“Sure. But I thought you wanted to try and finish your painting today.”
“It’ll wait,” I said distractedly.
“Do you think you need to see a doctor?”
“A doctor?” I asked her in blank non-comprehension. “No… no, I was wondering if you could take me to the library. In Carson City?”
The roaring in my ears had grown louder.
Suddenly, it was if I’d been transported in time back to that evening I’d gone to
meet Evan for dinner in San Francisco, determined to break up with him because I knew there was something not right, something unnatural about our relationship.
I needed to face facts. I’d suspected that Evan was keeping things from me. Things about Elizabeth, perhaps. Things about his past with her… his heartbreak about the breakdown of their marriage, and her disappearance and death. It struck me as I stood there that I’d partially been responsible for his silence. I understood his suffering at the loss of a wife, or at least I thought I did. But the thought of hearing him elaborate on his grief pained me.
But this was different. He’d brought me here, knowing full well that the Madasters lived in the South Twin. Why would he do such a thing? I was being left in the dark, like the naïve, helpless ingénue he seemed to imagine I was. The Internet had been unhelpful.
The only way I was going to get any answers as to the mystery of how I’d ended up here at this moment in my life was to find those answers on my own.
When we got to the library entrance in Carson City later that morning, I told Valeria that I didn’t know how long I’d be.
“Do you have any errands or shopping you need to do?” I asked her from where I sat in the passenger seat. “You could pick me up here in say… two hours? If I think I’ll be longer, I could text you?”
Valeria agreed, but I could tell she was concerned. I’d been vague in my explanations about what I hoped to accomplish at the library, and distracted and noncommunicative during the half-hour drive to the city.
For my own part, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. A strange chill had come over me that I associated with fear or panic, but it wasn’t like any kind of dread I’d ever experienced. A cold, hard kind of sensation accompanied it. As I entered the library and searched for the information desk, I distantly recognized it as determination.
I felt sick with dread, but the idea of ignoring the truth seemed as impossible to me as cutting my own throat.
The woman sitting behind the circular desk at the center of the main room had gray, short hair. She looked at her computer screen when I approached her and began to speak. She glanced at me, did a double take, and peered at me more closely. I noticed how sharp and assessing her blue eyes were behind her glasses.
“I was hoping you could help me? I need to access some old newspaper articles and I really don’t know how to do it,” I said regretfully.
The librarian gave a little smile. “You don’t have to be apologetic. Nobody your age knows how to use microfilm anymore for research. Why would you, when you’ve always had computers?”
She stood up and started to come around the desk.
“Can I ask what you’re looking for?”
I hesitated.
“I’m interested in a family—the Madasters. Specifically, anything about Noah Madaster’s career.” The librarian just nodded matter-of-factly and waited patiently to see if I said anything else. I had no doubt she knew who the Madasters were. They were a prominent family in the area, after all. Her nonchalant reaction was so unlike anything I’d experienced with Evan. I hadn’t realized until that moment, standing there with a stranger, how charged the atmosphere always became at the mere mention of the name Madaster.
“I’d also like to find all the articles available about Elizabeth Madaster’s disappearance seven years ago,” I said.
“Follow me,” the librarian said. She began walking at a brisk pace. “For Noah Madaster’s governorship, you might want to start off with the Las Vegas Review-Journal or the Reno Gazette-Journal, although anything on his early career as a physician might be more easily found in our local paper, the Nevada Appeal. Same for anything on Elizabeth Madaster, seeing as how she grew up and lived in the Carson City-Tahoe area. How are you related?”
We’d left the large entrance area of the library and were walking down a wide corridor. The librarian glanced over her shoulder at me inquiringly. It took me a few seconds to replay what she’d said in my head, and respond.
“How am I related to the topic?” I asked, thinking she was asking me why I held an interest in the Madaster family.
The librarian’s eyebrows pinched together. “No, I meant how are you related, family-wise? I’m sorry, I just assumed.”
“Oh, no. I’m not related to the Madasters. I’m just doing some research, and it’s very hard to find anything online.”
The librarian’s footsteps slowed. “Like a photo of either of them, for instance?”
“Yes. I couldn’t find even one photo.”