I swallowed hard and took Will’s arm when he offered it. I let him lead me to the porch. Cardboard boxes were stacked just to the left of the house’s double doors. I squared my shoulders and rang the bell while Will peeked in the top box. “Kitchen stuff. Looks like someone is moving.”
Julia Ledwith pulled open the door and offered Will and me a close-lipped smile. “You must be the investigators.”
Will looked at me, slight question in his eyes, but went with it.
“You’re Mrs. Ledwith?” he asked.
She opened the door wider and ushered us in, pulling on the neck of her faded Stanford University sweatshirt. “Actually, it’s Ms. Foley, now, but you can call me Julia. Can I get you both something to drink?” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left us standing in the foyer.
I did a quick scan of the entryway and dining room before us. Both were nearly bare and scrubbed clean, each with its own stack of carefully labeled cardboard boxes in the center.
Julia came back with two glasses, handed us each one, and looked around as though she had just noticed her surroundings.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “The place is a mess. I’m moving, so . . .” Both her words and her eyes trailed off, her eyes scanning the walls, our clothes, looking anywhere except directly at Will or me. “We can sit in the kitchen.”
A thick fog of uncomfortable silence set over us as we sat at the kitchen table. I sipped at my lemonade and wished that I were anywhere else on the planet, Will took in his surroundings, and Julia stared into her cup.
“Nice place here,” Will said. “Had you been here long?”
“Sixteen years,” Julia said without looking up. “It’s too big now without Cathy. And Peter and I”—her shoulders slumped—“we’re divorcing.”
I shot Will a murderous look when Julia’s voice cracked.
“I’m sorry,” I said soothingly. “I’m sorry we have to be here and bring all this up again.”
“You’re not bringing anything up. It’s not like ‘it’ has gone anywhere.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Do you want to know about the day she went missing?”
I was taken back at the abruptness of Julia’s question. This woman who moved slowly, looked about questioningly, suddenly sounded like she was asking us if we wanted to see her Avon catalog. The lemonade I had been sipping burned at the pit of my stomach. “Yes. Please.”
Julia cleared her throat and set down her glass. “There was nothing special about that day. Not a single thing. Cathy got up, got dressed, came downstairs. She probably poured herself a bowl of cereal and we probably glared at each other across the table as she ate it.”
“You two had problems?” Will asked.
“What mom and her teenage daughter don’t? It was nothing really terrible—I would ask her to do things and she would tell me I was ruining her life.” Julia smiled, her eyes becoming glassy. “I drove her to school, she got out of the car and—and”—she looked down at her hands, sniffling—“that was the last time I saw her.”
“Again, Ms. Foley—”
“Julia, please.”
“Julia, I’m sorry,” I said, licking my lips. “I am sorry to have to—”
Julia waved her hand. “The cops have been over this a hundred times, but if anything helps save—save another little girl . . .”
“Did Cathy have any problems at school?”
“Her grades were exceptional.”
I edged forward. “Was Cathy in any clubs on campus?”
Julia’s smile was genuine. “What club was that girl not in? She cheered, she sang, she was president of the French club—she even did animal rescue on the weekends. Ran bake sales and things at school to pay adoption fees. When it came to extracurricular activities, there was nothing she didn’t do. She was interested in so many things.”
Julia’s eyes teared up and she pressed a napkin to them, then coughed. “Sorry.”
I put my hand on her arm, my heart in my throat, my gut reaction demanding that I find Cathy’s killer and Alyssa’s kidnapper right now, today, and skin him alive. Every muscle in my body was taut, alert, and the anger pricked under my skin.
“How about with other students?” Will asked. “Was she ever bullied, or, did she ever mention anything about having a hard time with some of her schoolmates?”
“No, no. Cathy got along with everyone. I mean, there were always little tiffs or ‘drama’ as the girls say—said—within her social circle, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
I perked up. “Her social circle? Do you remember the girls she hung out with?”
Julia nodded. “Kristy Thomas. Kelly Peck. It was mainly the three of them. Kristy and Kelly have both gone off to college now. Oh, there was a new girl, a younger girl that used to tag along, too. She had a different name.”
“Kayleigh?” I asked, my breath catching in my throat.
“No. Uh, Faith. No, that’s not right. It was—Fallon—that’s right, Fallon. Real pretty girl. Pretty standoffish, though. Didn’t seem very friendly. Cathy said she was just shy. She was like that—would take girls under her wing who were new or she thought were having a hard time.”