“I’m not at liberty to give names or full details, but suffice it to say Celeste was in communication with several young men via dating apps and social media. We interviewed them, and two were in or around the Gaslamp Quarter when Celeste went missing. One failed to provide a corroborated alibi. We got warrants for his phone records—and frankly, we don’t like him for it. On the night she disappeared, he claims he binged alcohol and then went home and slept it off. Records seem to support that. However, we did use the location of his phone in the days after Celeste’s disappearance to help us pinpoint new search areas—which, unfortunately, have not yielded anything of significance.”
“So that’s it?” Isaiah was on his feet. “You got one asshole’s phone records and did some ground searches and that’s a wrap?”
“It’s not a wrap. We’re not letting up. The searches are ongoing, and, thus far, we’ve logged about seven hundred hours of interviews with anyone who might be of interest in your sister’s case. As you well know, we’ve had you in for questioning on four occasions.”
Isaiah crumpled into his chair, and Alma threw back her shoulders. “And he’s cooperated fully. You’re wasting your time on my son.”
“He has motive—Celeste urged your husband to cut him out of the will.”
“Which I never did!” Baxter slapped his hand against his thigh.
“But you threatened to if you caught him drinking again.”
“Excuse me—” Mia’s throat was tight, her heart pounding “—did you get a warrant for Paul Hudson’s phone records? Did you search any areas where his phone placed him in the days after Celeste went missing? Like you did for that other man—the one who claimed to be sleeping it off.”
Alma shot her a grateful look. Isaiah kept his eyes to the floor.
“No,” Samuels said.
“Why not? Because Hudson is influential in the community?”
“Because Hudson has a corroborated alibi.”
“From his wife. What about the rumors going around?” Mia wasn’t giving up on the idea it could be Paul. He’d followed her; his wife had lied about her. Jane was sure he’d been bothering Celeste.
“We don’t like Paul Hudson for this. His wife confirmed they were together all night. Your own story—that you were supposed to have dinner with Ruth, and that Ruth cancelled at the last minute, is consistent with the Hudsons’ claims they reconciled that evening. We found no texts or calls between him and Celeste in her phone records. We’re keeping an open mind, but at this point, we’ve moved on.”
“To where?” Mia asked, unconvinced.
Samuels dusted his hands together and moved to perch atop the desk. “Look, I have some news that may be relevant. It hasn’t hit the airwaves yet, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of hours if not minutes until it does.”
A hushed silence filled the room.
“We have a report of another missing woman. It’s very early, but her co-workers are already canvassing, so I want you to hear it from me first. A hostess from the Piano Man didn’t show up for work this morning.”
Outside, the crows’ caws amped up—as if they were about to crash through the window.
“We sent an officer around to her home, but there was no answer. Her car wasn’t in the drive. We’ve tried her cell phone, and she’s not answering. Like I said, she’s only been gone a short time, but she’s around the same age as Celeste, and obviously we’re looking at a close geographic proximity. Yesterday, Keisha told her mother she was going to meet a friend at Mission Beach and would stop by later. But she never showed.”
“Wait—Mission Beach?” Isaiah asked. “Keisha? Mia, does your Keisha work at the Piano Man?”
“Keisha Sims?” Samuels climbed to his feet.
Mia’s heart was in her throat. “She’s missing? But I just talked to her yesterday. Isaiah was with me.”
“Not really,” Isaiah objected. “We barely spoke. I got there just as Keisha was leaving.”
“Where was she headed?” Samuels had the recorder in his hand.
“I don’t know. Ask Mia.”
She shook her head. She could barely breathe, much less speak.
“Okay, then. Where did you two go after the beach?” Samuels turned back to Isaiah.
“We moved a chest from Mia’s aunt’s place up to her room, here.”
“And after that?”
“Mia and I answered correspondence until around ten o’clock, and then we both went to bed.” Alma was on her feet. Everyone was on their feet.
“Good to know you can corroborate Mia’s whereabouts. What about you, Isaiah? Were you home all evening?”
“No. I went back out—to church. I lit a candle for Celeste and stayed to pray for around an hour before heading home.”
“You spend a lot of time in church, do you?” Samuels asked.
“As a rule? As little as possible. But that’s where I went yesterday.”
“I don’t suppose anyone saw you there?”
Baxter rose, then strode to his son’s side and rested a hand on his shoulder. “What are you driving at? If this young woman is missing, and it sounds like she is, I’d think you’d be blasting it all over the media. I’d think you’d be out there looking for her right this minute instead of haranguing my son.”
“We’ve only been trying to reach her a few hours. I’d say calling her a missing person at this point is premature. Maybe she’s off with her boyfriend somewhere.”
Mia’s entire body began to shake. “Or maybe there’s someone out there snatching young women off the streets.”
A vein bulged in Baxter’s neck. “While the police do nothing about it.”
“I’ve explained the steps we’re taking to find your daughter. As for Keisha, we’re still trying to determine whether she’s missing, or just taking a ditch day from work. And I should point out, as of now, your son and Mia are the last people known to have been in contact with her.” Samuels suddenly shifted then pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. He motioned to the detectives, grabbed the recorder and said, “We’ll be back to collect the whiteboard later.”
“Where are you going?”
