rush hour traffic to the western edge of Venice, driving faster than she meant to. Something was driving her, a gut feeling rising up, one she didn’t like.
The Canals were only a few blocks from tourist hot spots like the Boardwalk and Muscle Beach and it took ten minutes of driving up and down Pacific Avenue before she finally found a spot to park. She hopped out and let her phone direct her the rest of the way on foot.
The Venice Canals weren’t just a name for a neighborhood. They were a real series of man-made canals built in the early twentieth century, and modeled after the originals in Italy. They covered about ten square blocks just south of Venice Boulevard. A few of the homes that lined the waterways were modest, but most were extravagant in a beachy way. The lots were generally small but some of the homes were easily worth eight figures.
The one Keri arrived at was among the most impressive. It was three stories high, and only the top floor was visible due to the high stucco wall that surrounded it. She walked around from the back, which faced the canal, to the front door. As she did, she noticed multiple security cameras on the mansion walls and the house itself. Several of them seemed to be tracking her movements.
Why does a twenty-something mom with a teenage daughter live here? And why such heavy security?
She reached the wrought-iron gate in front and was surprised to find it open. She stepped through and was about to knock on the front door when it opened from the inside.
A woman stepped out to meet her, wearing frayed jeans and a white tank top, with long, thick brown hair and bare feet. As Keri suspected from hearing her on the phone, she couldn’t have been more than thirty. About Keri’s height and easily twenty pounds lighter, she was tanned and fit. And she was gorgeous, despite the anxious expression on her face.
Keri’s first thought was trophy wife.
“Mia Penn?” Keri asked.
“Yes. Please come in, Detective Locke. I’ve already filled out the forms you sent.”
Inside, the mansion opened into a commanding foyer, with two matching marble staircases leading to an upper level. There was almost enough room to play a Lakers game. The interior was immaculate, with art covering every wall and sculptures adorning carved wooden tables that looked like they might be art as well.
The whole place looked like it could be featured on a moment’s notice in Homes That Make You Question Your Self-Worth magazine. Keri recognized one prominently placed painting as a Delano, meaning that all by itself, it was worth more than the pathetic twenty-year-old houseboat she called home.
Mia Penn guided her to one of the more casual living rooms and offered her a seat and a bottled water. In the corner of the room, a thickly built man in slacks and a sport jacket leaned casually against the wall. He didn’t say anything but his eyes never left Keri. She noticed a small bulge on his right hip under the jacket.
Gun. Must be security.
Once Keri sat, her hostess didn’t waste any time.
“Ashley’s still not answering my calls or texts. She hasn’t tweeted since school let out. No new Facebook posts. Nothing on Instagram.” She exhaled and added, “Thanks for coming. I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to me.”
Keri nodded slowly, studying Mia Penn, trying to get a sense of her. Just as on the phone, the barely concealed panic felt real.
She seems to genuinely fear for her daughter. But she’s holding something back.
“You’re younger than I expected,” Keri finally said.
“I’m thirty. I had Ashley when I was fifteen.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what everyone says. I feel like because we’re so close in age, we have this connection. I swear sometimes I know what she’s feeling even before I see her. I know it sounds ridiculous but we have this bond. And I know it’s not evidence but I can feel that something’s wrong.”
“Let’s not panic quite yet,” Keri said.
They went over the facts.
The last time Mia saw Ashley was that morning. Everything was fine. She had yogurt with granola and sliced strawberries for breakfast. She’d left for school in a good mood.
Ashley’s best friend was Thelma Gray. Mia called her when Ashley didn’t show up after school. According to Thelma, Ashley was in third-period geometry like she was supposed to be and everything seemed normal. The last time she saw Ashley was in the hall around 2 PM. She had no idea why Ashley didn’t make it home.
Mia had also spoken to Ashley’s boyfriend, a jock-type named Denton Rivers. He said he saw Ashley in school in the morning but that was it. He texted her a few times after school but she never answered.
Ashley didn’t take any medications; she had no physical ailments to speak of. Mia said she’d gone through Ashley’s room earlier in the afternoon and everything was normal.
Keri scribbled it all down on a little pad, making specific note of names she’d follow up with later.
“My husband should be home from the office any minute. I know he wants to speak with you as well.”
Keri looked up from her pad. Something in Mia’s voice had changed. It sounded more guarded, cautious.
Whatever she’s hiding, I bet it’s related to this.
“And what’s your husband’s name?” she asked, trying to keep it light.
“His name’s Stafford.”
“Wait a minute,” Keri said. “Your husband is Stafford Penn, as in United States Senator Stafford Penn?”
“Yes.”
“That’s kind of important information, Mrs. Penn. Why didn’t you mention it before?”
“Stafford asked me not to,” she said apologetically.
“Why?”
“He said he’d like to address that with you when he arrived.”
“When did you say he’d be here again?”
“Less than ten minutes, for sure.”
Keri looked at her hard, trying to decide whether to push. Ultimately, she chose to hold off for now.
“Do you have a picture of Ashley?”
Mia Penn handed over her phone. The background photo was of a teenage girl in a sundress. She looked like Mia’s younger sister. Other than Ashley having blonde hair, they were hard to tell apart. Ashley was slightly taller, with a more athletic frame and a deeper tan. The dress couldn’t hide her muscular legs and powerful shoulders. Keri suspected she was a regular surfer.
“Could she just have forgotten about the appointment and be out catching waves?” Keri asked.
Mia smiled for the first time since Keri met her.
“I’m impressed, Detective. You made that guess based on one picture? No, Ashley likes to surf in the mornings – better swells
