The Almost Truth (8 page)

“I couldn’t ask you to be a media spokesman on top of your already massive duties,” Mr. Parker said with a flat voice. I would have high-fived him for giving the smack down to Mr. Stanbury except for the fact that I was hiding under a table. “The McKennas have provided me with clear directives on how they would like the media handled. As you might imagine, they would like to keep the focus on the positive action of the foundation, not on a sensationalist review of the loss of their daughter.”

“Of course not,” Mr. Stanbury said. “Would you like to take another look at the menu?”

“No. I was happy with the menu that was finalized last week. I would like to review options for when the guests arrive. I’d like to figure out how we can have people pre–checked in, especially our VIP guests.”

“We can do that. We also typically arrange to have fresh flowers in those rooms or perhaps a fruit basket with champagne.”

I shifted my cramped legs as silently as possible.

“We’ll need the list of guests and what you would like in each gift basket at least a day before everyone arrives.”

“I’ll have the list for you tomorrow.”

“Excellent. I’ll arrange to have examples of the various table linen options brought to your room so that you can choose what you would like used for the event.”

There were some shuffling sounds and then silence. I made myself count to two hundred to give them time to get down the hall, then I crawled out from under the table and stood.

“Well, I can’t say I expected that,” a voice said behind me.

I spun around. The voice belonged to Chase Parker. This really wasn’t the way I’d wanted to meet him. But as soon as I saw him, the excuses I was about to make dried up on my tongue. “
You’re
Chase Parker?” He was nothing like what I’d expected. I’d assumed he would be a slick businessman in his forties or fifties. One of those guys who wears his thinning hair slicked back and a suit that cost more than most people spend on food in a year. But Chase was young. I guessed he wasn’t much older than me. He was wearing tailored chinos and a loose linen shirt. Not that I was paying much attention to his clothes. I was too distracted by the fact that he was beautiful. Not attractive—Chase was stunning, model-perfect, drop-your-panties kind of good-looking. He looked like an angel from one of the Italian paintings we’d studied in art appreciation. He had honey blond hair, wide blue eyes with eyelashes that went on forever, and his mouth would make Angelina Jolie envious. I wanted to touch his lips, they were so perfect.

“You have me at a bit of a disadvantage. You seem to know me, but I don’t know you,” he said.

“Me?”

Chase laughed. Even his teeth were perfect, blindingly white and ruler straight. Either he had great genes or his parents had spent a fortune on orthodontic care. “Asking who you were wasn’t supposed to be a trick question.”

“Sadie.” I mentally kicked myself. So much for giving him a fake name. I wasn’t off to a great start with my plan to schmooze him into telling me everything I needed to know about the McKenna family. I held my breath. He was looking directly at my face, but there wasn’t a hint of recognition. Brendan was right: The fact that I’d dyed my hair dark was enough to change my appearance from the
MISSING
poster, that and the fact that no one really expected to spot Ava. They all must have assumed she’d died. Well, everyone except her parents.

“So, Sadie, be honest. Are you a runaway who secretly lives in the hotel, sleeping under tables and surviving only on stolen restaurant food?” he asked with a smile.

“No.” I thought quickly and decided to play along. “Actually, underneath the table there’s a portal to an alternate universe. I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’m sort of a messiah there, charged with finding the magical ring and saving all of mankind,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a heavy load for someone who is . . . seventeen?”

“I’m eighteen and I was always an overachiever. Saving humanity is only a hobby,” I went on. “You should see the stuff I’m working on full-time.”

“I’d like that.” He smiled and my stomach fluttered in appreciation. Then I remembered that I was supposed to be pumping him for information. My mind spun around, looking for the right angle.

“It’s funny you say that. I’m with a local island group dedicated to involving youth in social service projects. I’m really impressed with the work the McKenna Foundation is doing and wondered if there might be a way to assist you with your plans for the event here.”

“What a great idea, getting students involved. I believe if you get involved early in life with volunteering, you stay with it. I’ve never heard of organized student volunteer groups, but more people should do it.”

He’d never heard of this group because I’d just made it up a couple of seconds ago. “We’re firm believers that a commitment to public service starts young.” I tried to project a positive “be all you can be” type image. “I wonder if I could talk with you about how we might be able to help.” I left off the fact that any information he could give me would be helping me far more than my imaginary service group would be helping him.

“Sure. How about I buy you a cup of coffee downstairs?”

“Uh . . .” I couldn’t take the chance of meeting with him inside the hotel. All the staff knew me. If they overheard me talking about being some sort of community leader, they were going to start laughing. Plus, if Mr. Stanbury saw me, he would give me a lecture and ask me to leave. “I’ve actually already had
so much coffee. Why don’t we take a walk outside? They’ve got a boardwalk that goes along the beach.”

“Sounds good.” He gestured for me to lead the way. We went down the side staircase, and when we opened the door to the outside, I took a deep breath of relief, right up until he spoke again. “So you have to tell me the real reason you were under the table.”

N
ot that I am advocating lying, but if you want to do it well, there are a few things to keep in mind:

• Keep it simple. The more you say, the more opportunities there are for you to contradict yourself.

• Keep it as close to the truth as possible; it will make it easier to remember.

• The secret to being believed when lying is that you have to believe in the lie just a little bit yourself. Not that you don’t know you’re lying, but perhaps the lie you’re telling is something that you wish were true.

Now I simply needed to come up with a reason for hiding under a table that met these criteria, and didn’t make me sound like a complete nut.

“The truth is, the hotel manager and I don’t get along very well,” I said, going for the truth, if not the full truth. “My family has some . . . connections to the hotel, and there have been some incidents that make things uncomfortable.” I waved my hand dismissively. “It isn’t that my family doesn’t think Mr. Stanbury’s a good manager, but he tends to have quite the ego. He sometimes forgets that he works at the hotel; he doesn’t own it. I knew if he heard me asking you about the event, he would try to discourage our group from getting involved. If the event goes well, he wants all the glory to go to the hotel and him.”

Chase nodded. “I know the type. The kind who has to take credit for everything, including things they had nothing to do with.”

“Exactly.” I felt the tight band around my chest loosen. He believed me.

“He probably feels he has something to prove. He’s probably one of those guys who can’t stand people who have money, like our families didn’t work hard to get where they are.”

I nodded, as if I had any idea what it was like to have so much money that other people judged me for it. Pesky poor people. “So now that you know about me, you have to tell me how you got involved with the McKenna Foundation. You’re younger than I was expecting. When I heard someone was coming over to organize the event, I pictured the typical business manager type.”

“I was hoping to impress you with my overachiever status. I’m only twenty, you know. Or were you hoping for an older man? I’m crushed.” He pressed his hand to chest as if I had wounded him.

I gave him a soft punch in the shoulder. He fended me off and then linked my arm through his elbow. It seemed gallant and old-fashioned, but I couldn’t tell if it was meant to be polite or flirting.

“My family knows the McKennas,” Chase admitted. “My mom and Mrs. McKenna were roommates back at Vassar. I’ve been helping out with the foundation since I was a kid. My major in college is communications, so they arranged for me to have this job for the summer. I’m organizing this event and a 10K run they sponsor at the end of August, plus helping the communications director with any press releases, that kind of thing.” He looked over at me. “Admit it, you’re blown away by the glory of my unpaid internship.”

It sounded more glamorous than passing out salad dressing to hotel guests, but I was willing to bet Chase Parker didn’t have a lot of manual labor job experience. “It’s great they gave you the job.” It was great for me at least. Spending time with Chase was way better than sucking up to some old guy with hair growing out of his ears.

“The McKennas are amazing. What happened to them, with their daughter, Ava, was terrible. I was really young when it happened, but I can still remember bits and pieces of it. They turned their personal tragedy into a chance to help others. So many people don’t make it through that kind of thing. Did you know something like seventy percent of couples who lose a child end up divorced? And the problem is huge. The National Center for
Missing and Exploited Children estimates more than seven hundred thousand juveniles were reported missing last year.”

“No, I didn’t know that, Mr. Communications Director.”

Chase laughed. “Sorry. Hazard of the job. I start talking like a public service announcement.”

“What made them want to do this big event now? Ava’s been missing for years.”

“I think for them, time is measured in what could have been, milestones that aren’t actually being reached, but they still think about it anyway. Ava would have been eighteen this year. She would have graduated from high school. She’d be heading off to college in the fall. They can’t help but imagine what school she would have picked, if she would have been more like her mom, or if she would have been a sports nut like her dad. They wanted to do something to mark the occasion, maybe let the universe know they haven’t forgotten.”

I guessed since she was only three when she disappeared, it’s all about imagining what she would have been like. They can’t really miss who she was, since she never really got a chance to be anyone.

We walked without saying anything and instead watched the kids who were playing on the beach, sitting on bright candy-colored towels, scooping sand into pails and then dumping it out, or running up to the water and screeching when the waves licked at their feet, all under the watchful eyes of their moms, siblings, or babysitters.

“It must be hard for them, the not knowing,” I said. “Was there ever any clue about what really happened?”

“The FBI is fairly sure she was abducted. There were witnesses who saw a man walking away from the hotel with a girl that might have been Ava.”

My ears pricked up. This hadn’t been in the newspaper reports. “I never heard that.”

Chase shrugged. “No one ever identified the guy. Three witnesses saw him, but he was with two small children, not just one, so it’s quite possible it was some dad with his kids. No one was even sure it was really Ava to start with, and then you factor in that eyewitnesses are really unreliable and you don’t have much to go on. A few years ago they thought they might have found her stuffed rabbit.”

“Rabbit?”

“It was a detail the police didn’t release in case they ever needed something that could verify a real lead versus some crackpot. You wouldn’t believe the number of people who call in with tips, or claiming to be the person who took a child, or know who did.”

“People confessed to a crime they didn’t do?” I motioned for us to sit on one of the painted benches that lined the sandy beach. There was a small tree next to it so there was even a hint of shade.

Chase sat down and rolled up his pants, sticking his legs into the sun. “Yeah. I don’t get it either. I guess I’d have to major in psychology to sort that out. A lot of people accuse their exes, but
that I can at least understand. Why anyone would want to say they did something just to get attention seems bizarre to me.”

“So what was the deal with the rabbit?” I asked. This was exactly the kind of small detail that might make a huge difference to any con.

“Ava had this stuffed rabbit. She called it—”

“Bun Bun,” I said.

“How did you know that?”

I started. How had I known that? It had come to me out of nowhere. “I had a stuffed bunny when I was a kid, and that’s what I called it,” I admitted. I felt uneasy. There was something eerie about the fact that Ava and I each had our own stuffed bunny with the same name.

“Must be the stuffed bunny equivalent of a name like Bob Smith. Anyway, Ava dragged that rabbit everywhere. If she didn’t have it, she would scream. Apparently her parents bought a duplicate bunny in case the original Bun Bun was lost.”

“Sort of a bunny body double.”

“Exactly. Except Ava could tell he was an imposter bunny. It was the original Bun Bun or nothing. She would carry him around by one ear, and when she was stressed she would rub the ear against her face.” Chase rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I used to do that with my stuffed rabbit too. Don’t mock it if you haven’t tried it. It can be very soothing.” I wagged my finger in his face.

Chase held up his hands in surrender. “What a girl does with
her bunny is her business. Anyway, the stuffed bunny went missing just a few hours before Ava did. The nanny reported it was missing to the front desk, hoping someone had turned it in. You can imagine what kind of crisis this was. Ava was apparently freaking out. She was a girl who had serious bunny dependence issues.”

“So she must have dropped it somewhere?”

“That’s the weird thing. The bunny went missing in the morning, but they hadn’t been anywhere that day yet. No one knows how the bunny went missing. One of the theories was that the kidnapper somehow took the rabbit and used that to lure her away.”