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“I’m going to jail, aren’t I?” Maureen was crying again. “I broke into his house.”
“You’re not going to jail,” Laura said firmly. “The worst that will happen is community service and I can get that waived, too. If you tell the detective this, you’ll be a hero.”
“But if the man finds out it was Maureen’s camera?” Gemma whispered. “My daughter will be in danger.”
“Safe house,” Laura said simply.
“We have to hide?” Maureen cried. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
“Could he trace the cameras to this house?” Sam asked, trying to keep his tone logical.
Maureen shrugged miserably. “I don’t know. I used a proxy server, so probably not, but I hooked it into our Wi-Fi, so I don’t know.”
“Well,” Laura said. “The first thing you’re going to do is tell McKittrick. I will not leave you. If it looks like she’s going to do anything not in your best interest, I’ll shut her down.”
Maureen lifted her chin. “Promise?”
Laura smiled. “I promise.”
“Then okay. Should we wait for Dad?”
“I think so.” Gemma startled when the baby began to cry. “I need to feed her.”
“We’ll wait here,” Laura said, turning to Maureen when her mother hurried to the kitchen. “I’ll record your interview with McKittrick for your protection. But let’s go over what you saw again. I don’t want you to miss anything.”
Maureen frowned. “I have the video, if that’s easier.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “What?”
“The cameras,” Maureen said slowly, like she was talking to a child. “I have the video.”
Sam pushed to his feet. “I’ll call McKittrick.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SDPD, San Diego, California
Tuesday, April 19, 4:00 p.m.
Howard Cook sat across the meeting room table from Kit and handed her a sandwich from the deli down the street. “They had a twofer sale.”
Connor Robinson rolled his eyes. “They did not.”
Howard threw his partner an irritated look. “Hush, Connor. Everyone knows she doesn’t stop for lunch.”
Kit hadn’t, but it kind of bothered her that her colleagues talked about it. Cops were the worst gossips. “Thank you. I grabbed a granola bar, but that was a while ago.” She plucked the receipt from the bag where it was stapled. “I’ll pay you back.”
Howard shrugged. “Fine. I don’t know about you guys, but my day was mostly unproductive. I went through the runaway lists up to twenty years ago and separated out the petite blondes between fourteen and eighteen, but not a single report mentioned drama club. I went forward a year and found that Ricki Emerson’s report listed drama club, but we already knew about her.”
“Ricki Emerson’s body was discovered eight years ago, right?” Connor asked.
Kit nodded. “Yes, but she’d gone missing two years before that. Baz and I reinterviewed the family, but no one knew anything about any auditions back then. She might have kept it secret, though, like Naomi Beckham did.”
She told them about her visit with Naomi’s brother and the follow-up with the principal of her high school.
Connor was shaking his head by the time she finished. “Teenage girls are such bitches. I do not miss that about high school.”
“I think we remember the bitches,” Howard said quietly. “There were plenty of quiet, nice girls in school. But the bitches tended to be the loudest. And most popular.”
