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“The way this is going?” Arnett said, striding toward the building. “I sure hope so.”
They found Christine Lopez hunched over one of her desks, headphones on, her long black ponytail threatening to dip into her open can of Rockstar. One of Jo’s favorite people, Lopez had partnered with Arnett during Jo’s brief stint as lieutenant; when Jo asked to be made detective again and re-partnered with Arnett, Lopez helped clear out a backlog of tech analysis while waiting for a new partner. Her expertise quickly became invaluable, so she transferred in permanently and had helped Jo and Arnett solve more crimes than Jo could count.
“Good to see you,” Jo said.
Lopez didn’t respond. Jo stepped over and tapped her shoulder.
Lopez jumped into the air, sending her chair flying backward. “Holy crap,” she said once she recognized Jo, hand clasped to her chest. “I told Janet headphones weren’t a good idea. Anybody can sneak up on you.” She ripped them off and tossed them on the desk like poisonous snakes.
“Thank goodness we weren’t zombies,” Arnett deadpanned.
Lopez narrowed her eyes at him. “Laugh now, Arnett. You won’t have time to laugh when the zombies arrive.”
Jo tilted her head. “I can never tell if you’re serious or not about the pending zombie apocalypse.”
“I’ll take her seriously when she builds a bunker,” Arnett said.
Lopez pointed to Jo. “The Covid pandemic? One mutation away from a zombie virus.” She swung the finger to Arnett. “My cousin already has a bunker. I have knife skills and the ability to open cans without any equipment whatsoever.”
Jo’s brows popped up. “Well. Reserve me a spot, because I can outrun anybody when we need to replenish supplies.”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to encourage her?” Arnett grumbled.
“Hey, you’re the one who brought up the Z word. I’m just being pragmatic.” Jo turned to Lopez. “I don’t suppose the phone records have come back, or you’ve cracked into the phone?”
A smile spread over Lopez’s face as she pulled her chair to the desk and plopped down. “Sure have. Whatcha want first, the bad news or the surreal news?”
Jo had learned to humor Lopez’s flair for the dramatic, but still stopped short of appreciating it. “Whichever gets us to our killer fastest.”
“Okay, well, I still have a few things I need to check, like for hidden apps, all that.”
Jo placed her hands on her hips.
“The bad news is, I can’t find any record of Kiernan Wendiss being in contact with Madison since the seven months ago he claimed. The last text was an uber-sweet heartbreaker where he said he was confused about why she broke up with him but said he respected her choice. He pledged his love, said he hoped she’d change her mind, and told her either way he’d always be there for her.”
“Wouldn’t be the first guy to switch tacks after the sweet route didn’t go his way,” Arnett said.
“True, but like I say, there’s no record of any further contact. I put in the warrant for his phone records, because maybe he was harassing her at work or something. But no evidence so far,” Lopez said.
“Got it,” Jo said.
“And her lack of a personal life is real. No friends other than the ones you talked to—Naomie Alexander, Chelsea Whitens, and Julia Gagnon. Mostly the first two, but there’s a group chat that involves all four of them. Nobody else but enforced study buddies.”
“Enforced study buddies?” Arnett asked.
“You know, when your professor forces you to partner up with someone for a group project and you’re stuck in living hell until you get your grades back,” Lopez said.
“Gotcha,” Arnett said.
“And, worst of all, there’s no record I can find of any other guy, either since or before Kiernan. No flirting, no sexting, not even a dick pic. She tracks her appointments in Google calendar, and nothing suggests even coffee with a romantic prospect. By the way, you went to see her mother—do you have a laptop for me?”
Jo shook her head. “Madison couldn’t afford one. She checked one out from the community college when she needed one for school.” Jo dug into her jacket pocket. “But she had this thumb drive. I could only find term papers on it, but maybe you can find something we didn’t.”
“Or maybe she has a burner somewhere and her mother hasn’t found it yet,” Arnett said.
Lopez swung her chair back and forth, looking like the cat who’d eaten Tweety Bird. “I don’t think that’s likely.”
Jo’s radar perked up. “Why’s that?”
