She laughed.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m serious.”
Her laughter stopped.
“Lola, that is your father.”
“I know.”
“And he knows me.”
“He has only met you a few times.”
“That does not make this less strange.”
I explained everything.
I told her about the six women, the successful dates, and the sudden disappearances.
Rachel stayed quiet for a long moment.
“So you want me to investigate him?”
“I want you to tell me what happens.”
“And what exactly am I supposed to say when he recognizes me?”
“Tell him we met through the app. He might remember your face, but he will not remember your name.”
Rachel groaned.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Probably.”
“It could ruin my friendship with you.”
“It will not.”
“It could ruin your relationship with your father.”
That possibility frightened me, but I kept my voice steady.
“I need to know.”
Reluctantly, she agreed.
The date went even better than I expected.
Rachel called me afterward.
“Your dad is wonderful,” she said.
“I can’t believe nobody gave him a chance.”
I felt relief rush through me.
“So nothing strange happened?”
“Nothing. He was kind, funny, and respectful. We talked for almost three hours.”
“Did he mention another date?”
“He asked if I wanted to have dinner again next Friday.”
“What did you say?”
“I said yes.”
For the first time in weeks, I slept without imagining the worst.
The next morning, she disappeared too.
I called her before work.
No answer.
I called again during lunch.
Straight to voicemail.
I sent messages asking whether she was all right. None of them were delivered.
By evening, she finally texted me.
“Don’t contact me. Please.”
That was not Rachel.
Rachel would never send a message like that without an explanation. Even during our worst disagreement, she had called me and argued until both of us ran out of things to say.
I drove straight to her apartment.
Her car was still there.
Her lights were on.
But nobody answered the door.
I knocked until my knuckles hurt. I called her name through the door. I tried her phone again and heard nothing from inside.
A neighbor stepped into the hallway and asked whether everything was all right.
“I don’t know,” I said.
I sat in my car outside her building for almost an hour. I watched her windows, waiting for a curtain to move.
Nothing happened.
The next afternoon, she called.
