“We don’t know what your niece knew and he may not have touched Ashlyn,” he said, taking her hand. She shouldn’t let him be her comfort, especially since her body hummed with need every time she was close to him. But she was so tired of always being the strong one. Of being alone. So she didn’t pull back.
“She obviously wanted to keep me in the dark. There could’ve been a lot she was keeping to herself.” Betrayal stung. Logically, her mind knew that didn’t mean Ashlyn was doing anything wrong. But keeping secrets still hurt. A twinge of guilt struck. Clara had to remind herself that some secrets weren’t hers to tell and yet that didn’t lighten the feeling of betrayal.
“What about her social media accounts?” he asked.
“Her privacy controls are locked down tighter than a bank vault. That much, I know. She is only allowed one account and that’s basically to send pictures back and forth with her friends.” Clara was certain that was the only account that Ashlyn maintained. “Stella monitors it. She insisted that Ashlyn add her as a friend and my sister stays on it. I’m on it, too, for an extra set of eyes. I counseled Ashlyn about the potential dangers of social media, especially when it comes to teens and using good judgment.”
“So we talk to Andy and Timothy next. See where that leads.” Daniel took a sip of coffee.
Clara’s cell buzzed. She checked the screen and then stared at Daniel.
“It’s Mrs. DeSanchos.”
Chapter 10
Daniel listened to one side of the conversation between Clara and Mrs. DeSanchos. It was mostly, “Uh-huh,” and, “I see.”
The call ended with a deep sigh.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“She says she wants to help in any way she can but that this has been very hard on Makayla and if there’s any way we can leave her out of further questioning Mrs. DeSanchos would appreciate it.”
Daniel wouldn’t bite on the irony of that statement. The undercurrent of the conversation having been that the woman wanted to help—and by help she meant leaving her and her daughter alone. “The kid’s best friend is missing after a vacation together and Mrs. DeSanchos doesn’t think her daughter would want to do everything she could to help find her?”
Clara made eyes at him. “Her mother has always been overprotective of Makayla. Sometimes parents think it’s best to shield kids from painful situations.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t provide the other side to that argument.”
“Whether or not Mrs. DeSanchos wants us to speak to Makayla isn’t going to stop me from doing what I need to in order to find my niece,” she stated plain as day. “I owed it to the woman to hear her out but I don’t agree with her.”
“Your sister must’ve called her the minute we left.”
“Which also means she probably called Andy and Timothy to warn them that we might be coming around,” she agreed.
Daniel drained his cup, stood up and chucked it in the trash. “Not Timothy. She’s scared to death that we’ll reach out to him and stir the pot again.”
“Does that mean we go to him first?”
“I don’t like him but not because I think he’s responsible for Ashlyn’s disappearance.” Daniel stepped aside to allow her passage through the maze of two-top tables and toward the exit.
“Then where are we headed?”
“What school does Makayla go to?” he asked.
“Brighton Prep Academy,” Clara said.
“When does the school year start?”
“Most schools in Texas go back the third week in August but Brighton is technically year-round. They get a month break for summer,” Clara said. “They went back last week.”
Daniel palmed the keys and directed her to the pickup.
“Can you get us inside the building without getting arrested?” Daniel asked.
Clara shrugged. “I can try.”
The school grounds were immaculate. Brighton Prep Academy was written in Greek-looking letters scrolled above a two-story red brick traditional building in a downtown Dallas neighborhood. Towering Oaks lined the streets and the grass was the most beautiful shade of green that Clara had ever seen. Immaculate didn’t begin to describe the manicured flower beds that housed a mixture of native plants and bright florals.
Inside, the school day was hitting its stride. Clara glanced at her watch. By third period Ashlyn would’ve been in History class with Makayla if she’d registered at the Academy this year as she was supposed to before her life turned upside down.
“She should be here with her friends,” Clara said almost under her breath as she led the way into the building. “I offered to pay tuition but my sister and Andy wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Why couldn’t they afford it? Your sister lives in a nice-enough house,” Daniel said.
“Her husband thought it was a waste of money. He put all his money in that house, cars and country club membership. As for Andy, he couldn’t afford it anymore plain and simple now that he maintained a separate home.” Clara had been here dozens of times to pick up Ashlyn over the years and knew the layout well.
Walking down the corridor, her heals clicking against the polished marble floors, she’d never felt so out of place.
She took in a breath to fortify her nerves and stalked inside the office.
“Is Headmaster Rutledge in her office?” she asked the receptionist, Mabel Warrington.
Mabel stood, her gaze lingering on the man standing behind Clara.
“I’ll see if she’s back from cafeteria duty.” It was the standard line given to anyone who didn’t have an appointment.
The receptionist disappeared down a hallway behind a closed and normally locked door.
A few minutes later, Headmaster Rutledge appeared. The tall woman in her early forties stood with her hands clasped. “May I help you, Miss [last name]?”
“Is there any chance we can speak to Makayla?” Clara asked.
Rutledge’s body language—zipped up expression and furrowed brow—gave Clara the answer.
Daniel
