"I—I woke up once, I guess, to adjust my pillow. I saw her bag was empty then."
Camille cut in, "We don't know what Alexis saw or didn't see in a dark basement with other girls moving around."
"That's what we're trying to clarify." King spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "We're not accusing anyone. We're just seeing some patterns we'd like your help to understand, Mia."
"Move along," Camille said.
"There are also some things we heard from the neighbors," Callahan said. "Specifically, Mrs. Atkins, who lives next door to the Westinghouse home."
Camille cleared her throat. "If you have a statement, we'll review it later. But you know as well as I do you can't treat neighbors' gossip like fact."
"Mrs. Atkins called the non-emergency line Saturday," Callahan continued as if Camille hadn't spoken. "She reported that she heard voices out by the bluff around 12:15 a.m., early Saturday morning. Female voices, talking loudly. Whose voices, Mia?"
The room chilled. Mia's gaze snapped up, wide and startled, meeting Callahan's for the first time. Raw panic flared for a moment before she forced her gaze back down to the table. "I don't know who that was."
"Mrs. Atkins is seventy-nine years old," Camille said. "I will need to see her auditory records before I accept the reliability of her hearing from two hundred feet away. Next question, detectives."
"Let's talk about your camera," Callahan said, changing tactics. "A Nikon D780, correct?"
"Yes," Mia said. "My dad gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday. It was his before."
"Sounds like it's special to you."
Mia nodded.
The missing Nikon had been a constant ache in my chest sinceSaturday. His last birthday gift to her. The way he'd placed it in her hands with exaggerated ceremony. How she'd thrown her arms around his neck, nearly knocking them both over, laughing with delight.
Mia wouldn't misplace it. I knew that with all my heart.
Callahan said, "You took your Nikon to the Westinghouse property on Friday night, correct?"
"Yes," Mia said.
"And you used it for the photo shoot by the bluff. And then took it inside, right?"
"Yes."
"Where is it now?"
"I don't know. It wasn't in its case in the morning."
"When was the last time you saw it?"
"When I came in from the photo shoot. I put it in the case, next to my overnight bag, beside the patio doors. Maybe someone took it out by accident, and it got left somewhere."
I could picture Rowan's spacious walk-out basement. It was the size of another house, with an open floor plan that included a game room with ping-pong, air hockey, and a pool table, a movie room with a giant screen, a full-sized kitchen, and a second family room.
Plenty of space for something like a camera to disappear without anyone noticing.
"The problem is," Callahan said, "we did a thorough search of the basement with the homeowners' consent. We didn't find your camera. Not in the basement. Not near the bluff. Nowhere."
A buzzing started in my ears.
"It's a camera," Camille interjected. "Portable. Handheld. It could've been moved. It could've been stolen. One of the other girls could have taken it."
"Perhaps," Callahan agreed evenly. "We've talked to the other girls and looked through their phones. Mia, your camera also has photos from the night Leah died, which we haven't seen yet. That makes it pretty important to our investigation." She let that sit for a moment. "Mia, if that camera turns up, what will we findon it?"
Mia's voice was barely a whisper. "Pictures from the photo shoot."
