The Attic on Queen Street (Tradd Street #7)

Veronica’s face puckered in concentration before she slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so. Do you have a picture of her?”

Thomas slid the yearbook toward him and opened it up to a bookmarked page. He turned the book around so that Veronica could see and pointed at a class photo. “This is her senior picture.” He waited a moment for Veronica to study it, then turned to another bookmarked page. “And these are two group pictures of the sailing team—a formal one and a casual pose at an award ceremony. Lauren is the one standing next to the guy holding the trophy.”

Veronica leaned closer, flipping between the two pages, finally pausing on the team photo. “She does look vaguely familiar. There were a few times when Adrienne invited us to post-regatta parties. Our parents usually begged off, but Michael and I would sometimes go, so we met pretty much the whole team. It’s just been so long that I don’t remember . . .” She stopped, her head tilted to the side. She picked up the yearbook and held it directly in front of her. “The dress she’s wearing. That was Adrienne’s.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas stood to look over Veronica’s shoulder.

She nodded. “I’m certain because I gave it to her. I’d worn it only a few times and, knowing she didn’t have the funds for new clothes, I offered it to her. She altered it—gave it a ruffle hem and shortened the sleeves. Almost made me regret letting it go. But she was amazing with a needle and loved to sew. She’d planned to be a fashion designer.” Veronica’s voice caught. “Yeah, this is definitely the same dress.”

“Do you find it strange that she might have lent it to someone else to wear?”

Veronica sat down, cradling the yearbook against her chest. “No. Not at all. Adrienne was the most generous person I’ve ever known. If you told her you liked something she was wearing, she’d either let you wear it or offer to make one for you. Even if she and this Lauren Dempsey were only acquaintances from the sailing team, Adrienne would have loaned her a dress. Or her CD player.”

I stood and reached for the yearbook. “Which one is Lauren?”

Thomas pointed to a tall woman with sun-bleached, almost white blond hair. She was slim, but her muscular arms, shown to advantage in the dress, revealed her hobby of hoisting sails. With her bright white smile gleaming against her tanned face, she could have been posing for a toothpaste ad.

“She’s very pretty.”

“If you like tall blondes,” Thomas said without a glimmer of sarcasm.

Veronica and I both looked at him while I smiled to myself, picturing Jayne, who was tall but definitely not a blonde.

“Have you had a chance to interview her?” Veronica asked Thomas.

“Well, that’s the thing. We were unable to locate Lauren, so I contacted her parents, who still live in Sarasota.” He paused. “They haven’t seen her since right before graduation. Apparently, Lauren left a note in her dorm room the day before she was to graduate, telling them that she needed some time alone and was going to backpack across the country for a year before settling down into her adult life. Most of her clothes and belongings had been packed up and removed from her room while her roommate wasn’t there, so nobody knows where she went or if she went with anyone.”

My chest felt heavy as I imagined how I’d feel if Nola ran off with just a note. “And her parents haven’t seen her since? Surely they were suspicious that something wasn’t right? I mean, was Lauren the type of person who’d just up and disappear?”

“Her mother said that Lauren had always had a bit of wanderlust, and she enjoyed hiking and the outdoors and had taken several trips overseas with friends. But never by herself and never without letting her parents know where she was. They called the police and reported Lauren missing, but without any evidence that she’d been abducted, and with the note saying she’d left of her own free will, there was nothing they could do.”

“Those poor parents,” I said. “And the note was in Lauren’s handwriting?”

“According to the parents, yes. When the police closed the case, the Dempseys sold pretty much everything they owned and took out a second mortgage on their house to pay for private investigators. Every once in a while, they’ll get a lead, but there’s been no trace of Lauren.”

“That’s so heartbreaking,” I said. “I’m wondering if Lauren and Adrienne were close friends and if Adrienne’s murder affected her in a bigger way than she let on.”

Thomas nodded. “I thought the same thing, but when I asked Lauren’s parents, they didn’t remember Lauren ever mentioning Adrienne. However, it was a long time ago, and Lauren was very popular and had lots of friends.”

“Just like Adrienne,” Veronica said softly.

“So there’s been no contact at all?” I asked.

Thomas nodded. “Actually, there has been. Every once in a while, her parents receive a postcard from Lauren—always from a different location around the country—letting them know she’s fine and that she’ll come home when she’s ready. And that she loves them.”

“But it’s been more than twenty years,” Veronica said. “Are they sure the postcards are from Lauren?”

“They say they are, but I’ve asked them to send me the postcards as well as the note she left on the day she disappeared and some of her older handwriting samples. I’m going to have an expert analyze the handwriting to make sure they were all written by the same person.” He paused. “I really hesitated to share this information with you. Lauren’s thumbprint on the CD player only means she touched it at some point. Her disappearance could have absolutely nothing to do with Adrienne’s death. It could just be a coincidence.”