Page 49 of Another Girl Lost

Had the two girls crossed paths? With a thousand kids in the school, a year’s difference could have created a gulf between them so they never hung out. However, it was possible they’d had a general knowledge of each other. Passed in a hallway. Saw each other in the principal’s office. Ran in similar circles.

All three girls lived in the same area and attended the same high school. Tanner had found his hunting ground. But how?

For curiosity’s sake, he typed in the nameDella. Nothing popped up. He considered formal variations on the name, typingAdele,Adaline,Del, andCordeliainto the search box. One Adele popped up in the senior class, but she was Black and didn’t remotely resemble the sketches Scarlett had done ten years ago. There still was no proof of the mysterious Della.

His phone dinged with a text. For a second he thought it might be Margo, but he realized she didn’t have his number, nor he hers.

The text was from his estranged wife.Kevin, our meeting with the attorney is tomorrow at 11. However, you’ve yet to sign the property settlement. We can’t move forward until you do.

He glanced at the clock and realized it was nearly six. His soon-to-be ex-wife had always been an early riser, and he could picture her writing up the to-do list for the day.

Drawing in a breath, he sat and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Property agreement. He didn’t have a pot to piss in. On paper, she was getting the house, the furnishings, and the limited savings account. But he wasn’t in a rush to make it official. He texted back,Blood from a stone.

Kevin, just sign the damn papers so we can end this.

He didn’t respond, annoyed that she wasn’t satisfied that she’d gotten it all. She wanted his complete capitulation. Maybe he’d been an asshole and grown too distant, but his days of apologizing were over.

He rose, slid his weapon into his holster, grabbed his jacket, keys, and wallet, and with the television still on, left the DONOTDISTURBsign on the door. Soon, he’d have to find a permanent place. This hotel room was hardly home, but it did the trick for now. And it was close to Margo.

Outside, the rising sun splashed bright shades of ginger and tangerine across the sky that dripped onto the cracked parking lot. In his car, he entered Tiffany’s address, located in a small neighborhood off a bleak section of Shore Drive.

After a twenty-minute drive, he parked in front of the two-story apartment building. The strip of grass between the building and lot was filled with tall weeds, beer cans, and trash. The lot was half-full, but this early on a Sunday, whoever was out partying likely was still there.

Tiffany still worked in the food industry, and he guessed she worked long, odd hours. The apartment looked quiet. Time to wake up.

He pounded on the front door, then stepped to the side, waiting. When he didn’t hear any sign of life inside, he banged on the door with his fist.

A gravelly feminine voice echoed from behind the door. “What? Who is it?”

“Detective Kevin Dawson.” He held up his badge. “I have questions about Tiffany Patterson. You are?”

The door opened on a thirtysomething woman with brown hair and bloodshot eyes. “Bonnie Bartley. What’s the deal with Tiffany? Why is she so interesting now?”

“Who else has been asking?”

“A friend of hers.”

“You got a name?”

“Scarlett.”

He motioned her forward, and when she approached, he selected a picture of Scarlett on his phone. “That her?”

She leaned in. “Yeah.”

He slid the phone back in his pocket. “What did Scarlett want?”

“Trying to find Tiffany. Said they were friends from school. Said her mother had just died and her mom had taken care of Tiffany when she was a kid or something.”

That was a lie. Scarlett’s mother had died six months ago. “When did you see Tiffany last?”

She yawned. “It’s been days. I don’t keep up with her schedule.”

“Where does she work now?”

“At Talley’s Bar on Ocean Drive.”

He removed his notebook and scribbled down the name. “Tiffany dating anyone?”

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