usually ate. There was the Friendly Diner down on Wilkins Road; they were always good for a decent meal.
He was out the door and behind the wheel of his car, about to make a K-turn, when he hesitated. Something nagged at him, something about the phone bills. Nick turned off the ignition and returned to the house, to the foyer, to the box he'd just closed up. The orange folder was visible through the crack made by the top flaps, and he stuck his hand in and pulled it out. The most recent bill was on top, and he scanned it for the date.
July, 2008. Then he remembered that she'd gotten a new phone, a new plan, a new carrier—and a new number that summer. What had she said at the time? Something about an old boyfriend who wouldn't stop calling. Deb would know.
He flipped through the pages, taking note of all the out-of-state calls Belinda had made over the 2007-08school year and into the summer of 2008. Maybe Deb knew something about those as well.
He tucked the bill back into the folder with the others and took the whole thing with him. Back in the car, he plugged his phone into the charger to give it a little more juice. He had a feeling he'd need every one of those bars before the night was over.
EIGHT
S o how'd your first day go?” Mallory said, as she stopped in Emme's office on her way home for the night.
“Good. Really good, actually.” Emme ticked off her accomplishments on the fingers of one hand. “I met with Nick Perone, Chief Dietrich, Debra New-house, and got back in time to pick Chloe up from school, though just barely.”
“I'd say that qualifies as damned good.” Mallory dropped her briefcase near the door and came partway into the room. “What's the uncle like?”
Emme thought it over for a moment, considering how best to answer.
Tall, dark, and oh-my-goodness
first came to mind, but this being her first case, she went for something a little more professional.
“Seems smart. Smart enough to run a profitable business. He's what a cop I used to know would call a gearhead.”
“A what?”
“A gearhead. Really into cars. He repairs—excuse me, he
restores
old ones. Excuse me twice, that wouldbe classic automobiles. He has this spiffy garage that doesn't look anything remotely like a garage from the outside. It's brick, Federal looking. Very nice.” She paused before adding, “I'd say he cares a lot about his niece. I think he suspects she might be dead, but he needs to know for sure. I don't think he's deluding himself, where she's concerned. He pretty much reiterated everything in the report he had submitted, but I did learn something very interesting. I asked about getting in touch with the girl's father, you know, thinking maybe she took off with him, but according to Nick, he's never known who the father was. That had been in the report, but I thought it had been miswritten or something. I mean, you'd know who your niece's father was, wouldn't you?”
“The girl's mother is his sister, right?” Mallory frowned. “How could he not know?”
“That was my reaction, too, but he said that his sister never told him, and when he hinted around about it, she shut down the conversation. So he let it go, figuring it was just something she didn't want to talk about.”
“Like maybe a relationship that didn't work out?”
Emme nodded. “I suppose. He said the only thing she ever told him about Belinda's father was that he would never be a factor in her life.”
“So maybe she never told the guy she was pregnant, and decided to raise her baby on her own.”
“That's what it sounds like to me.” Emme rested her head against the back of her chair.
“Any chance the father might have found out somehow, and came looking for her?”
“There's no way of knowing. Wendy—the mother of the missing girl—died in a car accident five years ago. Who knows who she might have been in touch with before she died?” Emme swiveled the chair slowly, side to side. “Now, the roommate did say that
He was out the door and behind the wheel of his car, about to make a K-turn, when he hesitated. Something nagged at him, something about the phone bills. Nick turned off the ignition and returned to the house, to the foyer, to the box he'd just closed up. The orange folder was visible through the crack made by the top flaps, and he stuck his hand in and pulled it out. The most recent bill was on top, and he scanned it for the date.
July, 2008. Then he remembered that she'd gotten a new phone, a new plan, a new carrier—and a new number that summer. What had she said at the time? Something about an old boyfriend who wouldn't stop calling. Deb would know.
He flipped through the pages, taking note of all the out-of-state calls Belinda had made over the 2007-08school year and into the summer of 2008. Maybe Deb knew something about those as well.
He tucked the bill back into the folder with the others and took the whole thing with him. Back in the car, he plugged his phone into the charger to give it a little more juice. He had a feeling he'd need every one of those bars before the night was over.
EIGHT
S o how'd your first day go?” Mallory said, as she stopped in Emme's office on her way home for the night.
“Good. Really good, actually.” Emme ticked off her accomplishments on the fingers of one hand. “I met with Nick Perone, Chief Dietrich, Debra New-house, and got back in time to pick Chloe up from school, though just barely.”
“I'd say that qualifies as damned good.” Mallory dropped her briefcase near the door and came partway into the room. “What's the uncle like?”
Emme thought it over for a moment, considering how best to answer.
Tall, dark, and oh-my-goodness
first came to mind, but this being her first case, she went for something a little more professional.
“Seems smart. Smart enough to run a profitable business. He's what a cop I used to know would call a gearhead.”
“A what?”
“A gearhead. Really into cars. He repairs—excuse me, he
restores
old ones. Excuse me twice, that wouldbe classic automobiles. He has this spiffy garage that doesn't look anything remotely like a garage from the outside. It's brick, Federal looking. Very nice.” She paused before adding, “I'd say he cares a lot about his niece. I think he suspects she might be dead, but he needs to know for sure. I don't think he's deluding himself, where she's concerned. He pretty much reiterated everything in the report he had submitted, but I did learn something very interesting. I asked about getting in touch with the girl's father, you know, thinking maybe she took off with him, but according to Nick, he's never known who the father was. That had been in the report, but I thought it had been miswritten or something. I mean, you'd know who your niece's father was, wouldn't you?”
“The girl's mother is his sister, right?” Mallory frowned. “How could he not know?”
“That was my reaction, too, but he said that his sister never told him, and when he hinted around about it, she shut down the conversation. So he let it go, figuring it was just something she didn't want to talk about.”
“Like maybe a relationship that didn't work out?”
Emme nodded. “I suppose. He said the only thing she ever told him about Belinda's father was that he would never be a factor in her life.”
“So maybe she never told the guy she was pregnant, and decided to raise her baby on her own.”
“That's what it sounds like to me.” Emme rested her head against the back of her chair.
“Any chance the father might have found out somehow, and came looking for her?”
“There's no way of knowing. Wendy—the mother of the missing girl—died in a car accident five years ago. Who knows who she might have been in touch with before she died?” Emme swiveled the chair slowly, side to side. “Now, the roommate did say that
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