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“No sir, not yet.”
The dejected look he gives us sits heavily on my chest. He looks helpless and remorseful. I know exactly how he feels. I’ve felt that way for years while I looked for Aislin.
“We came by to find out if there is any more you can give us,” I tell him. “We’re having a difficult time finding anyone associated with Rebecca.”
He nods and looks out the window across from him.
“It’s my fault. I should have pushed her more to go out.” He looks back at us. “When she first came to live with me, she was so withdrawn, never wanting to do anything but sit in her room. I thought she was just depressed from her mother’s death, so I didn’t push her. I had hoped she would get better on her own. We were never close, but I loved her dearly. Her mother and I never got along, so I was never able to form a bond with her. I wish I could have done more for her.”
He grabs his glass of tea from the table and takes a sip. I don’t miss the sheen of tears in his eyes.
“You said she went to school for a while when she first came here?” Tavers remarks, pulling a small notepad out of his suit pocket. “Are you sure she didn’t keep in contact with anyone from school over the years?”
Shaking his head, he puts the glass back down. “No. She only went to school for a month before I pulled her out and decided to homeschool her myself. The kids there... they didn’t understand her and tormented her.”
Tavers nods and writes something down in the notepad.
“And she never had any boyfriends?”
Mr. Stewart shakes his head again, looking down at his lap with a despondent expression. “She only ever had one boyfriend. That was five years ago, and it was from one of those dating sites.”
My ears perk up at that. If we could find anyone who remembered her, maybe it could lead to someone else.
“Do you remember his name?”
His brow furrows in thought as he thinks for a moment. His eyes light up and he snaps his fingers.
“Mark.” He nods. “I think I remember his name was Mark.”
I look over at Tavers, and we share a look before he jots the name down.
“Last name?” he asks, looking up.
Mr. Stewart’s expression falls. “No. I never knew his last name. I never got to meet him either. Actually, neither did Rebecca. They always just spoke over the internet.”
I have to force back the growl that wants to be let loose. One step forward and five fucking steps back. No matter what avenue we try, there’s nothing there.
Tavers senses my frustration and asks, “And you said she never worked?”
“No. She tried once but ended up not going on her first day.”
I drop my head for a moment then lift it again. “Mr. Stewart, you have to give us more to work with here.” I try to keep my voice calm. “We’re at a dead end. There must be someone who knows your niece beside yourself. Someone can’t be that much of a recluse. Did she ever go shopping? Or maybe paid bills? Run errands? What about doctors? Did she ever go to the doctor?”
He wrings his hands together in his lap as tears spring to his eyes. His voice is hoarse when he whispers, “No. She never left the house.” His eyes plead with me to understand. “I tried so hard to get her to go out, but nothing worked. She just didn’t want to leave. She said the outside world was too stressful. It scared her. The most she would do is sit out on the back porch, and even there, she’d just stare off into space. Anytime I mentioned her going out, she’d freak out and beg me not to make her. Going to the doctors was a big no for her.”
I close my eyes and clench my jaw. We’re getting fucking nowhere here. I hear the flap of Tavers closing his notepad, and I open my eyes. He looks just as frustrated as I do; he just hides it better.
We both get up from the couch, and Mr. Stewart follows our lead.
“I wish I could help more. I know I haven’t given you much, but Rebecca was just so closed off.” He looks at the picture of Rebecca on the wall and wipes away a tear. When he looks back at us, his eyes are red as if he’s trying to hold back from falling apart. “I just hope wherever she is, she’s not hurting.”
Tavers reaches out and puts his hand on Mr. Stewart’s slumped shoulders. “We’re working as hard as we can. We’ll find out what happened to your niece.”
He nods miserably before leading us to the front door.
“We’ll call if we have any more questions, and if you think of anything, anything at all, you call us.”
“Just please find her,” Mr. Stewart says with a sorrowful voice.
