“We’re missionaries,” said Ellen, “spreading the word of Christ. Fred is actually an ordained minister.”
“That’s great. So, New Zealand?”
She said, “It may seem like an odd choice, but nearly half the people there follow no religion at all. Particularly the young people, which means their children will grow up without God in their lives. And while most Australians who practice a religion follow Christianity, the fastest-growing faiths down there are Hinduism and Sikhism.” She frowned at this.
Devine looked at Fred, who was staring at his wife. “Now, those are fine religions, Ellen. Lots of people believe that way. I’m just glad they’re practicing a faith. They have their god and we have ours.”
“My husband and I disagree on some things,” said Ellen graciously. “But we find common ground where we can.”
“I hear that most successful marriages do,” opined Devine, glancing at Fred before looking back at Ellen.
“We just came back from . . . ” She eyed her husband.
He finished for her. “The . . . morgue.”
“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”
“I suppose you just assumed we were her parents?” said Fred, obviously trying to move on from certain images probably gripping all of them.
“Partly, but I see some of Sara in each of you. Though she was taller.”
“My father and brother,” said Ellen with a sad smile. “They’re both six four. Sara took after them in the height department.”
He hunched forward, deciding to just go for it. “Have the police been by? Are they keeping you informed of everything?”
“They were here when we arrived last night,” said Fred. “They were already searching her things. I guess they’d do that with anyone, regardless of how she . . . But now, but now that they know she didn’t . . . That somebody . . .”
“Right. Sure. I guess they have to do all that. Get her electronic devices, diaries, whatever might help them find out who did this.”
Fred nodded in agreement. “Yes, they took all of those things. At least the ones that were here. And they looked everywhere, very thorough, dusted for fingerprints, that sort of thing. They were pretty much done when we arrived, so they said we could stay here while we’re in town.” He looked around. “She didn’t have this place when we moved to New Zealand. She had that little apartment . . . where again, Ellen?”
“Tribeca.”
“Right, Tribeca. Now she’s out here in Brooklyn. I thought that used to be a bad area.”
Devine said, “It’s a lot better than it was decades ago. And consequently the real estate has gotten really pricey.”
“Anyway, this is the first time we’ve seen Sara’s house. We haven’t been back until now, you see.” He paused, gumming his lips. “And now we are.”
Ellen just stared at the pinecones in the fireplace. She looked like she was puzzled as to why her daughter had not yet appeared and offered her coffee or tea or a hug.
“What play did you go see?” asked Ellen suddenly, her gaze back on him—unnervingly so, Devine thought.
“Waiting for Godot. Sara actually recommended it to a mutual friend of ours.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” said Ellen.
Fred said, “Any good?” He seemed to latch on to this line of conversation to escape, for at least a few seconds, what was crushing him.
“It definitely makes you think,” said Devine, who was also thinking that Ellen Ewes would hate it. “So I guess she never mentioned it to you?”
Fred shook his head. “We hadn’t heard from her in a while. When was it last, Ellen?”
“The problem is the time difference. Her night, our day thing. But it had been over a week. She’s our only child. Was our only child.”
She stopped talking and commenced quietly weeping.
Devine started to think all this had been a very bad idea. He rose and said, “I don’t want to intrude anymore. Again, I’m so sorry. And if there’s anything I can do while you’re in town.” He pulled out one of his cards with his direct business and cell phone numbers on it and handed it to Fred, who took it without looking at it.
Devine glanced at Ellen, who was once more staring at him with an intensity he couldn’t quite understand. “Sara did keep a diary, as you mentioned. But it’s not on the list the police gave us. They couldn’t find one. Yet she’d been keeping them since she was young.”