Page 106 of Another Girl Lost

Everyone wanted to believe they were in the normal range, including himself. Butnormalwas relative, until it wasn’t. “But a little violent.”

“He put his hands on my neck. His hold was loose at first. Then his fingers tightened. It was scary, I kind of panicked. He squeezed until I couldn’t breathe, and I was forced to relax. My acceptance seemed to turn him on.”

“He liked to be in charge,” Dawson said.

“I guess so.”

“That was the only time?”

“Yeah. He said later he didn’t know what had gotten into him. He apologized.”

Dawson cleared his throat. “When was this?”

“August 29. A dating milestone. Five months.” Her fingers absently rose to her collar, as if covering red marks that no longer existed.

Scarlett had been in the basement August 29, 2014, and Tanner’s attempt to snatch Tiffany would happen days later. “Is that the day he called you Scarlett?”

Her breath was ragged. “How do you know that?”

“Just a guess.”

“Yes, but he brought me flowers after.” She spoke quickly, as if she needed to defend him and even herself. “I forgave him. I loved him. He died days later.”

“Have you ever been back to the diner?” Dawson asked.

“No,” Lynn said. “I don’t go to that part of town at all. I would’ve moved away, but my mother is still in Norfolk, and she’s getting old.”

“Okay, Ms. Yeats. Thank you for your time.”

“Are you going to investigate my false alarm?”

“I’ll ask around,” he lied with a smile.

As Dawson left, his smile faded into a deep frown. He knew enough about people to know that Lynn Yeats was lying—or at least holding back. He wasn’t sure whether the information was small or large, but she was hiding something. In his car, he started the engine. Rattling pipes. Aggressive sex play. Heightened interest after she submitted. Calling her Scarlett. A locked basement. People saw what they wanted to see. Confirmation bias. She wanted a steady guy who made a decent income. So she ignored all the signs that he might have other issues.

He called Margo. First ring. Second. Third. Was she blowing him off?

She answered on the fourth ring. “Detective.”

“What are you doing?” He pictured her in her hotel room wearing black silk.

“Talking to movers. Logistics irritate me. What about you?”

“Thinking about you.” Gravel in his throat roughened his voice.

“Are you?” She sounded disinterested. She was making him work for it.

“You free?”

“You can come to my hotel room in an hour,” she said.

“I thought you moved.”

“Working on it.”

He checked his watch. He’d have to leave now and hope there wasn’t much traffic. “I’m on the way.”

“Don’t be late.”

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