The Missing

Chapter 37

All the florists in Beacon Hill were closed for the day. Darby was forced to pick through the anemic-looking flowers left inside the hospital gift shop. She took her time selecting the brightest colors she could find and made a nice arrangement.

ICU was quiet and calm now. Dr Hathcock was gone for the day. Darby checked in with a nurse. There was no change in Rachel Swanson's condition.

It took some wrangling to convince the nurse to allow the flowers in the room. Darby placed the flowers on the sill underneath the TV. That way, when Rachel woke up, she would see the flowers. Maybe they would help convince her that she was no longer trapped in the dark room where Carol Cranmore now was.

Bleary-eyed and weary, Darby stumbled into her mother's room. Sheila was asleep.

A peculiar sadness gripped her. On the way over here, Darby had hoped her mother would be awake. Darby needed to talk. The selfishness of a child needing her mother. Darby wondered if she would ever outgrow it.

Sheila's eyes fluttered open. 'Darby… I didn't hear you come in.'

'I just got here. Can I get you anything?'

'Some ice water would be nice.'

Downstairs, Darby filled a plastic tumbler with ice and water. She sat on the bed and held the cup while her mother sucked from a straw.

'Much better.' Sheila's eyes were clear and focused, but she was having trouble breathing. 'Did you eat? Tina made something resembling egg salad.'

'I grabbed a sandwich at the hospital.'

'What were you doing there?'

'Visiting Jane Doe,' Darby said. 'Her name is Rachel Swanson. She woke up today.'

'Tell me about it.'

'Why don't you rest? You look tired.'

Sheila waved it off. 'I'm going to have the rest of my life to sleep.'

Darby wondered where her mother found the source of her bravery, what images she used to comfort herself for what was awaiting her.

She helped her mother sit up. When Sheila was comfortable, Darby told her about what had happened at the hospital.

'What about Carol Cranmore?' Sheila asked.

'We're still looking.' Darby realized she was holding her mother's hand. 'We have something, though. Something we might be able to use to help find the person who has her.'

'That's good news.'

'It is.'

'So why don't you look happy?'

'If we don't do it the right way, he'll probably kill her.'

'You can't control that.'

'I know, but I pushed for this plan we're going to use tomorrow. Now I'm wondering if I made a mistake.'

'What you want is for someone to assure you it's all going to work out.'

'I smell a lecture.'

'You were like that since the day you were born. You had to be in control of everything.'

'Who says I'm not?'

Sheila grinned. 'What you are is dedicated – and smart. Very smart. Don't ever forget that.'

'The person we're after is smarter. He's been doing this for a long time. The other thing is, he might have other women besides Carol. They might still be alive. And if we don't catch him tomorrow, he might kill them.'

Her mother's eyelids fluttered and then shut. 'Promise me one thing.'

'Yes, I'll save myself for marriage.'

'Besides that,' Sheila said. 'Promise me you won't blame yourself if something goes wrong. You can't blame yourself for things you can't control.'

'Sounds like good advice.' Darby kissed her mother on the forehead and stood up. 'I think I'll try some of that egg salad. You want anything?'

'I would love some gum. My mouth is so dry.'

When Darby came back, she was asleep. Darby checked her mother's pulse. It was still there.

She went to the spare bedroom and tried reading the case file, but all Darby could see was Carol Cranmore in the pictures – Carol walking through her dark prison cell, hands outstretched; Carol bumping into walls, trapped, terrified.

Darby shut the file and brought her Walkman with her to the recliner. She listened to the conversation with Rachel Swanson and stared out the window, at the trees shaking in the breeze under the dark sky. Carol Cranmore was somewhere out there, swallowing darkness and fear in equal measures.

Hang on, Carol. Find a way to fight and hang on.

Darby thought about the listening devices and felt a flicker of hope spark inside her. It was small, but it would do. She shut off the Walkman, wrapped the blanket around her and waited for sleep.