“Perfect,” Auri said. “We need to talk to her.”
“But we’ll be late for third.”
She turned to take in Sybil’s rounded eyes. She couldn’t get her friend into any more trouble. “You’re right. You get to class and I’ll see you at lunch.”
“Okay. Are you going to talk to her?”
“Yes, but it’s okay. You go.”
She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Auri,” Sybil said, her voice a harsh whisper, “you have got to quit saying that.”
Sybil was right. Again. But seriously, she’d simply be tardy to her next class. What could possibly go wrong?
She hurried back to the bathroom before Chloe exited. Thankfully it had cleared out and Chloe was at the sink, fluffing her long dark hair.
Auri eased up to her and cleared her throat.
Chloe raised a brow at her in the mirror.
“Um, you’re Chloe Farr, right?”
One corner of her mouth rose. “Who wants to know?”
“Oh, I’m Auri.” She stepped forward and offered her hand.
Chloe took it. “I know who you are. You’re the sheriff’s daughter.”
“I am,” Auri said, a little disappointed she didn’t remember her from the baseball-to-the-head incident.
“So, sheriff’s daughter,” she said, grabbing her bag off the floor, “what can I do for you?”
“Well, this is going to sound really strange, but I was wondering what happened to you last year at prom.”
Chloe stilled, her expression morphing into disbelief. She clutched her bag tighter and looked at the stalls to make sure no one else was in the room. When she looked back at Auri, gone was the sweet upperclassman who’d greeted her so kindly.
Another girl burst through the door, her short locks a wild mess like she’d narrowly escaped a tornado. “Girl, what are you doing?” she asked Chloe with a giggle right as the tardy bell rang. She looked toward the heavens, her arms open wide as though questioning the universe before throwing a playful glare to Chloe. “A-a-a-and now we’re late thanks to you primpers. Come the heck on.”
When she turned and left, Chloe looked back at Auri, her gaze boring into her with a combination of fear and guilt.
“I’m sorry, Chloe. I didn’t mean to upset—”
“Not here,” she said, her voice low and harsh.
“O-okay. Should I—”
Before Auri could finish her question, Chloe strode past her and out the door, tossing one last worried expression over her shoulder.
12
Remember when you were little and you’d fall
while on the trampoline and everyone
would keep jumping so you couldn’t get back up?
That’s adulthood. Try adding coffee.
—SIGN AT CAFFEINE-WAH
“What do you think?” Quincy asked Sun as they drove back to Del Sol.
According to a neighbor, they’d missed the Amaias by a few days. They’d gone on a cruise out of Galveston with Mrs. Amaia’s mother and would be gone for a couple of weeks.
“I think you should try them again.”
That same neighbor had graciously given them both of the Amaias’ numbers, which matched the emergency contact info supplied by the UNM campus police. Whitney had also listed her aunt as an emergency contact, Lynelle’s mother, Corrine, an admin at the Del Sol High School.
Quince tried both numbers. They went straight to voicemail, which meant they probably didn’t accept phone calls from numbers outside their contacts list. “Hi, this is Chief Deputy Cooper from Del Sol again. Please call this number at your earliest convenience.” He ended the call and shook his head in frustration.
Sun tapped the steering wheel with her thumbs in thought. “Two women head to Del Sol. One of them ends up in the hospital and the other one is never heard from again.”
“You think our victim is Whitney?”
“I can’t say for certain, of course, but I think we need to get back out to that scene. Can you call the canine search and rescue, see if we can get a couple of cadaver dogs over there?”
“Well, I would, but our victim is still alive.”
“Right, but what about Misty?”
“You think the person who dumped our Jane Doe at the canyon has done it before and the missing girl from Farmington could be out there?”
“Statistically, it’s worth a shot. Familiar ground and all.”
“I’m on it.”
Sun’s phone rang before he could call them, and they exchanged a quick, hopeful glance, but it was only Poetry.
“Hey, Rojas.”
“Hey, boss. So, I got a tip that an injured high school girl was found wandering Canyon Highway near the canyon last year by a passing motorist.”
“A tip from who?”
“Well, it was anonymous, so…”
“Did they call it in to our tip line?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what they did.”
“We don’t have a tip line, Deputy.” When Rojas remained silent for a solid thirty seconds, she asked, “Did that little redhead call you?”
“No. No, boss. Your daughter did not call me.”
“Then you called her.”
“I don’t know why you think she had anything to do with—”
“She’s involved in this. I can feel it to the marrow of my bones.”
After a lengthy sigh, he admitted, “She didn’t call me, exactly. Let’s just say I happened to be in the neighborhood when she was … looking into this case.”
Sun pressed the palm of her free hand to her temple. “I’m going to kill her.”
“In her defense, boss, it’s a really good tip.”
Sun had little doubt of that. Her daughter had a knack for ferreting out the most obscure clues and piecing them together like it was an Olympic sport and she was a gold medalist. The problem with that trait lately, however, was the fact that she kept almost getting killed as a result of her prying. Nevertheless, Sun couldn’t help but be proud of her daughter’s ability to make such solid connections.
She resigned herself to that fact, and asked reluctantly, “Who was the girl?”
“Her name is Chloe Farr.”
“Oh,” she said in surprise. “Jim Farr’s kid. I know her.”
“She was lucky that motorist found her.”
“Okay, give me the details.”
Rojas explained the case and the fact that there was never any follow-up. Just like with Misty Sandoval from Farmington. Redding never even looked into them.
“Either Redding was the worst sheriff in history—”
“Or he’s deliberately impeding these investigations,” Quince said.
“Just thought you should know, boss.”
“Thanks, Rojas. What is it going to take with this kid?” she asked Quince when she hung up.
“Right? Never listens. Does the opposite of what her mother tells her to do. Puts herself in danger to help others.”
Sun frowned at him. “You’re funny.”
“I can’t help it if the bean sprout didn’t fall far from the tree. Disobedience and rebellion must be genetic traits.”