That didn’t mean that hearing her say it out loud didn’t sting. Cloister knew that firsthand. He also knew that sometimes sympathy made it worse. So he shrugged and changed the subject.
“Where did you put the equipment?” he asked.
“In the kitchen,” Javi said. The ice had gone from his voice, leaving it brisk and dry. “I didn’t want to risk Billy being able to communicate with her without being seen. “He still thinks that it’s some sort of misunderstanding. He still thinks that love is real.”
Cloister winced. Right then he wasn’t entirely sure whom he felt sorriest for.
A huge wooden table made of pale oak and well waxed dominated the Hartley’s kitchen. It was the sort of table that made a statement about the owner’s commitment to sit-down dinners and family time. That they meant well, but—based on the unmarked wood, free of dents or scuffs—they never really got around to it.
Occupying the table was a tangle of equipment, a frustrated computer tech from the sheriff’s department, and Billy hunched on a kitchen chair, trying to disappear inside his own T-shirt.
“I dunno,” he mumbled, presumably in response to something the tech had asked him. “Maybe. I don’t see why we have to do this. Bri didn’t do this. She’s not like what you’ve said.”
The staunch defense made Lara shudder. She pushed the heel of her hand against her forehead, pressed hard enough to blanch the skin, and then turned away. The job of making coffee gave her hands something to do, and she fumbled awkwardly with the coffeepot and faucets.
“Where’s Ken?” Javi asked.
She gave him a dirty look but didn’t have the energy to hold on to the emotion. Her shoulders slumped, and she went back to frowning at the coffee canister. “He went out,” she said. Her voice was small and very precise. “He won’t be long. Do you want a cup of coffee, Deputy Witte? Oh, would the dog like a drink?”
“She’d appreciate that,” Cloister said. “Me too. Thank you, Doctor Hartley.”
The only one she didn’t offer a drink to was Javi, but Cloister had learned his lesson. He ignored the snub. While Lara opened and closed cupboards looking for something to fill with water, Cloister went to the table. He put his hand on Billy’s shoulder.
“You doing okay?” he asked.
Billy shrugged. It was as much of an answer as Cloister could have expected—more of one than anyone would have gotten from Cloister at that age, probably. He’d done a lot of grunting and sullen staring.
“We need to get our suspect to log in to Skype,” the tech said. He pulled his glasses down onto the tip of his nose and scratched between his eyebrows with the end of a pencil. “Once they do that, I can sniff out the VoIP ID’s datagrams and use geolocation tools to find out their current location. I’ll also be able to get their ISP, and we can ask for a warrant to get their internet activity. But we need them to log in and contact us first.”
“I don’t like lying to her,” Billy said to his knees. “You don’t know her. You’re all wrong about her.”
“Billy—”
“Tell him,” Lara interrupted. She dropped a Pyrex bowl into the sink, and the crack of glass on metal made them all jump. “Tell him the truth about this person, this ‘Bri.’ I don’t want him going anywhere near them if he doesn’t know the truth. If he doesn’t believe it.”
“I do, Mom,” Billy protested. “I’ve seen her pictures and her family and….”
Cloister glanced at Javi and got a slow, uncertain shrug in answer. It was up to Cloister, apparently. He’d always thought the truth was better than a lie, however comforting. At least the truth was an end.
“The girl in the pictures you have? Her name is Birdie Utkin,” Cloister said. “Her father is a property developer, and she dated your uncle.”
Billy’s face creased with disgust. “He’s, like, thirty.”
“Twenty-five,” Lara corrected him. She flicked the tap on with a hard twist, and water splashed noisily into the bowl. “He’s twenty-five, and so is Birdie Utkin now. Not fourteen, not your girlfriend.”
“No. She’s…. I don’t believe you.”
Javi stepped forward and held out his phone. “This is Birdie Utkin,” he said, “with her father. It’s one of the pictures he gave the police when she went missing.”
Billy shook his head. “No,” he said. “They just look alike. Everyone has a double, right?”
He looked at Cloister for reassurance, and his eyes begged for them not to take this away as well. Unfortunately that was going to happen eventually.
“This isn’t the first time they’ve done this either,” Cloister said. “They’ve used Birdie’s identity to approach other people, to get them to do what they want.”
The breath that rattled out of Billy was almost a sob. He sniffed hard and folded his lips in over his teeth. “Are they…. Did she kill them?”
Maybe it was always best to know the truth, but Cloister didn’t know if the details were what Billy needed right then. He was scared enough.
