“Right now, we are operating under the theory that Chloe left voluntarily, for a specific reason,” Ellery told Martin. “We could find her quicker if we knew what it was.”
“If I knew, I’d tell you.” He seemed to search himself again for answers. “She didn’t like the tracker on her phone. She said it meant we didn’t trust her. Her friends, some of them are allowed to take the T on their own—go off to the mall or wherever. We told Chloe she could go, too, as long as there was an adult chaperone. Mimi would’ve been happy to do it.”
Ellery saw on Dorie’s face the same thing she was thinking: no middle schooler wants their nanny tagging along on an outing to the mall.
Martin hesitated. “I might have been willing to loosen the reins just a little, but Teresa insisted on close supervision. Of course, I deferred to her. How could I not?”
“We are working on unlocking Chloe’s phone,” Ellery said. “We’d also like to take a look at the data from the various household accounts.”
“Do you have a warrant?” Wintour asked.
Ellery swiveled her head to look right at him. “Do we need one?”
“I, ah, of course you can have Chloe’s computer,” said Martin. “We’ll supply the passwords. But I use email for private communications with my clients, as Teresa does with her patients. Also, Chloe didn’t use our laptops or cell phones, so there wouldn’t be anything of relevance there.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Lockhart,” Dorie said, leaning forward, “up until yesterday you didn’t know your child had a second phone. We’re not sure at this point who she’s been communicating with and through what avenues.”
Wintour stretched across to whisper something in Martin’s ear. Martin nodded. “There are legal considerations here that go beyond the Lockhart family,” the lawyer said after a beat. “It’s not even clear that they could consent to the privacy breach in the absence of a warrant. If the situation changes such that investigation of Martin’s and Teresa’s private accounts becomes imperative to finding Chloe, we can explore options at that time.”
“We can’t know what’s relevant if we can’t see it,” Ellery replied.
“There’s nothing. I swear to you.”
The doorbell rang and Wintour hopped up to answer it. “It had better not be that asshole from Channel Five again,” he said as he strode out of the room.
“The news vans have been here since we got home,” Martin said wearily, sinking back in his chair. “Everyone wants an interview, but I don’t know what I’d say. I just want Chloe back.”
Wintour reappeared with a blond woman about Ellery’s age, only dressed like a fashion ad in high boots, a crisp navy dress, and silver hoop earrings. “I’m so sorry to bother you at home, Martin, but we need those papers signed today.” She hefted a leather briefcase to show him, and Ellery noted the French manicure.
“Amanda, these are detectives helping us look for Chloe. Detectives, my colleague at Forsythe, Amanda McFarland.”
“Has there been any news?”
“Not yet. Let’s, ah, let’s go to my office, okay? Please excuse me.”
Dorie turned to Ellery as Martin left with Amanda. “Are the markets open on Sunday?”
“In Asia they are,” Wintour answered. He gave them a tight smile. “Money never sleeps.”
Dorie snorted. “Tell that to my savings account.”
“I’d like to check out Chloe’s bedroom next,” Ellery said to her. “What do you think?”
Again, it was Wintour who answered. “I can show you the way.” Dorie followed him and Ellery brought up the rear, wondering if her years on the job had made her overly suspicious or whether it was normal for an unrelated adult man to know the path to a tween girl’s bedroom.
“You and Chloe are close, then?” Ellery asked as they walked.
“I’ve known the family for years,” he replied, which she found to be a non-answer. He led them up the front staircase, down the gleaming dark hardwood floors of the upper hallway, and past several closed doors to make a sharp turn down a shorter hall to a white door with the name “Chloe” on it in painted letters. “Oh, Teresa, I’m sorry,” he said as he opened the door and walked through it. “I didn’t realize you were in here.”
Teresa Lockhart sat up from where she was lying on Chloe’s bed. “No, it’s okay,” she said, wiping at her face with both hands. “Please, come in.”
Ellery couldn’t help feel a twinge of awe at the size of the bedroom. She and Danny had shared a cramped room covered in posters to hide the cracks in the walls. Chloe’s bedroom was nearly the size of Ellery’s current apartment. At one end, Chloe had a four-poster queen bed draped in white taffeta. At the other end, she had her own sitting room, complete with an overstuffed couch, a shag zebra-patterned rug, and her own large-screen television. Ellery even spotted a mini-fridge.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Teresa said. “It’s all a bit much.”
“It’s like a princess movie come to life,” Dorie said with a smile. “I bet she loves it.”
Teresa gave a hesitant answering smile and pointed up. “The ceiling is her favorite.” Ellery tilted her head back to see the twinkle lights that had been built in, shining like diamonds against the dark sky. “There’s a switch, see?” Teresa flicked it and the crystals lit up in various constellations.
“Amazing,” Dorie said with admiration. She walked over to the dresser, which displayed several family photos.
“We knew Chloe would be our only child,” Teresa explained as Ellery and Dorie continued to survey the lavish bedroom. “So, we had the wall knocked out between the two bedrooms to make one large room. We wanted it to be special for her.” She glanced over to where Wintour stood near the door. “It’s fine, Stephen,” she said, her voice edging on impatience. “There’s no need for you to stay.”
He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave, however. “I don’t mind. Martin is busy with someone from work downstairs.” He reached out and touched a silver music box that sat on Chloe’s lacquered dresser.
“Work? Right now?”
“She said it was urgent.”
“She,” Teresa repeated, her face blank.
“Amanda McFarland.”
“I know the name,” Teresa said with obvious displeasure. “Tell Martin to hurry things along, will you? Nothing’s more urgent than this.” She crossed to smooth the wrinkle she’d put into Chloe’s bedspread.
“Okay, I’ll relay the message.”
Wintour departed and Teresa sat down on the bed, her face in her hands. “I’m going crazy. I keep thinking I hear her footsteps in the hall, but when I run to look, there’s no one there. I check my phone every two minutes to see if she’s messaged me.” She held it up to illustrate. “I just can’t believe she’d run off without telling me.”
A little white dog came zipping into the room, yipping and dancing around the newcomers. Ellery smiled and knelt to greet the creature.