Page 5 of Tracked
“Okay. Missing and in danger are two very different scenarios,” he said, explaining the shift in his demeanor. His voice, however, still remained calm. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
He motioned to the closest of the two recliners in the room, silently offering for me to take a seat, but I declined with a shake of my head; I couldn’t sit. Even at the hospital, I’d dictate my notes at the end of my shift while pacing along the hall. I needed movement to keep my thoughts on track—to keep them from running away from me.
“Three weeks ago, Rachel FaceTimed me just as I got off my overnight shift at the hospital. She wanted to tell me she was going on some big camping trip with her new boyfriend, Brandon.” I took a few steps along the shorter side of the room, reaching the chair, and then turned and walked back. “I was ... not supportive.”
Wordlessly, Calder stepped behind the opposite recliner and rested his hands on the back, subtly opening a path for me to pace the full length of the room.
“We argued. Brandon got involved and got angry and hung up on me. She didn’t answer when I called back, so I figured I’d give it a few days and then check on her again. I texted and then called. No response. Straight to voicemail. A few more days, same thing.”
“Has she done this before?”
I stopped, my back to him, though I was sure he caught the slight dip of my head. “Yeah,” I confessed, forcing myself to cauterize any emotion from my answer, though I couldn’t remove the thickness from my voice. “We argued frequently about her relationship choices, and there’ve been a handful of times where she’ll just stop talking to me for a little.”
“So why is this time different?”
I didn’t realize how tense—how braced—I’d been until I heard no trace of doubt in his voice and all the stiffness in my body suddenly released. It was the complete opposite from the response I’d received from the Jackson police earlier today. All they’d had for me was doubt. Doubt and dismissal.
She’s an adult. She told you she was going on a trip. There’s probably just no service.All I’d heard wasShe’s not important enough.
I turned and my eyes connected with Calder’s hard stare, a shot of heat injecting into my veins.
“Because usually when I threaten to come and see her, she responds right away to stop me. And this time ... well, I’m here.” I held my hands out from my sides because I was the proof. Because me being here meant Rach had never responded to stop me, which she would’ve done if she were okay, which meant she wasn’t.
My sister wasn’t okay, and I felt responsible.
“Okay.” Calder nodded. “I’ll need all of her information. Phone number. Address. And what about the boyfriend? What’s his full name, and do you have a phone number?”
“I don’t know his last name or phone number,” I admitted, guilt and regret wrapping my throat in a caustic blanket. “Rachel doesn’t share a lot about her relationships with me anymore. We’re not as close as we used to be.”
The bond between sisters was a funny thing. At times, it was the strongest tether two people could have, and it had been strong for us growing up. Our dad left when we were young, and after that our mom wasn’t home much, and when she was, her own traumatic relationships pushed Rachel and me even closer.
Unfortunately, as we’d grown older, strong became brittle. When I’d seen my sister falling into the same toxic traps our mom had with men, I spoke up. I confronted her. I told her she deserved better. But instead of avoiding the traps, she’d started avoiding me. An easy feat, when my residency took me to Arizona.
“I have her information in my phone,” I offered and reached for my purse. “I took a screenshot of Brandon while we were on FaceTime when he started yelling, because I just knew something bad was going to happen.” My fingers paused on the zipper, remembering my phone wasn’t inside. “But your dad ... took my phone.”
Calder’s lips thinned into a straight line. “Right,” he muttered. “Come with me.”
He led us back through the house and then outside. Crouching, he unlocked the discreet metal box that, on first glance, looked like a mailbox next to the door. He retrieved my cell and his, leaving at least one more phone still inside.
“Sorry about that,” he said and handed me back my phone. “Cassius’s house rules.”
Cassius.I wasn’t sure what I found more interesting: the extent of these rules or that Calder called his father by his first name.
“Rachel always said your family took being off-grid seriously.”
“Any technology that can find you can be used against you,” Calder returned like he’d been made to repeat the mantra hundreds of times before.Not a mantra—a rule.
Back then I’d assumed my sister was exaggerating, since Calder lived more or less like a normal college student on campus, aside from the not drinking and rarely partying part, which was only abnormal when compared to the college experience my sister wanted to have.
Rachel was extroverted and loved to go out. Loved to dance. To drink. To have too much of a good time. And for a while, the only thing she enjoyed more than partying was the attention she got for being Calder’s girlfriend.
Calder was considered a wrestling prodigy at Wyoming State. I couldn’t tell you how many championships he’d won, but it was enough to earn him campus-wide fame, shooting him to unexpected celebrity at a school where football was king. What my sister initially relished about that celebrity—all the invitations to exclusive campus parties—quickly soured when Calder never wanted to take advantage of them.
Almost religiously, she’d call me every week complaining that Calder didn’t want to go to some party—or if they did go, how boring he was because he didn’t want to let loose.
I should’ve said something then, when it was easy. Suggest maybe they weren’t right for each other. But I’d stayed out of it because I thought Calder was a good influence on her. I’d thought he could calm her. Steady her with his reserve. Instead, it’d only gotten worse.
I hit the power button on my phone and waited for it to turn on.
