“Oh, that.” I nodded. “Let’s wait until we’re back at the precinct and I can populate a timeline on paper. In case I’m wrong.”
“You?” Shooter said.
But I nodded. Something had been unsettling me all afternoon.
Was it the dead women?It would be unlike me, but perhaps I was extrapolating my Camila—forward in age—imagining an atrocity like this happening to her.
Amber came back through the office and opened the door, handing Shooter an iPhone in a pink case. Her eyes were red again.
“I thought she was exaggerating,” she said to me while Shooter inspected the phone. “You know?”
“Mavreen?” I confirmed.
Amber nodded, and I said nothing. What was there to say?
“What happened to your sister wasn’t your fault,” Shooter jumpedin. “So don’t do that to yourself, Amber. It’s not true, first of all. And it’s definitely not worth it.”
“There was always some guy.” Amber wiped at her face. “Being mean to her. Scary. Guess I got tired of rescuing her.”
Amber was staring at me.
The silence grew, and I knew I should say something. But she didn’t want to hear the truth: that her sister had reached out to her, and she had let her down.
And I wasn’t good at handing out redemption.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Shooter and I supplied Amber Isiah with our contact information, and Jo took the wheel, heading back to Shilo.
“You know, Gardner,” she said after a minute, her voice more serious than usual. “Sometimes people are just looking for an ‘It’s okay.’ You know how to say, ‘It’s okay,’ right?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Yes, I do.”
Shooter’s phone rang through the speaker of the SUV, and Richie came on. “We’ve got something,” he said, his voice ringing with the nervous excitement we’d grown accustomed to. “Can you talk?”
“Yeah,” Shooter said. “We’re just driving back.”
“A woman named Olive McCredey saw one of the skull photos. Came by here in person.”
“This woman has a missing daughter?” Shooter asked.
“No,” Richie said. “She’s a retired schoolteacher. Told us one of the photos looks just like a girl she once taught. The girl’s dad lives on a houseboat on Lake Garvin.”
“You talk to the family yet?” Shooter asked.
“Detective Quinones said it’s on your way back,” Richie said. “Butit’s not in his jurisdiction. He’s asking if you want a sheriff to meet you there.”
A sheriff would deliver a death notice, but we needed to verify more details before that.
“Send us the picture you went out with,” I said. “And the address. We’ll check it out first.”
“I could meet you guys,” Richie offered. His voice was full of nerves, and I couldn’t tell if he was on edge about doing his first death notification—or something else.
“It’s all right,” I said. “But after this, let’s get the team assembled. Cassie and I need to head out soon, and I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Copy that,” Richie said. “Why don’t I pick up some chow while you two follow this up?”
“Great.”
