When she got in the car, Ro knew that Vicks would be angry. After she quickly packed an overnight bag, she took time to make up her face and look as nice as possible. But once on the road, she was also aware that Ben had things on his mind other than her beauty. Thinking about the abducted girl not only made her nervous, it made her incredibly sad.
During Gretchen’s treatment, Ro, along with Griffen, had been strongly encouraged to attend sibling support groups. Griffen had always found the members meddlesome and the group useless. Occasionally, Ro found the sessions helpful since no one at home was talking. Other times all the intense talk and sharing made her incredibly anxious. Though she would never admit it to anyone, especially her parents, she was happy to escape New York and go somewhere where she’d be anonymous.
Like her mother, she had wanted to get away from death. Now it was hitting her in the face. Her heart was beating and her breath quickened. She wanted Ben to calm her down, but he was so focused on his own thoughts, she knew he would be useless. Truly she didn’t know what she was going to say to the Doogans. Perhaps the smartest thing was to say nothing.
Through the windshield, she peered at an evening that was cloudless and cold, a million stars gazing down from an inky sky. The road had poor lighting and Vicks was driving quickly, as if he’d done it a thousand times. They drove for a while until they passed the turnoff for the Cochiti pueblo.
About three weeks ago—it was on a Saturday—to get their minds off of murder, she and Vicks had taken a trip into Santa Fe. They walked through the plaza and under the portico of the Palace of the Governors—a seventeenth-century building—where Indians from the pueblos sold their crafts and jewelry. Dozens of artisans—mostly silversmiths and jewelry makers but also potters—had spread out their wares on blankets. Tourists gazed down on the items, scrutinizing each piece while the Indians sat placidly, reading, eating, talking with one another, and trying to make a living with their creative output. Vicks had bought her a Cochiti storyteller—a group of ceramic Indian ladies molded in one piece. They all had their mouths open. It was a spontaneous gift and it touched her deeply. Not that it was all that expensive, but he saw her staring at it and purchased it when she wasn’t looking. She kept it on her nightstand and said goodnight to each gal before she switched off the light.
Vicks had turned on music. Aside from the satellite radio, the ride had been silent. She began to bite her nails. Ben gently laid a hand over hers to stop the compulsion. He seemed to have read what was on her mind. “They’re nice people. Don’t worry.”
Ro said, “Like, what do we do?”
“We don’t do anything,” Ben said. “We just wait.”
“How long, do you think?”
“No idea.” He blew out air. “I told my grandparents that you might be staying over.”
“What do you prefer? I mean, I can go home with Shanks.”
“He’ll probably be there the better part of the night.” A beat. “It depends if you can miss school or not.”
“If I’m going to write a college essay about this, I suppose I want the total experience.” Tears formed in her eyes. “You know I’m not gonna do it, right?”
“I know.”
“This is horrible.”
“I hope it’s Katie,” Ben said. “It would be nice if the Doogans could give their daughter a proper burial.” Another pause. “You wouldn’t think that it was a big deal. Dead is dead. And we knew that Ellen was gone way before we found her. But it is a big deal. Not just for my parents, but for me. To have a place to visit, to honor my sister’s memory. To lay flowers at her grave. To talk to her.”
The car fell silent.
“How often do you visit?” Ro asked.
“We’ve been going on her birthday, the anniversary of her burial, and on Christmas. Sometimes I go by myself. What about you?”
“On the anniversary of her death and on her birthday. Not on Christmas, although we should. It’s so pathetic in our house now. Mom makes this huge dinner on Christmas Eve—that no one eats—because she’s so depressed. This year, I don’t know what we’ll do. It’ll be pretty bad. Want to come over, Vicks?”
“Before or after I visit my own sister?”
“Either, both. I can go with you to the grave.” She took a swipe at her eyes. “The only thing this year that’ll save the day from being a total washout will be the winter dance.”
“Yeah, that’s right. It’s the night of Christmas Day.”
“Are you coming?”
“No. But the kids would probably like it. Why don’t you take them? Griff is your brother.”
“Well, if you’re definitely not coming, I’ll take them.” Silence. Then Ro said, “I worry about you. No one can remain on fire without burning up. I know you think that I’m a slave to having friends and having fun and being popular. And there’s truth in that. But if I don’t take my mind off what happened, it just eats at me like psychological cancer. Then my mother loses two daughters instead of one.”
They passed the turnoff for the Santo Domingo pueblo.
Ben said, “Ro, I’m glad that you’ve found a healthy way to adjust. It’s just not me.”
“The thing is, Vicks, when it first happened, I didn’t want to do anything either. I forced myself. And it worked out okay. Maybe you should force yourself as well.”
“I’m not interested in school dances.”
“You could go to the movies once in a while.”
“Not with your friends.”
“So maybe instead of looking at murder files, we’ll go to the movies. Just the two of us.”
“Thanks for trying, Ro, but your tenacity is misdirected. Don’t let me bring you down.”
Ro didn’t answer him. “What were you like before Ellen died?”
“Wow.” He paused. “Let me think. My life has really been divided into before and after. I used to go skating. I used to go snowboarding. I was pretty good at one point.”
“What about now?”
“Haven’t gone since it happened.” He thought a moment. “I was different before it happened, Ro. You would have hated me. I was a real prick. I thought I knew everything. I was belligerent, I was impulsive, and I was really sarcastic. I drove my parents crazy. I argued with everything they said. I thought they were incredibly stupid. I found Haley to be a real pain in the ass. Lilly and she bugged me constantly. I wasn’t very patient with them. More than once I slammed the door in their faces.”
He paused.
“I liked Ellen.” His eyes moistened. “She was such a nice person. It wasn’t that she was the most popular girl in school. But she was well liked. More than that, she was respected. At her funeral, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.” He smiled. “JD and Weekly bawling like babies.”