Missing

Chapter 10

"You have to use Mr. Prescott's rule of threes," Terry said, flipping to a fresh page of notepad paper.

"Who's Mr. Prescott?"

"Me," he grinned. "In my classroom, I discipline using my rule of threes. When a student does anything wrong, I figure once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. Only after the third time does the student get punished." He stopped and cocked an eyebrow. "Except for the incident with the twenty tree frogs in my desk drawer. Made an exception there."

"But what does this have to do with Sara?" I asked impatiently.

"Right."

He drew a number one at the top of the page. "First person she loved?"

I furrowed my brow, thinking. "Her brother?"

Terry nodded, writing Peter next to the one. "And then what happened?"

"They got into a car accident."

"Right. But it's the order that's important here." He indented under the one, adding an A and a B.

I tried not to roll my eyes. I'd never liked outlines.

"First," he continued, "Sara gets injured badly in the accident. Then-"

"Peter goes to prison."

"Very good." He added Sara injured and Peter imprisoned under A and B. "Peter ends up in prison for two years."

"Two years for a first-time drunk driving offense?"

"Mr. Sidle had him charged with more than that. He said Peter stole his car, kidnapped Sara - because he hadn't asked permission to take her out driving, contributed to the delinquency of a minor by having her miss school, the whole nine yards." He shook his head, and drew a number two a bit lower. "Which brings us to number two."

"Which is?"

"Well," he said, "Who was the next person Sara loved?"

"You?"

He laughed. "Nah, we were friends, but I'm talking love here."

"Her father?"

"Yup." He wrote Mr. Sidle next to the two, then added an A and B underneath it. "And what happened there?"

"His wife killed him."

Terry shook his head patiently. I could see how he'd become a teacher. "What happened first, when Sara was young?"

"He, uh," I swallowed. "Her father beat her."

He nodded. "So next to the A, we've got Sara injured, and next to the B, we've got Mr. Sidle killed."

"Okay."

"So at this point, Sara's loved two people in her life. Her brother and her father. In both cases, she got injured in some way because of them, and then terrible things happened to the people she loved." He drew a three near the bottom of the page. "Next person Sara loved?"

I searched my brain, trying to remember any tales of serious boyfriends from Sara's past. I sat there thinking for so long that I didn't notice that Terry was writing again.

"Number three," he read aloud. "Gil."

I looked up, startled. "Me?"

"You."

"But there has to have been..." I broke off, unable to finish. It had never really occurred to me that, other than her family, I was the only person Sara had loved. My heart ached.

Terry added an A and a B underneath my name. "Sara gets kidnapped," he continued, "and left for dead in the desert." Next to the A, he wrote in, Sara injured.

"And in a way, it was my fault," I supplied, staring at the paper. "So then... she thinks if she stays with me, then something horrible will happen to me?"

He circled the B. "Rule of threes, Mr. Grissom. Only I think Sara didn't want to risk proving the pattern, so she left before the curse could come upon you."

"But we were together for well over a year before she was kidnapped," I objected. "I mean, at some point everybody gets injured. Why assume that it's related to some sort of curse?"

"Had anything changed in your relationship before the kidnapping?" he asked.

"Uh... yeah, actually. We'd just gotten engaged." Sighing deeply, I ran my fingers through my hair. "Okay. So... okay. She thinks she's cursed, and she's trying to save me. So why come here? Why take a bus all the way to Tomales Bay and visit her old house?"

Terry looked up, pondering. "Maybe she's trying to break the curse. Or disprove it altogether."

"But how? I mean, obviously she's not cursed. But how could she know that for sure?"

We sat in an uneasy silence, both deep in thought. Only when my cell phone rang did I move, jumping up to retrieve it. "Hello?"

"Is Gil Grissom available?" The voice sounded unfamiliar.

"This is he."

"Mr. Grissom, I'm Sgt. Schumer from the San Francisco Police Department."

Oh god. Oh god, they'd found her body. I was too late. "Um..." I managed weakly.

"I just got a call from Greg Sanders-"

"Greg..."

"Sanders, yeah. He and I were roommates together, back at Stanford. He said that the computers are down at your lab, and he needed me to try and trace an ISP number."

"Oh." I took a deep breath. "Yes. I'll read the number to you."

"No, it's okay, he texted it to me," he said, sounding hesitant. "It's just... the results aren't good, and I wanted to avoid telling them to Greg. I know this missing woman is a good friend of his, so I figured I'd break the bad news to his supervisor instead."

I sat back down heavily. "Bad... wait, what?"

"Well, I ran the number," Sgt. Schumer continued, "and the email was sent from the home of an ex-convict in Oakland. One with a prior record for kidnapping. If you want, I can send some uniforms over and-"

"No," I said, my mind racing. I looked over at Terry. "Just give me the address, please."

"Sure, he's at 5331 Holmes Avenue."

Taking the pen out of Terry's grasp, I scribbled down the address, along with a note: To disprove the curse, disprove that one has been cursed. Terry looked at the note, frowning.

"Thanks for your help, Sgt. Schumer," I said, checking my watch.

"Wait, don't you want the ex-con's name?"

"I already know it," I said, watching as understanding dawned in Terry's eyes. "Peter Sidle."