Page 38 of Girl Lost
“Right. Of course.” He shuffled a few file folders and pulled one from the stack. “Did you have a chance to skim this?”
He handed her the file with a photo of Carlie, the pretty blond teenager still wearing braces, attached to the front. Traces of the commissioner were in her eyes, the shape of her face. “She’s a beautiful young woman.”
“And smart too. Top of her class. But she’s been in trouble the last year or two.” Corbin rattled off a list that sounded an awful lot like her own teenage transgressions.
Luna opened the file and skimmed Corbin’s notes from his interview of Lara Tinch.
“Her home life’s a bit of a mess,” he continued. “Her mother, Lara, struggles with serious mental health issues. She doesn’t leave her room. Heavily medicated. Disconnected.” He hesitated, then added, “That’s all off the record, by the way. The commissioner wants to keep this whole thing under wraps. Top secret. Can’t have a word getting out to his own department, let alone the media.”
Luna nodded. The commissioner trusted them. Or maybe he just had no other choice.
“Carlie’s under a lot of pressure from her father,” Corbin continued. “The commissioner pushes her hard about school, expects perfect grades, extracurricular activities, the whole nine yards.” He shook his head. “But he works long hours, travels a lot. She feels neglected. Abandoned. It’s no wonder she’s acting out.”
Kids like that were easy to find. Easy to manipulate. They craved acceptance, belonging. They were desperate for someone to see them, to hear them, even if it meant breaking the rules. She’d been one of those kids once. And it had landed her in a world of trouble. “Classic cry for attention.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I suspect she’s been dipping into her mother’s medication cabinet, self-medicating. The pills. The escape. It’s a dangerous combination.”
“It is.” Luna’s own mother had sought solace in those colorful capsules that promised oblivion. The little bottles. The rattle of pills. That sweet, chemical smell clinging to her mother’s clothes. “And I know something about that escape. I lived it. For years, I took care of my mother. I had to be the parent because she couldn’t. Growing up like that, it changes you. Not always for the better.”
“I know what it was like for you. With your mom. I remember.” His hand reached out, hesitated, then settled on the table between them. Close, but not touching.
That tenderness. It had been so long. His hand, so close, so tempting.
No, Corbin’s simple gesture shouldn’t distract her. Carlie’s case. That was where her attention needed to be. Not on Corbin. Not on the past.
She took a long drink of her coffee, then set the mug down. “What about friends? Who’s Carlie hanging out with?”
Corbin shuffled a few papers and offered another photo. It looked like a selfie taken by a freckle-faced girl with Carlie braidingthe girl’s dark hair. Both had their heads tilted and beamed smiles at the camera.
“Carlie’s best friend is a girl named Ashley. They’d started hanging out with Ashley’s twin brother, Andre, and his friends. They’re always loitering around that old liquor store on Palm Street.”
“According to your notes, Ashley was the last person to see Carlie before she disappeared, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Let’s go talk to Andre and his friends.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “We need to find out what they know.”
“Questioning minors without their parents...” He shook his head. “It’s a gray area, Luna. We need to be careful.”
“Careful?” She gave him a look. “We’re talking about a missing girl. A girl whose father is breathing down your neck. A girl who might be in serious danger. When was the last time ‘careful’ got you anywhere?”
Conflict blazed in his eyes. The cop versus the friend. The need to follow the rules versus the urgency of the situation.
“We don’t even know if these kids are involved,” he said. “We could waste valuable time searching forthem.”
“Or we could be losing valuable leads,” she countered. She knew how to push his buttons. How to get under his skin. How to make him forget about the rules and listen to his gut. “Every minute that passes, Carlie drifts farther away.”
She watched as he wrestled with the decision, his jaw tightening, his gaze flickering between her and the photo of Carlie on his desk.
“Let’s go.” She glanced at the whiskey glass still on his desk. Still filled with amber liquid. “Unless you’d rather stay here, staring at your drink.”
He got to his feet and grabbed his blazer. “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?”
Probably because she was feeling the same way.
14
IT WAS JUST PAST4:30in the afternoon,and Corbinhad been right—they’d wasted the entire morning searching, ending with Ashley and Andre’s house,where the parentshad informed them the kids had gone down to oneof the beaches to watch a surfing movie being filmed.
