Bruce was easygoing and didn’t anger easily, but he wouldn’t have tolerated someone being abusive to Amber Lynn. Had Travis gone after both of them later that night?
Misty shuddered. “I felt terrible because I’d warned her off Bruce just a couple of weeks ago. He seemed nice, and Amber Lynn was really hung up on him. I said, ‘Amber Lynn, you have a baby. You need a man with prospects. Musicians do not bring home the bacon.’” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I was totally wrong about him, but I guess Amber Lynn doesn’t have to worry about that now.”
Carly spotted a box of tissues on the counter and handed it to Misty. “Why was Travis in jail?”
Misty blotted her eyes and blew her nose. “I don’t know. Something about a bar fight. Amber Lynn didn’t like to talk about him much.”
“Do you know his last name?” Carly dug a notebook out of her purse.
Misty nodded. “White.”
Sadness welled as Carly suppressed an image of Amber Lynn. The poor girl had been shy and sweet. She’d deserved better. “You don’t know where he lives, do you?”
“No,” Misty said.
“Amber Lynn did,” Mrs. Kaminsky chimed in as she cleaned the baby’s hands with a wet cloth. “She had his address and phone number written in her book.”
“Her book?” Carly asked.
“Amber Lynn didn’t have a cell phone or a computer,” Mrs. Kaminsky said. “She used my laptop once in a while or went to the library. She kept a pink address book in her kitchen drawer.”
“I thought everyone had a cell phone.” Carly had been in homes where the kids were hungry enough to eat ketchup from foil packets, but every adult in the house had a smartphone.
“Not Amber Lynn.” Misty sniffed and pressed her fist to her mouth, as if trying to stifle a sob. “She was saving every dollar she could.”
Carly needed to call Seth. “Did Amber Lynn say anything to you about what she was doing last night?”
“She was excited about working at Fletcher’s. All her singing money went into her savings account.” Misty sniffed. “Do you think Travis killed her?”
“I don’t know, but you need to tell the police everything.” Carly pulled out her cell phone.
“Okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to find him.”
The baby babbled, and Carly asked, “Do you know if Amber Lynn had family?”
“She never visited her parents. She was trying to distance herself from her entire childhood. I got the feeling it wasn’t very nice. Plus she said if people knew who and where she came from, they wouldn’t think much of her.”
Small Town Rule #1: You’re judged by your family’s reputation.
Amber Lynn had been working hard to live down her family history, not an easy task in a close-knit rural area. As Carly dialed Seth’s number, pity swamped her. Poor Amber Lynn had been trying to provide for her child, and someone had killed her. But Carly could not suppress her fear for her brother. Where was Bruce?
CHAPTER THREE
Seth scanned the trashed apartment. The front door opened into the living room. Seth could see into the kitchen through a doorway, and a short hall led to the single bedroom and bath. They’d already done a quick walk-through to look for Bruce, but there’d been no sign of him. Seth had also called for reinforcements, and deputies were currently knocking on doors to ask neighbors if they’d seen or heard anything unusual the night before.
“No sign of a break-in,” he said.
“Her purse is still missing. Either he had her key,” Phil said, “or she let him in.”
Amber Lynn had minimal furniture. The only piece that looked remotely new was the crib tucked into the corner of the bedroom. Her box spring and mattress sat on the floor. Both had been shifted. The closet door stood open, and clothes had been tossed across the bed. It was impossible to tell if there had been a struggle in the apartment, but Seth didn’t see any blood.
“You take the bedroom. I’ll go into the kitchen.” Seth tried not to disturb the scene as he searched. “We’re looking for financial records, a computer, calendar, or address book. Anything that might tell us what was going on in her life.”
Seth spied a folder on the kitchen floor. With gloved hands he picked it up and thumbed through a stack of financial records. Seth scanned the pay advices and bank statements, and a handwritten spreadsheet on which Amber Lynn had itemized her income and expenditures in painstaking detail. She was on a tight budget, but she’d managed to accumulate nearly $500 in her savings account. Considering her income, the total was impressive.
Setting the papers on the only piece of furniture that hadn’t been flipped over, a small Formica table, Seth scanned the rest of the gray vinyl floor. The edge of a checkbook peeked out from under a pile of broken dishes. He slid the blue plastic case out and opened it. Amber Lynn had fifty-seven dollars in her checking account.