“This is her.”
“Sheriff O’Malley, here. I’m heading up the search for your friend, Briana. Mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”
She gasps. “Why? What happened?”
“No one’s heard from her for almost a week. Her parents are worried.” My teeth grind at her short, incredulous laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Confused, I turn to my passenger, who shrugs.
Her sigh lasts for five seconds. “Listen. Mr. and Mrs. Gainsborough have… issues. They treat their daughter like she’s sixteen. I’m sure she’s fine. She’ll flip when she finds out they reported her missing.”
Her opinion’s noted, but irrelevant. “When did you see her last?”
“Saturday night. I planned on hiking with her for a couple days but twisted my ankle on the way to the campsite. I had to hobble back to the parking lot all by myself. She wouldn’t even help.”
My right pinkie twitches. That, along with the stitch in my gut says she’s lying. “Hell of a thing to hike out alone, injured.”
“Right?” She lowers her voice to a whisper, like we’re swapping gossip. “Did you know she’s basically homeless? I felt sorry for her. Why else would I agree to sleep in a tent?”
“Couldn’t say, miss—Did she appear despondent?” My pace quickens, hoping she’ll get the hint to move the conversation along.
“Bree? Emotion is not her style.” The bitterness in her voice prickles the back of my neck.
For the first time, I wonder if we’re looking at more than a lost hiker. “Thank you, Andrea. Will you call me if you think of anything more?”
“Oh yeah, actually—there is one more thing. She’s been talking to some online shrink. Calls him Herman. She’s broke so he’s probably not legit.”
I glance at my rearview, then pass the car in front, doing thirty. “Do you know where Briana was headed?”
“To the end of the trail, naturally. Bree finishes what she starts. It’s the sole reason she wouldn’t off herself, even if she were depressed.”
My ears perk up as I lay on the gas. “So, shewasupset.”
“Haven’t you been listening? Job gone. No apartment. Dumped. She wasn’t upset, she was inconsolable.”
“Yes, ma’am. But anything more recent? Did you two have words?” Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at Jeff whose frown mimics my own.
Finally, she answers. “No. Sorry. I need to go. Bye.”
In the parking lot, my pal scratches his dark beard. “So they fought—split up—now the friend’s disappeared?”
“Apparently—Has Briana posted anything on social media?”
“Give me a sec.” Jeff pulls out his phone. “Nada. But her family? Holy crap. Dog poop, baby spit-up, you name it.”
Grunting, I switch off the ignition and point. “There’s Celia.”
As I hop out, my phone pings nonstop. A glance down tells me all I need to know. “My new assistant, Ronnie, is losing her shit. The Gainsboroughs have called over a hundred times. She wants me to deal with them.”
Jeffrey snorts, eyeing the emoji-stuffed screen. “Why in God’s name did you hire her?”
“Community service. It was me or thirty days in jail.” Hoping the teen will step up, I ignore the texts and let my dog out the back.
A quick pat on the head for her, handshakes for us, the gray-haired paramedic asks, “Where’re Manny and Frank?”
Clicking a map on my notepad, I zoom in. “They started looking at the trail’s end.”
Becca, who’s been quiet this whole time, barks, tail going nuts.
