Page 31 of Before She Disappeared

Lotham nods before he can stop himself, then scowls, as if I tricked him in to having something in common with me.

“Are you a good detective?” I ask Lotham.

He doesn’t take the bait.

“I think you are. You and the BPD have all the bells and whistles you could ask for. Not to mention access to way more information than I can get. For example, I had to interview Marjolie and Kyra to learn if Angelique had a boyfriend. While you probably know every detail from dumping Angelique’s phone, searching her laptop, surfing her social media. And yet you still stopped by tonight to learn what her two friends told me. Interesting.”

I push away. Drift down the bar to take a new drink order, settle a bill.

When I return, Detective Lotham has sipped infinitesimally more of his drink. This time, he doesn’t bother with pretenses.

“What did Marjolie and Kyra have to say?”

“I’ll show you mine, you show me yours?”

One arched bushy brow.

“Let’s both pretend that means yes.” I plant my elbows on the countertop. “Something changed in Angelique’s life the summer before she disappeared. She returned to school more... self-possessed, distant, distracted. Kyra thinks a boy, and serious enough to be sexual. Marjolie disagrees, but mostly because it hurts her feelings to think her bestie kept such a secret.”

“How long did you talk to them?”

“Five, eight minutes before lunch break was over.”

“And they told you about their friend’s sex life?”

“Think of it as girl talk. See, a civilian investigator isn’t so bad.”

Lotham takes a pointed slurp of his drink.

My turn: “I’m sure you have copies of Angelique’s text messages, but what about Snapchat? That’s what most teens use for communicating away from prying parental eyes. I imagine they think it’s covert, disappearing messages and all that. But is it? Can you recover a message that vanishes the moment it’s read?”

“The police can get Snapchat info.”

“How?”

“The messages pass through the closest server, the server captures the data.”

“But how do you know which servers to access when people use their phones walking all over the place?”

“It’s never a bad idea to start with the areas closest to home, school, and work. Won’t get everything, but will get enough.”

“What about messages sent in an app? You know, utilizing Instagram or some of the specialized messaging apps?”

“That’s what search warrants are for.”

I nod. Makes sense. For every new medium of communication comes a new way to capture that form of communication. “All right. Let’s say it’s been, I don’t know, eleven months since an investigation first started. By now you have your search warrant results, server data, cell phone dump.”

“Unless it involves something being unlocked by Apple. In which case we’re still in court.”

I smile. “Man, you’re a pain in the ass. Tell me, did all this new information scored by the search warrants and recovered from miscellaneous servers confirm your initial theory of the case, or alter it completely?” I look him in the eye. “Do you still think Angelique was changing clothes Friday night to meet a mystery lover?”

Lotham’s turn to smile. He sips his drink.

He’s not going to answer that question and we both know it. It’s okay. Whether he intended or not, he’s done me a favor, as just knowing what information is out there is half the battle. Some of the reports received by the police I can request copies of through the Freedom of Information Act, things like that. In this case, that probably won’t work. But I can also ask Angelique’s aunt Guerline if she’d be willing to ask for copies. Most families have no idea what the police have been doing behind the scenes and are frustrated about being left in the dark. Meaning my suggestion that they ask for a specific document almost always leads to instant results, and yet more cops who hate me.

“You’re thinking boyfriend,” I say now. “I can tell by the look on your face that what Kyra and Marjolie told me wasn’t news. You probably already read the messages, buzzed through the photos. Good lord, the hour after hour of teen drama you must’ve had to wade through. Kids keep everything on their phone.”

I pause for dramatic effect. “Except not Angelique. That phone in her bag wasn’t her real cell. She’s got a backup, probably a cheap burner. Where her real life happens, which is why she was comfortable leaving her parentally approved model behind.”

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