All Dressed in White

4

The Runaway Bride. Laurie remembered the case immediately once she heard that phrase. Amanda Pierce was a beautiful blonde bride, about to marry a handsome lawyer she first met in college. All of the plans were made for a luxury destination wedding in Palm Beach, Florida. And then the morning before the big day, she simply disappeared.

If that story had broken at any other point in Laurie’s life, she knew that she would have recognized Amanda Pierce’s photograph instantly. She probably would have even recognized Amanda’s mother, Sandra. At another time, the story of a young bride who vanished into thin air just before her dream wedding would have been right up her alley. She knew that some people speculated that Amanda developed cold feet and started a new life somewhere else, away from her overbearing family, or perhaps with a secret paramour. Others believed that she and the groom had a late-night fight, leading to a violent outburst-“it’s just a matter of time before her body turns up.”

But even though the story was the kind of thing that would normally draw her attention, Laurie had not followed the case closely. Amanda Pierce disappeared only weeks after Laurie’s own husband, Greg, had been fatally shot in front of their then-three-year-old son, Timmy. While Amanda’s face was being broadcast across the country, Laurie was on leave from work, oblivious to events outside of her own home.

She remembered turning off the television thinking that if the bride hadn’t gotten cold feet, then something terrible must have happened to her. She remembered that she felt at one with the family and what they must be suffering.

She continued to study the picture, remembering that terrible day. Greg had taken Timmy to the playground. She had given Greg a quick kiss as he left with Timmy on his shoulders. It was the last time she was to feel his lips warm against hers.

Ironically, Amanda Pierce’s wedding was to have been at the Grand Victoria Hotel. Laurie remembered being there and Greg pulling her into the ocean despite her laughing protests that the water was too cold.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the office door, followed by Grace carrying a tray containing two cups of coffee and some of the pastries Laurie had purchased from Bouchon. Laurie smiled at Grace, noticing that she had opted to offer her favorite-the almond croissant-as a choice for Mrs. Pierce.

“Can I get you anything else?” Grace wasn’t exactly traditional, but in the ways that mattered, she had good old-fashioned manners.

“No, dear, but thank you.” Sandra Pierce managed to smile.

Once Grace left, Laurie turned to Sandra. “I can’t say that I’ve heard anything about your daughter’s disappearance any time recently.”

“Neither have I and that’s the problem. Even when she first went missing we suspected that the police were only going through the motions. There was no sign of a struggle in Amanda’s room. No reports of anything unusual happening on the resort property. And the Grand Victoria-that’s where the wedding was to take place-couldn’t be any safer. I could see the police looking at their watches and their cell phones as though Amanda was bound to turn up back home in New York, confessing to cold feet.”

Laurie wondered if Sandra’s perceptions about the police investigation might be biased. Even from the limited television snippets she had seen at the time, Laurie recalled seeing teams of volunteers searching the resort property for any sign of the missing bride. “As I remember, there was a considerable effort to find her,” she said. “It was on the national news for weeks.”

“Oh sure, they checked off all the boxes of what they’re supposed to do when someone disappears,” Sandra said, her tone bitter. “And we were also out there in front of the cameras every day pleading for the public to help us find her.”

“And who was the we?” Laurie walked to her desk to retrieve a notepad. She could already feel herself getting pulled into Sandra’s story.

“My husband, Walter. Or ex-husband now, but Amanda’s father. And her fiancé, Jeff Hunter. Really the whole wedding party was involved: my other children, Charlotte and Henry; two of Amanda’s college friends, Meghan and Kate; and then two of Jeff’s college friends, Nick and Austin. We handed out fliers all over the local area. At first, the search was focused on the resort property. Then we moved out from there. It tore my heart to see them searching isolated areas, canals, construction sites, and swamps around the coastline. After a month, they stopped looking entirely.”

“Sandra, I don’t get it. Why did they call her the Runaway Bride? I could understand the police suspecting cold feet for a few hours or maybe even a day or two. But surely as time passed they must have shared your concern. What made them think your daughter would just take off on her own?”

Laurie could tell Sandra was reluctant to answer, so she pushed further. “You said there was no struggle in her room. Was her suitcase missing? Her purse?” Those were the kinds of facts police used to distinguish between runaways and foul play. It was hard to run without money or identification, she thought.

“No,” Sandra said quickly. “There seems to be only one thing missing from her wallet, her driver’s license. All of her clothes, her purse, her makeup, her credit cards, her cell phone-all of them were in her room. In the evening she often carried just a tiny purse with her room card, a compact, and lip gloss. That was never found. She could easily have slipped the license into it if she was planning to use the car. She and Jeff had rented a car at the airport. As far as we know, Amanda was the last one to use it when she and the girls went shopping that morning. There is a self-parking section on the grounds of the hotel. And that’s where they kept it.”

Or, Laurie thought, she took her license and some cash and met somebody. Laurie now understood why so many people had speculated that Amanda had left on her own accord. She did have another question, however. “What happened to the rental car?”

“It was found three days later behind an abandoned gas station about five miles from the hotel.”

Laurie could see that Sandra’s mouth had tightened and her expression had become fiercely angry.

“The police insisted on believing that she may have met someone at the gas station and gotten into a different car. The next morning, when the news broke that she was missing and they were showing her picture on TV, some woman in Delray Beach claimed that she saw Amanda in a white Mercedes convertible stopped at a traffic light around midnight the night she disappeared. She claims she was at a long light and got a good look at her. Amanda was supposedly in the passenger seat, but the woman remembered nothing about the driver except that he seemed tall and had a cap on. The woman was crazy, I know it. She loved the publicity. She couldn’t wait to get in front of a camera.”

“Do you think the police believed her?”

“Most of them did,” Sandra said bitterly. “One day outside the police station, I overheard two detectives arguing. They were leaning against a squad car, smoking cigarettes and talking about my daughter like she was some character on a TV show. One of them was certain that Amanda had a secret boyfriend-a Russian billionaire and she’s off on some island with him now. The other guy was shaking his head, and I thought he was going to defend Amanda. Instead he said-I’ll never forget it-‘You’ll owe me ten bucks when they pull her body from the Atlantic.’ ”

Sandra swallowed back a sob.

“I’m so sorry,” Laurie offered, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh trust me, I gave them an earful. There’s a detective still officially assigned to the case. Her name is Marlene Henson. She’s a nice woman but I can tell the trail is ice cold. Forgive me for being personal, Ms. Moran, but I came here to you specifically for a reason. You know what it’s like to lose a person close to you. And to not know for years why it happened or who was responsible.”

Greg was killed by a single shot to the forehead while he pushed Timmy on a playground swing. The shooter had intentionally targeted Greg and even knew Timmy’s name. “Timmy, tell your mother that she’s next,” he had said. “Then it’s your turn.” For five years the only other thing Laurie knew about her husband’s killer was that he had blue eyes. That’s what her son had called him when he cried out, “Blue Eyes shot my daddy!”

In response to Sandra’s statement, Laurie simply nodded.

“Now imagine, Ms. Moran, knowing even less. To not even know whether the person you love is dead or alive. To not know whether they suffered or are out there, alive and happy. Imagine knowing nothing. I’m sure some part of you thinks I’m lucky. Until they find Amanda’s body, she could still be alive. I’ll never believe that she left of her own will but maybe she was kidnapped and is trying to get free. Or got hit by a car and developed amnesia. I can still hold out hope. But sometimes I think I’d be relieved to get that awful phone call telling me that it’s over. At least I’d know she’s at rest. I’d finally know for sure. Until then, I can’t stop. I’ll never stop looking for my daughter. Please-you might be my last chance.”

Laurie set her notebook on the coffee table, leaned back in her chair, and steeled herself to break Sandra Pierce’s heart.