Universal Displacement

Home Sweet Home?

"No. I need to see it. Maybe there's something they missed. A clue. I just can't..."

But the woman's voice was being overpowered by emotion and Vicki felt herself wilting.

"I understand, Mrs. Stringer; it's ok."

"Please, call me Lindsay, dear."

Vicki smiled without humor.

"Mrs. Lindsay, then."

Turning back to the front door, Vicki took out her house key from her pristine Louis Vuitton bag and unlocked the latch. Her purse slipped off her shoulder and landed on the floor at the sight that greeted her. She could hear Sutton's mother choking back a sob behind her.

It was...destroyed.

Vicki could hardly accept what was clearly before her. People had told her, of course, but to see it. She pressed her hand over her small lips and took another step inside.

The walls of their living room and kitchen were black, one was even almost completely knocked over. The furniture was strewn about and tipped over. On top of that it was clear that a party had come through and done a thorough search of every nook and cranny. Sutton's mother whimpered from the door's threshold.

"Oh, Sutton."

Vicki had to find an unbroken chair and sit down. It was almost worse than when she had been bombarded by the press after she'd stepped off the plane coming back onto American soil. Suddenly she was known as "the terrorist's roommate" and everyone wanted to hear about the behavior and habits of Sutton Regan. Vicki still wasn't sure if she believed any of it. As if hearing her thoughts, Mrs. Lindsay spoke.

"She didn't do it; you have to believe that. She must have been threatened, or a hostage... Sutton could never..." But the woman couldn't finish and burst into sobs. "And they can't even find her? It's been two months and no one knows where my baby is! She couldn't have just disappeared!"

Vicki left her seat and rushed to embrace the broken woman. She stroked the mother's straight, sleek hair in a vain attempt to comfort her.

"Shh, I know Sutton didn't do it. Mrs. S- Lindsay, Sutton couldn't decide what to have for dinner half the time, or even fix the wifi by herself. I doubt she could be a terrorist ringleader."

Mrs. Lindsay lifted her head up and gave Vicki a watery smile that quickly died. It was almost disconcerting to Vicki how alike the woman and her daughter looked. Vicki thought it must be a terrible reminder of her loss every time the woman looked in a mirror. Both had thin faces with a defined jaw and bright eyes. Mrs. Lindsay had more curves than her daughter, though, and Sutton must have gotten her hair from her father. Her mother's, while a similar shade, was thinner and tameable.

"I'm sure Sutton is ok," Vicki finally said. "You know how she wa-is." With a sigh, Vicki berated herself. "I should never have gone on that trip. I should have brought her along, I just knew her boss was a jerk and I-"

"Victoria," Mrs. Lindsay interrupted. "It's not your fault, dear. You might have just gotten involved too and then..." But she couldn't finish again.

Vicki wanted to ask how the rest of the family was doing just to break the silence, but felt like it wasn't her place. Sutton had often mentioned her little brother, but Vicki had never met any of them and didn't want to upset the woman any more than she already was.

"I just wish I knew that she was alright," Mrs. Lindsay finally whispered. "I wish I knew if she were safe, or hurt, or frightened." She looked up at her daughter's once roommate with round eyes. "She's probably so, so scared-"