“You can’t blame them. If I’d had my kid murdered inside my home, I’d want to post an armed guard twenty-four-seven.” She rang the doorbell, and a few moments later the heavy black door opened to reveal Stephen Wintour, Martin Lockhart’s attorney who had accompanied him to the station the previous day. “Mr. Wintour,” Ellery said with some surprise. “Were you and Mr. Lockhart out on the links again this morning?”
“I’m here to support the family in any way I can. Please, come inside. Martin is expecting you.” They walked past the marble entryway with its sweeping staircase into a living room dominated by an L-shaped low-back gray sofa. There was no trace of a child here or even a particular family. No personal photos. The built-in bookshelves held some classics and beautiful knickknacks—a jade vase, a painted tiger on the prowl. To Ellery, the room looked like something out of an expensive catalog, and she wondered how much time the Lockharts actually spent sitting on the pristine sofa.
Martin Lockhart stood by the large windows, maybe staring at the press gathered on the street or perhaps hoping to see Chloe come up the walkway. He turned when his lawyer ushered them in, his face briefly hopeful. “Has there been any news?”
“I’m sorry, no,” Ellery replied.
He nodded as though he’d expected as much. Ellery knew from his records that he was sixty-one, on the old side to be the father of a middle schooler. Ellery’s own father was only fifty-three even now, although he’d long skipped town by the time Ellery was Chloe’s age. Maybe there was something to be said for having a more settled parent.
Martin gestured at them to have a seat and he lowered himself into a high-backed chair, joints creaking like the grandpa he might have been. “When Teresa was pregnant, I would put my hand on her stomach to feel the baby move. We knew her name already, Chloe, and I’d use it when I talked to her. I wondered what she would look like, how her laugh would sound, whether she would love tennis like me or horses like her mother. It felt endless, those months I waited for her to be born, and then when she was finally in my arms, I understood why the wait had been so long. It wasn’t just nine months. It was my whole lifetime. Some part of me had known she was coming long before she was conceived, even before I knew Teresa. She was born in my heart, you see. I knew it the moment I saw her face. I know because—” He broke off painfully and swallowed. “It’s the part of me that’s breaking now. I’m bleeding inside and can’t seem to stop it.”
Wintour went to Martin and patted his arm. “We’ll find her,” he said. “Hang in there.”
“Is your wife at home?” Dorie asked Martin, noticing Teresa’s absence.
“She’s upstairs.” Martin cast his watery gaze to the door. “I hope she’ll be feeling well enough to join us shortly. It was a rough night for her, as you might imagine.”
“It must be her worst nightmare come true,” Dorie agreed with sympathy.
“You have no idea,” he said sharply. He caught himself and softened. “I—I didn’t, either.”
Ellery saw the lines on his face deepen, almost cracking. Her family had survived the hole left by her father, but it shattered with the loss of her older brother to cancer. Her mother remained as if frozen in amber, still living in the same Chicago apartment among all of Danny’s things. “Chloe must have been a blessing,” she said. “After what happened to Trevor.”
“Yes, of course. Teresa took some convincing at first, but she came around. I think it helped that Chloe was a girl—different from her first experience.”
“What is your wife’s relationship with Chloe like now?” Dorie asked.
“Fine. Good.”
“Yeah? That’s great,” Dorie replied. “My mom and I fought like a pair of octopuses in a jar when I was twelve. I was embarrassed that she even existed and made sure she knew it on a daily basis.”
“How sorry for her.”
Ellery took a different tactic. “When you did argue with Chloe, what was it about?”
“Trivia. Nothing serious.” His voice took on a note of impatience. “Does it really matter? I didn’t take off with Chloe and neither did my wife. She didn’t run away from home because we told her not to leave her dirty socks on the floor.”
The worst fight Ellery had with her mother at Chloe’s age was over money. Ellery had taken twenty dollars from her mother’s purse, skipped school, and treated herself to a matinee of The Matrix. The family would have eaten for a week with the money Ellery blew in a single afternoon, and her mother’s fury upon finding it missing had shook the walls of their little apartment. She’d called Ellery selfish and sneaky. She’d sent her to bed without supper. Daniel was in the hospital fighting for his life while his sister threw herself a little party. You’re the one I’m not supposed to worry about, her mother had raged. In bed that night, hungry after the sugar high from the movie candy wore off, Ellery had realized why the tears were stinging in her eyes. Just once, she’d wanted to be worthy of worry.
“Right now, we are operating under the theory that Chloe left voluntarily, for a specific reason,” Ellery told Martin. “We could find her quicker if we knew what it was.”
“If I knew, I’d tell you.” He seemed to search himself again for answers. “She didn’t like the tracker on her phone. She said it meant we didn’t trust her. Her friends, some of them are allowed to take the T on their own—go off to the mall or wherever. We told Chloe she could go, too, as long as there was an adult chaperone. Mimi would’ve been happy to do it.”
Ellery saw on Dorie’s face the same thing she was thinking: no middle schooler wants their nanny tagging along on an outing to the mall.
Martin hesitated. “I might have been willing to loosen the reins just a little, but Teresa insisted on close supervision. Of course, I deferred to her. How could I not?”
“We are working on unlocking Chloe’s phone,” Ellery said. “We’d also like to take a look at the data from the various household accounts.”
“Do you have a warrant?” Wintour asked.
Ellery swiveled her head to look right at him. “Do we need one?”
“I, ah, of course you can have Chloe’s computer,” said Martin. “We’ll supply the passwords. But I use email for private communications with my clients, as Teresa does with her patients. Also, Chloe didn’t use our laptops or cell phones, so there wouldn’t be anything of relevance there.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Lockhart,” Dorie said, leaning forward, “up until yesterday you didn’t know your child had a second phone. We’re not sure at this point who she’s been communicating with and through what avenues.”
Wintour stretched across to whisper something in Martin’s ear. Martin nodded. “There are legal considerations here that go beyond the Lockhart family,” the lawyer said after a beat. “It’s not even clear that they could consent to the privacy breach in the absence of a warrant. If the situation changes such that investigation of Martin’s and Teresa’s private accounts becomes imperative to finding Chloe, we can explore options at that time.”
“We can’t know what’s relevant if we can’t see it,” Ellery replied.
“There’s nothing. I swear to you.”
The doorbell rang and Wintour hopped up to answer it. “It had better not be that asshole from Channel Five again,” he said as he strode out of the room.
“The news vans have been here since we got home,” Martin said wearily, sinking back in his chair. “Everyone wants an interview, but I don’t know what I’d say. I just want Chloe back.”
Wintour reappeared with a blond woman about Ellery’s age, only dressed like a fashion ad in high boots, a crisp navy dress, and silver hoop earrings. “I’m so sorry to bother you at home, Martin, but we need those papers signed today.” She hefted a leather briefcase to show him, and Ellery noted the French manicure.
“Amanda, these are detectives helping us look for Chloe. Detectives, my colleague at Forsythe, Amanda McFarland.”
“Has there been any news?”
“Not yet.
Let’s, ah, let’s go to my office, okay? Please excuse me.”
Dorie turned to Ellery as Martin left with Amanda. “Are the markets open on Sunday?”
“In Asia they are,” Wintour answered. He gave them a tight smile. “Money never sleeps.”
Dorie snorted. “Tell that to my savings account.”
“I’d like to check out Chloe’s bedroom next,” Ellery said to her. “What do you think?”
Again, it was Wintour who answered. “I can show you the way.” Dorie followed him and Ellery brought up the rear, wondering if her years on the job had made her overly suspicious or whether it was normal for an unrelated adult man to know the path to a tween girl’s bedroom.
“You and Chloe are close, then?” Ellery asked as they walked.
“I’ve known the family for years,” he replied, which she found to be a non-answer. He led them up the front staircase, down the gleaming dark hardwood floors of the upper hallway, and past several closed doors to make a sharp turn down a shorter hall to a white door with the name “Chloe” on it in painted letters. “Oh, Teresa, I’m sorry,” he said as he opened the door and walked through it. “I didn’t realize you were in here.”
Teresa Lockhart sat up from where she was lying on Chloe’s bed. “No, it’s okay,” she said, wiping at her face with both hands. “Please, come in.”
Ellery couldn’t help feel a twinge of awe at the size of the bedroom. She and Danny had shared a cramped room covered in posters to hide the cracks in the walls. Chloe’s bedroom was nearly the size of Ellery’s current apartment. At one end, Chloe had a four-poster queen bed draped in white taffeta. At the other end, she had her own sitting room, complete with an overstuffed couch, a shag zebra-patterned rug, and her own large-screen television. Ellery even spotted a mini-fridge.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Teresa said. “It’s all a bit much.”
“It’s like a princess movie come to life,” Dorie said with a smile. “I bet she loves it.”
Teresa gave a hesitant answering smile and pointed up. “The ceiling is her favorite.” Ellery tilted her head back to see the twinkle lights that had been built in, shining like diamonds against the dark sky. “There’s a switch, see?” Teresa flicked it and the crystals lit up in various constellations.
“Amazing,” Dorie said with admiration. She walked over to the dresser, which displayed several family photos.
“We knew Chloe would be our only child,” Teresa explained as Ellery and Dorie continued to survey the lavish bedroom. “So, we had the wall knocked out between the two bedrooms to make one large room. We wanted it to be special for her.” She glanced over to where Wintour stood near the door. “It’s fine, Stephen,” she said, her voice edging on impatience. “There’s no need for you to stay.”
He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave, however. “I don’t mind. Martin is busy with someone from work downstairs.” He reached out and touched a silver music box that sat on Chloe’s lacquered dresser.
“Work? Right now?”
“She said it was urgent.”
“She,” Teresa repeated, her face blank.
“Amanda McFarland.”
“I know the name,” Teresa said with obvious displeasure. “Tell Martin to hurry things along, will you? Nothing’s more urgent than this.” She crossed to smooth the wrinkle she’d put into Chloe’s bedspread.
“Okay, I’ll relay the message.”
Wintour departed and Teresa sat down on the bed, her face in her hands. “I’m going crazy. I keep thinking I hear her footsteps in the hall, but when I run to look, there’s no one there. I check my phone every two minutes to see if she’s messaged me.” She held it up to illustrate. “I just can’t believe she’d run off without telling me.”
A little white dog came zipping into the room, yipping and dancing around the newcomers. Ellery smiled and knelt to greet the creature.
“Snuffles,” Teresa said. “Who let you inside? I’m sorry. We can put her in the yard out back.”
“It’s no bother,” Ellery said as she scratched Snuffles under her tiny chin. “She’s Chloe’s dog, yes?”
“Yes. They adore each other. Snuffles has had her nose in every corner of this house, looking for Chloe. She whines and looks at me like I’ve hidden her someplace, and I don’t know what to do with her.”
“You miss your pal, huh?” Ellery patted the dog, who whimpered and put her delicate paws up on Ellery’s leg.
Teresa sniffed. “Sometimes I get jealous about the way she coos over that animal. The dog can do no wrong, not even if she chews up one of Chloe’s shoes or favorite stuffed toys. Snuffles just wiggles up to Chloe and all is instantly forgiven.”
“Dogs are easier than people,” Ellery agreed as Snuffles rolled over and showed off a white fluffy belly. “Chloe gave you trouble, then?”
Her blue eyes looked pained. “Not trouble, no. More like attitude. She doesn’t like the rules we have in place nor what she says are our ‘unrealistic expectations’ for her. She doesn’t understand what the world is like. She doesn’t see that we’re trying to protect her, to arm her.”
“Arm her?” With the bars on the windows and the cameras everywhere, it seemed possible they had guns in the house as well.
“To prepare her for what’s out there,” Teresa corrected, drifting to the window. The gauzy white curtains hid the iron bars on the outside. She peeked once and shuddered as she let the curtain fall back into place. “Chloe sees sunshine and rainbows. She imagines everyone is her friend. She does the bare minimum work for school to maintain her grades and then spends the rest of her time playing video games or dressing up the dog in silly outfits.”
“We were under the impression that Chloe does well in school,” Ellery said. “That she excels in music—piano, right?”
“Chloe has a gift. To neglect it would be wasteful.” When Ellery didn’t reply, Teresa gave her a hard look. “You think I’m being too tough on her. On the contrary, I don’t think I push her hard enough. She has everything a child could ask for, and it’s all she’s ever known. Everything comes easy as far as she’s concerned, and she thinks it’s the only way it could be. I know better. I grew up with hand-me-downs and mac-and-cheese dinners. I had to scrap for everything I got. Took out loans, took chances, pushed myself twice as hard because I knew I had to be twice as good to get into the boys’ game. You know how many surgeons are female? Fewer than one in twenty. I’ve had to fight for every position I’ve gotten. The payoff for all that work is this life of leisure for my daughter. Best schools. Best clothes. Opportunities I only dreamed of, and she thinks they’re like tissues in a box—pull out one, discard it, and there will be another just waiting right behind it.”
“I get it,” Ellery said. “There aren’t a lot of female detectives, either.”
Dorie flashed a smile and indicated the pair of them. “That’s why we stick together.”
“I see that you’re very generous with your daughter,” Ellery said as she surveyed the lavish bedroom, “but if Chloe wanted freedom…”
“She might have run away,” Teresa finished for her. “I’ve thought of the possibility. I even wish I could believe it’s true because that would mean she could change her mind and come home again. But I can’t believe she would do that. Not after what happened to Trevor.”
“Your security measures are impressive,” Ellery said, nodding in the direction of the bars.
Teresa gave a tight, humorless smile. “Draconian. That’s what Chloe called them once she learned the word. She was six at the time.”
“I was wondering if they’re in response to a specific threat.”
“Something other than my dead son, do you mean?”
Ellery held her gaze, and Teresa let out an irritated breath.
“Trevor’s murder is unsolved. I wasn’t prepared for that. Of course, who prepares for the death of their child? It’s impossible. But once it happened, I thought: The police will find the person who did this. T
hey will pay. But it’s been years now, and the only one who’s paid is me. Me and Ethan, Trevor’s father. I did some reading and found that two-thirds of murders go unsolved. I honestly don’t know how you cope with that. If I lost one-third of my patients for unexplained reasons…” She blinked slowly in Ellery’s direction. “I think I would go mad.”
In the ensuing awkward silence, Dorie walked over to Chloe’s desk, which held a large computer monitor. “Mr. Lockhart said you might be able to access her computer and social media accounts for us.”
“Yes, I can do that,” Teresa answered, breaking free from her thoughts. “We require her to let us supervise her accounts, or she doesn’t get the Wi-Fi password. It will just take a minute to boot up.”
Ellery used the time to inspect the rest of Chloe’s room. She found the closet messy, crammed with shoes and clothes, luggage, and what looked like an old box of Barbie dolls. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelf had been painted white to match the room. It held reams and reams of actual books, mostly young adult titles with colorful spines and girls on the cover. The slight wear at the corners and finger smudges on the glossy covers indicated the books were not for show; Chloe clearly read them. Her other main hobby appeared to be video games, judging from the Nintendo console and stack of games sitting by the television. Ellery paused to study a framed photo on the wall. Martin and Teresa, both noticeably younger, sat on a large rock with pine trees at their backs and snow at their feet. Baby Chloe wriggled in Teresa’s arms, grinning for the camera as she attempted to stand on her mother’s lap. She wore a brown knit hat with bear’s ears on it.
Teresa came to stand next to Ellery. “That was taken at our house in New Hampshire. The hat Chloe’s wearing … it belonged to Trevor. I saved it when he outgrew it thinking I’d give it to my next child, and then after he was gone I didn’t think I’d ever have another. I guess there was a reason I held on to it all those years.”
Over at the computer, Dorie was paging through the photo stream on Chloe’s social media. “This is her main account?”
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