They followed her up the walk. In the daylight, Josie noticed a black wrought-iron shepherd’s hook to the left of the walkway, next to the house. No plant dangled from it. Instead, Amber had fashioned a spray of holiday red and silver bows and fixed that to the end of the hook. As Lydia climbed the single step to the front stoop, keys jangled in her hands. She reached for the front door. Josie counted five keys in addition to her car key. One by one, she fitted them into the lock and tried to turn. None of them worked.
Gretchen said, “Mrs. Norris, you don’t have a key, do you?”
Lydia didn’t turn back toward them but shook her head. “Of course I have a key. I just brought the wrong key ring with me.” She slouched and sighed. “I’ll have to drive back to Danville to get it.” Turning, her gaze landed on the shepherd’s hook. “Or I can just use the spare key that Amber keeps out here in case of an emergency.”
“What spare key is that?” Josie asked.
Without answering, Lydia dropped the keys into her purse and set it down next to the front door, walked into the grass, and clutched the shepherd’s hook with both hands.
“Mrs. Norris?” Gretchen said.
She pushed the hook back and forth, back and forth, pulling and pushing until she pried the base of it from the frozen ground. Her face was flushed by the time it came loose. As she lifted it out of the dirt, Josie saw a plastic bag dangling from the spike, tied to it with twine. Lydia snatched the bag, breaking the twine with one swift movement. She placed the shepherd’s hook back in the ground, now canted to the right. One of the ribbons fell to the ground. A key slid from inside the bag into her palm.
“When my kids were young, I did this with keys. For when I couldn’t get home before them. Some people use those fake rocks with secret compartments or put the key under a mat or something like that. Too obvious. I devised this—some kind of garden decoration with the key buried. No one guesses it.” Smiling, she brushed off her skirt and went back to the door. The key slid easily into the lock. Lydia turned it and the door clicked open. She gathered her purse.
“Did Amber tell you this is where her spare key was?”
“Of course,” Lydia answered as she crossed the threshold into the house. Josie and Gretchen looked at one another. Josie knew that Gretchen was thinking the same thing she was—Lydia Norris had just completely bluffed her way inside Amber’s house. Still, they followed her inside.
Twenty
The front door opened directly into a living room that contained only a few items of furniture: a sofa, one chair, a coffee table, and one end table. Josie followed Lydia and Gretchen through the rest of the house. It was small, sparsely furnished and meticulously kept, with only one floor. Each room was color-coordinated. It looked like it had been staged for photos, like the kind that real estate agents took when they listed your house for sale. Amber was neat and orderly, but something about the house felt off to Josie. In spite of the color coordination, none of it reflected her personality—or any personality at all. As Mettner had told them, nothing looked disturbed. They followed Lydia as she wandered through the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Again, Josie wondered if this was her first time here.
In the kitchen, Lydia stopped and put her hands on her hips, looking around. Over her shoulder, Josie studied the room. White cabinets and drawers with black knobs and handles. A toaster and coffeemaker on the black faux-marble countertop. A fridge with no magnets on it at all. Josie thought of hers and Noah’s fridge. Barely an inch of its surface was visible beneath all the drawings from Harris and from Noah’s niece as well as photos of them together, them with family and friends, and invitations to parties and other events. She thought of what Grace had said about Amber living a lonely existence. The white kitchen table was small and functional, with two black chairs tucked beneath it. On its surface was a cell phone, purse, and a set of keys, all lined up side by side. On the back of one of the chairs hung Amber’s winter coat.
Beyond the table was the back door with a pane of glass missing and patched with cardboard. This was where Mettner must have broken in—smashing the glass and then reaching through to unlock the door. He’d cleaned up his mess and patched the window, just like he’d told her. If Lydia noticed this one tiny thing out of place, she didn’t say anything. She was busy studying the kitchen, eyes panning the rows of cabinets and drawers. She walked over to the countertop and opened a drawer directly beneath it. As Lydia riffled through the dish towels and potholders inside, she said, “I’d offer you coffee, but I’d have to have a look around. I can’t remember where Amber keeps everything.”
“That’s not necessary,” Gretchen told her.
She continued to look in the kitchen drawers and cabinets in spite of Gretchen’s words. “Well,” she said when she finished, turning to them with an awkward smile. “There doesn’t appear to be any coffee here anyway.”
“It’s fine,” Gretchen said. “Really.”
Josie walked over and stared down at Amber’s phone. Now that Jane Doe was confirmed to be Amber’s sister, they could likely get a warrant to search Amber’s house as well as warrants for her phone and financial records. However, those things would take time—time Amber might not have. Lydia could give them permission to look at the contents of the phone immediately. They’d still need a warrant to get the actual records, which would include anything Amber or anyone else might have deleted from the phone, but for now they could confirm Mettner’s assertion that there was nothing on it. Josie pointed to it. “Do you mind if I have a look at Amber’s phone?”
No hesitation. “Not at all,” said Lydia. “If you think it might help locate her. If you truly think she’s in grave danger, no resource should be spared to find her.”
Josie dug a pair of latex gloves from one of her pockets and snapped them on before picking up the cell phone. The lock screen showed a selfie of Amber and Mettner, faces pressed cheek to cheek, grinning at the camera. Amber wore a knit hat, and both their faces were flushed red. In the background, Josie saw the yellow and orange of fall foliage. The photo had likely been taken in September or October when the leaves of Denton’s trees changed colors. Josie swiped and the phone requested a passcode. Mettner had told her he’d gone through Amber’s phone, which meant that although he didn’t have a key to her house, he knew her passcode. “Mrs. Norris, do you know Amber’s passcode, by any chance?”
“Oh no, I’m sorry. I don’t. I thought the police had some special program to get into people’s phones.”
Ignoring that comment, Josie said, “Would you mind if we took this with us to examine and brought it back later?”
“Certainly.”
Josie pocketed the phone. “How about the contents of her purse? We’d like to prepare a warrant to review her financial records to see if any of her accounts are being used.”
“Sure,” said Lydia.