Vanishing Acts (15 page)

“And this was rejected, I take it?”

“Yes, it was rejected. I'm on the board of the Parks Department, and I wasn't going to let that type of thing happen.”

“You're on the board of the Parks Department?” I asked, suddenly thinking of Mister Fru Fru and all the other victims I'd been hearing about. “Have you heard about the recent dog-eggings in the park?”

“I have.” Jenna frowned. “It's really terrible. I mean, if this is someone's idea of a prank, they've got problems.”

“What makes you think it's a prank?” I asked, leaning a little closer.

Jenna shrugged. “I don't know—I just can't think of any other feasible explanation. Anyway, they seemed to have lost interest. Have you noticed that there have been no new eggings since Seth disappeared?”

“Yeah, I checked the blogs this morning and didn't see any new posts. I figured whoever is responsible is afraid of getting caught. You know, because of all the police around town.”

Jenna nodded. “That makes sense. Anyway, I have a feeling Jones did some research and found out about my position, because he's been making things extra difficult on me ever since.”

“How so?” I asked.

“Well, he put Seth Ryan's trailer right in front of my house, blocking all my light and the entire view of the street. Notice that all the other trailers are set back away from the sidewalk—but Seth's is practically on my front stoop.”

“I figured that was a security measure,” I said.

“Nope,” Jenna said. “It's just to bug me.”

I stood up and looked out Jenna's window. She had a direct view of Seth's trailer. “It looks like you'd be able to see him from here.”

“I could,” said Jenna. “Not that I spent too much time watching him.”

“Did you notice anything strange? Anyone going in or out of his trailer?” I asked.

“Well, there was some sort of disturbance on Wednesday. Apparently, a stalker had to be apprehended by his security guard. I was working at the time, but my son, Jonas, was home . . .”

I didn't bother clearing up that mistake. Instead, I closed my notebook and stood up. “Well, I guess I'm out of questions. Thanks so much for your time, Jenna. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, Maggie. I'm impressed that you're conducting this investigation; I wish you all the luck in the world. I hope Seth is okay. Truly, I do. Please let me know if I can help you in any other way.”

“I will,” I said.

“And say hello to your parents. We should all go out to brunch sometime.”

After my last run-in with Fiona, I doubted she'd be willing to speak with me, but when I called her at her hotel and asked if we could talk about Seth, she surprised me. “Sure. Let's meet at Root Hill at three o'clock today.”

She seemed to take my silence at the other end of the line for confusion—and rightfully so.

“Do you know the place?” she asked moments later.

“Um, I don't, but I'll find it,” I replied, still stunned. And a few hours later, I realized that locating the café turned out to be simple compared to spotting Fiona in the crowd. She looked terrible, like she hadn't slept in days. Her eyes were ringed with red and her hair was not just poofy, but a poofy mess. At first glance I didn't recognize her. She clutched her coffee with both hands, as if guarding it from someone who wanted to steal it. And when she raised it to her lips, her fingers trembled.

I didn't like how Fiona had treated me, or how she treated Seth, or how she walked around like she was the boss of everything and everyone. She was like a classic villain in a movie, but we needed to work together. After all, we both had the same goal—rescuing Seth. That was more important than anything else.

“How are you doing?” I asked, just to be polite, even though I could pretty much tell. All the anger had drained out of her, leaving her looking weary, worried, and lonely.

“Terrible,” she said, blinking back tears.

Despite how she'd talked to me last week, I felt bad for her. “Does Rudy have any new leads?” Half of me had hoped that by the time we met, Seth would be rescued, or at least someone would know where to look for him, but clearly that hadn't happened.

Fiona shook her head slowly. “No one has a clue,” she said, her voice cracking as she struggled to hold back her emotions.

“I'm sorry,” I said sincerely. “It's hard for me to imagine he's still missing, and I hardly know him. It's got to be so much worse for you.”

“It's horrifying,” Fiona said as she took another sip of coffee. “I never had children of my own. I didn't need to, because I had Seth. I've poured my heart and soul into that boy's career. Loved him like my own son.
I just can't believe he's gone, that someone would kidnap him. And why? Not knowing is just torture.”

I leaned in closer, studying her face. “Do you have any idea who could've done this?”

“None,” Fiona cried. “Which means it could be anyone. A crazed fan, an embittered colleague, a Swedish diplomat . . .”

“A Swedish diplomat?” I asked, writing this down. “Why do you think—”

“I don't,” said Fiona. “But no one ever suspects Swedish diplomats of anything, and I'm just saying, the police have absolutely nothing to go on. They've questioned everyone, and they don't seem to know where to turn next. It would be different if the kidnapper asked for ransom money. That's something the police have experience with; but the radio silence? It's eerie.” She shivered, which made me shiver, too.

“What about Seth's father?” I asked, watching her closely.

Fiona looked up from her coffee, surprised. “Why do you bring up Bill?” she asked.

“I read about the custody battle with Bill and the restraining order Seth put out against him.”

She stared at me like she was trying to figure something out. It made me squirm even though I didn't have anything to hide. “You've done your research.”

“Yes. Of course.” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “And I've read a bunch of conflicting accounts. So can you please tell me your side of the story?”

“Okay.” Fiona took a deep breath and fluffed her hair with her fingers. “It's simple. Bill's a nice guy, but he's a used-car salesman. That's the business he knows, and that's the business he should stick with. I'm a talent manager, and I have been for my whole life. We had different opinions about what would be best for Seth and for Seth's career. We couldn't agree about it. We took it to court. I won and he left. And Seth's better off. Trust me.” She took another sip of coffee, setting it down with a clatter. Her hands trembled, which made me curious. Fiona seemed not merely grief-stricken, but also nervous. I wondered why.

“But why the restraining order?” I asked.

“I can't talk about that,” said Fiona.

I leaned closer to her and lowered my voice. “Do you think Bill could have kidnapped Seth? Like, as revenge? Or in some twisted way, did he want his son back and maybe he felt like this was the only way he could accomplish it?”

“I don't know,” said Fiona. “I certainly wouldn't put it past him. And that's exactly what I told the police. But detectives have already questioned Bill. If he's hiding Seth, he's doing an excellent job.”

“Huh,” I said, thinking about it.

Fiona looked at me, sizing me up. “You seem like a smart girl, but you can't expect to do what hundreds of professionals—with more resources and more experience—have been unable to do.”

“I have to try, though.”

“That's admirable,” said Fiona. “And I'm sure it would mean a lot to Seth. I'm sorry if I spoke to you harshly back there at that Pizza Cave.”

“Pizza Den,” I said.

“Right. Maybe I got too worked up. You just never know with people. Someone was crazy enough to kidnap Seth. My—” She didn't finish her sentence. She seemed too upset to speak.

Suddenly, tears streamed down her face. I could tell she was the type of person who didn't often break down in public. That's probably why she rushed into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

I sat there thinking, worried that Seth was in danger, frustrated at what seemed like such a hopeless situation.

When Fiona didn't return after a few minutes, I went to the door and heard muffled sobs over the rush of water. She must've turned on the sink to cover the anguished sounds, but it didn't work. I heard everything.

I knocked softly. “Are you okay, Fiona?”

“Fine,” she sniffed through the door. “I mean, I'll be fine—eventually. Please just go. I'm sorry I can't help you. I just hope someone finds Seth before it's too late.”

“I'll let you know if I hear anything,” I promised.

Back at our table, I grabbed my backpack, and accidentally tripped over Fiona's bag. It was one of those fancy purses—shiny and oversize, and when it tipped over, half the contents spilled out.

I crouched down to pick them up and put her makeup and wallet and keys back in the bag. That's when I noticed the letter. I went to put it away, too, with the rest of her junk, but stopped once I noticed to whom it was addressed. Seth Ryan. And the return address? Bill Ryan, in Buffalo, New York.

I stood slowly as I stared at the letter. Something was written in the corner, faint pencil tracings I had to squint to read properly. The number sixty-seven. What did it mean?

I glanced at the closed bathroom door.

Fiona had just gone out of her way to tell me that Bill refused to speak to Seth. Does someone who refuses to speak to his son send a letter? A letter, I realized—glancing at the postmark—that was sent days before he disappeared?

I don't think so.

I quickly put the letter in my backpack, then righted Fiona's purse and headed out the door.

As I rushed home, my mind buzzed with a familiar feeling. Somehow I knew that I was on the brink of a major discovery.

No, I still didn't know where Seth was, and Fiona didn't, either.

She hadn't kidnapped him—that much seemed obvious.

But so was this: she sure was guilty of something.

When I got home, I sat down at my desk with the letter in front of me. My first instinct was to tear it open and read it to search for clues that could lead me to Seth.

I ran my fingers along the edge of the seal, then placed my pointer finger under the corner, but I couldn't go any further due to one simple fact: the letter was addressed to Seth. That meant the contents were private. This wasn't for my eyes, and I had to respect that.

Once I found Seth, I'd give it to him. And find him I would.

Since I didn't have any more actual leads, I decided to do some research online. I read more about the court case, and found that while Fiona hadn't bluffed, she'd only told me one side of the story.

While she'd claimed that Bill didn't know how to manage Seth's career, Bill had accused Fiona of working Seth too hard.

They also had differing accounts of how Seth broke his arm snowboarding. Bill claimed that Fiona pressured Seth into doing his own stunts. Fiona claimed it was Bill who forced him into it. I looked for Seth's account, but couldn't find it anywhere. The entire battle seemed to take place around him, as if Seth never had his own opinion—or, at least, none that got recorded.

Next I checked out the local newspaper in Buffalo. It seemed like the only place I hadn't looked.

Right away I saw an advertisement for Bill's of Buffalo. It looked like Seth's dad had started up his old business again.

SUVs were on sale. Prices like you've never seen before.

I did a Google search on Bill's of Buffalo and Bill Ryan.

And that's when a random link at the bottom of the page caught my eye. I clicked on it, and it led me to the local birth announcements. “Congratulations, Bill Ryan, on the birth of twin boys!” It was dated five weeks ago. Bill and someone I presumed to be his wife were standing in a parking lot with two blue bundles and gigantic smiles.