“Um... nineteen,” Griffin said.
“Nineteen?” she repeated, wondering if she’d misheard.
“That’s right.”
“Nineteen is a legal adult. How is a teenager not being home on the weekend cause for calling 911?” Bel asked. “Are there signs of forced entry or foul play?”
“No.”
“And they saw her last night?”
“That’s what they said.”
“She hasn’t been missing for twenty-four hours, so without signs of wrongdoing, we can’t file a report. She’s probably out with friends or a boy.”
“That’s what I suggested, but her father’s concerned because all of her stuff is still at home. Her shoes, keys, wallet, and phone. What nineteen-year-old leaves the house without her phone?”
Bel cursed because she was thirty-five, and she went nowhere without her cell. Granted, she was a homicide detective who needed to always be within reach, but it didn’t change the fact that most people didn’t leave their phones at home.
“Mr. Triton wondered if she’d gone for a walk or something, so he took a drive, but he didn’t find her,” Griffin continued. “Their neighbors haven’t seen her either.”
“She’s probably at a boy’s house,” Bel said as she stared at her sisters. Growing up, she’d seen all of them sneak out at least once to visit a boyfriend. “A lot of parents and kids share their locations via their phones’ apps. Maybe she didn’t want her dad knowing that she’d snuck out to party or hook up with a guy.”
“Being that it’s the weekend, that’s the most likely scenario,” Griffin said. “But her parents are worried, and while I know this won’t officially become a missing persons case until twenty-four hours have passed, I can’t get those Matchstick Girls out of my head. Jax Frost froze over forty women to death because he picked girls no one checked on.”
“And you want to do your due diligence to put your mind at ease,” Bel said.
“Exactly. We probably have a case of teenage rebellion on our hands, but on the off chance it’s an emergency, I don’t want to dismiss it. I’d at least like to double-check things for the family.”
“No, I get it.”
“It’s why I’m calling you. Gold has been covering your shifts since you’ve been off, so I can’t make her pull more overtime. I’m going to drive over to the Triton’s, but I’d like a woman with me. The family, and eventually the daughter, might find it easier if you’re there.”
“I agree.” Bel stood up, mourning the breakfast she could no longer enjoy, but before she could pity herself, Eamon returned to the dining room. She hadn’t even realized he’d left her side, but he held a sandwich freshly wrapped in parchment paper for her.
“Text me the address,” Bel said as she accepted the to-go breakfast and kissed Eamon’s cheek. “I’ll head over now.”
“Great. Thank you,” her boss said. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“As I’m sure you’ve all guessed, I have to go.” Bel moved to Briar as she hung up the phone and hugged her sisters and their families goodbye. “It’s probably nothing, so I’ll be home soon.”
“Be safe, kiddo.” Reese hugged her a little too tightly. It seemed he’d gleaned enough from the one-sided conversation to trigger his fatherly protectiveness.
“I always am,” she said, which earned her a disapproving grunt from Eamon.
“Thanks for the sandwich.” She shook her head at her boyfriend before kissing him. “I’ll try not to be too late.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Triton,I’m Sheriff Griffin, and this is Detective Isobel Emerson,” Griffin said when the burly and beardedfisherman-esque gentleman and his redheaded wife answered the door. They lived in the more rural part of town close to the lake, meaning the officers had to drive down a neighborless dirt road to get there. It wouldn’t be difficult for a teenager to slip out of the house and neighborhood unnoticed.
“Come in.” Mr. Triton gestured past his dazed wife to the living room, and Bel couldn’t help but pat the woman’s arm as she entered. It didn’t matter that her daughter had most likely snuck out to party. A mother’s worry always drove down the path of unthinkable outcomes.
“On the phone, you said your daughter went to bed last night, but when you woke up, she was gone?” Griffin asked as they settled on the sofa across from the couple.
“That’s correct,” Mr. Triton said.
“How did she seem last night?” Griffin asked. “Agitated? Afraid? Anxious?”
“Ariella seemed completely normal,” the father answered. “We had dinner together, watched some TV, and then turned in.”
