Page 74 of Since She's Been Gone

The back of my neck immediately breaks out in a panicked sweat. The train is already in motion. I can’t hop off. It’s also an express with limited stops, so the next one won’t be for a while. Maybe I should stand up and move to another car.

“Hello, Beatrice,” he says. “I’m special agent Jason Fields from the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” He holds up an FBI badge.

I couldn’t tell a real one from a fake one. It could be fake, or maybe he’s a real agent with a real badge bought out by the Cadells.

“I’m working with Detective David Thompson from the LAPD on Cristina Cadell’s disappearance …”

“I already told him everything I know when he came to my office,” I say.

“I’m not here to question you.” He lowers his voice. “Detective Thompson wanted me to let you know that you were right. He went back to the sailboat where Cristina’s mother died to take another look. It appears someone tinkered with evidence to frame Cristina for Maria Cadell’s murder, which makes sense because we still have no motive for why she’d murder her mother. Everyone close to both of them who we’ve questioned described an incredibly close relationship between the two.”

I take in the information, unsure whose side he’s on, not knowing whether to believe him.

“Why have you been following me today?” I ask.

“We wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to meet with Cristina. It’ll take a few days to put our case together,and she’s still considered a fugitive. Trust me, you don’t want to aid and abet a fugitive,” he says.

“How would I be able to meet Cristina in New York when she’s fled to Europe?” I ask.

“Rich people have a way of getting around. Nobody’s sure if she’s still there,” he says. “You visited multiple hospitals today. We thought maybe Cristina was hospitalized, and you were trying to meet her at one of them. But I spoke with Ramona Marino at Bell Hospital, who told me you were looking for your late mother’s medical records for your own health reasons.”

I’m not sure if this is a ploy to get me to trust him more, to make me open up about Mom, or to give him information about what I may know about her whereabouts. I still don’t know whose side he’s on.

This is all too much. My hands start to tremble on my lap. I drop them by my side to hide my nerves, but not quickly enough, because he notices.

“Are you all right?” he asks me.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“Where you headed?” he says.

“DC, like you,” I answer.

“Why?” he asks.

“To advocate for mental health services for veterans. I’m a psychologist.”

He looks down at the ground—on either side of me.

“No suitcase?” he asks.

I don’t respond.

“By the time we get to DC, it’ll be dinnertime,” he continues. “How much advocating can you do at the Capitol after it closes?”

“I’m having dinner with a Senate staffer,” I say. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Part of the job,” he says, smiling for the first time, revealing a toothy grin.

I wish I could turn my phone back on and pretend like I’m texting someone to give him a hard signal that I have no interest in continuing this conversation. But I can’t turn it on because then Paul and Eddie will know where I am, and I know they’d try to stop me from doing what I’m going to try to do in DC.

I look out the window instead, hoping Jason will get the hint that I don’t want to talk to him. He takes the cue and pulls out his cell phone, leaving me alone, at least for now.

I don’t stop staring out the window for the entire three-hour train ride as we pass wetlands, a baseball stadium, a giant sign on the Delaware River bridge that reads: “Trenton Makes—The World Takes,” 30th Street Station, Philadelphia, an old cemetery, and the Baltimore and Potomac Tunnel.

As we pass landmark after landmark, I think about Mom, who made this trip decades ago when she went to testify against the Cadells. Was she scared? Why did she do it? Why was she willing to put our family at risk?

We finally arrive in DC, which has no skyline apart from the Washington Monument. When the train pulls into Union Station, I finally look away from the window and down at my watch. It’s after six. I doubt anyone will be working at this hour, especially senators. I might have to go to a hotel room and wait until the morning.

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