The Reappearance of Rachel Price

“What do you think happened to Charlie, and Jeff, and Sherry?”

Ramsey waited for the answer, sitting in the Royalty Inn conference room, haloed by the bright softbox light behind.

Bel was on the couch, cushions arranged neatly around her.

She wasn’t alone this time. Mom was on one side, Carter the other.

Her knees pressed against the coffee table. A full bottle of water they weren’t allowed to drink, three glasses this time. And the marble chessboard, still missing its queen. Bel had it in her pocket, was going to put it back when they were finished. She didn’t need it anymore.

“I don’t know,” Mom said, taking this one.

It was their Exit Interview. At least, that was what the clapper board said. The last scene of The Reappearance of Rachel Price, with what was left of the Prices.

Ash was here somewhere, hiding behind the glare of the lights, wearing that ugly purple sweater again, the one with the dinosaurs. James was behind the big camera, Saba with the microphone tripod, its gray fluffy head hanging over them.

“It’s been two weeks since Jeff and Sherry were last seen.” Ramsey steepled his fingers. “Almost a month since your husband, Charlie, went missing. Do you have any idea where they are, why they left?”

“I don’t know where they are,” Mom said, holding his gaze, blinking just enough to make it believable. “The police are convinced Charlie left the country, ran away to Canada. That Jeff and Sherry did too, they found evidence to support that, like it was planned somehow, the three of them. As to why … I can only guess.”

“And what is your guess, Rachel?” Ramsey pushed.

She took a breath, like she needed time to think. “My reappearance put a lot of strain on the family. A lot of stress, a lot of adjusting, and it also came with a lot of scrutiny, a lot of questions, and a lot of attention from the media.” She paused, holding it for effect, like Bel had told her to. “I think me coming back stirred something up. I don’t know if they were involved in something illegal, but I think my return was the catalyst, part of their decision to leave, why they felt they needed to. Bel, you heard your dad and your uncle Jeff arguing a lot, even before I returned, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Bel said, picking up the thread. “A lot of fights. Always about money. That’s why Dad actually agreed to this documentary in the first place; he was desperate for the money. I don’t know if that had anything to do with it.”

Her mom nodded, taking the floor again. “We don’t have the answers. I’ve tried, wondering what secret they shared, what made them want to leave. Maybe they thought I knew something, from back before I disappeared, maybe that would explain it, but … I don’t. I guess we just have to hope they’ll all come home someday and we can work through it.”

“What about you, Carter?” Ramsey turned to her. “Have you heard from your parents at all, since they took off?”

Carter sat up straighter. “Not since the night of Grandpa’s eighty-fifth birthday.”

“And how does it make you feel, that they’ve gone? That they left you behind?”

“It’s sad,” Carter sniffed. “Whatever the reason is, must be pretty bad for them to leave their fifteen-year-old daughter behind, no contact. I miss them, and I hope they’re OK. But they chose to leave, and I like to think they left me behind to protect me somehow. I’m still dealing with all this. Only been two weeks.”

“You’ve been staying with your aunt and your cousin?”

“Yes,” Mom said, answering this one. “Carter is family too, and she will always be welcome to stay with us, for as long as she needs. We’re happy to have her, aren’t we, Bel?”

“Ask me in front of the camera, why don’t you, so I have to be nice.” Bel smirked.

Carter punched her in the arm.

Ramsey smiled, watching the two of them, giving the moment space.

“So it’s another mystery, what happened to Charlie, and Jeff and Sherry?” he followed up.

Mom nodded. “Another mystery.”

“Circling back.” Ramsey leaned forward, which meant a difficult question was coming. “We still don’t have answers to the main mystery of your disappearance, the man who took you, Rachel. You identified Phillip Alves after the incident at your home a couple weeks ago, when he broke in. But police have since discovered that Phillip Alves was in Mexico the day you were released, when you reappeared, so it can’t be him. Any comments on that?”

“Yes,” Mom said, like she’d expected it, because she had. They’d prepared answers for any question Ramsey might ask. “In that moment, I was sure it was him. It was dark, and I only ever saw my captor in the dark, he never got close. Maybe it was just the fear, when I saw him attacking Bel, and instinct took over. I was wrong. It wasn’t Phillip Alves. The man is still out there, somewhere, and now I’m not sure I’d even recognize him, if I do see him.”

Ramsey nodded, fingers cupping his chin. “Are you concerned, at all, that you’ll never have the answer? That the police will never find him?”

They hadn’t prepared for this one. Bel slid her hand along the couch, nudging her little finger against her mom’s leg, letting her know she was right here. It didn’t matter if the camera saw.

Mom looked at her, half a second, and that was enough. “If you’d asked me a few weeks ago, I might have said yes. I thought I needed that answer, that I couldn’t live without it. But now, I think I’m OK with the not-knowing. I’ve been a mystery myself for a very long time, the past sixteen years, so I think I’m OK, living in mystery.” Her voice cracked and it was real, Bel could tell the difference. “But I won’t live in fear anymore. I did that for a long time, and I fought my way home, back to my family. It’s time to move on, answers or not. And I have these two here, to help me find my way.”

Ramsey sat back, a smile that was all eyes and no teeth, holding the three of them in his gaze.

“And that’s a wrap!” he said, bringing his hands together, clapping, holding it out to them.

James joined in, behind the camera. Saba too.

And Ash, emerging in front of one of the lights, glowing, winking when he caught Bel’s eye.

Bel clapped too, sent it his way. Then Carter. Then her mom.

The room came alive with the sound of their scattered applause, and no one wanted to be the first to stop.

They clapped, not just because it was ending, but because it mattered.

Because it had changed them, all of them.

“You’re leaving today?” Mom asked Ramsey, out in the parking lot.

James and Saba were loading their equipment into the van behind. Ash was struggling to carry one of those large metal trunks, knocking into the hotel door with a crash.

“Yeah,” Ramsey said. “Our flight is this evening.”

Bel and Carter hung back, leaning against their mom’s car.

“Well.” Mom held out her hand. “Goodbye. Thank you, for everything, Ramsey.”

Ramsey took her hand, but he didn’t shake it, held it between both of his.

“No. Thank you, Rachel. We’ll be in touch. About the film.”

Ash dropped something else.

“Do you need a hand?” Carter asked him. “Yours clearly don’t work very well.”

Ash smirked. “Starting to sound like your cousin.”

Ramsey’s eyes flicked over to Bel. “I know you don’t think you’re slinking off without saying goodbye to me, Bel Price.”

“Caught me, mate.” She sidled over, replacing her mom, who went to help Carter. “So … the documentary is done.”

“It is. Not going to be the plotty, twisty story I thought I had a few weeks ago,” he said pointedly.

Bel dropped her eyes.

Ramsey knew. Of course he knew. He didn’t know everything, the whole truth, but he knew as much as Ash. He’d seen their footage, before she destroyed it. He knew Rachel was lying, that a stranger hadn’t kept her in a basement for sixteen years, that the answer was closer to home and the Price family had secrets, he just didn’t know what.

The film that could have been.

Ramsey was watching her. “No,” he continued, “it won’t be the plotty, twisty story I thought I wanted. It will be something better, something with a human element. A quieter story, about a mother and daughter finding each other again, overcoming their differences and doubts. A journey that changes both of them. Not as shocking as the film I once had, no, it probably won’t make as much money—it definitely won’t—but it’s a story worth telling.”

Bel nodded, unsure what to say.

“Got something for you.” He lowered his voice, pulling something out of his pocket, a memory stick. “I’ve been a filmmaker a long time,” he said, almost a whisper. “I always make sure the footage is backed up to the cloud.”

Bel’s heart staled in her chest, dropping to her gut.

Lips open around a phantom word.

Oh no, oh fuck, the footage.

But Ramsey’s eyes were kind. Not a threat, but a gift. He held the memory stick out toward her. “It’s gone now. I deleted it all, permanently, everything you and Ash shot together. This is the last remaining copy. Thought you might want it.”

He handed it over.

Bel took it, her fingers brushing his. Ramsey had the footage; he could have had that film he wanted, the one that exposed Rachel, the one that pitted her and Bel against each other, plotty, twisty, shocking. But he’d chosen not to. He’d made his choice.

“Thank you,” she said, pushing the memory stick into her pocket.

Ramsey smiled. “It’s your story, not mine.”

He held out his hand. “Well, I guess this is goodbye, then.”

“Don’t think so, mate.” Bel batted his hand away. She leaned up with both arms and hugged him.

Ramsey returned the hug, holding tight but not as tight as her. “If you ever need anything, sweetheart, just call me, yeah?” he said. “I know I’m halfway around the world, but I’m always here, OK?”

“OK,” Bel said, muffled against his jacket.

Ramsey pressed a kiss to the top of her head, buried in her hair.

“Right, go on.” He pulled away, eyes glistening. “Get out of here, before I start bawling.” He wiped his eyes and waved his hand. “Go on, I’m serious, get out of here, mate. Can’t be crying out on the street.”

Bel laughed, stepping away from him, but she couldn’t get out of here, not quite yet.

“Ash!”

He was standing right there, not helping, like he’d been waiting for his turn.

“What?” He walked over, flares swishing against the concrete. “I’m very busy.”

“Too busy for this?” Bel dropped her backpack to the crook of her elbow, reached inside for the yellow fabric. She handed it over. “I went back to get this for you.”

Ash unfolded the cropped T-shirt and his face lit up. “Pugs Not Drugs,” he said, turning it around to show her the sad, chubby pug. “I love this little guy. Gonna wear it all the time.”

“Of course you will,” she said. “You know, you’re ridiculous, and strange, and pretty annoying, actually.” She took a breath, unlocked her jaw. “But I’m glad I met you.”

Ash pointed the pug at her. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Bel.”

“That was the last one.”

“Yeah.” Ash balled up the T-shirt, holding it to his chest, in front of his heart. “I’ll miss you,” he said quietly.

“Really?” She sneered. “But I’m unpleasant?”

Ash laughed, pressed the T-shirt to his mouth. “Thoroughly unpleasant.”

Bel stepped forward. She prodded him in the shoulder with two fingers. “I guess I’ll see you,” she said.

“I mean, we probably won’t. I live in a different country, but …” He stopped himself, eyes shining as they found hers, glazing over. They would both cry about it, tears that felt happy but tasted sad, just not here, not now. He reached out, pushed two fingers against her shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you too.”

“Bel!” Carter called. “You ready to go?”

“I’m ready,” she said, keeping it to herself.

Mom blipped the car, opening the driver’s-side door.

Carter hesitated. “Where do you want to sit?” she asked Bel.

Bel paused, eyes floating from the front passenger door to the back.

“I’ll take the backseat.”

She climbed in, sitting here because she could. The backseat wasn’t the thing that hurt her, it was the men who had chosen to. Her mom never abandoned her, so it couldn’t hold that over her anymore. And really, it was just a seat, same as the front.

Mom started the engine, pulling out onto Main Street. Bel turned to watch the film crew standing there, waving, shrinking behind them, until they were just specks and stick people, then nothing.

Ramsey said it was her story, but it was his too. And that made her think of something, a memory that turned over, became something new.

“Ramsey filmed a documentary last year, it didn’t get picked up, they said it lacked a human element. He shot it in Millinocket, Maine. But that’s the same place you …”

Mom blinked; Bel watched her in the rearview mirror.

“It was you!” she said. “You were Lucas Ayer on Twitter. Left a comment telling Ramsey to look into the Rachel Price case. You’re the reason this documentary happened.”

Mom shrugged. “I saw the film crew around town, got scared that someone might spot me, recognize me in the background. So I laid low. But it got me thinking, that a documentary could be useful. I wanted to see Charlie have to lie on camera, pretend he had no idea what happened to me. But also, you know, money. That if I came back, they’d offer me more for my side of the story, that it would keep us going for a few years. So I tweeted him. Didn’t think it would work. I guess I was too good of a mystery to miss.”

“You told me you don’t understand Twitter,” Carter said, feet up on the dashboard, legs too long.

“No, that’s still true. TikTok is the most confusing, though. Why is everyone so loud?”

Carter laughed. “You just need to turn your volume down. I showed you already, the buttons at the side.”

“Too many buttons,” Mom muttered.

“There’s literally just three.”

A squad car was parked ahead, Police Chief Dave Winter outside, writing up a ticket for someone. Dave spotted them as the traffic slowed. He waved, badge glinting. Mom nodded and Bel pressed her lips into a smile. She’d let Dave out of his promise. He had been right, he owed Bel nothing, and Charlie even less. As long as he stayed far away from the truth.

Carter stiffened as they drove past.

Mom noticed. “Anyway,” she said, “I thought that interview went really well.”

Carter shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I took too long with my answers, that my face gave it away whenever Ramsey said Jeff or Charlie’s names. What if they can tell I’m lying? What if people watch it and figure out that I killed them both?”

“Carter.” Mom stopped at a red light, turned to her. “I don’t want to hear you say that, even think that. You didn’t kill anybody, trust me.”

Carter pulled her legs back, tucked her hands between her knees. “I did, though.”

“Listen to me, you did not kill anyone. Charlie pulled Jeff over the edge. He killed him.”

“But I pushed Charlie. I killed Charlie.”

Mom breathed in, held on to it for a long moment, the turn signal ticking, counting it down before she let it go. “No, Carter. You didn’t kill Charlie. I did.”

“What?” Bel said, mind reeling, doubling back, going for her heart. “What are you saying?”

Mom’s eyes were on the road, not on them. “Jeff was dead. I thought Charlie was too, but he survived the fall, woke up when I was dragging him through the mine. He was in a bad way, couldn’t move, couldn’t really speak, but his eyes were open. He begged me not to do it.” She coughed, sliding her hands down the steering wheel. “He didn’t survive the second fall.”

“What?” Carter’s hands went to her mouth.

“You said you wouldn’t lie to us anymore.” Bel stared through the back of her mom’s head. If she was telling the truth, why was she only saying this now, two weeks later?

“I’m not lying,” Mom said, keeping her eyes to herself. “That’s what happened. Carter didn’t kill anybody. Charlie killed Jeff, and I killed Charlie.”

There was a shift in Carter as she said it, almost instant; Bel watched it happen from the backseat. A lightening in her shoulders, a brightening in her eyes, a new ease in the way she held her mouth, the way the air passed through, not quite so heavy anymore.

And Bel understood.

Maybe Mom was lying to them, one final lie, but if she was, then that was why she did it. To keep Carter safe, not from the police, but from her guilt. And if that was what she was doing, then it was a lie Bel could live with, could forgive. A truth she didn’t have to know, one last mystery of the great, disappearing Rachel Price. The kind of thing a good mom would do.

Mom pulled into the parking lot, backing into a spot. “So don’t say that again, Carter, because it’s not true. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She turned off the engine and reached across, losing her fingers in Carter’s copper hair. “OK?” she said, tugging at a strand.

“OK.” Carter pressed the word into a smile, wrestling her hair back. Maybe she’d even be able to sleep in her own room tonight. Not that Bel minded, except her little sister did kick in her sleep. Legs way too fucking long.

The spare room was now Carter’s, and Mom had moved back into her old bedroom, new bed, new mattress, throwing out anything Charlie had touched.

“Right, come on.” Mom unclipped her seat belt. “We have paint to buy.”

“Not more paint,” Bel growled, climbing out. “Do you like eggshell, or oatmeal, or dove? It’s all white, Mom, just pick one.”

“Have you seen the swatches she’s put up on my wall?” Carter emerged from the car. “Says I can choose, but at least three of them are the color of vomit.”

“Girls, stop bullying me or you’re both grounded.” She grinned.

“If you ground one of us for anything,” Bel said, “it should be the number of times Carter says fuck.”

“Fuck off.” Carter tried to trip her, standing on her heels.

They laughed. Carter’s laugh sounded like Bel’s, and Bel’s sounded like Mom’s, fitting together, like they belonged.

“Carter!” a voice yelled across the parking lot.

They all turned to see where it had come from, Bel stiffening, her bones locking. But it was just Carter’s friends from school, standing outside Rosa’s Pizza, next to the hardware store.

Carter waved.

“Can I go?” she asked Mom, but her eyes flicked to Bel, waited there instead.

Bel dipped her head, tilted her chin. “Of course you can,” she said, saying more than that with her eyes. “Go on.”

“Thanks,” Carter hissed. “I’ll see you in there, Mo—Aunt Rachel,” she corrected herself, people passing on the way to their cars.

Carter ran away from them, disappearing as her friends re-formed around her.

She left. And that was OK, because Bel knew she would come back. Carter would always come back, whether she was just going over there to say hello to her friends, or if she went all the way to New York for dancing school. The people who loved you, the ones who really cared, they would always come back.

Sometimes, they even came back from the dead.

“Guess it’s just you and me, kid.” Mom hooked her arm through Bel’s, heading toward the entrance. “You OK? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, sorry,” Bel said. Actually, it was something. “I was thinking I would message this girl. Sam. The one who gave me the bracelet with the skulls. She used to be my friend.”

The last friend Bel ever had, before she pushed everyone away. But she was ready to be somebody’s friend again, now she knew how it worked. That it didn’t matter if they drifted, or someone got hurt, or it didn’t last forever. It still mattered.

“Yeah.” Mom looked at her with a knowing smile. “You should. Maybe invite her over sometime?”

Bel nodded. She just might do that.

Mom picked out a shopping cart, wheeled it toward the doors. “We should get some bookshelves too. For the living room.”

“I’d like that.”

“Anything else you want?” Mom said, glancing down at the list in her hand.

There wasn’t.

Bel just wanted to be here, with her mom, looking at a thousand shades of white and pretending to see a difference, because it wasn’t about the paint at all. It was about them, a daughter and a mom, learning all the ways they could find each other again, fit back together, trying, until it was like it never happened, like no time had been taken from them at all.

They’d get there. They were already well on their way.

The automatic doors sprang open for them, and Bel helped her mom push the cart through, righting one of the wheels.

They crossed the threshold, walked inside.

The doors slid shut behind them, taking them away with a midnight shush.

They disappeared.

But this time, they did it together.