Little Girl Gone

“I’m not exactly sure he was her boyfriend.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s a little confusion between her friends about that.”

Tooney looked at Logan for a moment. “This boy, his house is near, though.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Show it to me.”

“That’s going to be a little difficult.”

“Why?”

“The reason the street up there is blocked off? The house he lived in burned down sometime in the night.”

“What?” Tooney, Jerry and Barney all said at once.

“But you were there late last night. That’s what you told me,” Logan’s dad said. “What time was that?”

“Around midnight. A lot of hours between then and morning for someone to light a match.”

They all fell silent, then Tooney said, “I still want to see it.”

Logan frowned, but nodded. What choice did he have?

He led them back to Pacific Avenue, glancing over his shoulder a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t walking too fast. They were keeping up just fine, his dad and Barney at the head of the group and Jerry at the rear. Tooney was in the middle, surrounded by the Cambria Marine Corp.

Some of the excitement on Pacific had dissipated by the time they reached the spot where Logan had been standing earlier. Two of the fire trucks had left, and it looked like the police were getting ready to open one of the traffic lanes.

 “Don’t tell me that’s it,” Harp said. He was staring at the pile of burned wreckage across the street.

“I did say it burned down.”

“But you said you were inside it last night. That it was empty.”

“What part of this aren’t you understanding, Dad? Do you see the fire engine? Do you see the police? This only happened a few hours ago.”

“So you were able to get inside,” Barney said.

“Do you guys think I was lying?”

“No, of course not.”

“Definitely not,” Jerry added.

Logan looked at his father, waiting.

When Harp finally felt his gaze, he said, “What?”

Logan shook his head. “Nothing.”

Tooney hadn’t said a word since they got there, his full attention on what was left of the bungalow.

Logan squeezed by one of the marines, and stepped beside him. “You okay?”

“There was nothing inside?” Tooney asked.

“No. It was spotless.”

“Do you think this fire could have been an accident?”

“No way to know that for sure.”

Tooney turned to Logan, his eyes suddenly hard. “I did not ask what you know. I ask what you think.”

Looking back at the house, Logan said, “It seems kind of convenient to be an accident.” He could feel Tooney’s gaze a moment longer, then the older man turned away.

“What are you going to do now?”

Logan took a breath, and let his eyes drift along the perimeter the police had set up. It was like a big, half- circle jutting out from the properties neighboring the scene of the fire, and curving across the street to their side. It was marked off with yellow tape held in place by police cars strategically parked in the middle of the road.

“I got the names of two of your daughter’s friends. I’m going to see if either of them might know anything helpful.”

“Who are these friends?”

“A guy named Anthony, and a girl,” Logan said, then paused to recall her name. “Lara Mendonca.”

Tooney nodded.

“You know them?”

“I’ve heard Elyse mention them before.”

“Do you know Anthony’s last name?”

Tooney’s nod turned into a shake. “No. If she say, I don’t remember.”