get that feeling for the obvious reason—because they did it. Other times there’s some other thing they’re guilty of, related to the case or not. And sometimes it’s just a person who’s using what happened to get in the limelight. The bad feeling we get is because they feel guilty they’re enjoying their fifteen minutes of fame—which they wouldn’t have gotten if a person they loved wasn’t missing or dead. Let’s go chat with Jordan and see why you’re getting that impression from him.”
She followed Sophia up a well-groomed pathway to the front door. When Sophia knocked on the door, it swung open by itself, revealing an interior as ornate as the outside. Except that there were brightly colored bras hanging off the enormous crystal chandelier in the entryway, empty pizza boxes piled on the antique table in the living room and a pair of frat boys curled up asleep, one on each end of the dirty but obviously expensive couch.
“Here we go,” Sophia said. “Neville’s most notorious frat house.”
“What are they notorious for?”
“Being awesome, mostly,” someone said from much closer behind her than anyone should have been able to get without Evelyn sensing a presence.
She spun around and craned her neck up at the college student giving her an “aren’t I charming” grin. His dark blond hair was perfectly groomed, his low-slung jeans and Neville U sweatshirt just a tiny bit rumpled and his dimples were on full display. He held a cup of coffee in one hand and tucked a pair of keys with an Audi key chain into his pocket with the other.
As Sophia spun around, the flirtatious grin dropped off his face, replaced by sudden worry. “Detective Lopez. Do you have news? Did you find Haley? Is she okay?”
“We don’t have anything new,” Sophia said.
“Jordan Biltmore?” Evelyn guessed.
Disappointment—or maybe relief—slumped his shoulders, then he studied her again, as if he was assessing her role or importance, and he stuck out a hand. He gave her the kind of handshake more appropriate for a business meeting than standing on the threshold of a frat house that stunk of old beer and dirty socks. “That’s right. And you are?”
“Special Agent Evelyn Baine, from the FBI.”
Her title should have made an impression on a kid his age, either concern about the FBI’s involvement if he was involved, hope for more resources on his girlfriend’s case if he wasn’t or just plain awe if nothing else. But he simply nodded at her, the strength of his handshake revealing power in his lanky frame.
“If there’s nothing new, what’s going on?” he asked Sophia.
“Let’s find a place to sit and chat.”
“Sure.” Jordan angled his head around them and yelled, “Brent! Jim! Get lost.”
The pair of students sleeping on the couch jolted awake. One looked ready to snap back at Jordan, but at the sight of Sophia—who held up her detective’s shield—they both shuffled off into the cavernous house.
Evelyn glanced around as they walked in, seeing a kitchen off to her right, fully stocked with gleaming stainless appliances she doubted the frat boys used. There was even a pair of vending machines neatly lined up next to the fridge. She assumed the bedrooms were off the hall to her left and up the giant staircase beside the entryway.
“Take a seat,” Jordan said, gesturing to the couch.
As soon as they were seated, instead of doing the same, he planted his free hand on his hip and stared down at them. “You must have news if you’re back here.” Before they could answer, he added, “If it’s about that crazy video her dad released, let me tell you, Haley didn’t run away.”
Evelyn looked up at him, wondering about his background besides the wealth and the important father. For a nineteen-year-old, he had a lot of confidence to usher two law enforcement officers into seats and then stand in a symbolic position of power himself. Was he doing it on purpose or subconsciously?
“Why do you say that?” Evelyn asked, staying comfortably seated. Let him believe he was in charge.
“About her dad? Because how would he know what happened to her? Believe me, unless he actually did it, he has no clue. He just wants the attention, because his family left him and he’s miserable.”
“Do you have reason to suspect Haley’s dad kidnapped her?” Sophia asked.
Jordan shrugged, setting his coffee on the table between them. He finally sprawled on one of the plush leather chairs across from the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “No, but the guy is an asshole who used to smack her and her mom around.”
“Haley told you she was abused?” Sophia demanded, leaning forward as though this was news to her.
“Nah. Haley was too sweet to actually say it. She always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, always had excuses when someone did bad shit or treated her wrong. But I can read between the lines.”
“Give me some examples,” Sophia insisted. “What did she say to make you think that?”
“She usually clammed up when anything to do with her dad came up. But she told me once that she was glad they’d divorced, him and her mom. That she couldn’t take living with him anymore.”
“Did she ever mention running away?” Evelyn asked.
Furrows lined his forehead and he sat forward, crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, look, yeah, she might have mentioned that a few times, but it was a while ago. And she never actually would have done it. Besides, her dad was out of the picture. I mean, sure, he had some sort of partial custody. She had to visit every once in a while, but it wasn’t like he was around all the time.” He stared hard at Sophia. “If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that if Haley had decided to run away, she wouldn’t do it this way. She’d never let her mom worry. Never.”
Sophia nodded, her expression telling Evelyn that everything she’d learned about Haley in her investigation meshed with what Jordan was telling them.
“What about her stepdad?” Evelyn asked.
“Pete?” Jordan rolled his eyes. “She thought he was kind of an ass-hat, that’s for sure. She definitely avoided him.”
“Did she ever talk about him being a threat?”
“No. She wasn’t his biggest fan, but he’s sort of a weirdo, so that’s no surprise. You’ve asked me all this before.”
Sophia glanced at Evelyn, giving a small shrug, and Evelyn jumped in.
“Jordan, I want to go over what happened when you dropped Haley off at school. Everything you can remember.”
“Sure.” He glanced between them. “But I haven’t thought of anything new.”
“That’s okay. I just want to hear it from you instead of a police report.” Sometimes, even with witnesses who were telling the truth, repeating the details raised inconsistencies, gaps in memory or brand-new information.
Jordan’s whole body tensed. “It was a pretty typical day. Haley’s school day was over, and I’d been to my
