Chris Mooney - The Missing

The store was empty except for the teenage girl standing behind the counter. She was watching a news report about the bombing at Mass General on a small color TV set up on top of a mini-refrigerator.

'Could you turn that up?' Darby asked.

'Sure.'

The reporter, who was live at the scene, didn't have much information but he had plenty of visual footage of the bomb that had exploded inside the delivery garage at Mass General. As he talked about eyewitnesses who had described hearing a large, thunderous booming sound, the camera kept playing various footage of the destruction. Darby saw the streets lined with debris and overturned taxis and ambulances. The front half of Mass General, which was made entirely of glass, had been blown apart. When she saw the smoking crater, her first thought was a fertilizer bomb. A fertilizer bomb, if packaged correctly, could have caused the amount of destruction she was seeing on the TV.

Dozens of wounded people were being moved to Beth Israel Hospital. Mass General patients were in the process of being evacuated to other area hospitals. There was no information on how many people had been killed.

'Were you there?'

Darby glanced away from the TV. The teenage girl was talking to her. She wore too much eyeliner and her face looked as though it had fallen inside a tackle box. Her nose was pierced, as were her bottom lip and tongue. Almost every available space on her ears was covered with pierced earrings.

'Were you at the bomb site?' the teenager asked. 'Your clothes are, like, all dirty and ripped and stuff. And you've got blood on you.'

'I was here in Belham.'

'Oh my God, that must have been sooo freaky. Did you see any dead bodies?'

'I need some change for the pay phone.'

Darby plunked her quarters down into the slot and dialed Leland's cell phone. When his voice mail picked up, she tried his home number. His wife answered.

'Sandy, this is Darby. Is Leland there?'

'Just a moment.'

Darby swallowed. When Leland came on the line, she explained what had happened in Belham. Leland listened without interrupting.

'Erin called me while I was stuck in traffic,' Leland said after she finished talking. 'She said a FedEx package came into the lab early this morning. They brought it downstairs to X-ray and found what looked like a body stuffed inside the box, so they rushed it upstairs. The return address was Carol Cranmore's.'

'Didn't they test it for explosives?'

'I don't know. If I had to guess, I'd say they saw the body and decided to rush it upstairs. I'm in the process of pulling the security tapes from the garage and the lobby.

'I was talking to Erin when the package blew up,' Leland said. 'I don't think she made it. Pappy was out in a junkyard in Saugus collecting paint samples when the bomb went off. The blast took out the lab, the evidence lockers… it's all gone.'

Darby wanted to ask about any other survivors but couldn't get the words out.

'I'm afraid I have more bad news,' Leland said. 'The hospital called looking for you a few minutes ago. Rachel Swanson went into cardiac arrest. They couldn't revive her. They're going to do her autopsy this afternoon.'

'He killed her.'

'Rachel Swanson was sick, Darby. The sepsis -'

'Traveler needed to get to her. She was the key to finding him, and the only way he could do it was to create a diversion. What better diversion than bombing the hospital. The explosion creates a sense of panic – people start thinking it's a terrorist attack and run for cover. Nobody's paying any attention. Traveler moved in and killed her. Get someone over there and seal off the room – and pull the ICU security tapes.'

'I already tried. ATF won't allow access,' Leland said. 'I just got off the phone with Wendy Swanson, Rachel's mother. Someone at the New Hampshire lab must have called her. She called us, wanting to know what hospital her daughter was in. I had to tell the woman her daughter was dead.'

'Do you have her number? I want to talk to her about Rachel.'

'That's Banville's job.'

'Banville's going to be tied up at the bomb site here in Belham. I want to talk to the mother to see if I can find out anything about Rachel, maybe figure out why she was selected. She might know something that can help us find Carol.'

Leland gave her the number. Darby wrote it down on her forearm.

A phone rang in the background. 'I've got to take this call,' Leland said. 'Call me back if you find out anything.'

Darby called her mother. The phone kept ringing. She hung up, wondering if she was too late. A cold nausea gripped her as she ran home.

The nurse shut the door to Sheila's bedroom. Her mother was inside, fast asleep. Her lungs made a sick wheezing sound as she struggled to breathe.

'I had to increase her morphine level,' Tina said, ushering Darby away from the door. 'She's in a lot of pain.'

'Did she see the news?'

The nurse nodded. 'She tried calling you and couldn't get through.'

'My cell phone is broken. I called from a pay phone. Nobody picked up.'

'The explosion knocked down some of the phone and power lines – at least that's what they're saying on the news. She knows you're okay. A friend of yours stopped by and told he I forget his name. Are you going back out? I can stay a while longer. It's not a problem.'

'I'm in for the night.'

Darby folded her arms and leaned back against the wall. She was afraid to move away from her mother's door. Walking away now, Darby felt she was saying good-bye.

'I don't think it will happen tonight,' Tina said.

It took Darby a moment to gather the courage to ask the question. 'When, do you think?'

Tina pursed her lips. 'Any day now.'

After the nurse left, Darby wrote a note to her mother saying she was home and taped it to the night-stand where she kept her glasses and pills. She kissed her mother on the forehead. Sheila didn't stir.

Darby headed into the shower. Standing under the hot water, she reviewed the things Rachel had said under the porch and at the hospital. Rachel had used the word fighting several times. I can't fight him anymore, Rachel had said. What had she said about Carol? Is she a fighter? Is she tough?

Fighter. Fighting. Was that the key? How would Traveler know they would fight back?

Did he pick them up from battered women's shelters? No. Those women predominantly didn't fight back. What then? Some place, they all had to connect at some place. Please, God, let me find a common thread.

When the water grew cold, Darby toweled off, threw on a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She checked the phone. It was working. She put on her jacket and took the cordless and her pack of cigarettes out to the back deck. The rain was coming down harder now, drumming against the roof.

She went through two cigarettes before dialing the number for Rachel's mother. A man answered the phone.

'Mr Swanson?'

'No, this is Gerry.' His voice was terribly quiet. Darby was sure she heard someone crying in the background.

'Can I speak with Wendy Swanson? I'm calling from the Boston Crime Lab.'

'Hold on.'

A thin, trembling voice came on the line: 'This is Wendy.'

'My name is Darby McCormick. I wanted to call and tell you how sorry -'

'Are you the one who found my daughter underneath the porch?'

'I am.'

'Did you talk to Rachel?'

'Yes, ma'am, I did. I'm sorry for your loss.'

'What did Rachel say? Where was she all this time? Did she tell you?'

Darby didn't want to lie to the woman, but she didn't want to upset her even more. Darby needed Wendy Swanson to answer some questions.

'Rachel didn't say much. She was very sick.'

'I saw the news story, the video footage, and I didn't once think it was Rachel. The woman you found looked nothing like my daughter. I didn't even recognize her. And I'm her mother.' Wendy Swanson cleared her voice several times. 'This person who took Rachel, what did he do to her?'