Based on her reaction she didn’t much care for the implication.
“Surely you realize that you’re not going to be objective when it comes to your niece,” he stated.
“Ashlyn was a terrific student. She put a lot of pressure on herself to make grades. She ran track and was getting good at it. School is a lot more pressure now than when we were kids. I’m not saying that she couldn’t have sampled alcohol in order to blow off steam. I just don’t think she’d be stupid enough to keep doing it once Timothy figured her out. Not unless she was trying to start a fight with him, which I seriously doubt.” She was massaging her temples now. “She’d mentioned that her fights with him were starting to put too much pressure on her mother. Mentioned that she didn’t want to be the cause of another divorce.”
“Why did she think that?”
“Kids blame themselves for everything that happens at that age. I’ve seen it over and over again in my practice,” she admitted. “I hated that she believed Andy and Stella had split because of her. They never told her the real reason.”
Before he could ask another question, Clara pointed to the exit sign for Main Street in Frisco off the Dallas North Tollway. “This is ours. We need to take this exit.”
Daniel made sure he was clear before zipping into the far right lane, just making the exit safely.
An hour had zoomed by while they’d been locked in conversation.
After a couple of left- and right-hand turns, they pulled up in front of a grand two-story brick house that had a couple of saplings planted in the front yard.
The place resembled a small castle and every other house on the block had a similar look and feel. Solid large wooden doors were at the front of every home. Green grass that was no doubt thanks to an automated sprinkler system. The house looked newly built and the landscape immature.
As soon as they parked, the front door opened and a woman wearing athletic clothes rushed out, jogging toward them.
He and Clara exited his rented truck.
The family resemblance was apparent. Both sisters had blond hair. Stella looked several years older than Clara, with a deeply bronzed tan on a fit body. She wore a tennis visor and her hair swished back and forth in her ponytail.
She had a death grip on a handkerchief that she used to dab at her eyes.
Clara’s body went rigid as she made physical contact with her sister, Daniel noticed as he rounded the front of the truck.
He gave them enough space to greet each other but not so much that he couldn’t hear if either spoke. As much as Clara might think she could be objective under the circumstances that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Stella broke free in dramatic fashion and that’s where the similarities between sisters ended. Clara was much more simple beauty and no-nonsense mentality whereas her sister wore heavy makeup and had an overall made-up quality to her.
“Who’s this?” She made a show of looking Daniel up and down.
Up close, her eyes were dry. She dabbed them again anyway. Daniel gave her the benefit of the doubt considering she’d been dealing with the loss of her daughter for weeks already but filed her behavior away as odd.
“This is the man I hired to help look into Ashlyn’s case,” Clara said and a flicker of—what? Panic? Shock?—passed across the backs of her sister’s eyes like rolling clouds in a windstorm. Of course, she could just be exhausted from the investigation and lack of results. And then there was medication to consider.
“I’m Daniel Damon.” He offered a handshake. She took his hand and he noticed that her palms were moist like she was nervous.
“Come on in,” she said, abruptly turning and walking toward her still-open front door.
Clara took in an audible breath, like she was trying to fortify her nerves. Her sister bounced on toward the opening seemingly unaware that no one had followed.
Daniel put his hand on the small of Clara’s back and waited for her to take the first step.
After another sharp inhale, she glanced at him and took a few forward steps. He walked beside her, stopping at the door to let her walk in first.
A constant yip-noise echoed throughout the dramatic two-story entryway.
Hanging back gave him more perspective, so he kept his distance once inside, preferring to stick by the front door.
The large entry housed a winding staircase to the right. Hardwoods covered the floors as far as he could see. Double French doors to his immediate left led to an office.
The doors were closed and a little cotton-haired dog bounced up and down, yipping wildly.
The little thing looked like it would scratch through the glass if left ignored for much longer.
“Oh, hush, Berkley,” Stella chided.
“What’s Ashlyn’s dog doing in his office?” Clara asked quietly, but there was a whole mess of accusation in her tone.
“I didn’t want him running out the door when you came,” Stella said, defensiveness ringing loud warning bells in her tone.
A missing child would cause cracks in any family dynamic. He tried not to judge too harshly.
“Berkley’s not allowed in there.” Clara folded her arms.
“I’ll get him,” Stella said with a little dissatisfied grunt. She trotted over to the door. It was morning, but August in Texas was hot and she wore one of those long-sleeved Yoga hoodies with holes cut out for her thumbs. The hoodie seemed out of place even though the A/C was set low in order to cool the massive space.
Stella opened the door and bent down to scoop up the little fur ball. She lost balance on the way down and plopped down hard on her butt.
She released a curse as the dog immediately darted around her and zigzagged around the room. Berkley whizzed past Daniel and Clara, dashing in and out of them, and then between their shoes. The little streak of
