Chapter 9

CHAPTER

9

JESSICA

Christmas Break 1998

I HAD BEEN home for over three weeks and I was losing my mind.

If it weren't for my little sister, I would have driven back to campus already. Or walked. Or run. Anything to get me away from here.

I lay on my bed, listening to music, staring at the ceiling. I took a drink from the bottle of vodka I had snuck from my parents' liquor cabinet. But not even the alcohol could numb the restless need to flee.

Nothing in my room had changed since I had left for college, yet things felt different. The walls were the same, the furniture the same, yet I wasn't.

I had changed.

More than my family could, or would, ever realize.

There was a knock at the door and I sat up, screwing the lid on the vodka bottle and shoving it beneath my pillow. I popped a mint in my mouth and put on a sweet smile, knowing that's what my parents would expect to see. The familiar smile of their eldest child—smart, capable, responsible.

A smile drowning in insincerity.

"Jessica, we need to talk." Mom opened the door and came inside without waiting for me to answer. I realized she never waited. She was always pushing. Always invading. My space was her space.

She was beautiful. Carefully put together and effortlessly stylish. People said we looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. I knew she loved that, even if it made me feel uncomfortable. She would loop her arm through mine and say we were a couple of girlfriends. I would laugh with her, all the while my chest constricting so tightly I could hardly breathe.

I never wanted her to be my friend. I had enough of those.

I wanted her to be someone I could talk to, someone who wouldn't judge me. Someone I could trust to protect me from the bad stuff.

But I didn't get that with Cara Fadley and I never would.

Mom sat down on my bed, holding out a copy of the local paper, pointing to the front page. "Did you know about this?"

I read the headline, my stomach dropping.

Another Girl Missing at Local College.

"It's nothing, Mom—"

"I don't think you should go back. Not with this going on." Her voice rose in pitch as her hysteria mounted.

I had been walking on tenterhooks since coming home, waiting—and dreading—this very moment. When Mom's overprotective tendencies swooped in and threatened to smother me completely.

Mom wasn't one for the news. She preferred glossy fashion magazines and daytime soap operas. She didn't typically know about national stories until months later. She and Dad's conversations usually revolved around Lindsey and me and little else.

"You can't keep me here," I said with a note of panic.

Mom's lovely face darkened. "I most certainly can, Jessica. Especially if I think you're not safe."

No, no, no …

"The whole thing has been blown out of proportion. The school believes those girls left on their own. Sure, it looks bad, but it's not anything to be worried about." I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. "Plus, I can't exactly get a degree if I'm here, can I? Isn't that what you want for me? Isn't that why I'm in school?"

I knew all the right buttons to push when it came to ensuring my mother's compliance. I had learned long ago how to play the game—and win.

I saw it. The moment she let parental concern go, replacing it with her need for predictable contentment. Mom was big on not rocking the boat.

"You're right. But if you ever feel like campus isn't safe, you need to come home immediately." She folded the newspaper and dropped it in the trash can, the alarming article already forgotten.

"Where's Dad?" I asked, changing the subject.

Mom lifted her shoulder in a shrug. "Working late. He has an open house across town at six."

I hadn't seen much of my father since I'd been home. He was always busy at the real estate agency. He put in long hours and late nights. This was new for him. He had always been a family man, spending as much time as possible with Mom and especially me.

So, why did I feel as if he was busier since I had been home? I got the sense he didn't want to see me—didn't want to be around me. And that hurt. Particularly since that's not how things had ever been before.

Mom stood up and walked around my room, opening my jewelry box, rearranging the pictures on my dresser. Her hands were all over my things, moving them around to suit her taste. My room was as much a reflection of her as it was of me. She forced a dynamic that would never, ever exist between us. We weren't close. Not in the way she wanted. I couldn't help that I had never felt that intimacy with her that came so easily in my relationship with Dad. She was horrible at hiding her jealousy.

I loved my mother, but it was an obligatory love. And its shallowness sometimes hurt as much as my father's deep affection.

"You know, you still haven't told me your grades. I tried calling the school for a report, but they wouldn't give them to me." Mom sounded frustrated and I was mortified by her intrusion. "Your father and I pay for your schooling, we're entitled to know how you're doing." The change in tactics was instantaneous but expected. When she got tired of playing best friend, she tried her hand at strict parent. She switched and discarded her roles so fast it was hard to keep up. She was always trying to find a way into my inner circle. Poking and prodding, looking for weaknesses. She never found them.

"It probably has to do with the whole I'm an adult thing ," I muttered, shocking both of us.

Mom's eyes narrowed. "What's gotten into you lately, Jessica? I don't think I like this new attitude you've come home with. Since when do you keep secrets from your parents?"

We had a silent standoff. Her demanding me to open up and me refusing to do so. At one time I would have given in, at least a little. Fed her scraps to appease her. But I couldn't be bothered to play the part any longer. I was tired. So, so tired.

"I'm doing fine," I lied. "All As and Bs." The truth was I was struggling for the first time in my academic career. I had scraped by with low Cs and a few Ds. And I failed Intro to English. I was looking into auditing a class next semester to try and get enough credits to ensure I could move on to sophomore year. But I couldn't tell her that. She would yank me out of Southern State so fast my head would spin. And I couldn't leave. Not now.

"Your father and I will want to see the grades for ourselves," Mom stated, and I had to suppress a sigh, purposefully not looking at my bookbag where I had put a printout of the very grades my mom was asking about.

"I'll send them to you when I get back to school." Another lie. I had no intention of sharing my grades with her and Dad. I needed to hide the grade slip as soon as she left.

"Did you bring home your books so you can study? I haven't seen you do any work over break." Mom unzipped my bookbag and I sucked in a breath, waiting for her to find the paper I had stashed away. I practically sagged in relief when she pulled out my school textbooks.

"Good. This will give you something to do this afternoon instead of lazing around." She patted my cheek. "I only want to see you succeed, darling."

"Jessie, will you play Barbies with me?" Lindsey came running into the room, her brown hair a mess of tangles. She had what looked like a smudge of ketchup across her cheek from lunch. She launched herself at me and we collapsed onto my bed in a fit of giggles.

"Lindsey-Bug, be careful," Mom fretted, lifting my little sister off the bed.

"It's okay. I like being her landing pad," I laughed, lightly pinching Lindsey's nose.

"You shouldn't encourage that kind of behavior, Jessica. She's likely to hurt herself." Mom sniffed with an air of disapproval. But she was all sweet smiles when she turned to my baby sister. "Lindsey-Bug, would you like me to make you Mommy's special hot chocolate?"

Lindsey's eyes widened and she nodded emphatically. "Yes, Mommy." Then she held her hand out to me. "Come on, Jessie, have some hot chocolate with me."

I started to stand up, smiling at my sister, but then Mom stepped between us. "Not today, Lindsey-Bug, Jessica has studying to do."

Mom took Lindsey's hand and started to lead her from the room. She looked back at me over her shoulder. "Remember what Albert Einstein said, once you stop learning, you start dying. Get to work. You'll thank me later." She looked pointedly at the books on my desk.

I didn't bother to say anything. What would be the point?

After she left, I jumped up and dug out the grade slip I had picked up from the registrar's office before coming home in December. I looked at the list of classes and the corresponding grades.

I was close to blowing it. If I didn't get my crap together, I would flunk out of college. What would Mom say to that? How would my mother survive the complete annihilation of all her hopes and expectations?

I should have felt worried. I should have felt guilty. I should have felt anything other than a complete and total emptiness. It was hard to care about something that was quickly becoming less and less important.

I crumpled the paper in my hand, but instead of throwing it away, I hurried to my closet, pushing my clothes aside, revealing the tiny, barely visible cut out in the drywall I had made when I was twelve and wanted to hide candy from my health-conscious mother.

I popped it open and shoved my grades into the cavity on top of a few pictures I had already placed there when I got home. Photographs of a Jessica that my mother would never approve of, yet I wanted to remember all the same.

I pulled the ring from my father out of my pocket and thought about putting it in the wall. Leaving it there with all the other things I didn't want discovered. I hadn't been wearing it on my finger, yet I continued to carry it in my pocket. Unwilling to let go of the memory of how things used to be.

But I couldn't do it. I gritted my teeth and jammed it back in my pocket. Looking at it enraged me. It filled me with an acidic anger that incinerated everything in its wake. But I couldn't part with it—not yet.

I put the piece of dry wall back and shoved a pile of old books in front of it to hide it from my mother's prying eyes. Satisfied, I left the closet and closed the door. Figuring I'd make an effort to do what my mother expected, I sat down at my desk, opened a book, and pretended to study.

I woke up with a start. The phone on my bedside table was ringing. I wiped drool from my chin and sat up, grabbing the receiver before my mom could answer it.

"Hello?"

I looked tiredly at the open text book I had been using as a pillow.

"Jess! Oh my god, I miss you so much!" My roommate's shrill voice rang in my ear.

"Hey, Daisy, how are you?" I had spoken to Daisy a few times since being home. She seemed to have gotten over the momentary weirdness resulting from our almost-disagreement in the Commons. She carefully avoided mentioning Tammy and Phoebe or any of her paranoid suspicions. It had become a topic we resolutely didn't talk about. And I appreciated it. I valued Daisy's friendship. The last thing I wanted was to alienate her.

"Ugh, I'm so ready to get back to school. My parents are driving me nuts," she complained. I could hear kids screaming in the background, people laughing, glasses tinkling.

"Sounds like you're in the middle of a party," I laughed.

"No, that's how my house sounds all the time. Being the oldest of five kids means not having a moment's peace, ever. Hang on a sec." I could hear the sound of fabric rustling then a door closing. "Okay, I've hidden in the pantry. I should have all of three minutes before one of my demon siblings comes looking for me—or a snack."

"I'm guessing your Christmas break hasn't been very relaxing," I surmised.

"Are you kidding me? My aunt and uncle decided to visit from New Mexico, and they brought their two year old twins. Our house is cramped enough without adding that chaos. Then my grandparents flew in from Guadeloupe, so I was kicked out of my room and have been forced to sleep on the couch." Daisy sounded perturbed.

I couldn't imagine having such a large family. Both of my parents were only children, so I had never had cousins to play with. My mom's dad passed away before I was born and her mom not long after my first birthday. Dad's parents lived on the other side of town. We saw them occasionally, but they were the kind of people that mostly kept to themselves. They weren't particularly interested in being grandparents. So, it had only ever been Mom, Dad, and me until Lindsey was born.

"Please tell me you've been doing something fun while you've been home. Or someone ?" I could practically hear her raising her eyebrows.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Daisy, but all I've been doing is sleeping and eating too much food. Though there's been a wild game of Monopoly or two."

"I suppose there's not much to do in good ol' Mt. Randall," Daisy commiserated. "But girl, do yourself a favor and get out of your house. Too much family time isn't good for anybody. But—"

"What?"

"Just be careful, okay."

I wanted to scream.

"Daisy …"

"I know, I know. I have to say it. I know you think I'm being ridiculous." This time her laughter was full of forced cheer that was painful to listen to.

I didn't know what to say.

"Have you heard from that cute frat pledge you were drooling over before we left?" Her change of subject was welcome, even if it was to grill me about Ryan.

"He said he'd call me when we're back on campus," I told her. I felt myself flushing as I remembered the way he'd looked at me.

"Okay, well, I asked around about him—"

"Daisy, seriously?" I groaned, cringing in mortification, but still eager for any information she had on him.

"Of course I did. I had to vet out the guy you seem interested in. That's what us gals have to do for each other. Anyway, it seems like he's a popular guy, if you know what I mean. His pledge nickname is Wam Bam McKay, and that's not all," Daisy cautioned.

"What is it?" Did I really want to know? I liked putting my head in the sand. It was safe there in the dark.

"Apparently he has a temper. Erica says—"

"Oh God," I groaned. "Are you really taking anything Miss Shit Stirrer says seriously?"

"This is legit, Jess. Don't be so dismissive. Because it's common knowledge that Ryan has a rage button. Erica's been hooking up with Dave Wendle for weeks and he's also a Sigma Kappa pledge. Anyway, he says everyone knows to give Ryan a wide berth if something pisses him off. He told Erica that Ryan punched a hole in the wall after his favorite football team lost a big game. So be careful, okay?"

"So, he hit a wall. That doesn't mean—"

"Jess, a man that can destroy things can just as easily destroy you . That's all I'm saying."

"Okay, I get it." I didn't like the unsettled feeling the information gave me. And I hated the crushing disappointment that another man wasn't who he pretended to be.

"Anyway, Ryan seems okay, maybe not serious dating material, though. So, be careful if you do get up close and personal with him. A guy like that isn't worth ruining a good time for."

"Says the woman whose whole life is a good time," I joked good-naturedly.

"That's very true. Though I've seen you at the last couple of keggers. You're clearly vying for my flirty, party girl crown."

"I will never dethrone you, that's for sure." We both laughed.

"You won't be missing out on anything if you decide to forget about Ryan," Daisy went on. "Plus, it would probably be a little weird being with a guy who's been with not only Tammy but Phoebe, too."

My heart stuttered and the smile fell. "What?"

"Oh yeah. From what I heard, he hooked up with Tammy during the first week of school. And according to Dave, Ryan dated Phoebe in high school. And then there's the fact that he went around bad-mouthing Tammy, calling her a cocktease. Real classy. Sounds like Wam Bam McKay doesn't like a woman with agency. It seriously irritates me that his piggish behavior is forcing me to defend Tight Ass Tammy."

"He dated Tammy and Phoebe?" I asked, my voice shaky. The thought of him with both of them made me ill.

"Well, maybe dated is too strong a word. All I know is he was involved with both of them. I wonder what he has to say about them being missing?" Daisy pondered, her voice taking on that terrified edge that had become familiar.

"I guess we have some things to talk about when we get back to school," I finally said, sounding hoarse.

"Yeah, it sounds like you do." I heard a door opening on the other end of the line and Daisy shouting at someone to leave.

"Daisy?"

A few seconds later she came back. "Sorry, Jess, I've gotta go. My brother needs to use the phone."

She hung up before I could say goodbye.

I put the phone back on the cradle.

I could hear my mom and Lindsey singing along to a Britney Spears song downstairs. They sounded like they were having fun. I wished I could sit with my sister, drink my mother's hot chocolate, and forget everything.

But I couldn't. And that was a problem.

Daisy was right, I needed to get out of my house.

I decided to walk downtown instead of driving. It only took ten minutes and I enjoyed the cold air on my flushed skin.

Ryan had been involved with both Tammy and Phoebe. What were the odds?

A deep-rooted instinct wanted me to forget about him. Getting involved with a guy who had anything to do with either woman wasn't a great idea.

But then I remembered his smile and how I had felt when he kissed me, and for some inexplicable reason, I lost all sense.

Mom had asked me a dozen questions before I left the house. Lindsey had begged to come along. It had been difficult to extract myself, but I needed to be alone. I needed space.

I needed to breathe.

If Daisy could see me walking by myself, she would have a fit. She didn't understand that I had nothing to fear from Mt. Randall's streets.

Most of the houses were still lit up for Christmas, though it was now the first week of January. I knew no one would bother taking them down until the days became warmer. Mt. Randall held onto every holiday with an iron grip.

I smiled at the bright, seemingly random mailboxes that lined the sidewalk. The mailboxes were one of the more peculiar things about my hometown. There were no regular wooden or metal boxes for the homes in our tiny corner of North Carolina. Every person took it upon themselves to upstage their neighbors. The Wilsons on Partridge Drive had one in the shape of Godzilla. The Mercers on Dandelion Park had a green elephant. None were the same. All were strange enough to make you look twice.

I remembered picking out our own mailbox when I was no more than four. I had insisted on a bright red barn with a purple roof. Mom had wanted a more sedate black and white cow, but Dad had sided with me, as he had always done. So the tiny red barn had been sitting nailed to the thick wood stake at the bottom of our driveway for the past fourteen years.

The quiet, maple-lined streets eventually gave way to the main drag. The Dollar Store was the busiest spot in town, which wasn't saying much. With the college on winter break, the place felt empty. The town survived on the commerce generated by Southern State, and they hated that reliance.

It wasn't as if the college kids were particularly rowdy. They— we — kept to the top of the hill. But people complained about them— us —all the same. Growing up, I had heard the criticism and accusations thrown in the school's direction. Grumbling about Southern State was a Mt. Randall pastime in which almost everyone partook.

Yet one couldn't exist without the other.

My stomach growled and I realized I hadn't eaten since that morning. Checking the time on my watch I saw it was after four. Even though I knew Mom would be annoyed if I ate so close to dinner, I headed toward the Sunset Cafe.

I sat at the counter, not wanting to take up a whole booth for only myself. I picked up a menu and waited to place my order.

"Hi, Jessica. How's it going?"

A plain girl with long, brown hair tied back in a low ponytail approached me. She wore a stained apron and a tired smile.

"Not bad, Bianca. How are you?"

"Ah, you know, doing the Mt. Randall thing until I die." She laughed and then I laughed, though it was clear neither of us found it particularly funny.

Bianca Simmons and I had graduated high school together. We were two out of the eighty-five kids who had all grown up on the same streets and graduated the same year. Bianca and I weren't exactly friends, but we knew each other well.

"How's college life?" Bianca asked with a note of envy.

"College is good," I told her.

"You go up there, right?" She inclined her head in the direction of Southern State, its brick buildings visible for miles.

"I do."

"Strange about those girls, huh." Bianca chewed on her bottom lip, the skin cracked and peeling. "I was reading about it in the paper this morning. Two girls in two months. That's something."

"I don't really know anything—"

"What's that school doing to find them?" An elderly man spoke up from further down the counter, turning in his chair to face me. I recognized Mr. Warner from when he owned the old hardware store. Dad took me there several times over the years to get parts for our paddleboat. The store closed after he retired. Yet despite the nearest hardware store now being a thirty-minute drive away, no one had opened another one. That's what happened in towns like Mt. Randall. Places closed and stayed closed.

I shrugged, feeling a familiar kind of restless defensiveness. "I'm not exactly sure. I'm only a student."

Mr. Warner made a noise of derision. "Those kids are ruining our town," he muttered under his breath.

"At least they're not Mt. Randall girls or anything," Bianca remarked dismissively. As if they mattered less because of it.

Mr. Warner grunted in agreement.

"No, not Mt. Randall girls," I parroted. I didn't know what else to say. Bianca had already lost interest in the fate of Tammy and Phoebe and moved on to taking my order—a slice of sweet potato pie and a coffee.

Bianca and Mr. Warner didn't particularly care about Phoebe or Tammy. Neither did any of the others born and bred here.

Two missing college girls—girls from other places—didn't really impact them at all. Though if students stopped enrolling because their parents thought this place was too dangerous, the town would slowly wither and die. Without the financial help from "those kids ruining the town," Mt. Randall would lose what little life it had. And it was already struggling.

I stared out the window as I waited for my food. I never ventured far from these safe and familiar roads. I wondered, deep down, if I'd ever escape. If I'd ever build a life outside of Mt. Randall. I felt destined to remain. Forever a part of the dirt and trees. Maybe that's all I deserved.

I watched the entrance of the old movie theater across the street. The marquee was lit up, showcasing that week's feature—the original Planet of the Apes . It was one of my dad's favorites. I remembered watching it with him when I was a kid. I thought about asking him to go see it again. It would be like old times, before everything got so messed up. Before things got so warped and twisted between us. Missing my father was like a physical ache that never went away. But I held on to the pain as a reminder of him and what we used to have.

"Milk Duds, too, Dad," I insisted, standing beside my father as he put in our order for a large bucket of buttered popcorn.

"Can I get two boxes of Milk Duds? Oh, and a large Dr. Pepper," he added, giving me a smile.

Once we had our food we made our way to the theater. There were only three screens, the largest was currently showing a matinee of the original Planet of the Apes.

"We should go see it," Dad suggested when he saw it listed in the paper earlier in the week. "It was my favorite when I was your age."

"I don't know. It looks kind of scary." I sounded hesitant and unsure. At eleven, my favorite movie was Hook, followed by The Little Mermaid. I hadn't yet graduated to more mature media.

"It's not scary, I promise." He had tussled my hair and gave me a hug. And I believed him. He never lied to me.

We sat down in our seats. I wanted the middle row, right in front of the screen, so that's where we sat. Dad handed me the Milk Duds, making a face when I poured them into the bucket of popcorn.

"Gross, Jess." Dad stuck out his tongue and I giggled.

"Trust me, it's so good." I handed him the bucket and he took a mouthful.

"Hmm, not bad." He grabbed some more.

I pulled the bucket back. "Hey, save some for the movie."

We both laughed. Dad leaned over and kissed my temple. "This is great. My favorite movie with my favorite girl."

Then the lights went down and I was entranced. Planet of the Apes became my favorite movie, too.

As I stared, the doors opened and two people came out.

My mouth went dry. My heart began to race. Bitter tears stung my eyes.

I stood up and walked toward the door feeling numb.

"What about your coffee and pie?' Bianca called out. I didn't answer. I stepped outside. Nighttime was quickly approaching. The old streetlights flickered on.

I watched the older man and young woman hurry from the movie theater and quickly dart around the side of the building toward the cut-through that led to Beacon Road. The woman's coquettish giggles called out to me.

Without a moment's pause, I jogged after them.

No. He promised …

I wanted to stop and turn around. Go back to the cafe and eat my pie. Pretend I never saw anything.

Indignation, however, insisted I keep going.

I slipped down the narrow, dimly lit passageway that reeked of trash. I could hear the girl's breathless laughter. She sounded like a child. Probably because she practically was.

"Ben, we can't," I heard her say, though I could tell she didn't mean it. It was only the teasing protests of flirtation.

I kept my distance, far enough that they didn't see me. But close enough that I saw everything.

My hands became fists at my side.

My father—my beloved, doting father—pushed the girl against the brick wall, his hands sliding up her shirt. Her fingers were in his hair. Their mouths were fused together as if they couldn't get enough.

I heard her moan as his lips traveled the length of her neck. Her head fell back, her bright, blonde hair—the complete opposite of my mother's dark brown—fell over her shoulders, her eyes closed.

I recognized her. We went to school together, though she was a year behind me. She must be a senior now. No more than seventeen. Maybe eighteen.

Too young to be making out with my forty-two year old father in a dirty alleyway behind the local movie theater.

I took a step toward them, my foot accidentally kicking a can that clattered along the ground. It was loud in the oppressive silence.

They both looked up, startled. The girl fixed her tight-fitting sweater, smoothing her hair back from her face. She barely looked at me, instead grabbing my father's hand, pulling him away.

But not before he saw me. Our eyes met and there was a flash of anger. A hint of shame.

This wasn't the first time I found him like this. There had been so many of them. Too many. So, I knew this girl didn't matter to him. None of them ever did.

I walked into the fire escape, the door closing loudly behind me. I carried two empty boxes, taking them out to the trash. I was finally all moved into my dorm. I was exhausted and nervous, but excited, too. I could hear whispers further down the stairwell.

I had left Mom and Lindsey talking to my new roommate and her parents. Dad had gone to get us drinks a while ago and hadn't come back yet.

I wondered where he was.

My feet hit the bottom step and I could see two people tucked away in the shadow of the staircase. The man leaned in close toward the young girl, speaking softly in her ear. She looked nervous, but excited, her pale cheeks flushed. I had seen her earlier carrying a suitcase, a man and a woman who must be her parents right behind her. The man had been yelling at his wife, who appeared skittish and uncomfortable. Their daughter had either been oblivious to the familial discord or so used to it that she blocked it out.

I recognized the red-checkered shirt the man was wearing. And the perfectly styled brown hair.

I watched as he took the girl's hand, pulling her toward him. She tilted her face up to look up at him. She was pretty. They always were. He wouldn't bother with them if they weren't.

I felt sick watching them.

Not here. Not today.

I coughed loudly. My dad dropped the girl's hand. She looked like a deer in headlights. Without a word, she scrambled away, hurrying out the door and onto the quad.

Then it was just Dad and me.

"You promised." It was an accusation.

What if Mom had seen? Or Lindsey? Or anyone?

But that was part of the thrill for a man like my father. I got that now. It wasn't worth it if it wasn't dangerous.

"Jess." He said my name sadly. As if I didn't understand. As if I were the problem. As if I were a child, and not the same age as the young woman he was just flirting with.

"You promised," I repeated. I dropped the empty boxes and ran back up the stairs.

I stood there for a long time after they left.

I hated him. More than I thought it possible to hate anyone.

I loved him. More than I thought it possible to love anyone.

And then I cried. Because it was the only thing I could do.

Mt. Randall Police Department Press Conference Regarding the disappearances of Tammy Estep and Phoebe Baker

January 15, 1999 10:15 AM

"Good morning. My name is Sergeant Liam O'Neil with the Mt. Randall police department. I want to start by thanking everyone for being here and to thank the Mt. Randall Baptist Church for allowing us to use their facility. I'm going to provide you an update on the recent disappearances of two women who both attend Southern State University. I know there are a lot of rumors and speculation going around, and I wanted to make sure you have the facts to put these stories to bed. It's true that on December 11 a missing person's report was filed for Phoebe Baker from Leonard's Creek, North Carolina, a freshman at Southern State University. She was last seen on December 6 by her roommate at Marion Hall on campus. My team has interviewed a number of her friends and acquaintances and have determined that, at this time, there is no evidence of foul play. It is highly probable Phoebe left of her own volition. Tammy Estep, a junior from Baltimore, Maryland, was last seen on November 12. It is important to note at this time that Tammy's disappearance is not being treated as a missing person's case, as neither her parents, nor anyone else, have formally made a report. It is believed that, like Phoebe, Tammy voluntarily left the school—again, there is no indication of foul play. Despite the lack of evidence, we at the Mt. Randall Police Department are using a methodical and committed approach to locating both girls in order to put their family and friends at ease. Because of this, we feel there is no danger to the greater community. These appear to be isolated incidents. That means there's no reason to believe a third party was involved at all, despite the talk going around to the contrary. The staff at Southern State University, particularly President Bradley Hamilton, have been working closely with our team to best support Phoebe's family. If you have any information regarding either Tammy's or Phoebe's whereabouts, please contact the Mt. Randall Police Department. I will not be taking questions at this time. Thank you."