“Whereabouts?”
“They’re looking. Asking around town if anyone remembered him, remembered him talking about where he was from or where he was going. They got his social from the employer up there. Got his old local address, too. They’ll canvass the landlord if they can find her. She sold the building not long after he left.”
“But nothing from the social?”
“No. He was only eighteen. This was his first W-2 job. And apparently his last.”
Abby could feel Leo’s eyes on her. He had been doing a lot of that—studying her when she was looking away, when he thought she wouldn’t notice.
“You sleep?” he asked.
She nodded yes. And then shook her head. “A little,” she answered finally.
“This is a tough one,” Leo said, looking at the picture of Foley.
“Why do you say that? We have the boatman.” Abby looked at him, puzzled. He had been the one telling her that they would find the island, that they would find Emma. They had Cass, they had an actual person who knew what had happened. And now they had Richard Foley. Abby had finally started to believe him.
“We have the boatman’s name. Not his location. Big difference, kiddo,” Leo answered.
Richard Foley’s family had not seen or heard from their son since he left for Alaska after turning eighteen. He had been a difficult teenager, and they were relieved to see him go out into the world. They had envisioned him working hard, finding purpose, and perhaps gaining an appreciation for what it was like to be a responsible adult. They always thought he would come home to Portland, where the family had lived for three generations.
Abby was not there when the family was interviewed. His mother, father and two older sisters had been shocked to learn that Rick was involved in the case of the Tanner sisters, the story that had been all over the news for days. They had provided names of friends, other relatives, dental and medical records—anything and everything that was asked of them. To their thinking, he had helped the younger sister escape and could now be on the run or in grave danger from the kidnappers who lived on that island.
Danbury High School was an hour north of the Soundview Academy, where the Tanner sisters had attended school. Abby had been through her notes from the interview with the school counselor, Lisa Jennings. The woman claimed she didn’t know Emma well and had never met with her alone. Agents in New Haven had run her name and found nothing of concern. But Cass insisted that the woman had counseled Emma, that they had grown close. She seemed preoccupied with this lead. There had to be a reason.
“Catch me up,” Leo said.
Abby pulled some notes from a bag. She didn’t need them to recite the brief history, but she read from them anyway. “Worked as a counselor at Soundview for six years. Left at the end of the school year following the girls’ disappearance. Thirty-four years old. Unmarried. Has a degree in social work from University of Phoenix.”
“And the original interview?”
Abby shrugged. “She had a lot of opinions about the girls, but she also said she only knew them peripherally, seeing them in the halls, faculty room gossip. It was helpful three years ago to get a picture of who they were, but nothing there helps us even guess who the father might be, or who might have helped Emma run away.”
“All right. Let’s go solve this little mystery so we can get back to Richard Foley.”
Abby followed him up the steps of the school, to the receptionist and then down a narrow, gray hallway to the office of the school counselor, Lisa Jennings.
This was a far cry from the white marble floors of the Soundview Academy.
They sat in metal chairs around a small coffee table adorned with a neat stack of teen magazines. Lisa Jennings was every bit as beautiful as she had been three years before, though her face had begun to hollow beneath her cheekbones, small crow’s-feet now visible at the corners of her eyes as she marched into her midthirties. On her finger was a diamond engagement ring.
“It’s so nice to see you again, Dr. Winter, under happier circumstances,” she said, smiling broadly.
Abby returned the gesture. “Yes, it is. And congratulations. That’s a beautiful ring.”
Lisa fanned her fingers and admired the diamond. “Thanks. Only a few months to go until the big day!”
“That’s very exciting,” Abby replied.
Leo was not in the mood for small talk. He sat on the edge of the chair, legs straddling the corner of the table, elbows on knees. “How much have you read about Cass Tanner’s return?”
The woman was startled by the abruptness of the question. She settled back into her chair, hand to face as though thinking about her answer carefully. “I’ve read everything I could find, of course.”
She recited the facts that were public—how they left because Emma was pregnant, how they lived on an island off the coast of Maine with people named Bill and Lucy Pratt. How there was a boatman named Richard Foley who helped Cass escape, and how they believed Emma was still on the island with her daughter, now two years old.
“Is there more?” she asked.
Abby jumped in. “We’re trying to find out who might have put Emma in touch with the Pratts. That’s probably not their real name, so we’re having to work backwards, looking for any connection from before the disappearance.”
“Well, I wish I could help you, but I had no idea Emma was even pregnant, let alone trying to find someone to help her run away.”
Leo looked at her curiously. “That’s strange. Cass told us you and Emma had grown close. That Emma had started coming to your office more and more that early fall. She was certain you might have something that would be helpful, even the name of a boy she might have been dating.”
Lisa Jennings shook her head. “That’s not true at all, actually. I tried to speak with Emma on several occasions over the years, given the turmoil in their home with the divorce. She had no interest. I think I told you before that Emma had a very strong external wall, and she seemed very sure of herself. Confident. Some might say arrogant.”
Abby finished the thought. “But behind that wall, you said she was insecure. Why did you think that?”
“Well, if I recall, it was really based on comments made by some of her teachers. And also the way she used her appearance to attract friends. Boys, in particular.”
“Huh,” Abby said, fanning through her notes. “What was it about her appearance? I’m sure I have it in my notes, but I’m working on very little sleep—”
“Sure—you know, she wore heavy makeup sometimes. Eye liner and lipstick. She always wore her hair down, and it was meticulously straightened. She liked to show off her legs, so short skirts and tight pants. We had a dress code, but the girls always found the loopholes.”