rachel, we can bring the FBI into this sooner,' Boyle said. 'Once Slavick's DNA profile finds its match on CODIS, the FBI will be here at lightning speed to take over the case.'

'You're right about that. If Slavick's identity makes it into the press, the feds will have a PR nightmare on their hands. Where's Slavick now? At home?'

'He's in Vermont for the weekend, interviewing potential members for his movement,' Boyle said. The GPS unit is still attached to his Porsche. I can tell you where he is right now, if you want.'

'If we go ahead with this, you'll have to move – quickly.'

'It's time I move again anyway. I've been thinking about heading back to California.'

'You can't go back to Los Angeles. They're still looking for you there.'

'I was thinking of La Jolla, someplace upscale. We should use this opportunity to get rid of Darby McCormick. Make it look like an accident. I have some ideas.'

'We'll talk some more when I get there.'

'What about Carol? Can I keep her?'

'For the moment. Don't let her out of the cell yet.'

'I'll wait for you,' Boyle said. 'We can play with her together.'

Darby had set up a temporary work space in her old bedroom. The bed was gone, replaced by her father's desk. It faced the two windows overlooking the front yard.

Before leaving work, she made copies of the evidence report and the pictures. She tacked the pictures on the corkboard above the desk and then settled into the chair with the evidence file.

For awhile, she was aware of every sound – the tick of the grandfather clock from downstairs, her mother's soft snoring from down the hallway. Then she was lost in the file.

Two hours later, her head felt crowded, thoughts tripping over one another. It was closing in on eleven. She decided to take a break and went downstairs to make some tea.

The box of clothing was still by the door. She saw the pink sweater and had a new memory – alone in the house at fifteen, the weekend after her father's funeral, his down vest with its smell of cigars pressed against her face.

Darby pulled the sweater from underneath the pair of ripped jeans and sat on the floor. The hum of the refrigerator filled the kitchen. She rubbed the cashmere between her fingers. Soon this would be all that was left of her mother – her clothes with their fading whispers of perfume, memories frozen in pictures.

Darby stared at the spot where Melanie had stood begging for her life. She stared at the wall with its coat of paint that hid Stacey's blood. Victor Grady was sealed between these walls, now and forever, along with memories of her father, and Darby couldn't understand how Sheila could move through these rooms day after day competing with these two totally separate but equally powerful ghosts.

A car raced by, blaring rap music.

Darby found she was standing. Her hands trembled as she bent to pick up the sweater. She didn't know why she was sweating.

It was closing in on midnight. Best to get some sleep. Tomorrow morning she and Coop were going to head out early to the Cranmore house. With a few hours of sleep and a fresh eye, she was hoping to find something she might have overlooked or missed.

Upstairs, Darby laid in the recliner, cold beneath the comforter. When sleep finally came, Darby dreamed of a house with mazes of dark hallways and shifting rooms, doors that opened to black holes.

Carol Cranmore was also dreaming.

Her mother stood in the doorway of her bedroom, saying it was time to wake up and get ready for school. Carol could still see the smile on her mother's face when her eyes fluttered open to pitch-black darkness. She felt the itchy blanket wrapped around her and then remembered where she was and what had happened to her.