Sarah Benadine is Dead

Chapter II, Part III

Sarah Benadine's diary was missing. That was all that had been agreed upon. The rest of the details were still being debated.

"I'm telling you, I saw it that morning!" Norberta Benadine insisted. The shouting match the conversation had deteriorated into had not been the intention at the start. Not surprising, perhaps, that it took this turn, but unplanned. The disappearance of Sarah's diary was just the latest in the painful circumstances that held the Benadine family.

The three of them, Lance, Andrea, and Norberta, were all staying at Lance's house in town for the time being. It was an ideal situation for none of them; this had not been Andrea or Norberta's home in years, since Andrea and Lance split up and since Norberta went off to college. It had been a home to Sarah, however, much more than Andrea's relatively new, tiny one-bedroom had. It was the only home Sarah had known from her birth and, as the cards fell, until her death.

"Berta, it's not there," Lance was saying, trying to rein the situation in. "You must have made a mistake; it's perfectly understandable."

Norberta faced her father, seething. The two of them had never gotten along very well, even in the best of times. This was only exacerbated now. It was them who were doing most of the talking; Andrea was there with them but had barely said a word since the fight started. She sat on the sofa, staring absently at the floor.

"No!" Norberta said. "I know I saw it. I specifically remember seeing it."

"And I suppose it just grew legs and walked out of here on its own, is that it?" Lance said bitingly. "She must have given it to someone or left it somewhere before...well, before what happened."

"But she didn't! I saw it the morning after they found her, it was there in her room!"

"Norberta, that's not possible, it's not there! You must be remembering some other time you saw it."

Norberta reeled back, ready to explode, when Andrea spoke, so quiet she could barely be heard.

"What does it matter when she saw it last? It's obviously not there now."

It was like some sort of spell had been broken, or perhaps had been cast, because Norberta and Lance both deflated immediately. All the tension ran from the room. Andrea didn't look at either of them, but rather acted as if she hadn't been talking to them at all. Her face was hollow; there was nothing to betray her exact feelings.

"You're right," Lance sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Of course you're right, Andrea. No use going on like this." He looked beseechingly at his daughter. "Is there anywhere else it could be? Any secret place she would have hidden it, somewhere we've forgotten?"

"I don't know," Norberta said miserably. "She always kept it under her mattress—I told her a million times that that was the first place anyone would look. That's how I know I saw it on her desk; she never would have left it out like that. But it's not under her mattress either. I checked."

"I'll check again." Lance was already making his way towards the hallway. He paused just before leaving the living room, looking back. "I'm sure it's in the house somewhere. Perhaps she finally took your advice and found a new hiding spot."

Norberta wanted to yell after him, to repeat herself, to say that Sarah didn't hide it anywhere. It had been sitting on her desk in her bedroom the morning after she died and now it was gone. Someone else had done something to it. She knew it would be futile, though; he hadn't been listening to her before. There was no reason for him to listen now. Sighing, she plopped onto the sofa next to mother, listening to the old springs creak.

"It's not there, you know."

"What?"

Norberta turned and looked at her mother in confusion, a little jolted that her mother had said something. Andrea regarded her living daughter with a watery smile and distant eyes that didn't seem to completely register she was there. She shook her head.

"It's not there."

Without another word, Andrea stood and left the room. Norberta watched her go in surprised silence.

Norberta did not realize the gravity of the exchange at the time, but some years later, after the dust had settled on the whole affair, she would remember her mother in this moment perhaps clearer than any other, because this was the first she'd ever suspected anything.

***I'd like to give special thanks to everyone who voted or commented, particularly @RileyRats for being far too kind to me and my little mess of a story.***