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“We weren’t until Becky and the other girls told the police that. She’d been wanting one, but we kept saying she needed to wait until she was eighteen. At eighteen, it was her body and her money. That’s only a few months away,” he said, shaking his head. “Why couldn’t she wait?”
“We were all seventeen once, sir,” said Nine. “I was awfully impatient when I was that age as well. I seem to recall signing up for the Navy at seventeen. My father thought I was pretty stupid as well. Turns out, it was a career that led me here.” The man nodded.
“Can you tell us about your daughter? Anything that she is interested in? Music, clubs, movies?” asked Whiskey.
“She ran cross-country, which, I suppose, is how she met those boys you mentioned. She wasn’t boy-crazy like some of the girls. Her group of friends were pretty good kids. I mean, I’m not naïve. They weren’t perfect. But no drugs, no big problems that we were aware of.”
“The girls loved music,” smiled his wife with tears in her eyes. “They were always playing the hottest new record or listening to it anyway. I don’t suppose kids actually play vinyl any longer.”
“No,” chuckled Nine, “I don’t suppose they do.”
“They liked shopping, like most girls. They were just normal kids. I don’t know what else to say,” she sniffed.
“I know how difficult this is,” said Whiskey, “but even little things could help us. Did any of the girls have an older boyfriend or older sibling they hung around with?”
“No. It’s strange that they were either all the older siblings or only children. They’re all smart girls, excel at school. They even take a couple of AP classes or attend STEM programs part-time.”
“They sound like great kids,” said Nine. Both nodded, the sadness on their faces telling him how distraught they were over this, not having any answers about their daughter’s whereabouts.
“I know this is difficult,” said Nine, “but would there have been any reason for Christina to run away from home?”
“No. Absolutely not,” said Mr. Russell. “I know every parent probably says that, but we were very close as a family. The only thing we didn’t know about was that tattoo. The irony of it all is we would have been upset but not angry at her for getting one.”
“Did she know the other kids that disappeared?” asked Whiskey. They stared at one another, then at the two men.
“Other kids? We weren’t aware of any other kids,” said Mr. Russell.
“The information we received said that two other kids from the same school have disappeared. A boy, Spencer Bowen, and a girl, Danielle Hawker. Do you know them?”
“We know of them, but I don’t think they were in the same circle as Christina,” said Mrs. Russell.
“What do you mean? Were they not athletic? Popular?” asked Whiskey.
“Kind of all of that,” she said. “Spencer is being raised by his aunt. His parents died in an avalanche while skiing on vacation. Spencer was just three at the time. He’s very quiet, very reserved. I think he’s a good student, but he doesn’t have very many friends.”
“Why?” asked Nine.
“Listen, I understand why his aunt is the way she is, but she’s not doing that boy any favors. She’s what we would call a helicopter parent. Always hovering over Spencer. I honestly can’t believe he’s missing. I mean, you cannot find her without him and vice versa. He seems a very insecure young man.”
“So, he never went to any games, parties, that kind of thing with the other kids?” asked Whiskey.
“Never. She wouldn’t allow it. We have a good circle of parents that we trust and are always present when the kids have a party or some school function. The parents watch out for one another’s children. Hattie, she wasn’t about to let Spencer out of her sight. I think he was so embarrassed that she insisted on attending the parties with him, he just started declining party invitations.”
“And the girl? Danielle?” asked Nine.
“That’s a different story, unfortunately. Her folks live in a nice, middle-class neighborhood, but, well, I hate to say this, they are trash,” said Mr. Russell.
“Honey,” whispered his wife.
“I know. I know, I hate to be that guy, but they are. I know for a fact that the neighbors have called the city on them several times about doing their yard work. They get to it eventually, but it takes a while. The mother actually works at the Pat the Kitty on Bourbon.”
“She’s a stripper?” asked Nine.
“No. Lord, no. She’s not built for that or young enough. She’s a bartender, but I’m sure she makes good money. She’s got, uh, assets, shall we say.” The men nodded, not saying anything.
“It sounds like she works hard and makes good money, but that doesn’t make her trash. I’ve known a lot of wonderful women and men who’ve worked in those places and provided a good life for their families,” said Whiskey. Both of the Russells blushed, nodding their heads.
“She does,” said Mrs. Russell. “I think my husband is referring more to their lifestyle. They party hard and often. There’s always something going on at their house. Her husband is unemployed more often than not, and rumor in the neighborhood is that they grow their own marijuana in the backyard.”
