movies. Her favorite books. All because of places she’d visited and made comments about on the World Wide Web. He knew she was the youngest of seven, came from a family of cops and military heroes. He understood—even though she never said it in so many words—that she wanted to get away from home because of the deep sadness that had permeated her family after the murder of her nephew Justin when she and Justin were only seven.
“Trevor Conrad” had known more about her than anyone else, and she’d walked right into his trap.
Had Kirsten made similar mistakes?
“Lucy, what’s wrong?” Sean asked.
She shook her head, realizing that she was staring into space and Sean had been trying to talk to her about Kirsten and her mother. “What isn’t wrong?” she countered, not able to discuss her thoughts right now. “I’m ready, though you hardly need me.”
“We need to talk to Kirsten’s friends, and you’ve worked with teens. You know their in-speak, so to speak.” He smiled at his humor.
“And you don’t?” she said. “I’m here, so let’s get on with it.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “You’re not really mad at me.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I am.” But she wasn’t, not at Sean. Not anymore.
He reached out and lifted the amethyst daisy pendant off her chest. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m not going to take my anger out on a beautiful piece of jewelry just because the gift-giver picked the lock on my bedroom door.”
He kissed her. “I’ll try not to do it again.”
“Try?”
“I’m not going to make any promises I’m not sure I can keep.”
Lucy supposed that honesty was better than false promises, but she cherished her privacy, and Sean was going to have to learn that sometimes she needed to be alone.
They walked up to the front door. Sean had a key and let them in. “Evelyn had to work today, but that’s just as well because I work better without someone asking a million questions.”
“She’s worried.”
Sean closed the door behind them. “I don’t like that Kirsten hasn’t contacted anyone, not her mother or a friend.”
“Unless one of her friends is keeping a secret.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” He walked down the hall to the kitchen. “First I’m going to check Kirsten’s cell phone records. Evelyn told me she left them on the kitchen table.”
He motioned up the stairs. “Kirsten’s room is at the top on the right. Patrick and I searched it yesterday, didn’t notice anything odd other than what I told you. But maybe you’ll see something different.”
“Because I’m a girl?”
“Exactly.” He kissed her again. “I’m going to set up down here and go through the phone records.”
Sean watched as Lucy went upstairs. He hadn’t been sure she’d like the daisy necklace because she rarely wore jewelry. He was pleased to see the pendant around her neck.
Sean sat at the table and pulled out his spreadsheet of Kirsten’s friends and their phone numbers. He compared that list to the cell phone log. Nothing looked unusual. Next, he looked at the phone numbers on the log that didn’t match up to Kirsten’s known friends.
There was one number in the 917 area code that kept coming up. Sean searched the prefix. It was retained for cell phones in New York City. Who did Kirsten know in New York? Sean looked at last Friday’s phone calls and noted that the same number called Kirsten in the morning and they spoke for eight minutes.
He dialed the number. It went straight to voice mail, a generic computer voice telling him to leave a message at the tone.
He emailed Patrick to run a reverse telephone directory search on that number while he continued to go through the rest of the current calls.
The last call Kirsten made was at 1:07 Sunday morning, to that same 917 number. It lasted one minute.
The records didn’t identify where text messages were sent or at what time, and there was no way of getting those messages unless Sean
“Trevor Conrad” had known more about her than anyone else, and she’d walked right into his trap.
Had Kirsten made similar mistakes?
“Lucy, what’s wrong?” Sean asked.
She shook her head, realizing that she was staring into space and Sean had been trying to talk to her about Kirsten and her mother. “What isn’t wrong?” she countered, not able to discuss her thoughts right now. “I’m ready, though you hardly need me.”
“We need to talk to Kirsten’s friends, and you’ve worked with teens. You know their in-speak, so to speak.” He smiled at his humor.
“And you don’t?” she said. “I’m here, so let’s get on with it.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “You’re not really mad at me.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I am.” But she wasn’t, not at Sean. Not anymore.
He reached out and lifted the amethyst daisy pendant off her chest. “No, you’re not.”
“I’m not going to take my anger out on a beautiful piece of jewelry just because the gift-giver picked the lock on my bedroom door.”
He kissed her. “I’ll try not to do it again.”
“Try?”
“I’m not going to make any promises I’m not sure I can keep.”
Lucy supposed that honesty was better than false promises, but she cherished her privacy, and Sean was going to have to learn that sometimes she needed to be alone.
They walked up to the front door. Sean had a key and let them in. “Evelyn had to work today, but that’s just as well because I work better without someone asking a million questions.”
“She’s worried.”
Sean closed the door behind them. “I don’t like that Kirsten hasn’t contacted anyone, not her mother or a friend.”
“Unless one of her friends is keeping a secret.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” He walked down the hall to the kitchen. “First I’m going to check Kirsten’s cell phone records. Evelyn told me she left them on the kitchen table.”
He motioned up the stairs. “Kirsten’s room is at the top on the right. Patrick and I searched it yesterday, didn’t notice anything odd other than what I told you. But maybe you’ll see something different.”
“Because I’m a girl?”
“Exactly.” He kissed her again. “I’m going to set up down here and go through the phone records.”
Sean watched as Lucy went upstairs. He hadn’t been sure she’d like the daisy necklace because she rarely wore jewelry. He was pleased to see the pendant around her neck.
Sean sat at the table and pulled out his spreadsheet of Kirsten’s friends and their phone numbers. He compared that list to the cell phone log. Nothing looked unusual. Next, he looked at the phone numbers on the log that didn’t match up to Kirsten’s known friends.
There was one number in the 917 area code that kept coming up. Sean searched the prefix. It was retained for cell phones in New York City. Who did Kirsten know in New York? Sean looked at last Friday’s phone calls and noted that the same number called Kirsten in the morning and they spoke for eight minutes.
He dialed the number. It went straight to voice mail, a generic computer voice telling him to leave a message at the tone.
He emailed Patrick to run a reverse telephone directory search on that number while he continued to go through the rest of the current calls.
The last call Kirsten made was at 1:07 Sunday morning, to that same 917 number. It lasted one minute.
The records didn’t identify where text messages were sent or at what time, and there was no way of getting those messages unless Sean
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