my fist.
Molly turned and went outside, leaving the front door wide open. The sight of her wheeling away her little book bag made my heart ache.
'You can leave right behind her,' Krystal Seabright said to me. 'Or I can call the police.'
I turned back to face her and said nothing for a moment while I tried to wrestle my temper into submission. I was reminded of the fact that I had been a terrible patrol officer when I'd first gone on the job because I lacked the requisite diplomatic skills for domestic situations. I have always been of the opinion that some people really do just need to be bitch-slapped. Molly's mother was one of those people.
Krystal was trembling like a Chihuahua, having some control issues of her own.
'Mrs. Seabright, for what it's worth, Molly has nothing to do with this,' I lied.
'Oh? She hasn't tried to tell you her sister has vanished and that we should be calling the police and the FBI and America's Most Wanted?'
'I know that Erin hasn't been seen since Sunday afternoon. Doesn't that concern you?'
'Are you implying I don't care about my children?' Again with the bug-eyes and the practiced affront-always a sign of low self-esteem.
'I'm not implying anything.'
'Erin is an adult. At least in her own mind. She wanted to live on her own, take care of herself.'
'So you're not aware that she was working for a man who's been involved in schemes to defraud insurance agencies?'
She looked confused. 'She works for a horse trainer. That's what Molly said.'
'You haven't spoken with Erin?'
'When she left she made it very clear she wanted nothing more to do with me. Living a decent life in a lovely home was just all too boring for her. After everything I've done for her and her sister…'
She went to the hall table, glanced at herself in the mirror, and dug her hand into a big pink and orange Kate Spade purse. She came out of the bag with a cigarette and a slim lighter, and moved toward the open front door.
'I've worked so hard, made so many sacrifices…' she said, more or less to herself, as if it comforted her to portray herself as the heroine of the story. She lit the cigarette and blew the smoke outside. 'She's done nothing but give me grief since the night she was conceived.'
'Does Erin's father live in the vicinity? Might she have gone to spend time with him?'
Krystal burst out laughing, but not with humor. She didn't look at me. 'No. She wouldn't have done that.'
'Where is her father?'
'I wouldn't know. I haven't heard from him in fifteen years.'
'Do you know who Erin's friends are?'
'What do you want with her?' she asked. 'What's she done now?'
'Nothing I'm aware of. She may have some information. I'd just like to ask her some questions about the man she's been working for. Has Erin been in trouble in the past?'
She leaned way out the door, took another hard drag on the cigarette, and exhaled the smoke at a hibiscus shrub. 'I don't see that my family is any business of yours.'
'Has she ever been involved with drugs?'
She snapped a look at me. 'Is that what this is about? Is she mixed up with drug people? God. That's all I need.'
'I'm concerned about where she's gone,' I said. 'Erin's disappearance happened to coincide with the death of a very expensive horse.'
'You think she killed a horse?'
I thought my head might split in two. Krystal's concern seemed to be about everyone except her daughter. 'I just want to ask her some questions about her boss. Do you have any idea where she might have gone?'
She stepped outside, tapped her ash into a plant pot, and hopped back into the house. 'Responsibility isn't Erin's thing. She thinks being an adult means doing whatever you damn well please. She's probably run off to South Beach with some boy.'
'Does she have a boyfriend?'
She scowled and looked down at the tiled floor. Down and to the right: a lie. 'How would I know? She doesn't check in with me.'
'Molly said she hasn't been able to reach Erin on her cell phone.'
'Molly.' She puffed on the cigarette and tried to wave the smoke out toward the street. 'Molly is twelve. Molly thinks Erin is cool. Molly reads too many mystery novels and watches too much A amp;E. What kind of child watches A amp;E? Law and Order, Investigative Reports. When I was twelve I was watching Brady Bunch reruns.'
'I think Molly has reason to be concerned, Mrs. Seabright. I think you might want to speak with the Sheriff's Office about filing a missing person's report.'
Krystal Seabright looked horrified. Not at the prospect that her daughter might have been the victim of foul play, but at the idea of someone from Binks Forest having to file a police report. What would the neighbors say? They might put two and two together and figure out her last house was a double-wide.
'Erin is not missing,' she insisted. 'She's just… gone somewhere, that's all.'
A teenage boy emerged through a door into the upstairs hall and came thudding down the stairs. He looked maybe seventeen or eighteen and hungover. Gray-faced and glum, with platinum-tipped dark hair that stood up in dirty tufts. His T-shirt looked slept in and worse. He didn't resemble Krystal or her daughters. I made the assumption he belonged to Bruce Seabright, and wondered why Molly had made no mention of him to me.
Krystal swore under her breath and surreptitiously tossed her cigarette out the door. The boy's eyes followed it, then went back to her. Busted.
'Chad? What are you doing home?' she asked. A whole new tone of voice. Nervous. Obsequious. 'Aren't you feeling well, honey? I thought you'd gone to school.'
'I'm sick,' he said.
'Oh. Oh. Uh… Would you like me to make you some toast?' she asked brightly. 'I have to get to the office, but I could make you some toast.'
'No, thank you.'
'You were out awfully late last night,' Krystal said sweetly. 'You probably just need your sleep.'
'Probably.' Chad glanced at me, and slouched away.
Krystal scowled at me and spoke in a low voice. 'Look: we don't need you. Just go away. Erin will turn up when Erin needs something.'
'What about Erin?' Chad asked. He had come back into the hall, a two-liter bottle of Coke in one hand. Breakfast of champions.
Krystal Seabright closed her eyes and huffed. 'Nothing. Just- Nothing. Go back to bed, honey.'
'I need to ask her some questions about the guy she works for,' I said to the boy. 'Do you happen to know where I can find her?'
He shrugged and scratched his chest. 'Sorry, I haven't seen her.'
As he said it, the black Jag rolled back into the driveway. Krystal looked stricken. Chad disappeared down a hall. The man I assumed to be Bruce Seabright got out of the car and strode toward the open front door, a man on a mission. He was stocky with thinning hair slicked straight back and a humorless expression.
'Honey, did you forget something?' Krystal asked in the same tone she'd used with Chad. The overeager servant.
'The Fairfields file. I've got a major deal going down on a piece of that property this morning and I don't have the file. I know I set it on the dining room table. You must have moved it.'
'No, I don't think so. I-'
'How many times do I have to tell you, Krystal? Do not touch my business files.' There was a condescension in his tone that couldn't have been categorized as abusive, but was, in a subtle, insidious way.
'I'm-I'm sorry, honey,' she stammered. 'Let me go find it for you.'
Bruce Seabright looked at me with a hint of wariness, like he suspected I might have a permit to solicit charitable donations. 'I'm sorry if I interrupted,' he said politely. 'I have a very important meeting to get to.'
