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Elliot nodded, holding his gaze with all the reassurance he could muster. Then he stood and walked toward the door, but then stopped and asked, “May I see Kendra’s room, please?”
Their earlier statement said that Kendra had disappeared from her bedroom, and they had found the window open in the morning, no trace of her. A technician had already dusted the windowsill for prints and had reported no signs of forced entry, but another set of eyes couldn’t hurt.
Mrs. Flannagan led the way to a bedroom at the far end of the house. It was a rather large room, decorated with pop band posters on the walls and a few dreamcatchers. The window was closed, the sheers were closed. Filtered sunlight shone through the glass stained by fingerprint powder. Elliot looked outside; the window was only three feet above the ground, an easy feat for a teenager sneaking out for a late-night date.
Had she run away? Or had she been lured away from her family home? Had a skilled predator waited for her in the thick brush that extended past the neatly mowed lawn?
He pulled the sheers open and lifted the window. It went up easily; the window frame was new, light, running smoothly. Outside, the soil was covered with grass trimmings from a recent mow, and some foliage from the oaks nearby, the scent of fresh cut grass carried by the gentle breeze. If Kendra had left any footprints, they were long gone.
Closing the window, he gave the room another look. The bed was made with pink sheets, and covered in pillows and stuffed animals, the clutter on it cozy somehow, warm and friendly. Her desk was stacked with schoolbooks and notebooks. In the middle of her desk was a Dell laptop with its lid closed, adorned with several stickers.
“I’ll need to take this, if that’s okay,” Elliot said. Mrs. Flannagan nodded.
He unplugged it from the wall, coiled its cord, and slid it under his arm, then headed for the door. In the hallway, Mr. Flannagan waited, holding a photo of his daughter in his trembling hands.
“This is Kendra,” he said, holding out the picture for Elliot. “Take it, so you know what my daughter looks like.” He slurred his words a little, and his eyes were watery, red, and swollen. “So you won’t forget her.”
Elliot took the photo and studied it for a moment. Kendra was a beautiful girl with long brown hair that fell on her shoulders in loose curls. In that picture, her head was tilted a little. She had a mischievous smile that put a sparkle in her large brown eyes. “Mr. Flannagan,” he eventually said, sliding the photo in his pocket, “my partner and I will do everything in our power to find your daughter. We won’t rest until we bring you answers.”
“Thank you,” the man whispered, then turned away and found the couch.
Elliot touched the brim of his hat with two fingers and left. The door closed behind him with a thud that echoed through the large hallway, and his heels clacked on the stone tiles as he walked briskly toward the tasting room. Bouts of laughter were coming from there, muted by an arched, rustic oak door with black iron ornaments.
Kendra could’ve screamed her lungs out the night before; there was no way anyone could’ve heard her from the tasting room.
Ten minutes later, Elliot dropped Kendra’s laptop on Kay’s desk, startling her from what she was doing. Then he placed Kendra’s photo on top, pinning it in place with his finger.
“I don’t care what you think. These cases are related. Back in the day when you used to look me in the eye and tell me the truth, you would’ve been the first to see that.”
Kay leaned back and looked at him silently for a moment. “Yes, you’re right. We need to talk.”
TWENTY-FIVE
LUNCH
The air in the school cafeteria was a little stuffy. The mashed potatoes reeked of garlic; Alana had to steer clear of those, and hoped Nick would too. Her plans for Friday night didn’t include long passionate kisses with the stink of the bulbous flowering plant from hell on their breaths.
Sadly, the salad had onions, another no-no. It was as if the cafeteria was doing it on purpose. She imagined a newspaper headline, SCHOOL USES MALODOROUS VEGETABLES TO CURB TEENAGER LIBIDO, and chuckled. They were probably laughing their hearts out, seeing all the girls hesitating in front of the food tables, trays in hand. The bitchy old hag who filled the plates was definitely enjoying herself every time she asked, “Some mashed with that?” and a girl would say no with regret in her voice.
Instead, Alana looked the hag straight in the eye and said, “I prefer corn, thank you.” Then she grabbed an apple from the basket, while the woman deposited a piece of corn on the cob on her plate.
“No salad for you today?” the crone asked with a crooked, all-knowing smile. Her teeth were irregular and yellow. Her name tag read “Betsy,” and it fit her.
“No, ma’am,” Alana replied defiantly. Unlike Betsy, she had plans for that night.
She felt Nick’s hand on her shoulder. Beaming, she turned to face him.
“Chicken nuggets?” he asked, staring at her nearly empty plate.
“You’ll have to take me out tonight,” she whispered close to his ear. He brushed his lips against her cheek as she pulled away. Thrilled, she studied the full cafeteria to see if anyone was noticing them.
A few skanks were. A couple were whispering about them, their heads brought close together, their eyes fixed on her and Nick.Choke on this, bitches, she thought, smiling and flipping her hair over her shoulder, before heading toward one of the few empty tables.
She set the tray on the table, then sat, with Nick beside her. In an attempt to keep invaders at bay, she put her backpack on one of the empty chairs. Then she turned her attention toward Nick, holding the apple close to her lips, but not biting into it yet. “Where are we going tonight?”
He bit a mouthful of ham-and-cheese sandwich and chewed it quickly, with the typical appetite of a healthy teenager. “Wanna watch a movie later?”
She reached with her foot under the table until her shoe touched his. Lowering her eyelids, she batted her lashes a couple of times, looking to the side. “Whatever you want.” Then she looked straight at him as she bit into the apple. He smiled, the metaphor not wasted on him at all.
