be done with me."
"I talked to the police today."
"Oh?" Her voice sounded forced, like someone pretending to be casual. "What did they say?"
"I need to ask you something, Kay."
"I figured you would."
"I need to know about Rachel. What do you have to tell me?"
Kay took a long drag on her cigarette and exhaled smoke through her nose.
"Kay?"
"If I told you what I know, then you wouldn't help me. It's called leverage. I didn't go to business school, but I do know that."
"Kay, we're talking about somebody's life here. My sister's life." Diana didn't like the tone she heard creeping into her voice. It had begun to sound pleading and needy, but she couldn't stop it. "Is she alive? Do you know that? Is Rachel alive?"
She turned and leveled her eyes at Diana. "There are people who know things, about your sister and my daughter. My daughter has been gone longer. Find her, and I'll tell you what you want to know."
Diana stood up. "You're bullshitting me. And I'm not going to get taken for a ride. Thanks for the coffee."
"Your sister liked that song 'Rhinestone Cowboy,' didn't she?"
Diana stopped moving toward the door. "What did you say?"
"'Rhinestone Cowboy.' By Glen Campbell. She liked it. Am I right?"
Diana cocked her head to the side as though she weren't hearing correctly. "Did you know her?"
"Are you saying I'm right?" Kay said.
Diana and Rachel didn't have much in their childhoods. No fancy TVs, no computers or DVD players, just an old turntable and a collection of vinyl records their dad had left behind. Rachel played them over and over again, and fixated on that Glen Campbell song, the plea of a poor man who dreams of making it big someday. Diana couldn't hear the song without thinking of Rachel. On the rare occasions it came on the radio, Diana switched stations.
"Where is she? What do you know?"
Kay shook her head. "It's not going to work that way," she said. "You need to help me, then I'll help you."
Diana stood rooted in place. She wanted to storm out, turn her back on the whole affair, but she knew she would never do it. She couldn't, and that's what bothered her. For now, Kay Todd was calling the shots.
"Honey, why don't you sit down and tell me what the police said?"
Diana didn't have any choice. She took her seat on the couch again.
"Not much. I spoke to Dan Berding. He's a captain now, but back then he was one of the first officers on the scene. Do you remember him?"
She sniffed. "They're all the same."
"Since there's no evidence of a crime, he's assuming Margie ran away."
"I've heard that before. Did you ask him why she left her wallet and identification in the room?"
"I didn't get into it. Did Margie have a boyfriend at the time she disappeared?"
Kay had a long ash dangling from the end of her cigarette. She left it there and cut her eyes at Diana. "Does this mean you're going to find her?"
"I'm going to gather information for you. I can't make any promises."
Kay leaned forward and flicked the ash into the tray. She took a long drag and held the smoke in a beat longer before sending it out in a long plume. She looked thoughtful. "Okay. That works."
"Did she have a boyfriend or not?"
"I don't know. Like I said, we weren't on good terms...at the end there."
The TV had switched to a different sitcom.
"So," Diana said. "No boyfriends that you knew of."
Kay nodded. "Margie wasn't really the dating kind, if you know what I mean. She was a plain girl. Very plain. A little mousy, really."
"Is that a picture of her over there?"
"Yes." Kay started to push herself off the couch.
"I'll get it," Diana said. She went to the corner shelf and picked up the portrait. "This is Margie?"
"High school graduation. Yes. See what I mean about her being a plain Jane?" Kay said from the couch.
Diana ignored her, but had to admit, to herself, that nothing stood out about Margie Todd's portrait except her quintessential averageness. She wore her shoulder-length brown hair parted in the middle and a
"I talked to the police today."
"Oh?" Her voice sounded forced, like someone pretending to be casual. "What did they say?"
"I need to ask you something, Kay."
"I figured you would."
"I need to know about Rachel. What do you have to tell me?"
Kay took a long drag on her cigarette and exhaled smoke through her nose.
"Kay?"
"If I told you what I know, then you wouldn't help me. It's called leverage. I didn't go to business school, but I do know that."
"Kay, we're talking about somebody's life here. My sister's life." Diana didn't like the tone she heard creeping into her voice. It had begun to sound pleading and needy, but she couldn't stop it. "Is she alive? Do you know that? Is Rachel alive?"
She turned and leveled her eyes at Diana. "There are people who know things, about your sister and my daughter. My daughter has been gone longer. Find her, and I'll tell you what you want to know."
Diana stood up. "You're bullshitting me. And I'm not going to get taken for a ride. Thanks for the coffee."
"Your sister liked that song 'Rhinestone Cowboy,' didn't she?"
Diana stopped moving toward the door. "What did you say?"
"'Rhinestone Cowboy.' By Glen Campbell. She liked it. Am I right?"
Diana cocked her head to the side as though she weren't hearing correctly. "Did you know her?"
"Are you saying I'm right?" Kay said.
Diana and Rachel didn't have much in their childhoods. No fancy TVs, no computers or DVD players, just an old turntable and a collection of vinyl records their dad had left behind. Rachel played them over and over again, and fixated on that Glen Campbell song, the plea of a poor man who dreams of making it big someday. Diana couldn't hear the song without thinking of Rachel. On the rare occasions it came on the radio, Diana switched stations.
"Where is she? What do you know?"
Kay shook her head. "It's not going to work that way," she said. "You need to help me, then I'll help you."
Diana stood rooted in place. She wanted to storm out, turn her back on the whole affair, but she knew she would never do it. She couldn't, and that's what bothered her. For now, Kay Todd was calling the shots.
"Honey, why don't you sit down and tell me what the police said?"
Diana didn't have any choice. She took her seat on the couch again.
"Not much. I spoke to Dan Berding. He's a captain now, but back then he was one of the first officers on the scene. Do you remember him?"
She sniffed. "They're all the same."
"Since there's no evidence of a crime, he's assuming Margie ran away."
"I've heard that before. Did you ask him why she left her wallet and identification in the room?"
"I didn't get into it. Did Margie have a boyfriend at the time she disappeared?"
Kay had a long ash dangling from the end of her cigarette. She left it there and cut her eyes at Diana. "Does this mean you're going to find her?"
"I'm going to gather information for you. I can't make any promises."
Kay leaned forward and flicked the ash into the tray. She took a long drag and held the smoke in a beat longer before sending it out in a long plume. She looked thoughtful. "Okay. That works."
"Did she have a boyfriend or not?"
"I don't know. Like I said, we weren't on good terms...at the end there."
The TV had switched to a different sitcom.
"So," Diana said. "No boyfriends that you knew of."
Kay nodded. "Margie wasn't really the dating kind, if you know what I mean. She was a plain girl. Very plain. A little mousy, really."
"Is that a picture of her over there?"
"Yes." Kay started to push herself off the couch.
"I'll get it," Diana said. She went to the corner shelf and picked up the portrait. "This is Margie?"
"High school graduation. Yes. See what I mean about her being a plain Jane?" Kay said from the couch.
Diana ignored her, but had to admit, to herself, that nothing stood out about Margie Todd's portrait except her quintessential averageness. She wore her shoulder-length brown hair parted in the middle and a
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