“I can tell they searched,” she whispered. “They did a nice job putting things back, but I can tell.”
Ava thought it was surprisingly neat for an eleven-year-old’s room. At that age, she and her sister rarely saw the floor of their shared bedroom; they had practically used the floor as a closet. Henley’s bed was made, and there wasn’t a shred of clothing to be seen. Several shelving units held fabric storage bins. They looked nice and neat from the outside, but Ava suspected they were loaded with a mishmash of toys, books, and Barbies.
A poster of an unfamiliar boy band held the place of honor over Henley’s headboard. A huge white desk with a hutch for knickknacks overflowed with stuffed animals with huge eyes. A dozen lip glosses and a lighted makeup mirror were pushed to one side of the desk.
“They took her computer.” Lilian ran her hand across the white wood. “I’m not surprised. It just seems to leave a glaring empty space on her desk.”
Ava stared at the blank spot. Did all eleven-year-olds have their own computers in their rooms? Didn’t all the parenting magazines caution against that?
“I had good parental control software on there,” Lilian said as if reading her mind. “It kept her from accessing certain websites. Even some websites that I had no problem with.”
“Did you ever look at her browsing history?”
“I did at first. But it was all simple stuff. Disney and Barbie and games. I haven’t checked in a while.” Her voice faded away.
Ava’s thoughts sped to Internet predators; she suspected Lilian’s did, too. “If there’s something on there, our guys will find it. Fast. It’ll be the first thing they look for,” she said.
Lilian shook her head, staring at the pile of lip gloss. “I should have checked more frequently. But I trusted her to come to me with questions. We talked about what was appropriate on the Internet, and I cautioned her about being contacted by people she didn’t know. I know she did some game sites with her friends, but she couldn’t really chat with other players. She could only pick from a set of phrases to use, like ‘This is fun’ or ‘Have a happy day.’”
“The FBI will be able to see every site she visited,” Ava said.
“I should have watched her better,” Lilian whispered. “I let her be on there by herself too much.”
Ava didn’t like the despair threatening Lilian’s gaze. The woman was falling into a whirlpool of self-doubt and blame. “Lilian. Look at me.” The woman turned, her brown eyes moist. Ava grabbed her hands and squeezed them. “Listen. You are not a bad mother. Not looking over your child’s shoulder every minute of every day does not make you a bad mother. This is not your fault. Do not beat yourself up when we don’t know what’s happened.” The woman nodded as Ava spoke, but she doubted her words penetrated Lilian’s self-blame.
How does a mother function when her baby is out of her reach?
“Let’s get your bags packed.” Ava assigned a task, hoping it would shift Lilian’s focus. She tugged on the mother’s hands, pulling her to the door. Lilian followed and didn’t look back into her daughter’s room. In the hallway she seemed to snap out of her mood and moved past Ava to her own bedroom.
“It’ll just take me a few minutes.” She shut the door to her room.
Ava halted in the hall. That was an unmistakable don’t come in.
This was her new role. As soon as Duncan had said she would be embedded with the family, Ava’s role had switched from being an investigator to being a hand-holder. It would have been nice if Duncan had approached her privately about embedding. It was a bit of a dickhead move to pop it on her in front of the mothers. But she would have agreed if he’d asked her beforehand. And Duncan knew her well enough to know that. Still, she’d hide his favorite coffee mug in retaliation for not warning her.
She let Lilian have a few minutes to herself and went to the kitchen. Special Agent Parek looked up as she entered. He sat at the kitchen table, two cell phones, a novel, and a notepad in front of him. Ava avoided looking at the Christmas tree in the living room. The stack of presents underneath made her heart hurt.
“She says they put things back neatly. She seems pretty pleased,” Ava told him. He nodded and gestured at a chair at the table. She pulled out the chair to join him. Parek seemed like a quiet type of guy. He was compact, not much taller than her, with kind, dark eyes. “Do you know how the canvass went in the building?”
“Out of a dozen units, only six had people inside. A team is coming back this evening to knock on doors again. The art gallery has a camera system that catches part of the sidewalk out front and another camera on the rear entrance. They had a backup of forty-eight hours of footage, so if Henley somehow made it here, we’ll see her.” Parek took a sip of a soda, and Ava realized she’d missed lunch. She never missed lunch. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. She had to eat several times a day, or she suffered severe headaches.
She would eat and sleep this case until it was over. It was the type of case that she had to throw herself into 100 percent, or she’d feel she failed the parents. And failed herself.
She was prepared for the worst, but she would fight for the best outcome for Henley in every way she could. But she wouldn’t be out tramping the sidewalks or digging through paperwork on this case. Her hands had been tied on the investigative side. As the fill-in victim specialist, her job was to be there for the family. Not to interview the parents.
Of course she’d keep her ears open . . . and ask a question here and there.
“What do you think of the mother?” Parek asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know. I met her a few hours ago, and she’s traumatized over the loss of her daughter. It’s too early to form any accurate opinions.”
But what does my gut tell me?
She’d been watching Lilian’s every expression and movement. She’d been analyzing every word out of her mouth. Had she seen anything to make her feel Lilian was lying? Or holding something back?
Not yet.
Her departure in the hallway had been abrupt, but Ava had understood the need for some privacy. The woman wouldn’t have much of it until they found her daughter.
“Has anyone stopped by? Any neighbors or friends?”
Special Agent Parek shook his head. “It’s been quiet. With the security system the building has in place, I don’t expect any friends to drop in. As for the neighbors, I don’t know if this is a get-to-know-your-neighbor type of building or not. There’s no landline, so no calls, either.”
“I’m ready.” Lilian stepped into the kitchen. “I didn’t know how many days to pack for. Do you think I need more than a day or two of clothes?” Her red-rimmed eyes blinked rapidly, and Ava knew she’d cried as she hid in her bedroom.
There’s no answer to that question.
Ava forced a smile. “We can always come back for more.”
Lilian flinched, and Ava wished she could have said, “I’m sure that’s more than enough.”
But that wasn’t who she was. She was too damned practical. “Pack for the worst,” she wanted to say. She believed in keeping a positive attitude but didn’t let it affect the practical decisions that needed to be made.
Prepare for the worst.
You could never pack too much underwear or question too many neighbors. An agent did what needed to be done.
“That doesn’t mean we don’t expect to find her soon. It’s okay to plan ahead.” Her voice softened. “Our goal is to find her before you need anything you’ve packed.”
Lilian’s throat convulsed as she swallowed. She nodded. “Let’s go.”
In the car on the way back to the Fairbanks house, Ava asked her if it felt odd to stay in her ex-husband’s home.
“Not really. We’ve done some short vacations together. Like trips to the coast or the water park in Washington,” Lilian answered, her gaze on the scenery they were passing.
“You do all get along,” Ava stated. “That’s rare.”
“I guess. The kids all like each other. Even Jake enjoys being with the younger girls. He’s a good big brother. It makes it easier when the adults have all committed to doing what’s best for the kids.”
“What about Jake’s dad? Is he around much?” The detective was stuck in Ava’s brain. His level of professionalism and almost old-fashioned manners at the interview had impressed her. He looked to be in his late forties, with salt-and-pepper hair and dark-brown eyes. She’d immediately picked up that he was an investigator through and through. It took one to know one.
“Mason? He’s a good guy. Just always working. He’s married to the job. I don’t know how he and Robin lasted as long as they did. I don’t see much of him, but Robin says he stays in touch with Jake. She has nothing but kind words for him. I think she almost feels sorry for him. He never remarried and seems to have a pretty solitary life.”
Ava understood perfectly.
She felt Lilian’s gaze focus on her. “What about you? I don’t see a ring. Do you have kids?”
Ava paused. In any other situation, she’d deflect the questions. Her personal life was her own business. But she was facing the possibility of spending a lot of hours with Lilian and the Fairbanks. She needed to appear open to gain their trust. “Never married. No kids. I guess I’m a bit like Jake’s dad. Married to the job. But I like it that way.” She didn’t look at Lilian, whose curiosity filled the car. Did she believe her? Some people thought their life wasn’t complete unless they had a significant other.