She tried her best to turn the page.
She found a job as a hostess at a restaurant on the town square. It was an Italian place that catered to lawyers and business people during the day, then fed the well-to-do of New Cambridge at night, especially on weekends as they all went out to attend movies or concerts or plays. It didn't pay enough, but it was mindless, and she could stand at the door and offer people some version of a fake smile and take them to a table and hand them a menu and then not worry about anything else that happened to them. Let it be somebody else's problem. The managers normally hired college students, so when Diana was able to show up for all of her shifts and perform competently, they treated her as though she were the second coming of Einstein. She knew someday she needed to find another job, one that would lead to a career, but this one gave her some breathing room for the time being.
She still checked in on the Foley case, but news came out in a trickle that eventually slowed to nothing. And when she noticed the news reports rarely mentioning her, as though she had never existed at all, some part of her wanted to call the Foley family and tell them that it would get better someday, that their pain would ease and the disappearance of their daughter would begin to make some kind of sense. But she knew if she made such a call and said such words, she'd be lying. What she really needed to tell them was if they thought the first few weeks were difficult, wait until they experienced the first few months and then the first few years. If they thought the first days were dark, then they hadn't seen anything yet.
It made sense for Diana not to be a cop anymore. She wouldn't trust herself to keep her mouth shut.
So she lived her life independent of others, never mind that she found herself, at least once a week, driving slowly past the sorority house where Jacqueline Foley once lived. On the front porch, her sorority sisters kept a candle burning to light Jackie's way home, and they had vowed to keep it burning, year in and year out, regardless of the weather or if school were in session or not, until they had an answer about their sister and friend. Diana wanted to knock on the door and tell them that one candle wouldn't cut it in a world as dark as ours, and sometimes she wanted to just stop her car, walk up to the porch and blow the thing out herself. Instead, she found herself choking up a little whenever she drove by and wishing she had the staying power and determination of a bunch of college girls who she wished she could dismiss contemptuously. She couldn't dismiss them, so she kept driving by. And she knew deep down that if she ever went by there and saw that the candle was out, she'd hop out of the car and light it herself, and probably sit there all night just to protect it.
Unlike Jackie Foley and her sorority sisters, Diana didn't have anyone watching out for her. She hadn't visited her mother since the hospital had told her to keep her distance. She hadn't spoken to Kay Todd or lifted a finger on behalf of her missing daughter. Jason had called a few times, trying to work his way back into her life, but Diana simply avoided his calls, giving him the internationally recognized signs of a blow off. He eventually took the hint and stopped calling, giving Diana exactly what she had hoped for—a life lived only for herself and by herself, free of bothersome entanglements with others.
So why, she wondered, if I finally have what I want, do I still feel so unhappy?
*
Diana was home, a night off work, when someone knocked on her door. The sound sent a small twist of fear through her midsection. She worried that it was another message, another delivery from whoever had been sending the notes relating to the Margie Todd case. She assumed Kay was behind them, but how could she know? It was a sign of how isolated she had become that she was willing to set aside her fear and look through the peephole, not knowing whether the person on the other side meant her good or ill. And after seeing who it was, she still couldn't decide if she should open the door. After a moment's pause and another knock, she undid the locks and pulled the door open.
"Dan?"
"Hi, Diana."
He looked nervous and out of place on her landing, as though he feared someone might see him, and Diana supposed that was a legitimate concern for a married man who for some reason had shown up at his ex-mistress's apartment.
"What's going on?" she said.
"I was hoping I could come in for a minute."
Diana studied his face and noticed the tiredness in his eyes, the gravity that seemed to be weighing down the skin under his jaw line.
"What's wrong?" she said. "Did something happen?"
He didn't answer but moved past her into the apartment. He still wore his uniform, and once inside, stood awkwardly in the center of the room as though waiting for an invitation.
"I'd offer you something, but I don't want to mess around with that bullshit. Just tell me what's going on? Did you find the Foley girl?"