Chapter Three
Gone
Lucas knew something was wrong because the coffee was still in the pot.
It was 7:42 on a Tuesday morning.
For the past week, Jennifer had been getting downstairs before him. Sometimes he found her sitting at the kitchen table. Sometimes she was outside on the patio. Once he had found her asleep on the couch with the television playing silently.
But she always made coffee.
Too much coffee.
Lucas had complained about it twice.
"If you're going to drink one cup, why do you make twelve?"
"I don't know how your machine works."
"There are numbers."
"I don't trust them."
"They're measurements."
"Exactly."
Lucas had given up.
This morning the kitchen was exactly as he had left it the night before.
He opened the refrigerator.
Nothing seemed disturbed.
"Jennifer?"
No answer.
He walked upstairs and knocked on her door.
"Jennifer?"
Silence.
He waited.
Then knocked again.
Nothing.
He tried the handle.
Unlocked.
The room was empty.
The bed looked as though someone had slept in it, although with Jennifer that didn't mean much. The blanket was twisted toward one side. Her backpack rested beside the dresser.
Lucas looked into the bathroom.
Empty.
He returned downstairs.
Her shoes were gone.
So was the jacket they had bought at the mall.
Lucas relaxed.
She had gone for a walk.
Good.
Maybe that was progress.
For the first two weeks, Jennifer rarely went anywhere without him. If she was comfortable enough to walk around the neighborhood alone, Lucas considered that a positive sign.
He made coffee.
By eight thirty she had not returned.
At nine, he sent her a message.
Breakfast?
The message didn't deliver.
Lucas frowned.
Then he remembered.
Her phone was upstairs.
He had bought it three days earlier after finally convincing her that having a phone did not constitute financial extravagance.
She had barely used it.
Lucas found it on the nightstand.
Battery: 83 percent.
He stared at it.
"Great."
He went downstairs.
At 9:30, the market opened.
Normally, nothing interrupted Lucas during the first hour.
He had positions to watch, orders waiting, overnight news to process.
At 9:47, one of his stocks moved sharply.
Lucas barely noticed.
He checked the driveway again.
At 10:15 he walked outside.
The street was quiet.
A woman pushed a stroller along the opposite sidewalk. Somewhere nearby, a lawn mower started.
No Jennifer.
Lucas told himself to stop being ridiculous.
She was an adult.
She didn't need permission to leave his house.
She certainly didn't need to report her location to him.
At 10:32 he went back to the computer.
At 10:34 he checked the window.
At 10:41 he closed one position earlier than planned.
At 10:47 he stood.
"Screw it."
He grabbed his keys.
He drove through the neighborhood first.
Slowly.
Too slowly, judging by the truck that honked behind him.
He checked the coffee shop.
No Jennifer.
The pharmacy.
Nothing.
The small park three streets away.
Nothing.
He drove to two restaurants they had visited together.
Then the mall.
He knew the mall made no sense. Jennifer had hated being there.
He checked anyway.
At noon, he sat in his car in the parking lot and tried to decide what a normal person would do.
Call the police?
And say what?
My roommate went for a walk this morning.
How long has she been missing?
Four hours.
Does she have a history of disappearing?
I don't know.
Is she in danger?
I don't know.
What is your relationship?
That question stopped him.
What was his relationship to Jennifer?
Former classmate.
Roommate.
Friend?
Caregiver?
He disliked the last word.
He started the car.
There was one place he had not checked.
The drive into the city took fifty eight minutes.
Lucas made it in forty six.
He told himself several times that she wouldn't be there.
Going back made no sense.
She had a bed.
Food.
Clothes.
A bathroom.
Privacy.
Nobody was demanding anything from her.
Why would she return to the place she had escaped?
The answer came before he finished asking the question.
Because perhaps she had not experienced leaving it as an escape.
Lucas tightened his hands around the steering wheel.
Traffic slowed downtown.
He cursed at a taxi.
Then cursed at himself for cursing at a taxi.
He parked illegally for ten minutes before finding a garage.
The walk to the old bank building took six minutes.
He saw the shoes first.
New sneakers.
The ones he had bought her.
Then the cream colored sweater.
Then Jennifer.
She was sitting against the same wall.
Almost exactly where he had found her.
Lucas stopped across the street.
Relief arrived first.
So strong that his knees actually felt weak.
Then anger.
He crossed without waiting for the signal.
"Jennifer."
She looked up.
No surprise.
No apology.
Nothing.
Lucas stopped in front of her.
"What are you doing?"
Jennifer looked away.
"I've been looking everywhere for you."
Silence.
"Do you know what time it is?"
Nothing.
Lucas heard his own voice becoming louder.
He lowered it.
"You left your phone."
"I know."
"Why?"
"I didn't need it."
"I thought something happened to you."
Jennifer stared toward the traffic.
Lucas stood there breathing.
He wanted to shout.
He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and demand an explanation.
Instead he sat down.
Not beside her.
A few feet away.
The pavement was cold.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Eventually Jennifer said, "You didn't have to come."
"Apparently I did."
"I was going back."
"When?"
"I don't know."
Lucas rubbed his forehead.
"Why are you here?"
Jennifer said nothing.
"You have a home."
Her eyes moved toward him.
"Your home."
"Fine. You have a room."
Silence.
"A bed."
Nothing.
"Food."
"Stop."
"I'm trying to understand."
"You can't."
"Then explain it."
"I can't."
Lucas looked at her.
Jennifer pulled her knees closer to her chest.
People passed them.
He remembered their first meeting.
Three weeks ago.
It felt much longer.
"Did I do something?"
"No."
"Did something happen at the house?"
"No."
"Did somebody say something?"
"No."
"Then why did you leave?"
Jennifer closed her eyes.
"Because I had to."
"Why?"
"I just did."
Lucas waited.
Jennifer began rubbing her thumb against the side of her index finger.
He had noticed that habit before.
Usually when she was anxious.
"Jennifer."
She looked at him.
"I need something better than that."
Her face hardened.
"Why?"
"Because I spent six hours thinking you might be hurt."
"I didn't ask you to."
Lucas felt the anger return.
"No. You didn't."
He stood.
Jennifer flinched.
The movement stopped him.
The anger disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.
Lucas sat again.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Getting angry."
"You should be."
"Probably."
Jennifer looked almost confused.
Lucas stared at the street.
"I just need to know you're safe."
"Why?"
The question was sincere.
Lucas turned toward her.
"What do you mean, why?"
"Why do you care?"
He almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because he didn't know how to answer something that seemed so obvious.
"Because you're my friend."
Jennifer looked away.
"We weren't friends."
"In high school? No."
"Then."
"Now."
She said nothing.
Lucas continued.
"At least I thought we were getting there."
Jennifer's face changed.
For a moment she looked close to crying.
Then it disappeared.
"You shouldn't."
"Shouldn't what?"
"Care."
"That's not really your decision."
"You don't know what you're doing."
"Neither do you, apparently."
Jennifer glared at him.
"Sorry."
"No, you're not."
"A little."
That almost got a smile.
Almost.
Lucas waited.
Finally Jennifer whispered, "They know where I am."
Lucas stopped breathing for a second.
"Who?"
She immediately looked around.
"Jennifer. Who?"
"I shouldn't have said anything."
"Who knows where you are?"
She stood.
"We need to go."
Lucas stood too.
"Okay."
"Now."
"Okay."
Jennifer grabbed the plastic bag beside her.
Lucas noticed it for the first time.
Her old bag.
She had apparently brought it with her.
"Where's your backpack?"
"At home."
The word came naturally.
Home.
Lucas noticed.
Jennifer did not.
They walked toward the garage.
Lucas waited until they were inside the car.
Doors closed.
Windows up.
Jennifer checked the side mirror.
Then the rearview mirror.
"Who are they?"
"No one."
"You just told me..."
"I made a mistake."
"Jennifer."
"Drive."
"Not until..."
"Please."
The word stopped him.
Lucas started the car.
For the first twenty minutes, Jennifer barely moved.
Then she turned.
"That car."
"What car?"
"Behind us."
Lucas checked the mirror.
A gray sedan.
"What about it?"
"It's been there."
"We're on the highway."
"It was there before."
"When?"
"Downtown."
Lucas looked again.
The sedan was perhaps four car lengths behind them.
He changed lanes.
The sedan remained where it was.
A minute later, it disappeared behind a truck.
Jennifer kept watching.
"It's gone," Lucas said.
"No."
"I don't see it."
"That's the point."
Lucas glanced at her.
"What point?"
She didn't answer.
Five minutes later, Jennifer said, "Don't go home."
"Why?"
"Just drive somewhere else."
"Where?"
"I don't care."
Lucas took the next exit.
They ended up at a gas station.
He parked.
Jennifer looked around.
"What are we doing?"
"You told me not to go home."
"Not here."
"Jennifer, I need you to tell me what's happening."
She looked through the windshield.
Lucas waited.
"Is someone threatening you?"
No answer.
"Did somebody hurt you?"
Nothing.
"Do you owe someone money?"
She almost laughed.
"With what money?"
"Drugs?"
Her head snapped toward him.
"No."
"Okay."
"Is that what you think?"
"I don't know what to think."
"I don't use drugs."
"I believe you."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
She stared at him.
"Then don't ask."
"Jennifer, you told me people know where you are. You're watching cars. You disappeared this morning. I'm trying to understand whether you're in danger."
"I am."
Lucas felt cold.
"From who?"
Jennifer's eyes moved toward the convenience store.
A man came outside carrying a bottle of soda.
She waited until he entered another car.
Then she said, "People."
"What people?"
"The ones who watch."
"Watch what?"
"Me."
Lucas said nothing.
Jennifer looked at him.
"You don't believe me."
"I didn't say that."
"You don't."
"I don't understand."
"Same thing."
"No, it isn't."
She turned away.
Lucas considered his next question carefully.
"How long have they been watching you?"
Jennifer was silent for so long he thought she wouldn't answer.
Then:
"Years."
Lucas felt something inside him sink.
"Since college?"
She looked at him sharply.
"I didn't say college."
"No. I'm asking."
"Don't."
"Okay."
He stopped.
Jennifer's breathing had become faster again.
"Let's go home," Lucas said.
She shook her head.
"I'll check everything."
"What does that mean?"
"The house. Cameras. Outside. Whatever you want."
"You have cameras?"
"Doorbell. Back."
Jennifer stared at him.
Lucas immediately realized this had not reassured her.
"You record me?"
"No."
"You just said..."
"They record outside. The entrances."
"Since when?"
"Before you came."
"Why?"
"Security."
"Who can see them?"
"Me."
"Who else?"
"The company, technically, I guess."
Jennifer's face changed.
"Which company?"
"Jennifer..."
"Which company?"
"I don't know. The camera company."
"Turn them off."
Lucas stared at her.
"Okay."
"You will?"
"Yes."
"Now."
"I can't while I'm driving."
"You're parked."
Lucas took out his phone.
He disabled both cameras.
Jennifer watched every movement.
"Done."
"Delete everything."
"I can do that when we get home."
"Why not now?"
"Because I don't know how from the app."
She studied him.
Lucas suddenly understood that she was deciding whether he was lying.
That frightened him more than anything she had said.
"I'm not lying to you."
"I didn't say you were."
"You didn't have to."
Jennifer looked away.
Lucas started the car.
"Let's go home."
This time she didn't object.
Jennifer checked every downstairs window when they arrived.
Lucas let her.
She looked through the curtains.
Checked the back door twice.
Then the front.
Lucas deleted the recent security recordings in front of her.
He knew it was probably unnecessary.
He also knew the recordings meant nothing to him and apparently meant a great deal to her.
"Anything else?" he asked.
Jennifer shook her head.
"Okay."
She went upstairs.
Lucas remained in the kitchen.
He opened his laptop.
For the first time since bringing Jennifer home, he began searching seriously.
Not for homelessness.
Not for shelters.
Not for insomnia.
He typed:
severe anxiety suspicious people following you sleep problems depression
The results were broad.
Trauma.
PTSD.
Severe anxiety.
Psychosis.
Paranoia.
Bipolar disorder.
Schizophrenia.
Substance induced conditions.
Sleep deprivation.
Lucas closed the laptop.
He immediately felt ashamed.
Jennifer was upstairs.
A human being.
His friend.
And he was downstairs typing symptoms into a search engine as though she were a malfunctioning machine.
He opened the computer again.
This time he searched for psychiatrists.
Not diagnoses.
There were dozens.
He filtered by distance.
Then reviews.
Then hospital affiliation.
Then specialties.
This felt more familiar.
Research.
Compare.
Eliminate.
Find the best option.
Lucas created a document.
Name.
Practice.
Distance.
Specialty.
Availability.
He had listed eight psychiatrists when Jennifer spoke behind him.
"What are you doing?"
Lucas turned.
She was standing at the kitchen entrance.
"Nothing."
Her eyes moved to the laptop.
"Who's Dr. Patel?"
Lucas looked at the screen.
He could lie.
He didn't.
"A psychiatrist."
Jennifer became completely still.
"Why?"
"I was looking."
"For yourself?"
"No."
Silence.
Lucas closed the laptop.
"Jennifer..."
"You think I'm crazy."
"No."
"Stop saying no."
"I'm not going to call you crazy."
"But that's what you think."
"No. I think you're suffering."
"Same thing."
"It isn't."
"To you."
Lucas stood.
Jennifer stepped backward.
He stopped immediately.
"Okay," he said. "I'll stay here."
"What did you search?"
"Doctors."
"Before that."
Lucas hesitated.
Her face changed.
"What did you search?"
"Symptoms."
"Mine."
"Yes."
Jennifer laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"Of course."
"I don't know what I'm doing."
"Clearly."
"That's why I'm looking for someone who does."
"I don't need a psychiatrist."
"Maybe not."
She stared at him.
Lucas continued.
"Maybe it's anxiety. Maybe you haven't slept enough. Maybe something really did happen to you. I don't know."
"It did."
"Okay."
"You don't believe that."
"I'm trying to."
"No. You're trying to decide what's wrong with me."
Lucas had no answer.
Because part of her accusation was true.
Jennifer turned toward the stairs.
"Wait."
She stopped.
"Just talk to someone."
"No."
"Once."
"No."
"You don't have to take medication. You don't have to agree with them. You don't have to do anything."
"I'm not going."
"Why?"
Jennifer turned around.
The fear was back.
Not anger.
Fear.
"Because that's how it starts."
Lucas frowned.
"How what starts?"
She looked at him as though he should already know.
"They ask questions. You answer. Then they decide you're sick. After that, nothing you say matters."
Lucas said nothing.
Jennifer's voice became quieter.
"You say somebody is following you, they say you're paranoid. You say you're not paranoid, they write down that you don't have insight. You get angry, they say you're unstable. You stay calm, they say you're flat."
Lucas stared at her.
This was not theoretical.
"Jennifer."
She turned away.
"You've seen a psychiatrist before."
She froze.
Lucas immediately knew he was right.
"When?"
No answer.
"Was it in college?"
"Stop."
"What happened?"
"Stop."
"Did somebody hospitalize you?"
Jennifer spun around.
"I said stop!"
Lucas fell silent.
Her chest rose and fell quickly.
For several seconds they stared at each other.
Then Jennifer said something he had not expected.
"I trusted them once."
Lucas's anger, curiosity and fear all disappeared beneath those four words.
"What happened?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
But she refused to let them fall.
"I said I'm not talking about it."
"Okay."
"I mean it."
"Okay."
"You'll leave it alone?"
"For tonight."
Jennifer almost laughed.
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
She wiped quickly beneath one eye.
Then she looked at the closed laptop.
"I'm not going."
Lucas nodded.
"Okay."
Her expression changed.
"What?"
"I said okay."
"That's it?"
"Tonight."
Jennifer stared at him.
"You think you'll change my mind."
"Yes."
At least he was honest.
For a second, something almost resembling admiration appeared in her face.
Then it vanished.
"Don't."
She went upstairs.
Her door closed.
Lucas sat back down.
He did not reopen the list of psychiatrists.
At 1:17 in the morning, Lucas was still awake.
The market would open in a little more than eight hours.
Normally he would have been asleep.
Instead he sat in the living room with the television muted.
He kept thinking about what Jennifer had said.
I trusted them once.
There was a history here.
Treatment.
Maybe hospitalization.
Something that had taught Jennifer to fear the very people Lucas believed might help her.
That changed the problem.
He couldn't simply make an appointment.
Well, technically he could.
He could pay for it.
Drive her there.
But he couldn't make her walk through the door.
And even if he could, what then?
Force was not recovery.
Lucas understood markets because markets did not care whether he understood them.
They moved anyway.
People were different.
Trust changed the outcome.
He heard footsteps upstairs.
Then silence.
A few minutes later, Jennifer appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
She had changed into sweatpants and an old T shirt.
"Why are you awake?" she asked.
"Couldn't sleep."
She almost smiled.
"Now you know."
Lucas moved his feet from the coffee table.
Jennifer remained standing.
"Want to sit?"
She hesitated.
Then sat at the opposite end of the couch.
For several minutes they watched