“Snuffles,” Teresa said. “Who let you inside? I’m sorry. We can put her in the yard out back.”
“It’s no bother,” Ellery said as she scratched Snuffles under her tiny chin. “She’s Chloe’s dog, yes?”
“Yes. They adore each other. Snuffles has had her nose in every corner of this house, looking for Chloe. She whines and looks at me like I’ve hidden her someplace, and I don’t know what to do with her.”
“You miss your pal, huh?” Ellery patted the dog, who whimpered and put her delicate paws up on Ellery’s leg.
Teresa sniffed. “Sometimes I get jealous about the way she coos over that animal. The dog can do no wrong, not even if she chews up one of Chloe’s shoes or favorite stuffed toys. Snuffles just wiggles up to Chloe and all is instantly forgiven.”
“Dogs are easier than people,” Ellery agreed as Snuffles rolled over and showed off a white fluffy belly. “Chloe gave you trouble, then?”
Her blue eyes looked pained. “Not trouble, no. More like attitude. She doesn’t like the rules we have in place nor what she says are our ‘unrealistic expectations’ for her. She doesn’t understand what the world is like. She doesn’t see that we’re trying to protect her, to arm her.”
“Arm her?” With the bars on the windows and the cameras everywhere, it seemed possible they had guns in the house as well.
“To prepare her for what’s out there,” Teresa corrected, drifting to the window. The gauzy white curtains hid the iron bars on the outside. She peeked once and shuddered as she let the curtain fall back into place. “Chloe sees sunshine and rainbows. She imagines everyone is her friend. She does the bare minimum work for school to maintain her grades and then spends the rest of her time playing video games or dressing up the dog in silly outfits.”
“We were under the impression that Chloe does well in school,” Ellery said. “That she excels in music—piano, right?”
“Chloe has a gift. To neglect it would be wasteful.” When Ellery didn’t reply, Teresa gave her a hard look. “You think I’m being too tough on her. On the contrary, I don’t think I push her hard enough. She has everything a child could ask for, and it’s all she’s ever known. Everything comes easy as far as she’s concerned, and she thinks it’s the only way it could be. I know better. I grew up with hand-me-downs and mac-and-cheese dinners. I had to scrap for everything I got. Took out loans, took chances, pushed myself twice as hard because I knew I had to be twice as good to get into the boys’ game. You know how many surgeons are female? Fewer than one in twenty. I’ve had to fight for every position I’ve gotten. The payoff for all that work is this life of leisure for my daughter. Best schools. Best clothes. Opportunities I only dreamed of, and she thinks they’re like tissues in a box—pull out one, discard it, and there will be another just waiting right behind it.”
“I get it,” Ellery said. “There aren’t a lot of female detectives, either.”
Dorie flashed a smile and indicated the pair of them. “That’s why we stick together.”
“I see that you’re very generous with your daughter,” Ellery said as she surveyed the lavish bedroom, “but if Chloe wanted freedom…”
“She might have run away,” Teresa finished for her. “I’ve thought of the possibility. I even wish I could believe it’s true because that would mean she could change her mind and come home again. But I can’t believe she would do that. Not after what happened to Trevor.”
“Your security measures are impressive,” Ellery said, nodding in the direction of the bars.
Teresa gave a tight, humorless smile. “Draconian. That’s what Chloe called them once she learned the word. She was six at the time.”
“I was wondering if they’re in response to a specific threat.”
“Something other than my dead son, do you mean?”
Ellery held her gaze, and Teresa let out an irritated breath.
“Trevor’s murder is unsolved. I wasn’t prepared for that. Of course, who prepares for the death of their child? It’s impossible. But once it happened, I thought: The police will find the person who did this. They will pay. But it’s been years now, and the only one who’s paid is me. Me and Ethan, Trevor’s father. I did some reading and found that two-thirds of murders go unsolved. I honestly don’t know how you cope with that. If I lost one-third of my patients for unexplained reasons…” She blinked slowly in Ellery’s direction. “I think I would go mad.”
In the ensuing awkward silence, Dorie walked over to Chloe’s desk, which held a large computer monitor. “Mr. Lockhart said you might be able to access her computer and social media accounts for us.”
“Yes, I can do that,” Teresa answered, breaking free from her thoughts. “We require her to let us supervise her accounts, or she doesn’t get the Wi-Fi password. It will just take a minute to boot up.”
Ellery used the time to inspect the rest of Chloe’s room. She found the closet messy, crammed with shoes and clothes, luggage, and what looked like an old box of Barbie dolls. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelf had been painted white to match the room. It held reams and reams of actual books, mostly young adult titles with colorful spines and girls on the cover. The slight wear at the corners and finger smudges on the glossy covers indicated the books were not for show; Chloe clearly read them. Her other main hobby appeared to be video games, judging from the Nintendo console and stack of games sitting by the television. Ellery paused to study a framed photo on the wall. Martin and Teresa, both noticeably younger, sat on a large rock with pine trees at their backs and snow at their feet. Baby Chloe wriggled in Teresa’s arms, grinning for the camera as she attempted to stand on her mother’s lap. She wore a brown knit hat with bear’s ears on it.
Teresa came to stand next to Ellery. “That was taken at our house in New Hampshire. The hat Chloe’s wearing … it belonged to Trevor. I saved it when he outgrew it thinking I’d give it to my next child, and then after he was gone I didn’t think I’d ever have another. I guess there was a reason I held on to it all those years.”
Over at the computer, Dorie was paging through the photo stream on Chloe’s social media. “This is her main account?”
“The photo one, yes.” Teresa and Ellery joined her at the computer.
Chloe featured many selfies taken in the bedroom in which they stood. She sometimes used an app to add clown hair or a moustache. Snuffles featured heavily on the account as well. There was a video of Chloe trying to teach the dog to jump through a Hula-Hoop and Snuffles just trying to lick the camera instead. Ellery recognized Chloe’s friend McKenna in some shots, the pair of them trying out different hairstyles or making crazy faces. They’d done a video of a makeup tutorial in which they both put on terrible British accents. Teresa identified several other friends from Chloe’s school who appeared in the photos—a dark-eyed boy named Barnaby showed up a few times, as did a Chinese girl named Leah.
“I’ve seen all of these before,” Teresa said. She bit her lip. “Chloe prefers that I not comment, though. I’m not even allowed to click ‘like.’”