The Reappearance of Rachel Price

A leaf trailed into Bel’s eye. She rubbed it away, knocking elbows with Ash.

“Watch the camera,” he hissed, dodging a branch. They were hidden in the trees that lined Madison Avenue, opposite Grandpa’s squat white house. “What time is it?”

Bel checked her phone. “Eleven-oh-one. I told Rachel eleven-thirty. We won’t have long to set up.”

“We won’t need it.” Ash turned the camera, catching the nervous look on her face.

“Hurry up, Yordan,” she whispered, watching as Yordan finally got Grandpa into the passenger seat of the yellow car. He folded up the wheelchair and put it in the trunk, before climbing in himself. The engine started.

“Enjoy your walk, Grandpa,” Bel said as the car backed out, drove past them. “Let’s go.”

They crossed the empty street, Bel, camera, Ash. A darkened line before the front yard; a shadow from the telephone line overhead. They crossed that too, no going back.

Beside the steps to the front door was a wooden barrel of plastic flowers, and an ugly ceramic toad, holding a fishing rod.

Bel picked the toad up by his head; a small silver key waited there, in its dirty outline. She scooped it up. “Everyone knows Grandpa keeps the spare key under the toad, always has.”

She was counting on Rachel knowing that too.

“Budge,” she said, knocking Ash out of her way on the steps. She slotted the key into the front door and pushed it open. “Need to remember to put the key back before we leave.”

“Roger.”

“The toad’s called Barry, actually.” She walked ahead into the stifling, airless heat of Grandpa’s house. “Carter named him.”

“No, I meant …,” Ash began, falling for it. “You know what I meant.” Un-falling. “Fuck, it’s hot in here.”

He closed the door behind him, fumbling with the camera.

“This way.” Bel beckoned him down the hall and into the living room, even warmer somehow. “Yordan caught Rachel sneaking around in here, the living room,” she said for the camera’s sake. “Over by the fireplace.” Bel traced her steps that way, looking around, from the basket of logs beside it, to the TV stand, to the sideboard beneath the window on the far wall. “We need to know what she’s looking for. It’s important, I know it.”

She waited for Ash to join her across the room. She’d told him to dress incognito, which, for Ash, meant a thin yellow turtleneck and denim overalls. Like a Minion.

“Best place to put the camera is on the bookshelves.” Bel pointed to the double-framed bookshelf, hundreds of books piled sideways and up, in an order only Grandpa understood. Lots she recognized, from when he used to read to her. “She’s less likely to spot it there, right? Do you have the small camera?”

“Of course.” Ash dropped his backpack, unzipped it one-handed. “But has no one ever told you it’s rude to ask a guy about the size of his camera?”

Bel snorted, then regretted it, because Ash was smirking, too pleased with himself. “Hurry up,” she snapped instead. “Rachel was still at home when I left, but we have no idea when she’ll turn up.”

“Hurrying.” He pulled out a small black square with a tiny lens eye, trailing a black cable. All of it no bigger than his hand. “Small enough for you?”

“It’ll do.” She ironed out her face, taking it from him.

“For discreet filming, Ramsey said. Let’s set it up,” Ash said, placing the handheld camera on the coffee table to free his hands, still recording, pointed at them. “We need a plug.”

“There’s one behind the bookshelf, I think.”

Ash knelt down, pulled out a few hardbacks on the lowest shelf. “Here it is. Perfect, we can chase the cable behind all the books. Where shall we put the camera?”

He took it back from her without asking, fingers brushing hers.

“I am the camera assistant,” he explained, at the sour look on her face.

“And I am the brains.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Ash placed the camera on the second-highest shelf, about head height, tucked between two horizontal piles of books. The spines were dark, mostly black, and the camera blended right in, lost in their clutter. You’d only see it if you were looking for it. And Rachel wouldn’t be looking for it, she’d be looking for something else.

“Good?” Ash said, checking.

Bel nodded.

“I’ll just chase this wire down the back here.” His tongue between his teeth, concentrating.

“Like when you felt up my top the second time we met,” Bel said, trying to make him uncomfortable, because it was fun, and she needed a distraction from the knot in her gut.

“That’s not what happened,” he said coolly. “I’m far too awkward for that.”

“Played with my ass too.”

“Bel, I’m trying to concentrate,” he said, feeding the plug head down. “I’ll need the WiFi password to set it up. You go find that.”

Sending her away, because he couldn’t send himself.

“Found it,” she said, because she already knew where to look. On the TV stand was a piece of paper with Dad’s handwriting, double its usual size:

WiFi Password: PatPrice123

Bel stroked her finger across his words, something he had touched.

Ash replaced the books in front of the socket, standing back to admire the setup. “Pretty good spies, we are. The name’s Maddox, Ash Maddox.”

“The name’s Hurry the fuck up and turn it on.”

“All right, grumpy,” he said, voice pitching higher. “Shouldn’t speak to your spy-husband like that.”

“You bring it out in me, darling.” She gave him a sickly grin, still trying to push him away, even though there was a tiny part of her that no longer wanted to.

“Ah, because you’re so tough,” Ash said with a knowing look, pulling out an iPad. “Tough girl that eats feelings for breakfast.”

“And lunch,” she added.

“Children for dinner,” he said, voice deep and rolling.

Bel smirked but she didn’t like that; that Ash thought he knew her. Knew her well enough to know the thing that she did.

“Password?” He opened the settings on-screen.

“PatPrice123.”

He typed it in. “Hold on.”

He pressed a button on the small camera. It beeped, just once, no LED light to give it away.

“We’re connected,” he said, eyes down on the iPad screen, bringing it over so Bel could see.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, looking down at two people standing shoulder to shoulder, looking down at an iPad. One dressed like a Minion. The other with a secret smile.

Bel waved, the miniature version of her copying after a one-second delay.

“That’s us,” she said. You could see most of the living room, from the fireplace at the far end over to Grandpa’s armchair and the TV, the picture quality better than she’d hoped.

She glanced up from Ash on the screen to Ash just inches away, eyes circling his. “We’re going to catch her, aren’t we? Proof, on video. Ruin her documentary too.”

“Well.” Ash scratched his nose. “It’s not her documentary.”

“The Reappearance of Rachel Price?” she said, voice hardening, because Bel didn’t suffer fools, and Ash was definitely a fool.

“Oh thanks, I know what it’s called.” He smiled. “The documentary isn’t about Rachel. It’s about you.”

Bel blinked at him.

“Ramsey said he realized after your first interview that there was something about you. That actually, even after Rachel came back and everything changed, you were still the subject.”

“What do you mean?” Her gut tightened, forgetting about the knot.

“You’re the heart of it, Ramsey says, and he’s the expert.” Ash paused, biting his lip, looking at hers. “Your name might not be in the title, but the subject is the person who will be most changed by the story. Ramsey says that’s you.”

Bel’s heart thudded in the base of her throat, skin alive and electric with it, sparking where Ash’s arm brushed hers.

“Ew,” she said, trying to ruin it. She failed.

Bel’s eyes fell to the iPad, and she saw the way Ash looked at her, the soft curve of his open mouth, the slow burn in his eyes. Ridiculous, wasn’t he? On-screen, one of Ash’s hands floated toward her. Bel watched herself reach for the front of his overalls, pulling him in.

She looked up.

Their eyes met.

Then their lips.

Ash’s warm hand cupped the back of her neck, a different kind of shiver, one that moved down instead. Bel’s bottom lip slid between his, parting, like this was the easiest thing in the world. It didn’t feel pointless, it felt like everything had always been building to this, a glow that made her forget the knot ever existed. Ash’s nose bumped against hers, the hard corners of the iPad pushing against their bellies.

Bel pulled away first, eyes heavy, lips stung.

“Uh-oh,” Ash whispered, breath brushing against her cheek.

His voice brought her back into her skin, into this too-hot room, and Bel remembered how unguarded she was, how defenseless, how stupid. She wished for the knot to return and it did, hollowed her out.

“You’re right.” She stepped back, not looking at him. Why should she look at him? He would be leaving soon, leaving her behind. Caring was the stupidest thing she could do. And she didn’t care, trust her. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

Ash’s eyes clouded. “That’s not what I meant.”

Bel wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “I was just messing with you,” she said. “You know how we do. Mutual unpleasantness.”

“That wasn’t unpleasant for me.”

She stared him down.

“OK, Bel.” A weak, one-sided smile, eyes drawn. “You’re right. I find you thoroughly unpleasant, but I have to put up with you because it’s a job and I’m helping my brother-in-law.”

“Good.” That was better, much better. “We should go outside; Rachel could be here any minute.”

Ash tucked the iPad under one arm, shouldered his backpack and picked up the camera. Bel could offer to carry something, but she was trying to be unpleasant, to undo what they’d just done. Besides, he was the camera assistant. And Bel was the heart, which was stupid now she was thinking with a clear head. Ramsey was wrong; she wasn’t going to be the one to change. In fact, if Bel had her way, everything would go back to the way it was before these cameras showed up. Rachel gone, just Bel and Dad, the way it was supposed to be. He’ll see.

Bel closed the front door and followed Ash down the steps, circling around to replace the key under the ceramic toad. Ready for Rachel.

They crossed the road again, scrambling through the bushes and trees that lined the other side, under the constant hiss of cars from Main Street.

Ash dropped his backpack when they’d clambered in far enough.

“Can you hold the iPad?” he said, not making eye contact, passing it over. “So I can record you watching it?”

“Sure, I’m the heart,” she said, no eye contact either.

The screen showed the empty living room, waiting. Bel and Ash must be there somewhere, tiny and hidden, through the pixelated wall of green out the front window.

“What’s the time?” Ash asked.

Bel checked the top of the screen. “Twenty-nine past. Lucky we didn’t waste any more time,” she said, another stab, and Ash staggered back.

Her eyes flicked from the image of the living room to the time in the upper corner, counting the minutes on.

“She’s going to turn up, I know it.”

Eleven-thirty.

The knot spiraled, eating away at her. Was she wrong? She couldn’t be wrong, come on, Rachel.

Eleven-thirty-one, and a shushing sound of tires peeled toward them, breaking away from Main Street. Ash breathed in and Bel breathed out.

Please don’t be Grandpa and Yordan, she thought, hoping she didn’t see bright yellow through the leaves.

She didn’t.

She saw silver. A silver Ford Escape, with mean eyes for headlights.

The fuzzy shape of Rachel behind the wheel.

Yes.

Bel and Ash exchanged a look, a wicked smile she didn’t share with him.

“Guess you know her pretty well,” Ash said, and Bel couldn’t tell if he was trying to be unkind back.

Rachel parked, two wheels on the grass in front of Grandpa’s house.

Ash turned the camera, zooming to capture Rachel as she stepped out of the car and closed the door.

Bel strained her eyes, heart pulsating behind them.

Rachel approached the house, not checking over her shoulder, acting like she belonged. She dipped around the handrail, toward the ceramic toad. She bent down, out of view, blocked by the silver car, but when she straightened up, her hand was curled around something small.

“She has the key,” Ash whispered. “Well done, Barry.”

Rachel took the steps up two at a time, slotting the key in and pushing the front door open. She snaked around and shut it behind her, the noise not reaching them across the street.

“She’s in.” Bel dropped her eyes to the iPad instead, tilting it so Ash and the handheld camera could see.

The empty living room.

Bel counted ten seconds until Rachel appeared in the frame, walking past Grandpa’s leather armchair.

She paused there, reaching up to tie her hair into a ponytail, opening her collar.

She started moving again, beyond the sofa.

“What do you want in there, Rachel?” Bel asked her through the screen. A feeling deep down that whatever it was might be the beginning of the end for Rachel. For all of them.

Rachel grew larger on the screen as she walked toward the camera.

Right toward the camera.

Her face and eyes turning, fixing that way.

“Fuck, she hasn’t …,” Ash began.

Rachel paused, one hand in the air. She moved another step closer, head tilting as she stared right at them, through the hidden camera. Eyes locking on.

“Fuck, she has,” Bel replied, a shiver as she and Rachel stared at each other through the screen. No, no, no. How could she have spotted it so soon? It was well hidden.

Rachel frowned, her face engulfed by her hand as it grew monstrously large, reaching out for the small camera. Covering the lens with the glowy pink of flesh, taking over the screen.

The view tipped up into blackness, the dark underside of the shelf above.

She’d found it. It was already over.