“I’m so sorry, but I can’t say that I remember her.”
I’m crestfallen. And getting nowhere.
“But that doesn’t mean much. I’m only here two days a week. And the paper said that she was underage?” Heidi looks up at me with hope in her eyes.
“Yes, she was a minor. Just seventeen.”
“Well, if that’s the case, the person you really need to speak to is Stacey. Hold on, I’ll go get her.”
I stand in the room, fidgeting. After a few minutes, I dig my cell out of my bag and check it. There’s a text message from Flynn.
Sophie, you need to call me.
A wave of anxiety crashes over my chest and it suddenly feels as if the room is too small. I try and steady my breath and my hands, but it’s impossible. Jamming my cell back in my bag, I begin to walk in tight circles around the room.
A tall, striking blonde opens the door and enters the room, with Heidi behind her.
“Hi, I’m Stacey,” she says, flashing me a blinding white smile.
I smile back but don’t offer my name.
“Heidi’s filled me in; can I see the picture?”
I pass it to her, and as soon as her eyes land on Abby, her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh, god. I remember her.” She nods her head quickly and her eyesmist with tears. Stacey hands me the paper back and sucks in a deep breath, presumably to collect herself.
“Look, I’m not supposed to be sharing any of this, but this one really bothered me, stuck with me. She came in one afternoon. Late. Like just before closing. It was strange because there were two women with her. One was a blonde who sat in the lobby like a statue, but the other one—I just keep remembering how pushy she was.”
Callie. And Margot. I knew it.
“The girl had an appointment lined up and everything in advance, so I assumed she didn’t need any counseling about her decision. But when she approached me at reception, she was shaking and crying. I kept asking her if she wanted to go through with it, but she wouldn’t answer me; she just kept looking down at the floor. Then the other woman—she said she was her aunt—came up to us and put her hands on the girl’s shoulders.”
My stomach is coiling into a ball as I listen to Stacey. I can picture the whole thing.
“So her aunt, a dark brunette, kept saying to her, ‘You know we already talked about this; you know it’s what’s best. So sign the paperwork, sweetie. We need to get this taken care of.’” Stacey sighs and twists her long hair around her fingers. “I thought it was so odd that she was being so pushy. The girl clearly wasn’t ready to go through with it, and here was this stern woman coaxing her into it. I mean, when we have cases like these, we normally will counsel both parties, but when I tried to suggest it, the aunt put her hand up to me and told me to leave them alone. And then the girl bolted out the front door without going through with anything.”
“Do you think you could remember the women who were with her? What they looked like?”
“I can try.”
I fish out my cell, tap on the screen until the photos of Margot and Callie appear. I show her Callie’s picture first.
She’s nodding as she studies it. “Yes, that was definitely her. Definitely.”
A warm feeling spreads across my body. I feel so vindicated I could cry. I show her the picture of Margot next.
Her face scrunches up as she scrutinizes it. “Ithinkthat’s her. But I can’t say for sure. The whole time she was in here, she was wearing huge sunglasses and a baseball cap. I remember that clearly because I always think it’s so rude when people indoors won’t take off their sunglasses to speak with you—it’s so snooty—and that’s exactly the air she was giving off.”
Oversize sunglasses. Definitely Margot.
I beam at Stacey and I can’t help it; I pull her into a hug.
“I’m just sorry,” she says, her voice breaking, “that I didn’t do more for her.”
I squeeze her, and tears prick my eyes as I think about Abby and what she went through. “You’ve helped me so much. And now, I can help the police with finding out exactly what happened to her.”
I stash the newspaper back in my bag, and we head out into the lobby. Scanning the ceiling for cameras, I spot a few near the front desk.
“Do you know if these are closed-circuit cameras?” I ask Stacey.
