Page 94 of Before She Disappeared

“What do you mean?”

“Her iPhone is flat, like everyone else’s. This phone, the way she had her hand wrapped around it... It had to be smaller, thicker. Like a flip phone.”

“An after-hours phone,” I fill in.

“What is an after-hours phone?” Guerline asks.

“Like a burner phone. We suspected Angelique had a second phone, hence she left her original phone in her backpack.” Completing her disguise as Livia, I think, while also eliminating the chance her personal cell would be discovered on her or used to trace her movements.

“Are you sure she wasn’t speaking to one of her other friends, Marjolie or Kyra?” I say to Emmanuel.

“I don’t think so. Her tone...” He shrugs. “When she saw me, she looked guilty. Why would she feel guilty about talking to her friends?”

Emmanuel is an astute young man. I’m willing to bet he’s right, Angelique was speaking on a burner phone with Livia, and once again, I’m struck by her level of secrecy regarding that relationship... But I don’t think now is the time to go into that level of detail with Angelique’s family.

“I don’t think Angelique was trying to run away or disappear,” I say at last. “It sounds like she had befriended a girl, Livia, from the summer rec program. Livia’s own background... Let’s just say it appears she was in some kind of trouble and Angelique was trying to help her. So much so, Angelique was dressed as Livia that final afternoon in November. That’s why the police originally couldn’t find evidence of Angelique departing her school. She did it disguised as Livia Samdi.”

Guerline’s eyes widen. She clearly doesn’t know what to say. Beside her, Emmanuel appears equally shocked.

“What does this Livia girl have to say for herself?” Guerline asks at last.

“She also went missing. A few months later. Except her family never reported it, which is why the police didn’t make the connection. The family assumed the girl had run away.”

“This girl is trouble?”

“I don’t know. But her brother is a known drug dealer.”

“My Angelique did not do drugs!”

I hold up a placating hand. “No one is saying she did. For that matter, there’s no evidence Livia did drugs either. Like Angelique, Livia was a gifted student, except her talents were in computer design and 3D printing.”

Guerline appears even more lost. Emmanuel recovers first.

“LiLi was smart. And she could draw, but like freehand. I never saw her do anything on a computer.”

“This girl, with the drug family,” says Guerline. “Could the fake money be hers? Because my Angelique... Children make mistakes, yes, but she is a good girl. That kind of money only comes from bad things. And LiLi is not that kind of bad.”

Now it’s my turn to feel stupid. When we’d found the money, we hadn’t known about Livia yet. But in retrospect, it does seem more probable that the money came from Livia or her drug-dealing brother. Maybe Angelique was keeping it safe for her.

Or as a safety net? That kind of money, thousands of dollars, would definitely be something Johnson—fine, J.J.—would want back. But more to the point, the fake hundreds... Had Angelique and Livia realized they were counterfeit? Two intelligent girls, both known for their attention to detail?

Had Livia realized her brother had gotten himself into something much more dangerous than street-corner distribution? She could have stolen the money, asked her friend Angelique to hold it for her. Or...

My mind is starting to spin. I feel like I suddenly have too much information to work with—except again, how to make sense of it all?

I rest my elbows on the table, peering hard at Guerline and Emmanuel. “Anything else you might have heard or remember from the time leading up to Angelique’s disappearance? The smallest little thing that maybe didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, but now, looking back? Snippets of conversation, e-mail? Hurried exchanges? Odd behavior?”

“She was quiet,” Emmanuel volunteers at last. “I found her one day curled up on the sofa. Just sitting... No TV, phone. When I asked, she said she was tired. Another afternoon...”

He hesitates, ducks his head.

“Speak,” Guerline demands.

“She was holding the picture of our mom. She’d taken it down and was staring at it. She looked... sad. Very sad. When she saw me, she put it back. Clearly, she’d been crying. I assumed she was feeling homesick. Sometimes, I am homesick, too, and I don’t even remember home anymore.”

Aunt Guerline reaches over and takes her nephew’s hand.

“When was this?” I ask.

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