“If it were anyone else, there probably would be,” Corrine Bradshaw agreed, putting aside the agenda she’d drawn up only half an hour earlier. “But not for Andrea. She’s like you, Nate; everyone always knows where she is and what she’s doing.”
“So what do we do?” Nate asked. “We can’t even file a missing person report this soon. Hell, we hardly pay any attention if a kid’s gone all day.”
“We split up her Rolodex,” Corrine decided. “Don’t get anyone upset — just ask people to have her call the office if they hear from her. Tell them she has a sick relative or something.” Her gaze shifted back to Nate. “Have you called her last appointment from Friday?”
Nate reddened. “I’ll do that right now.”
Two minutes later Nate was on the phone with Dr. Theodore Humphries. “Oh, yes, she was here,” Humphries told him after he’d identified himself. “Asking questions about the little Mayhew girl.”
The doctor’s annoyed tone made Nate frown. “She’s the child’s case manager — it’s her job to ask questions about her.”
“And I answered them, as far as I thought was proper,” Humphries replied, his tone sounding somewhat more temperate. “But I’m afraid when she began impugning my reputation and demanding to see the Mayhew child’s medical records, I responded in kind.”
Oh, God, Nate thought. Don’t let Andrea have called him a quack. “Impugned your reputation?” he said aloud. “I’m not sure I follow you.”
For a moment he thought Humphries was going to hang up on him, but then the doctor seemed to have a change of heart. “May I ask exactly why you are calling me, mister…”
“Rosenberg,” Nate repeated, then told Humphries exactly why he was calling. When he was finished, Humphries sighed heavily.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I refused to show her Rebecca Mayhew’s medical records without a court order, which I believe I am within my rights to do. Then she questioned my credentials, and left.”
Corrine Bradshaw listened silently as Nate recounted his conversation with Andrea’s last appointment, then began checking with the rest of the caseworkers. Not one of them had found anyone who had seen or talked to Andrea Costanza since Friday. “All right,” she said, picking up the phone on her desk. “Let’s see if I have any clout at all. That’s the twentieth Police Precinct up there, isn’t it?” As Nate Rosenberg nodded, she dialed the Precinct House’s number from memory. She wasn’t sure whether knowing the numbers of every Precinct House in Manhattan was a benefit or a curse, but it was certainly part of her job. Usually, though, she was calling about a missing child, rather than a missing caseworker.
CHAPTER 20
The first day back at the Elliott Academy was over, and Laurie was already wishing she’d stayed at Columbus Middle School, where she and Ryan had gone the second half of last year. And it was all because of Amber Blaisdell and the rest of her old friends. Everything had changed while she was at public school. She’d known it that day at the park. A girl she hardly knew — Caitlin Murphy — had already replaced her in Amber’s group, and even though Laurie had eaten lunch with the same girls as before, Caitlin had taken the seat next to Amber.
The seat that had always, ever since first grade, belonged to Laurie.
The strange thing was that no one — not even Amber — told Caitlin that she was sitting in Laurie’s seat. In fact, it was as if they didn’t even notice. Laurie certainly hadn’t been about to say anything herself, and when she pulled a chair over from the next table, the girls across from Amber and Caitlin squeezed together enough to make room for her. But it wasn’t just that she was no longer sitting next to Amber. Everything else seemed to have changed, too. She hardly even knew the names of the boys they were talking about, and when they were talking about how they’d spent the summer, all they talked about was Southampton. When she’d tried to tell them about the two weeks she’d spent on Mustique, Caitlin Murphy had rolled her eyes.
“Nobody goes to Mustique anymore,” she’d said. “My mother says it’s nothing but Eurotrash and washed-up rock stars.” Laurie felt her face begin to burn and said nothing. But Caitlin hadn’t stopped there. “Why would anybody go there in the summer anyway?”
“My mom got married,” Laurie explained. “It was their honeymoon.”
“And they took you?” Caitlin asked. “That’s weird.”
That time, at least, Amber Blaisdell came to her rescue. “I think it’s nice,” she said. “I wish I could have gone along when my stepfather took my mother to Europe on their honeymoon.”
“Honeymoons are only for the bride and groom,” Caitlin pronounced, but she didn’t seem quite as sure of herself as she had a moment ago.
“Maybe the first time,” Amber said. “But if I had kids and got married again, I’d want to take my kids with me. And I wouldn’t marry a man who didn’t want them around.” She turned from Caitlin to Laurie. “What’s your stepfather like? What’s his name?”
“Tony Fleming.”
“So did he move in with you and your mom?”
Laurie shook her head. “We live on Central Park West now.” She hesitated a moment, then added three more words: “In The Rockwell.”
A silence fell over the group, and Laurie could see them all glancing at one another. It was Caitlin Murphy who finally spoke. “The Rockwell? You actually live there? How can you stand it?”
Laurie felt herself redden. “There’s nothing wrong with it,” she said.
Caitlin shuddered. “Yeah, right. Except that it’s supposed to be haunted, and there’s supposed to be all kinds of dead bodies buried in the basement, and everyone who lives in it is crazy.”
Laurie opened her mouth to argue with Caitlin, but before even a single word came out, the nightmare came flooding back, along with the memory of the voices she’d heard through the walls. But so what? She’d had bad dreams before, and in the old apartment they’d always been able to hear the people upstairs walking around. “There’s nothing wrong with it,” she finally said, but even as she spoke the words, she could hear the uncertainty in her own voice. “And nobody believes all those stories. Or do you really believe Rodney’s a troll who lives under a bridge in the park?”
Caitlin Murphy didn’t even look fazed. “Who’s Rodney?”
“The doorman,” Laurie told her. “Or didn’t anyone ever tell you that story?”
Caitlin Murphy’s eyes fixed coldly on Laurie. “You can say anything you want, but everybody knows it’s a weird building. My mom says it’s nothing but old people.”
“Old people aren’t ghosts,” Laurie shot back. “And anyway, Tony’s not old.”
“How old is he?” Caitlin demanded.
Suddenly Laurie wished she hadn’t sat down at this table. “Who even cares?” she asked.
“We all do,” Caitlin replied. “So what did your mother do? Marry a rich old man for his money? Is that how you got back in here?”
Laurie had had enough. Picking up her tray, she moved to another table — a table where no one else at all was sitting — and finished her lunch as quickly as she could. Then she went to the library for the rest of the hour, and made sure she didn’t sit close to any of her old friends in the afternoon. But as she was going down the steps after school, Amber was suddenly next to her. Laurie glanced at her, but didn’t say anything. Nor did she stop moving down the steps to the sidewalk, where she turned left toward the park.
Amber fell in beside her, even though she lived in the other direction, over on Riverside Drive.