“I think so.”
“So why run? She’s out buying a phone on her own. Why not ask for help?”
“I don’t know.”
“But she’s clearly alive and still hasn’t returned home. Meaning maybe she doesn’t want to. Maybe she has a good reason to stay away.”
I understand his point. Two public sightings of Angelique in two weeks. Both times she’s bearing fake ID and appears to be acting independently. And yet, it still doesn’t make any sense to me. The Angelique her family knew would never willingly disappear. Let alone her coded message: Help us. I simply don’t believe she’s a runaway. But as to what is going on . . . ?
“How did she look?” I ask at last. “Tired? Rested? Well fed? Starving?”
Charlie has to think about it. He shrugs at last. “Looked like a teenage girl. Blue jeans, light gray sweatshirt. Had an emblem on the front, but I couldn’t make it out from my angle.”
“And her face?”
“Couldn’t see it. She was wearing a hat.”
“A red hat?”
“How did you know that?” His tone is suspicious again.
“I’m sorry, I can’t honestly say, Charlie. The police have their reasons for making only some details public.”
He scowls at me but doesn’t press. “I woulda helped her,” he says abruptly. “All she had to do was ask. I woulda helped her.”
“Maybe she couldn’t ask. Sometimes, in these situations, the bad guys threaten a person’s loved ones.”
“Or get the girls hooked, so they don’t wanna wander.”
I can’t deny it. “Did she look like an addict?”
“Nah. Moved too quick. Darted right out the door. Addicts don’t have that kind of control.”
I nod. “I think she got tangled up in something. But I don’t know what, and I really don’t even have proof of that. If you see her again, though, I do think she needs help, Charlie. One last thing: Could you make out an emblem or logo on the hat?”
“Not that I saw. But I didn’t get a good look head on. Dark red cap, don’t see so many of those around here.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Kids generally wear hats from their favorite teams. Patriots, Red Sox, Bruins. Those hats are navy blue or black. Just look around. You’ll see ’em everywhere.”
Now that he’s mentioned it, I have been seeing dark blue ball caps everywhere. Belatedly, I remember my slip of paper from the rec center. I pull it out of my back pocket, unfold it, and hold it out.
“Do you recognize any of these names, Charlie? From the rec center, around town, anything?”
Charlie studies the list of fashion camp kids for a while. He grunts twice, then points at the two teenage boys. “Seen them around. One is the younger brother of one of my kids. Good boys. Trying hard to stay out of trouble, as much as they can. Wait a minute. This name here.” He points to one of the females on the list. “Livia Samdi. I’ve heard this name. Recently.” He scratches his beard, appears thoughtful.
He drops his voice abruptly as the connection hits him. “At a meeting. Months ago. Pretty sure now. Her mom was there, had recently relapsed after nearly a year sober. Going through a tough time, she said. Lost her job, had her son arrested, then on top of all that, her daughter ran away.”
“Her daughter ran away? As in Livia Samdi went missing?”
“That’s what the mom thought. And not for the first time either. Apparently, Livia’s one of those kids—wherever she went, trouble soon followed. But no doubt about it. She’s definitely gone. The mom said so herself.”
CHAPTER 17
I remain on the sidewalk with Charlie and our police chaperone till Detective Lotham reappears from the wireless store. Whatever he’s learned inside, it hasn’t improved his mood.
He spots me, then Officer O’Shaughnessy, who is deep in conversation with two other uniforms. I watch the debate play out over Lotham’s face. He abruptly turns and strides toward me.
“So,” he states. He looks from me to Charlie back to me.
“This is Charlie,” I say by way of introduction. I don’t know Charlie’s last name so I don’t offer it. The lapse creates an awkward moment, then Detective Lotham extends his arm, shakes Charlie’s hand.
“Army?” Lotham asks, gesturing to Charlie’s coat. Then, when Charlie nods: “Marine, Force Recon. Thank you for your service.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You saw Angelique Badeau?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you’re sure it was her?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you know Ms. Elkin how?”
Charlie doesn’t immediately respond to this sudden change in questioning but looks to me.
“Are you doubting I have friends?” I ask the detective, doing my best to sound indignant.
“You arrived in the area three days ago.”
“All the more reason to reach out. Just ask Charadee at Dunkin’ Donuts or Viv at Stoney’s or Frédéric at the rec center.” I search frantically for more names. “And my roommate, Piper. Though she didn’t come home last night and I’m worried about her.”
Detective Lotham looks like he has a headache. Whether it’s the case or just me is open to interpretation.
“Charlie has other news,” I add quickly now. “Earlier I was at the rec center—”
“With your friend Frédéric.”
“There you go. He gave me a list of all the kids who were at fashion camp with Angelique during the summer program.”
“I’ve seen the list. Even interviewed the teens.”
“Including Livia Samdi.”
“Probably. We’re talking eleven months ago.”
“So she hadn’t gone missing yet. Interesting.”
“What? Hang on.” Detective Lotham pinches the bridge of his nose. I swear he’s both taking a deep breath and muttering shit, shit, shit, but I can’t be sure.
“Charlie heard a rumor at least.” I glance at Charlie for confirmation. “Livia Samdi’s mom said she ran away. And um, just to make things interesting, according to Frédéric from the rec center, Livia is known for wearing a red baseball hat.”
Detective Lotham turns his gaze to Charlie, who immediately nods. “Livia ran away,” Charlie supplies.