"Get some sleep first."
"You keep saying that."
"Because you keep not doing it."
She almost smiled. Almost. Then she picked up her notebook, tucked the phone back into the evidence bag, and walked out of the tech lab with purpose that told Noah she wasn't going home. She was going to her desk. She was going to pull every thread connected to Samuel Bridger and Strutz Models until the threads formed a rope, and then she was going to hang him with it.
Noah stood alone in the lab for a moment. He thought about the Strutz sticker on Hailey's phone case. He thought about the flyer Callie had found at the White Stone Deli. He thought about Fiona Spence, who had been driving to a modeling job the night she vanished. He thought about Brooke Danvers, wearing Kara Ellison's jacket and carrying her ID, as if the killer had dressed her in someone else's identity before discarding her.
Every road led back to the same intersection. Young women. Modeling. A man with a camera and a contract and the ability to make girls trust him.
Samuel Bridger.
23
The stairs to the Strutz Agency were as steep as Callie said they were. He and Callie climbed single file and knocked at the top.
The door opened and Samuel Bridger stood on the other side in a fitted black shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, his hair pushed back, his jaw freshly shaved. Behind him the office was warm with low lighting and the faint smell of coffee and something floral, hairspray or perfume or both. A woman was gathering her things near a makeup station against the far wall.
"Thank you, Marisol," Samuel said over his shoulder. "Take the afternoon off. We'll pick up Monday."
Noah noted the name tag on her shirt.
"Gracias." Marisol Delgado zipped her case and slung it over her shoulder. She passed Noah and Callie in the doorway, her footsteps quick on the stairs behind them.
Samuel watched her go, then turned back to them with an easy expression. "How can I help?"
A gallery wall of headshots lined the space, young faces arranged in rows, all of them lit the same way, all of them smiling the same kind of smile. He pulled Hailey Benton's phonefrom the evidence bag and held it up. "Hailey Benton. We believe she did modeling through this agency. Is that right?"
"Benton." Samuel nodded. "Yeah."
"You always in the habit of phoning your models multiple times?"
"I have to communicate. Scheduling, callbacks, contract details. It's part of the job."
Noah pulled a printed sheet from the folder Callie handed him and set it on the desk between them. Phone records. Columns of calls and timestamps, dense enough that they covered the full page in small type. He turned it so Samuel could read it.
"This many times?" Noah said.
Samuel looked at the sheet. He didn't pick it up. His eyes moved down the column of entries and his expression didn't change, which told Noah more than if it had. A man seeing his own call log for the first time would react. Surprise, confusion, the instinct to count. Samuel just read it like something he already knew was there.
"I was worried about her," he said. "Her mental health. She said she'd been having some problems at home. I don't get involved too much, but she seemed like she didn't have anyone else to talk to."
"Problems at home?"
"Parents. Life. What she wanted to do with hers. The usual things most twenty-year-olds talk about."
Callie moved along the wall of headshots while Noah held the center of the room. She was looking for Hailey's photo. She found it in the third row, second from the left. Blonde hair, wide smile, the ring light reflected in both eyes.
"You called her on the day of her disappearance. Multiple times." Noah tapped the sheet. "And then not again until she showed up in hospital. Want to clarify?"
"Some of those calls were probably about modeling. The others were just me showing concern. When I didn't hear back, I figured she was busy. It wasn't until I heard through the grapevine that she'd been found that I reached out again."
"Through the grapevine," Noah repeated. "Who told you she was in the hospital?"
Samuel paused for the first time. A fraction of a second, barely visible, but Noah caught it. "I don't remember. Word travels in a small town."
"Did she ever come here outside of working hours?" Callie asked from across the room.
