the bus station. I thought about just letting the call go to the answering machine, but I took a deep breath and answered.
“Is this Mr. Fitzpatrick?” a female voice asked.
“Yes, speaking.” My voice didn’t sound like me. The words were tremulous, and I was about an octave higher than normal. What if they had information on Susan?
“We have the information that you requested about the bus tickets for Susan Fitzpatrick.” She listed the dates and times of Susan’s purchase and the trip she’d arranged. The tickets had been purchased three days before her disappearance and the bus left the evening of her disappearance. She’d had no intention of going to the movies. The woman even confirmed that Susan had been on the bus when it left for Seattle.
I remembered to thank her. I hung up the phone, not knowing what to do. Susan had been alive. She had left Toledo and gone about as far as she could from Ohio, ending up in Seattle of all places. I wasn’t sure how to take the news. If I had so little trouble finding this information, then why hadn’t the police found it? They had manpower and resources that were exponentially larger than me, and yet I had found my sister’s destination in a matter of a few hours of applied time. How could this be? Sergeant Siever looked like an incompetent if he’d been on this case for more than a decade. I’d solved this in a matter of hours.
In my surprise and anger, I had no idea if she’d traveled alone or with someone. She’d been supposedly dating a boy from her school at the time of her disappearance, but now I had to wonder if that was true. So many other things had been lies. I knew that I wouldn’t get any more information out of the bus company, even if I had an idea of where the other person would have sat in relationship to her. I’d have to see a full seating chart for the bus to see if I recognized any names.
I thought of my dad who had drunk himself into a stupor after her disappearance. What would have happened if he’d known Susan was just living in another state? Would he still have drank that much or would he have merely gone to see her on holidays?
The fog around my brain lifted in the heat of anger that I suddenly felt. Damn her. Damn her and what she’d done to my family. In her own desire to escape, she’d left four other people trapped in the bonds of their own making. She’d left every member of the family with a burden that had taken a special toll on each of us. My mother might have continued her life without feeling trapped in her own house. I wondered again if my mother knew more about this than she let on. Had she talked to Sergeant Siever because they both knew more than they pretended?
I had to wonder what I would have been if I had not been trying to duck away from any sign or notion that I was not supposed to be visible to the public. I wondered how my future might have been. Would I have been married, had kids, been something more than a guy who pretended to talk to animals. I wasn’t sure, but I suspected that the answer to all of those questions was yes.
I wanted to look her up in the phonebook and call her immediately, but I suppressed the emotion to do so. Hers had been a well-thought out disappearance, and my response needed just as much thinking to it. I wouldn’t get anywhere if I merely called and made accusations, if I could even find a number for her.
To answer the last problem, I googled her. While there were hundreds of stories on Susan, along with more recent pieces that speculated on her fate that seemed to come around at the same time every year, I found nothing that indicated where she was. Even when I narrowed the search down to Seattle, I found nothing. Of course, she could have arranged for another bus trip once she got there, and I’d have no idea where to find her.
I wasn’t sure if she’d had a social security number, but I knew one place that I could find out. Sheila had given me a copy of the police
“Is this Mr. Fitzpatrick?” a female voice asked.
“Yes, speaking.” My voice didn’t sound like me. The words were tremulous, and I was about an octave higher than normal. What if they had information on Susan?
“We have the information that you requested about the bus tickets for Susan Fitzpatrick.” She listed the dates and times of Susan’s purchase and the trip she’d arranged. The tickets had been purchased three days before her disappearance and the bus left the evening of her disappearance. She’d had no intention of going to the movies. The woman even confirmed that Susan had been on the bus when it left for Seattle.
I remembered to thank her. I hung up the phone, not knowing what to do. Susan had been alive. She had left Toledo and gone about as far as she could from Ohio, ending up in Seattle of all places. I wasn’t sure how to take the news. If I had so little trouble finding this information, then why hadn’t the police found it? They had manpower and resources that were exponentially larger than me, and yet I had found my sister’s destination in a matter of a few hours of applied time. How could this be? Sergeant Siever looked like an incompetent if he’d been on this case for more than a decade. I’d solved this in a matter of hours.
In my surprise and anger, I had no idea if she’d traveled alone or with someone. She’d been supposedly dating a boy from her school at the time of her disappearance, but now I had to wonder if that was true. So many other things had been lies. I knew that I wouldn’t get any more information out of the bus company, even if I had an idea of where the other person would have sat in relationship to her. I’d have to see a full seating chart for the bus to see if I recognized any names.
I thought of my dad who had drunk himself into a stupor after her disappearance. What would have happened if he’d known Susan was just living in another state? Would he still have drank that much or would he have merely gone to see her on holidays?
The fog around my brain lifted in the heat of anger that I suddenly felt. Damn her. Damn her and what she’d done to my family. In her own desire to escape, she’d left four other people trapped in the bonds of their own making. She’d left every member of the family with a burden that had taken a special toll on each of us. My mother might have continued her life without feeling trapped in her own house. I wondered again if my mother knew more about this than she let on. Had she talked to Sergeant Siever because they both knew more than they pretended?
I had to wonder what I would have been if I had not been trying to duck away from any sign or notion that I was not supposed to be visible to the public. I wondered how my future might have been. Would I have been married, had kids, been something more than a guy who pretended to talk to animals. I wasn’t sure, but I suspected that the answer to all of those questions was yes.
I wanted to look her up in the phonebook and call her immediately, but I suppressed the emotion to do so. Hers had been a well-thought out disappearance, and my response needed just as much thinking to it. I wouldn’t get anywhere if I merely called and made accusations, if I could even find a number for her.
To answer the last problem, I googled her. While there were hundreds of stories on Susan, along with more recent pieces that speculated on her fate that seemed to come around at the same time every year, I found nothing that indicated where she was. Even when I narrowed the search down to Seattle, I found nothing. Of course, she could have arranged for another bus trip once she got there, and I’d have no idea where to find her.
I wasn’t sure if she’d had a social security number, but I knew one place that I could find out. Sheila had given me a copy of the police
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