“Why aren’t you asking the mother any questions?” Doyle replied, crossing his arms.
“Because she doesn’t have the answers.”
Doyle furrowed his thick brows. His shoulders were hunched in agitation. “What do you mean?”
“March 31, you asked me what my first step was in the investigation of a cold case. I told you visiting the crime scene, dump site, or last known location of the victim. Mia Ramos’s missing persons report had one very important clue: herauntreported her as missing. And so we’re at the aunt’s home. The psychology of place is essential to understanding the attitude, habits, and relationships of not only a victim, but also those being interviewed about the victim. Think about it, and then tell me what your apartment would say to a stranger.”
“Larkin—”
“You’re upset.”
Doyle let his arms drop to his sides. “Yeah. The mother is pissing me off.”
“What would your apartment tell a stranger.”
“I don’t know.”
“Think about it,” Larkin reiterated.
Doyle ran a hand through his messy hair, and said, “That I like to read.”
“Read what.”
“Larkin, come on.”
“The first night I was there,” Larkin began, “I determined that, despite being a people-person and a flirt, you value space to relax, as your furniture is arranged with the intention of comfort and not entertainment, so you didn’t invite others over with any sense of routine. Fairy lights trigger both a dopamine rush and nostalgic memories for you—most likely of Christmastime and most likely of your grandmother, based on learning about your candy habit earlier that same day. Your reading tends toward self-improvement over indulgence and escapism, suggesting a very curious mind. And you are both proud of, and love, Abigail.”
Doyle studied the door over Larkin’s shoulder, then asked, “So what is it about Manuela’s home that has you ignoring Mia’s belligerent mother?”
“To begin with, their relationship dynamics. Silvia is the eldest—she displays classic signs of Oldest Child Syndrome: domineering, controlling, overt jealousy. From that I suspected they had a younger sibling that would sandwich Manuela in the middle, most likely a brother who was spoiled and given a freedom the two daughters were denied. This was confirmed by the single family photo above the couch of a father, mother, two girls, and a boy. They’re not Manuela’s adult family, as she retains her maiden name and there’s zero evidence of a man in that home. Therefore, it’s her as a child. Silvia’s attitude, I think you’ll agree, is easy enough to parse out: she rebelled against the household duties expected of her at a young age. She likely saw none of those same strict rules enforced with her brother, which explains the extreme jealousy that came to the surface when I purposefully ignored her. During her teenage and young adult years, she made a number of questionable choices, which resulted in the use of hard drugs and an unplanned pregnancy.
“Meanwhile, with Silvia spiraling, all familial expectations fell onto Manuela, and she, having been overlooked growing up, fell into the role of people-pleasing. She likely became the caregiver for her aging parents, which never allowed her time to date, marry, and raise a family of her own, and now, with Silvia’s poor health, has once again resumed those duties. But she does love children, even if she doesn’t love who birthed them. There are a number of framed photos—little ones—lining the wall on the kitchen counter. They’re all of Mia—from diapers to braces, for lack of better description. It’s a curious place to keep family pictures, though—the kitchen. It suggested to me that Manuela needed to keep mementos of her niece somewhere private, somewhere her domineering sister, who very clearly resents her daughter, wouldn’t try to dispose of them.
“Silvia has a walker for her oxygen tank, and there are track marks in the rugs of the living room and leading into the bedroom, but the wear and tear on the carpet pile abruptly changes just before the kitchen entrance, suggesting Silvia has all of her meals, drinks, prescriptions brought to her, making the kitchen a sort of… safe space for Manuela. This, of course, further reinforces Manuela’s long history of being the family caretaker, which is whyshereported Mia’s disappearance, and why Manuela is going to know far more about her probable fate than Silvia ever will.” Larkin added, almost as an afterthought, “The brother has likely moved out of state. I suspect he still retains a very entitled attitude.”
Doyle said nothing, merely stared at Larkin.
Larkin counted three, four, five seconds before asking, “What.”
“You deduced all of that from a single black-and-white photo and some digs in the carpet?”
“Yes. Well, more or less.”
Doyle shook his head, but in that way people tended to do when their minds had just been blown by something that felt entirely unbelievable. “You’re brilliant.”
Larkin felt his cheeks warm. “Thank you.” He asked next, keeping his voice low, “Are you still upset.”
“Not with you.Neverwith you,” Doyle answered. “I just… I hated this case then. I still hate it now.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry I interrupted the interview,” Doyle finished.
Larkin stared up at Doyle, saying, “I have an idea, actually. I’ll need you to trust me.”
“Lesson learned.”
Larkin smiled a little smile before turning on his heel and letting them back into the apartment. He strode confidently into the living room, where Silvia had resumed her Chinese drama, and Manuela was restlessly pacing back and forth from the television to the bedroom and back again. “My apologies for making you wait,” Larkin began, clearly addressing Manuela. “But I think we have everything we need.”
