Page 26 of The Inmate
I nod. “Yes. Detective Santoro?”
He beams at me. “You got a good memory.”
“You have to have a good memory if you work in sales.” It’s true. Clients love it when you remember every detail they told you about their lives and their business. That’s why I keep notes. “Have you found out anything about Dawn?”
The smile instantly vanishes from his face. “I’m afraid not. We’re doing our best to find your friend. I promise you that.”
“I appreciate that. Have you spoken to her mother?”
He nods grimly but doesn’t elaborate. “I’m hoping I could ask you a few more questions, Miss Farrell. I’m trying to gather as much information as I can to find her.”
“Of course. Anything I can do to help.”
“Well, that’s great.” He jerks his head to the left. “Your boss said we could use the conference room. Do you mind?”
It’s not like I have a choice. So I follow the detective to the conference room, all the while pushing away the sick feeling in my stomach.
ChapterFourteen
“Miss Farrell,how close were you with Miss Schiff?”
Detective Santoro’s eyes are trained on me as he asks me the question. His eyes are really dark. So dark, you can’t tell the iris from the pupil. It somehow gives me the illusion that he can see into my soul. And if I were to lie, he would know it.
“Not very close,” I admit.
“No?”
I shrug. “She works in the cubicle next to mine. We talk sometimes and we’re friendly, but I wouldn’t say we’re great friends.”
“Sure.” The detective nods like he gets that. “You can’t be friends with everyone, right?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“But you did know where she lives.”
I squirm in my conference chair. “I drove her home once, so I remembered her address. As I said, I have a good memory.”
“And why did you go over to her house again?”
A muscle in my jaw twitches. “I told you this. She didn’t show up for work this morning, and I got that phone call…”
“Right. You said there was a phone call to Dawn’s line at the office, and you heard her voice.”
“That’s right. Did you trace the calls that came to her number yesterday morning?”
“I did,” he confirms. “And every single one of them was internal.”
“Internal?”
“They all came from this office building.”
Santoro looks unimpressed by this revelation, but it’s enough to give me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Dawn called here yesterday, begging for help. And the call came frominside the office.
Oh God.
For a moment, I’m too terrified to even speak. But Santoro doesn’t seem at all concerned. That’s because he didn’t hear the way Dawn’s voice sounded.
“So had you ever been to Miss Schiff’s house before?” he asks.
