Page 37 of The Homewreckers
“Lanier Ragan. She was an English teacher at our high school, St. Mary’s. Everyone loved her. We all wanted to be her, you know? And one night, she just disappeared,” Hattie said.
Mo’s eyes widened. “Tell me more.”
Cass was looking down at the family portrait. “It happened when, junior year?”
Hattie snapped her fingers. “Sophomore year. I remember it was wintertime. We had a candlelight vigil for her, out in the school courtyard, and it was so cold I thought I’d freeze to death.”
Mo grabbed his laptop and opened his search engine. “Tell me the woman’s name again? And the year she supposedly disappeared?”
“Lanier Ragan.” Hattie spelled out the last name. “Not supposedly. She did. Disappear. I guess that would be winter of 2005.”
Mo’s fingers flew across the keyboard. He pulled up a story from theSavannah Morning News,datelined January 9, 2005.
BELOVEDLOCALTEACHERBELIEVEDMISSING
“Here it is.” He read the first paragraph of the story aloud.
“‘Savannah police are searching for Lanier Pelham Ragan, a popular St. Mary’s Academy English teacher, 25, who disappeared the night of February sixth.’”
Cass sighed. “She was only twenty-five back then?”
Mo continued reading.
“‘Mrs. Ragan, a petite blonde and the mother of a young child, was last seen by her husband around midnight Sunday.
“‘Frank Ragan, the missing woman’s husband, said he and his wife attended a neighborhood Super Bowl party on Sunday night, and walked back to their home together at around 11:30 that night. Ragan, who is the head football coach at Cardinal Mooney Catholic prep, told authorities that after the couple’s babysitter drove awayfrom their home, he went immediately to bed, but his wife stayed up to clean the kitchen and fold laundry.
“‘When he awoke at six o’clock Monday morning, he found his wife missing. Their three-year-old daughter was still asleep. Lanier Ragan’s car, a white Nissan, was not in the home’s driveway. Ragan said he called his wife repeatedly, but all phone calls went immediately to voicemail. After searching his home, and calling neighbors, friends, and coworkers to ask if they’d seen his wife, he asked a neighbor to look after his child while he drove all the streets in the vicinity, trying, unsuccessfully, to spot the Nissan, or his wife.
“‘Savannah police spokesman Carey Filocchio said Ragan called authorities around 12:30P.M.Monday to report his wife missing.
“‘We are asking the public to assist in the search to return this beloved wife and mother home to her family,’ Filocchio said. ‘The subject is five-foot-two, weighs 92 pounds, and has dark blond hair and blue eyes. Last seen wearing jeans and a New England Patriots football jersey and white Nike tennis shoes. Her vehicle, a 2001 silver Nissan Altima, Georgia license plate PCH-678-3420, has a dent in the right rear bumper and a St. Mary’s Academy faculty parking sticker affixed to the front windshield.’
“‘Filocchio declined to say whether police believe foul play could be involved in the disappearance.
“‘Frank Ragan was not available for comment.
“‘According to a close family friend, Lanier Ragan moved to Savannah three years ago, from Fairhope, Alabama. A graduate of the University of Mississippi, she met her future husband in college, where he was an athletic trainer. The two married in 2001.
“‘This is not the Lanier I know,’ her friend said. ‘She would never just up and leave her husband and little girl at home. She just wouldn’t. We are all praying for her safe return.’”
Mo thought for a moment. “So. This Lanier woman was never found?”
“No,” Cass said. “At the time there were all kinds of rumors floating around. Hattie, her little girl would be about eighteen or nineteen now. Do you remember her name?”
“Her name was Emma,” Hattie said promptly. “Mrs. Ragan was a total Jane Austen freak. She made us all watch the movie, and then she brought in her DVD ofClueless. Remember, Cass? Mrs. Ragan made everything so much fun.”
Mo smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Okay, hold that thought. Cass, go put the billfold back where it was found. I’ll get the cameras set up again, and we’ll reenact. You’ll pull out the billfold, Hattie, you’ll look at it—and be just as shocked that it belongs to the mysteriously disappeared Lanier Ragan. Tell that story all over again—you and Cass talking about how nice she was, all of that.”
“Shouldn’t we call the police or something?” Cass asked.
“Because we found an old wallet? It might not mean anything,” Mo said. “She disappeared, what? More than seventeen years ago?”
“Or it could mean a lot, especially to her family,” Hattie said. “We can film the segment in the kitchen, Mo, but as soon as it’s done, I’m calling the cops. I own this house. There has to be a reason we found that billfold in the wall. It’s my responsibility to find out what it means.”
“Great,” Mo muttered, walking away. “Call the cops. They’ll probably shut down my set, which will mean complications and delays. Just what I need right now.”
17Too Many Cooks
