That makes it sound like this might be a long process. But my understanding is that in the case of a missing person, the first twenty-four hours are crucial. Is that wrong?”
Keri and Ray looked at each other and then back at Caldwell. Neither was sure who should answer. Finally Ray spoke.
“That’s not wrong, sir. But we don’t yet have any indication that anything suspicious has happened. And in any case, you reached out to us quickly. That helps a lot. I know this is hard to hear but try not to worry. I promise we’ll be in touch.”
They turned and walked back to the car. When Keri was sure they were out of earshot, she quietly muttered, “Good lying.”
“I wasn’t lying. Everything I said was true. She could turn up back home any minute and this will be over.”
“I guess,” Keri conceded. “But all my instincts are telling me this one isn’t going to be that easy.”
CHAPTER THREE
Keri sat in the passenger seat on the way to Culver City, quietly flagellating herself. She tried to remind herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong. But she was wracked by the guilt of forgetting something as simple as today not being a school day. Even Ray hadn’t been able to hide his surprise at it.
She was losing touch with the parent part of her and it scared her. How long would it be before she forgot other, more personal details? A few weeks ago, she’d been given anonymous clues which led to a photo of a teenage girl. But Keri, much to her shame, hadn’t been able to tell if it was Evie.
True, it had been five years and the picture was grainy and taken from far away. But the fact that she just didn’t immediately know if the photo was of her daughter or not had shaken her. Even after the unit’s resident tech guru, Detective Kevin Edgerton, had told her that his digital comparison of the picture to photos of Evie at eight years old was inconclusive for a match, her sense of shame lingered.
I should have just known. A good mother would have known if it was real right away.
“We’re here,” Ray said quietly, snapping her out of her reverie.
Keri looked up and realized they were parked just up the street from Lanie Joseph’s house. The Caldwells had been right. This area, while less than five miles from their home, was much rougher-looking.
It was still only 5:30, but the sun had already mostly set and the temperature was dropping. Small groups of young men in gang attire were gathering in driveways and on stoops, drinking beers and smoking what didn’t look like cigarettes. Most of the lawns were more brown than green and the sidewalks were cracked everywhere, with weeds fighting their way through the spaces. Most of the residences on the block looked to be townhouses or duplexes and all of them had bars on the windows and heavy metal screen doors.
“What do you think – should we call Culver City PD for backup?” Ray asked. “Technically, we’re out of our jurisdiction.”
“Nah. It’ll take too long and I want to stay low profile, get in and out. The more formal we make this, the longer it’s going to take. If something did happen to Sarah, we don’t have time to waste.”
“Okay, then let’s get to it,” he said.
They got out of the car and walked briskly to the address Mariela Caldwell had given them. Lanie lived in the front of a two-unit townhouse on Corinth, just south of Culver Boulevard. The 405 freeway was so close that Keri could identify the hair color of passing drivers.
As Ray knocked on the outer metal door, Keri glanced two houses over at five men huddled around the engine of a Corvette sitting on blocks in the driveway. Several of them cast suspicious looks at the interlopers but no one said anything.
The sound of multiple kids screeching came from inside. After a minute, the inner door was opened by a small blond boy who couldn’t have been more than five. He wore holes-pocked jeans and a white T-shirt with a homemade Superman-style “S” scrawled on it.
He stared up at Ray, his neck craning all the way back. Then he looked over at Keri, and apparently viewing her as less threatening, he spoke.
“What you want, lady?”
Keri sensed that the kid didn’t get a lot of sweetness and light in his life, so she knelt down to his level and spoke in as gentle a voice as she could muster.
“We’re police officers. We need to speak to your mommy for a minute.”
The kid, unfazed, turned and shouted back into the house.
“Mom. Cops are here. Want to talk to you.” Apparently this wasn’t the first time he’d had a visit from law enforcement.
Keri saw Ray glance over at the guys around the Corvette and without looking herself, asked him quietly, “We got a problem over there?”
“Not yet,” Ray answered under his breath. “But we could soon. We should make this quick.”
“What kind of cops are you?” the little boy demanded. “No uniforms. You undercover? You detectives?”
“Detectives,” Ray told him and apparently deciding the boy didn’t need to be coddled, asked his own question. “When’s the last time you saw Lanie?”
“Oh, Lanie’s in trouble again,” he said, a gleeful grin consuming his face. “No surprise there. She left at lunchtime to see her smart friend. I guess she was hoping some of it would rub off on her. Don’t bet on it.”
Just then a woman wearing sweatpants and a heavy, gray sweatshirt that said “Keep Walking” appeared at the end of the hall. As she lumbered toward them Keri took her in. She was about Keri’s height but weighed well over 200 pounds.
Her pale skin seemed to merge with the gray sweatshirt, making it impossible to clearly tell where one ended and the other began. Her grayish-blonde hair was pulled back in a loose bun that was in danger of falling apart completely.
Keri guessed that she was younger than forty but her exhausted, worn face could have passed for fifty. She had bags under her eyes and her puffy face was dotted with gin blossoms, possibly alcohol-induced. It was clear that she had once been quite attractive but the weight of life seemed to have drained her and you could only see flashes of pretty around the edges now.
“What’s she done now?” the woman asked, even less surprised than her son to see police at her door.
“You’re Mrs. Joseph?” Keri asked.
“I haven’t been Mrs. Joseph for seven years. That’s when Mr. Joseph left me for a massage therapist named Kayley. Now I’m Mrs. Hart, although Mr. Hart cleared out without a proper goodbye about eighteen months ago. But it’s too much trouble to change the name again so I’m stuck with it for now.”
“So you’re Lanie Joseph’s mother,” Ray said, trying to get her on track. “But your name is…?”
“Joanie Hart. I’m the mother of five hellions, including the one you’re here about. So what exactly did she do this time?”
“We’re not sure she’s done anything, Ms. Hart,” Keri assured her, not wanting to create unnecessary conflict with a woman who was clearly comfortable with it. “But the parents of her friend Sarah Caldwell haven’t been able to reach her and they’re worried. Have you
