The Reappearance of Rachel Price

A piece of paper on the table in front of her, a pen resting diagonally across. Bel’s typed-up statement.

“If you’ve read it all through and you’re happy you got everything, you can sign there on the bottom,” Dave Winter said, across the interview room from her, his peaked cap on the table. He ran his hands through his thinning hair too much to wear it, a nervous habit. If he was nervous, how did he think Bel felt?

“Where is she now?” Bel’s eyes trailed down the page, the story of Rachel Price’s return as she’d witnessed it, moment by moment, hours and a whole lifetime ago.

“Your mom?” Dave said, sitting down again. “She’s in with the feds now. Working out if she was kept out of state, whether this is a federal case or not. Attorney general’s office will want to speak to her next.”

Bel nodded.

“Sign when you’re ready.”

Should she bring it up now? The moment might be slipping away from her. But this man wasn’t a friend, he was the one who went after her dad, took him away from her. Bel couldn’t trust him, shouldn’t. But they were all in a different world now, tremors and shakes. Rachel was back, alive, every detail in a changed light, alliances shifting, new sides drawn across the board. Maybe it had pushed her and the chief of police onto the same one, after hating him all these years.

Maybe she didn’t need to mention it; maybe there was another way.

“She really walked all the way from Lancaster?” Bel asked, keeping her voice flat, like it didn’t really matter. “That would take like eight hours, right?”

Dave whistled. “Long way to walk. She’s a brave woman. I understand why she wouldn’t want to get in anybody else’s car after what she lived through.”

“Is there proof?” Bel pushed a little harder.

“Proof of what?”

“That she walked all the way from Lancaster, like she said?”

Dave studied her. Bel blinked, putting up the walls behind her eyes.

“We haven’t had a chance to check for footage yet, to verify. But a couple of police departments had calls in this morning, concerned about a dirty woman walking along the highway. So yeah. She really walked all that way to get home to you.”

“Have you sent someone to the road where she was left?” Bel sat forward. “You must be able to find the one. Is there a tote bag there? The bag she had over her head? Rachel says she took it off. It should still be there.” If it was, it meant that Rachel must be telling the truth, that the thing with the engine was just that: a mistake. Bel only needed proof, for her and the knot in her gut. “Did you find the tote bag?”

“Not yet,” Dave said. “All the evidence will be processed, though, don’t worry. Her clothes, the crime scene where she was dropped off—when we locate it—tire tracks. We’ll get security footage, traffic cameras, anything we can get our hands on, to track the man who took her. Bring him to justice. We’ll find him, that’s my job. Don’t you worry.”

That wasn’t what Bel was worried about. Not yet. She just wanted proof that Rachel was telling the truth, so it would stop nagging at her, feeding the knot.

Bel glanced down at her statement, ran her finger across the dried ink, coming away clean.

“There’s something I should tell you,” she said, studying the finger.

“What’s that?”

“It’s small, probably doesn’t mean anything.”

Dave’s chair creaked as he shifted his weight.

“There was something,” Bel continued, “a slight discrepancy I guess, in the story Rachel told me, and the one she told my dad. It’s in my statement, I don’t know if you noticed.”

Dave Winter couldn’t be relied on for his noticing; he’d never cared to notice that Charlie Price was innocent all along.

“What was it?” he asked, sharpening his tired, dried-out eyes.

“The engine,” she said. “Rachel told me that the man left the engine running when he left her on that road. But she later told my dad that he’d turned the car off first. Just a small thing, really.” She feigned a shrug. “Just a mistake, right?”

“Yes, of course.” Dave shifted back, like it wasn’t worth his notice. “Your mom has been through hell. Hell. The worst a person can live through. Think how exhausted she was, the heightened emotion of seeing her husband and her daughter again after all this time. Trying to give an explanation in that delirious state. That’s not the time for giving accurate statements, of course she’d make mistakes, get something wrong. We have the full, complete story from her, now she’s had time to rest and process, don’t worry.”

See? She could believe it, now someone else had said it. Just a mistake, it didn’t mean anything more.

“I know this is a huge readjustment for you,” Dave said, trying to be kind, thinking her silence meant something else. “None of us saw this coming. No one. It doesn’t feel real yet. But soon this will feel like your new normal. Your family back together, a happy ending. And I know it must be scary, knowing that the man who took your mom, who did this to your family, is still out there. But we will catch him, I promise. He will come to justice.”

Was that Dave’s motto—come to justice? Did he use it in bed with his wife?

“A huge readjustment for you too,” Bel said, about to bite, chewing the head off his kindness. “God, you must feel just terrible, knowing you were so wrong about my dad. You thought he was a killer, tried to put him behind bars. But he didn’t kill Rachel, because no one did. It’s almost the worst part, wouldn’t you agree?”

Dave sighed and his head fell, hanging between his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Annabel. Truly. A woman was missing, and I was only trying to do my job, to find the truth. I’ve already spoken to your dad today, after our interview, apologized for my part.”

“Oh, you said sorry?” Bel said, with a cheap, plastic smile, sharp enough to cut. “Well, that totally makes up for the sixteen years of hell. Thank you for your service, Officer.” She bowed.

“Right, OK,” he said, pulling his head back up. “Ready to sign?”

Bel picked up the pen. Pressed it to the bottom of the page in a looping scribble, signing her name away. Which was fine, because it was just a tiny mistake, she could stop thinking about it.

“So … what happens now?” she asked, handing the signed statement over. She hesitated as his fingers closed around it, the paper pulling taut before she gave it up and released her grip.

“Now I take you through to the tech team, who are going to do a cheek swab. With your permission, of course.”

Bel stared at him, the question clear in her eyes.

“DNA test,” he explained. “We’ve taken one from Rachel too. To prove who she is.”

“She … might not be Rachel Price?” Bel said. And maybe that was it, the thing that felt wrong. Because if it was really her mom, wouldn’t Bel feel—

“No, no, of course she is.” Dave almost laughed, getting to his feet. “That woman is definitely your mom, there’s no doubt. No doubt at all. This is just procedure, you know.”

He headed toward the door.

As soon as his back was turned, Bel cradled her hands over the pen, swiping it up her sleeve and standing in one fluid movement.

“And then?” she asked.

Dave turned, his hand ready on the doorknob.

“Well, there will be lots going on with our investigative teams. Jurisdiction to figure out. And we’ll need to start prepping for the press conference. Monday morning is looking most likely for that. Everything changes when the media gets hold of this, so we want to be on top of that.”

“No, I mean what happens right now. Like tonight. Later.”

Dave narrowed his eyes.

“Where does she go?” Bel asked. “Wh-where does Rachel go?”

“Your mom?” he said, eyes softening, a quiet smile in them, crinkling at the edges. “Annabel, she gets to come home with you.”

“Oh.”