THREE
Missing Children: Deadly Rabbit Trails, Episode 1
On the evening of Sunday, September 14, 1998, police received a 911 call from a woman claiming her daughter had been abducted. Dispatch struggled to understand her through the sobs but kept her on the phone while police headed to her home, but they took an extraordinary amount of time because the only bridge for seventeen miles had collapsed.
Erin hit the Pause button and removed the headphones that hadn’t quite muted the noisy lawn mower outside her window. She’d been listening to the first episode in the latest season from her Missing Children podcast. Before recording the next episode, she needed to get her mind back into the flow. A thousand listeners would earn her twenty-five dollars from the popular insurance advertiser she promoted. She wasn’t even close to that number yet, but she wouldn’t give up on the podcast, even though she’d had to put the rest of her life on hold, taking leave from her “day job” to stay with Mom in Big Rapids, Montana.
As for Carissa, she’d recovered from the boating accident and was already back at her job as a history professor, according to her email this morning. Erin would miss Carissa, but her friend understood that Erin had to focus on her mother.
She had no choice but to stay in Big Rapids for now, since Mom refused to move to Washington. A pang ricocheted through Erin’s heart. She still couldn’t believe she’d missed the signs that her mom was struggling, or maybe it was that there simply hadn’t been any.
Though Erin was a psychologist, she didn’t specialize in depression or suicidal ideations. Her concentration was in criminology—Erin wanted to understand the criminal mind.
While she figured out how to best help her mother, she would keep up with the podcast for her own sanity. Through the window, she spotted Mom’s neighbor Delmar Wilson still mowing his grass.
She grabbed a few Cheetos and crunched on them while she waited until he finished mowing. The man peered at Mom’s house now and then. He came across as kind of creepy to Erin, and she wasn’t sure if there was any basis for that or if it was more that he eyed her mother with interest. And that concerned Erin. On the other hand, at least Mom seemed to have friends who cared about her.
But that was another anomaly. According to Mom’s friends, they hadn’t noticed anything off with Mom either. No obvious signs of depression. Nadine, Mom’s closest friend from church, hadn’t noticed anything either. She’d been eager to confirm with Erin that Mom never talked of killing herself. She hadn’t seemed hopeless at all. On the contrary, she was a happy volunteer at a local nonprofit benevolent organization. Main Street Thrift Shop was much more than the name implied and offered assistance to people who’d fallen into unfortunate circumstances. They provided clothing, bedding, and necessities, as well as a scholarship or two every year to high school seniors.
Their motto? “By our work we are known.”
“Amen,” Erin muttered.
If anything, Mom had been thriving. And Erin had been stunned at the news Nathan had delivered. Erin was in Big Rapids to support her mother in her time of need—and to solve the mystery of her attempted suicide. An attempt her mother had no memory of. A good network of friends was important, but Erin wouldn’t trust anyone else to take on the responsibility of suicide watch. Hence, she had moved back for the foreseeable future.
She glanced out the window when she heard the mowing stop. Delmar wiped his forehead with a rag. Once again, he eyed the house. Erin opened the mini blinds completely and waved at Delmar. He waved back. Good. She wanted to remind him she was here to take care of her mother. Instead of starting up the lawn mower, he left it there and headed to his front door.
Erin started listening to the podcast again, eager to get started on the second episode. Uncertainty about opening up this case for close perusal weighed on her. But talking about cold cases on a podcast was one of many ways answers could be found, in addition to television commercials and newscasts. And recently, revisiting DNA and running it through genealogy databases solved cold cases. Missing Children was Erin’s contribution.
Forty-five minutes later, she’d finished listening to the episode and stared at the script she’d written for episode two, contemplating recording it now.
Glass shattered somewhere in the house, startling her. She tore off her headset and raced through the house. “Mom!”
Her mother stood in the kitchen, staring down at a broken platter—roast and carrots were scattered across the floor, along with fragments of the dish. Erin took it all in, her gaze finally landing on her mother’s feet.
“Oh, Mom. You’re not wearing shoes. Carefully come my way and try not to step on anything. I’ll clean it up.”
“I’m not a child! Do not treat me like a child.” Her angry face shifted into one of a tortured soul. “Oh, Erin.”
Mom covered her face with her hands.
Erin didn’t think the new medication was working well. She stepped across the mess on the floor to hug her mother. “It’s okay. I’ve dropped a plate of food plenty of times myself. Everyone does it.”
Mom stepped away and stared at the floor. “But now our dinner is ruined.”
“I’ll order takeout. In fact, I’ll order it now so it will be on the way while I clean up.”
“I’ll clean it. I dropped it, after all.”
Erin took her mother’s hands. She breathed in and out, slowly and calmly, hoping her mother would do the same. “We’ll do it together. But get shoes on first.”
Mom finally smiled. “I’m glad you’re here, Erin. I missed you.”
Mom carefully stepped around the visible platter shards. On the other side of the dinner disaster, she turned. “Oh ... Did I interrupt your podcast? I’m sorry if I did.”
“I had just finished listening to the first episode. In fact, you could say it was perfect timing. Now, get your shoes on while I call for takeout, and we’ll clean up together.”
Mom’s shoulders dropped as the tension eased from her. When she headed down the hall, Erin grabbed her cell and ordered pizza. Then she picked up the largest pieces of the platter and tossed them in the trash can. Mom returned and showcased her stylish athletic slip-ons, and together they cleaned up.