The Schwarzschild Radius (4 page)

Rachel’s high school graduation present was parked in the driveway. The two-year-old midnight blue Mustang now seemed ostentatious.

Rachel’s parents were huddled in the living room listening to the news for anything. This was just a distraction as Detective McKenna had promised to inform them of any breaks in the case before the media got hold of it. But the critical first forty-eight hours had passed with nothing to report.

At forty-four, Elizabeth Wallen had aged beyond her years, despite having more joys than the average parent. It was her nature to worry. She went through life inventing things to keep her awake at night. Since last week, she no longer had to manufacture reasons to worry. Ed Wallen was more positive, and at fifty, was looking forward to a quiet retirement, free of mortgage and college tuitions. Rachel didn’t want to repeat the mediocrity of their lives.

“Anything?” Rachel said, knowing the answer.

“They put her in the database for Missing and Exploited Children,” her mother said.

That’s pathetic
, thought Rachel.

“ABC News will be here later,” said Ed Wallen. “We have to keep her face on TV.”

They didn’t ask her about her college orientation, and that was just as well. Rachel was supposed to have spent the night at the Columbia dorm where she would be starting classes this fall.

Since Olivia’s disappearance, Rachel’s friend, Joules, had created a website called OliviaAlert.org with pictures of Olivia and contact numbers. Rachel had called 48 Hours, Dateline, and Inside Edition, asking them to run a story on Olivia and sent them the press kit she had prepared containing photos of Olivia playing cello and receiving fencing awards. She hoped the media would broadcast it endlessly as they did with Elizabeth Smart playing the harp. So far, only 48 Hours had shown an interest.

The search team had set up its headquarters in the First Methodist Church and Waldbaum’s had donated food and paper plates to help feed them. They had combed the area but found nothing. They didn’t expect to; Olivia’s last phone call was from Manhattan.

Rachel had read about all the other things families of missing children did to get the attention of the public: get bumper stickers printed, buttons made, run/walk events, cake sales. But all this seemed so futile.

Rachel got a glass of water and sat down.

“I heard back from 48 Hours,” said Rachel. “They’re willing to run a one-minute spot on her on next week’s show, but want to wait another couple of days for police to confirm that she’s not a runaway. They don’t do runaways.”

“I was expecting to see her picture nonstop on TV like when the Smart girl vanished,” said her father. “There’s nothing.”

“She was kidnapped from her bed,” said Rachel. “That makes a difference. She was also fourteen. The younger, the more coverage―that seems to be the way it works. At sixteen, Olivia is near the cutoff.”

“But how can we prove that to anyone―that she didn’t run away?” he said. “This isn’t right. It isn’t right.”

“We were lucky to get an Amber Alert out for her, only because she’s diabetic,” said Rachel.

“I leave the light on for her every night,” said her mother. “And make her a toasted cheese sandwich.” She put her face in her hands. “We’re powerless.”

“We’re not powerless,” said Rachel.

“But what can we do?” the mother sobbed.

“We’re not powerless.”

Rachel went upstairs and started looking online for the porn video of Olivia. Brother Horace said it was on slutload.com. There were thousands of sex scenes and no index or means of narrowing it down to a particular one, short of looking at them all. Each page consisted of twenty-four thumbnails, and there were over eleven-hundred pages going back two years. This was going to be a first for her. She clicked on a scene and, without ceremony, two people were screwing on a bed. There was a progress indicator on the bottom of the screen which she used to advance the video. No Olivia in this one. Next. So it went for three hours. Why did she believe him? This was sickening. She couldn’t believe the things girls did on camera for money. By afternoon, Rachel collapsed in bed and slept.

When Rachel’s parents adopted Olivia from an orphanage in Thailand, they took it as a sign that her birthday fell on the same day as Rachel’s. She was raised Catholic, though in the last few years, Olivia had started investigating her roots. Her family was Buddhist, and she came from a village so poor that parents often sold their children to feed the rest of the family.

Olivia brought only joy and pride to her new parents. She skipped the third grade, was the salutatorian in middle school, a fencing champion in high school. At sixteen, Harvard had accepted her for the fall. She had always been gregarious and popular, in contrast to Rachel’s quiet and reserved demeanor. Rachel had even been a little jealous of the way Olivia could enter a room and immediately become the center of attention. She was beautiful, true, with long black hair and tall figure. She had only to flash that smile and things would begin to gravitate her way. She fended off boys throughout her freshman and sophomore years in high school until the junior prom, which she attended. Rachel didn’t get asked.

Olivia could have made a career out of at least four talents. Making friends was another of her gifts. Over the last year, she had acquired forty-seven chat mates in her Yahoo Messenger. Rachel didn’t know forty-seven people in this world, let alone forty-seven she’d want to talk to. Before the police took Olivia’s PC, Rachel had cloned the hard drive onto the second drive of her own computer in order to comb through her emails for some clue to her whereabouts and state of mind. Several of these friends had struck up online conversations with her over the last four days, and Rachel had had to inform them that Olivia had disappeared.

Olivia’s Yahoo Messenger was up and someone was now trying to contact her online.

U there?
said the screen.

Rachel was in no mood to get into another conversation. It was three in the morning, and she was tired, but couldn’t sleep any more. Over the last few hours, Rachel had chatted with at least twelve friends on Olivia’s Messenger list and was tired of being the bearer of bad news. The ID said,
Acharavaypor
.

Hi
, Rachel typed.

Sorry late
.

OK.

Cam?
requested Acharavaypor.

Sorry, no cam
, answered Rachel.
Dropped it last night and need a new one.
It was an effort just to type, let alone go looking for the web-cam. Plus, she looked like a mess.

OK. You have news?

No news yet
. Rachel couldn’t remember if she had already chatted with this one.

What you mean?

Just that,
typed Rachel.

What about your promise? What about passport and money?

Now Rachel was wide awake.

You promised me. And now you forget.

I didn’t forget. I’m still working on it
. Rachel wrote. This was someone new and not a native speaker.

OK.

Cam?
asked Rachel.

Let me change PC. This has no cam. BRB.

Ok.

Rachel quickly combed through her sister’s emails for some sign of this person. And why did she apologize for being late? Did her sister chat regularly at three in the morning?

I’m back.

[email protected] sent Rachel the invite to her webcam. Rachel accepted and waited for the face to materialize.

The image appeared and the person at the other end tousled with the camera to point it.

When it stabilized, Rachel was looking into her sister’s face.

achel was dumbstruck. It looked like Olivia, but with a threadbare T-shirt and an expression of ineffable sadness.

Fix cam for next time
, the girl typed.
Your face gives me joy.

You look beautiful
, wrote Rachel.

Terrible. Terrible here. We have to hurry. They plan to take me to new place soon. And more men than ever.

Rachel quickly assessed what she was looking at. This girl thought she was talking to Olivia. Behind the girl was a clock showing the same time as here in New York―3:09 a.m.―but there was daylight streaming in through the window. This girl was on the other side of the world.

More men?
asked Rachel.

Now more men. Ten, fifteen men a day. And harder to come to Internet café.

Rachel was slowly constructing the life of the person opposite her. Yet all she could say was,
okay
.

You say it takes four weeks to get passport. Already six weeks pass.

Rachel scrambled to reply.
I’m still waiting. Where is the new place they are taking you to?

Outside of Chiang Mai. Fifty kilometer I think. I don’t know if there is an Internet there. I don’t know if I will see you again. Last night one girl try to escape. They beat her, then make her work today. She charge half price now. You have to help me. U r my sister.

I will help you,
said Rachel.

Why passport is late?

There are new rules now. Terrorism.

We have much planning and not much time. Tong, he get more drunk now and beat everyone. If he find out my plan, he will kill me.

Don’t say that. Let’s go over the plan again.

Once I get passport and money, I can get e-ticket, so Tong cannot find plane ticket. He
searches everything. I can hide money in my mattress. He makes me go buy beer every day, so I will take cab to airport. I have to find out how much money it need for bribe officials, then I tell you.

What officials do you need to bribe?

Airport security. They need to put entry stamp on passport. You tell me this.

Sure. And anyone else?

Maybe someone at the airport who see me. If Tong follow me, he will bribe, so I have to be ready to bribe same. It’s really bad now. You understand?

I won’t let you down.

Thank you. U r all I have. Everyone betray. I trust no one. You tell your parents about me? They know I come?