A Day in a Life

Chapter Five

Elijah

A N HOUR LATER , I’m standing on the doorstep of Clara Flanders’s home, Sydni’s mother.

Large homes dot the area, each one on at least an acre.

Frankly, I’m shocked to find that her mother lives probably five miles away from the bridge where Sydni lost her life. Her home overlooks the rushing river. How can she stand to look at it every day?

When Clara answers the door, she’s holding a teacup Pomeranian in one hand and her cell phone in the other. She offers me a polite nod and opens the door wide, indicating I should enter.

She motions with her head toward the living room. I follow in the general direction and take a seat on a leather couch.

“No, I told you I wanted my kitchen cabinets painted white. They look cream. That’s not what I wanted and you know it.” Her bleached-blond hair sways as she speaks, like it’s just as angry as she is. A headband keeps her hair from crawling through the phone line and strangling the listener.

There’s silence as the person on the other end speaks.

“I don’t care how many shades of white are in existence. I told you I wanted the whitest of whites, and now I have cream. This is unacceptable. I want it redone immediately.”

Silence again as she listens.

“I couldn’t care less about your other jobs. You need to finish this one to my satisfaction before you move on to your other jobs or you won’t see a red cent. And that’s final!” Clara hangs up on whoever she was speaking to.

“Ugh,” she yells. “Do you know how hard it is to find contractors who will do a good job? It’s almost impossible.” Clara pockets her phone and cuddles her tiny dog in her arms like it’s a baby. “Oh, sorry, this is my Bella. Isn’t she the cutest?”

“She certainly is.” Clara is clearly obsessed with her dog.

“Forgive me. It’s been so crazy around here with renovations. What are you here for? The new windows?” She pins me in place with her hazel eyes.

“No, ma’am. I’m Elijah Garrett. I’m here to talk to you about your daughter, Sydni. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“Oh, oh, oh, yes. Of course. I’m so sorry. Never renovate your home. Just buy new. You’ll save your sanity.” Clara takes a deep breath. “Come with me, Mr. Garrett.”

I follow Mrs. Flanders to a hallway of family pictures.

She flips on the lights. “Here’s the best way to meet Sydni. These pictures show her growing up. Have you met Sydni’s older sister, Hannah?” Clara points to a picture of a family. “This is my Hannah, her husband Liam, and just the three most adorable granddaughters in the entire world. Emeline, Brielle, and Liliana. We call them Emi, Bri, and Lily for short. I live for these girls. They’re my whole world. Just wait until you have grandchildren one day, Mr. Garrett…”

“Elijah.”

“Elijah. Are you married?”

“No.” Long story.

“Really? A good-looking man like you? I’m shocked.”

I change the subject. “May I see some pictures of Sydni?” My curiosity is piqued.

“Oh, sure. But first, look at this one. It’s my favorite. It’s of Hannah holding her firstborn, Emeline. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is. But…”

“This is Hannah in high school. She was the homecoming queen, you know. Such a perfect beauty. Doesn’t she look like a porcelain doll? Oh, and in this one she won the Miss Silicon Valley contest.”

Fitting. Add an E, and I wonder how much of Hannah is silicone.

“She has several trophies. You must see them. It’s impressive. I tell you, that one’s a go-getter.”

I need this woman to focus. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Flanders…”

“Clara,” she says, imitating my earlier actions.

“Clara. I don’t mean to be rude. You’re obviously very proud of your family, and you should be. But I would like to talk to you about Sydni today.”

Clara faces me, her eyes directly on mine. “Why exactly do you want to talk about Sydni? She’s in the past.”

“I represent Risk Policy Collective, the life insurance company. It’s been seven years since Sydni went missing. She’s about to be declared legally dead. Cole Greer is about to receive a rather large sum of money. This is the final investigation before that payout is issued. Do you have any reason to believe that Sydni is still alive?”

Clara’s face turns pale. “No, I do not. My daughter would contact me if she were able.” She beckons me with her hand. “Come down here. This is Sydni.”

I follow Clara to the end of the hall, passing by several large professional portraits of Bella—the dog—in ornate frames.

There’s a small area devoted to Sydni. The pictures are smaller, the frames less fancy, the quality definitely not professional. Just snapshots. Some a little blurry.

I study each picture carefully. Perhaps Sydni isn’t the glowing beauty queen that Hannah is, but she’s quite beautiful in an organic way. Hannah looks almost fake with her heavy make-up, fancy clothes, and salon-styled hair.

Sydni often wears her thick long hair in a side braid and prefers casual clothes. There are a few pictures of her running track. Clara doesn’t mention them. It’s obvious she’s the introverted sister, but I find introverts have fascinating minds, with a touch of mystery about them.

“That’s Sydni. She was always a quiet one. I never knew what she was thinking. All she ever wanted to do was spend her time upstairs in the attic painting pictures. She liked the solitude. If I asked her to go shopping, she almost always declined. All she wanted to do was paint, run track, swim, or go river rafting. Oh, how she loved the challenge.”

Wait. What? “In the river outside of your home?” I ask.

“Yep. She grew up playing in those waters. The only reason they got the best of her is because she was weak from losing her little one.” Clara’s face darkens. “She was supposed to be on bedrest, not swimming against the current in the river.”

Hold up. “So she was a strong swimmer?” How did the original investigation miss this? Seems rather relevant.

“Are you kidding? She was half fish. She swam for the swim team all four years of high school.”

I glance at the wall again. There’s not one picture of Sydni on the swim team, much less a picture of her holding a trophy.

Clara sighs. “She loved that crazy river outside. Made me nervous. Technically, those waters could be dangerous in certain spots. But Sydni did what she wanted when she wanted. You might say she danced to the beat of a different drummer, if you know what I mean.”

“I do.” I’m a levelheaded guy. But Sydni Greer sounds like a girl I would fall for in a red-hot minute. A deep thinker. Artistic. Adventurous. Athletic. Does what she wants. Love those qualities. “She sounds like an amazing young lady.”

“You think? I mean, yes, she was amazing. Just different.” Clara looks down for a moment. “She married well. But she couldn’t hold on to him. It was a shame. I told her she needed to try harder, but Sydni was Sydni. If you liked her, she loved you in return. If you didn’t like her, she flat out didn’t care. I never really understood my daughter.”

“Would it be all right if we sat down in the living room? I have a few more questions. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Sure,” Clara says, cuddling Bella close to her chest.

Once we’re settled in the living room, I say, “I’m trying to understand Sydni’s state of mind on the day of the accident. Did you speak with her that day?”

Clara’s face flushes pink. “What does it matter? Cole still gets paid whether it was suicide or an accident.”

“True. But we must consider the possibility of another scenario. Perhaps—and this is just an example, I’m not saying it’s what happened—but what if she lived and has amnesia? It’s unlikely, but we need to consider every option.”

Or she’s involved in insurance fraud with Cole Greer. After meeting him, I seriously doubt that, but it’s very possible. I don’t actually know Sydni, even though I’m feeling shamefully obsessed with her.

Or she was running away as the hidden backpack suggests and she’s in hiding somewhere, but I’ll keep that one to myself for now.

“I thought it was an open-and-shut case?” Clara asks, rubbing Bella’s neck as the dog’s eyes roll back in her head with pleasure.

“I’m sure it is. But when a great deal of money is involved, a final investigation is always called for.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Clara accepts my excuses without suspicion.

“Again, did you speak with Sydni on the day of the accident?”

“Well, she did come to the house, wanting to speak with me about such and such.”

My head snaps to attention. “She did?”

“Yeah, but it was a crazy day. Besides, I’d told Sydni several times that it was just too painful to be close to her. We were so different from each other. We didn’t like the same things. Still, she insisted on calling all the time.” Clara rolls her eyes.

I deliberately close my mouth so my jaw’s not hanging open. I clear my throat, not once, but twice. “Why was it a crazy day?”

“That’s when all the renovations started. A pipe burst in the upstairs bathroom. Not only did one of the upstairs bedrooms flood, but water was also running down the walls into the dining room. It was a mess. Workers were everywhere, constantly asking me questions about this and that.”

“And the renovations are still ongoing?” For almost seven years?

“Oh.” She flutters. “One thing leads to another. Contractors take forever . You know how it is. At any rate, I didn’t have very much time to speak with her.”

Sounds like renovating has become her hobby of choice. “But you did speak with her?” I ask, engrossed.

“She was emotional and crying. I told her to go into my bedroom where we could have some privacy. When I was finally able to join her, she was sitting on my bed, red faced and eyes swollen. I gave her a hug, and she cried a little harder. Sometimes Sydni loved sympathy a little too much. She was one of those kids who basked in attention.”

“Unlike Hannah, who quietly entered beauty contests.” I kick myself, knowing I shouldn’t have said that.

It goes right over Clara’s bleached-blond head. “Exactly. If I didn’t speak directly to Sydni, I hardly ever knew she was there. I always asked her, ‘Don’t you have anything to say?’ She never did. Like I said, I never knew what she was thinking. She never cared to tell me.”

In other words, her mother hardly ever noticed her, and Sydni nearly gave up trying. At least, that’s my take.

Yet Sydni was calling her mother often, turning to the one person who should love her unconditionally. It sounds as though she was running in circles, chasing a rainbow.

Clara goes on. “So I stood back and told her she needed to pick herself up and get over it. I didn’t want her to bask in pity. I reminded her that I lost two babies in my childbearing years. I mean, I was only around six weeks along each time, but it was still just as traumatic, if not more. She said she had something else she needed to talk about, but then I was called away by another worker with questions. It took much longer than I thought. I almost forgot about her. I had to choose the new wallpaper so they could get it ordered. It took me a while, but I chose the neutral stripe you can see right there in the dining room. What do you think? It looks good, doesn’t it? I’m in love with it.”

I don’t even glance at it. “Then what happened?”

“Oh, it took forever, but it finally came in. Thank goodness we ordered so early.”

“I’m sorry, I mean what happened with Sydni?” Your daughter? The one facing a crisis? The one turning to you for help?

“Oh yeah. Well…” Clara smacks her lips. “When I returned to my room, she’d left. Poof. Gone. Didn’t even hear her leave. I’ll never know what she wanted to talk about. I wish she’d waited for me. She should’ve waited for me. If she had, maybe she’d still be here right now. I’m sure I could’ve helped her, if only she’d turned to me.”

She did, Clara. Oh, how she did.

I show no emotion whatsoever. Inside, however, is another story. My chest feels like it’s on fire. Clara didn’t have time for Sydni, nor did she grant her a little empathy when it was needed—and deserved.

“I see. So you would describe her as emotionally distraught?”

“Oh yes, definitely. A little over the top, but that was Sydni. She was a quiet one, but when she had something to say, everyone in the room knew about it. It was her way.”

I swallow. Hard. “Do you feel it was suicide, or do you feel it was an accident?”

“I can’t answer that question. Knowing Sydni and her dramatics, it could’ve gone either way. Suicide wouldn’t surprise me at all. She loved attention.” Clara’s phone rings, and she raises a finger toward me, meaning “hold on while I take this call.”

Reminds me of a polite way to say shut up.

“Hannah! Hello, sweetheart. How are my babies?” Then, “Oh no, I wasn’t doing anything important. Let me say hello to Emi.” Then, “Hello, my little Emi. What did you do today? Tell me everything…”

I quietly let myself out, feeling perhaps a very small inkling of how Sydni Greer felt on that fateful day.

She must’ve been utterly devastated.