teakettle whistled and Mrs. Thompson disappeared back into the kitchen. She called out, “Do you want any sugar?”
“No, thanks.” Dana mumbled to Rafe, “I’d better help her with that.”
She met Mrs. Thompson at the kitchen door and took the saucer from her unsteady hand. “Why don’t you sit down, Mrs. Thompson? Sheriff McClintock left a piece of paper on the table for you to jot down Holly’s male friends.”
She helped Mrs. Thompson take a seat, placing her glass of liquid comfort on the table in front of her. Balancing her cup and saucer, Dana settled next to Rafe again. She inhaled the fragrant tea before taking a sip. Mrs. Thompson must have gotten the tea from Auntie Mary because it tasted and smelled like her own special blend.
Rafe asked, “Did your daughter seem worried about anything the past few weeks? Did she complain about anyone following or harassing her?”
“My Holly never worried about a thing. She was a high-spirited girl who liked to have fun.” Mrs. Thompson sniffled and took another gulp of bourbon.
“Did she keep a diary? Have a computer? Send e-mails to friends?”
“She spent a lot of time on the computer. Would you like to see it? It’s in her room.”
They followed Mrs. Thompson as she weaved down the short hallway, the cat threading between her ankles. She threw open the door to a small room, crowded with furniture and plastered with posters of tattooed singers and grungy-looking bands.
Dana stepped into the room. The heavy perfume of the wilting roses by the window saturated the air, and Dana massaged her temple against a sudden pain. She hoped her allergy to cats wasn’t kicking in.
Photos lined the edge of the dresser mirror, and she bent forward to study the smiling faces. Holly had a lot of friends, and a lot of those friends included men. If they planned to track down all of these guys, they had a huge task in front of them. But they could start with Brice.
Mrs. Thompson backed out of the room. “You two can look around. I’ll start working on that list.”
Dana noticed her empty glass and figured Mrs. Thompson probably needed a refill, or maybe she just couldn’t face her daughter’s bedroom.
“Are you surprised that Brice was seeing Holly?”
“Not really, but I’m surprised he didn’t mention it. I’ll be having a conversation with Brice about his relationship with Holly and about police protocol.”
Rafe straddled the chair in front of the computer and brought up Holly’s e-mail. “It’ll take a while to go through these. I suppose Mrs. Thompson will let us take the computer with us, or we’ll get a court order to confiscate it.”
“I’m sure she’ll let us have it without a court order.” Dana flipped up the lid of a small pink box on the dresser and a tiny ballerina sprang to life, spinning to Tchaikovsky. A warm flush spread across Dana’s skin, and she lifted the back of her hair and fanned herself. Where’d that cat go?
Rafe tapped a few keys on the keyboard and said, “I wonder if she has one of those My Space pages. Your cyber crimes unit could probably get us a password.”
“Mmm.” Dana smoothed her palm along Holly’s bedspread, and her hand tingled. Must be a little static electricity in the room .
She sat on the edge of the bed and rummaged through the nightstand. Didn’t look like Holly kept a diary, but she did have a variety of sex toys and a few condoms. Dana picked up a decorative hairbrush with strands of long, dark hair clinging to the bristles.
Running her fingers across the bristles, she closed her eyes. Her breathing deepened, and Rafe’s voice sounded as if it were coming from miles away.
An unseen force jolted her body and her hand curled around the carved handle of the brush as an explosion of lights flared behind her closed eyelids. The roaring in her ears blocked out all her other senses. Her body went rigid and then floated, weightless, timeless.
Then the vision took control of her mind.
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