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“Lots of kids knew them girls.” A muscle in his heavy jaw bulged, and within the tangle of his beard his mouth became a firm, hard line. “Don’t you make this a witch hunt, y’hear? Don’t you go blamin’ Kywin for somethin’ he didn’t do. Now, get the hell off my property.”

He stomped into the house much like Kywin had minutes before, slamming the door behind him. Pescoli and Alvarez headed to the Subaru.

“Kywin Bell is lying,” Alvarez said.

“He and everyone else associated with this case.” Pescoli glared at the little house where Franklin and his two sons lived. “Teenagers: they all lie. And Kywin knows he’s in trouble. We’ve got proof.”

“All we’ve got is that she texted him and he lied about getting the text. Nothing more.”

“Yet,” she said as Alvarez started the engine and they rolled away from the house, “it’s just the tip of the iceberg. Those kids know more than they’re telling, or at least some of them do. We just have to dig deeper.”

By the time Pescoli got home, it was after nine. The dogs greeted her and she found Santana, freshly showered, long-neck bottle of beer in hand, stretched out on the couch in the family room. He was watching TV—some old Clint Eastwood movie that she should know the name of, but couldn’t remember. God, the beer looked inviting.

He clicked off the television and met her in the kitchen, where she was opening the refrigerator and staring glumly at the interior. “I could make you a double margarita,” he said and kissed her above her ear. She slid him a glance. He clarified, “A virgin.”

“Always so thoughtful.”

His grin was sexy. “I try.”

“Try harder.” Snagging a bottle of Perrier from the top shelf, she let the door close. “Bianca home? Or is she out being a movie star?”

“Make that ‘reality TV star.’ It’s a few steps down from being an A-lister on the red carpet, I think.” He took a swallow from his bottle. “But she’s up in her room. Jeremy is out.”

“With who?”

“He doesn’t tell me and I don’t ask. He’s old enough to come and go as he pleases.”

“Fine stepfather you turned out to be.” She kicked off her shoes and ignored the fact that her feet were swollen. Yeah, being pregnant was just a barrel of laughs. “And don’t tell me you try, okay?” She was joking, but it fell flat.

“You okay?” He was serious now, eyes assessing her.

“When am I ever ‘okay’?”

“Point taken.”

Leaning against the counter near the sink, she opened her bottle and took a drink. “Another girl’s missing.” She then went on to tell him about her day and the interview with Kywin Bell. She closed her eyes, rotating her neck, hoping to release the tension she’d felt ever since learning Lindsay Cronin was missing. “I can’t help but think her disappearance is linked to Destiny Montclaire’s. God, I hope we find her alive.”

“But you’re not betting on it.”

“No. Her phone’s gone dark. Turned off. Can’t be GPS tracked because it’s off. No one can reach her, and we haven’t found her car. No one’s seen her. We double-checked with friends, family, and the local hospitals, which the parents had already done . . . and . . . nothing. We’ve

caught a couple of kids lying.... They know something but are hell-bent on keeping it on the down low. Oh, hell. I think I’d better go talk to Bianca.”

“You think she knows something?”

“No, but the truth is, I don’t know.”

She headed up the stairs and found Bianca, leg propped on a pillow, watching reruns of Big Foot Territory: Oregon! on her iPad while simultaneously texting her friends. A frozen bag of peas lay atop her ankle.

“You heard about Lindsay?” her mother asked.

Bianca moved higher on the pillows as her mother sat on the edge of the bed. “Everyone’s talking about it. My phone’s blowing up.”

“Anyone know anything?”

“No.” Bianca paused the action on the screen of her device, where two men with long hair and rifles were stealthily walking through a mountain wilderness. “Everyone’s asking about her, but no one has any information. They’re all saying that her parents think she snuck out, took her car, and didn’t come back.”

Pescoli nodded. “That’s about the gist of it. Any ideas? Would she go off to meet a boyfriend?”


Tags: Lisa Jackson Mystery