IN THE MORNING, they trawled the newspapers with breakfast. Nothing on more missing persons. Nothing on bodies found. Good. That was something. No other women had died. As far as the cops and the papers knew anyway.
Mila didn’t even ask about the jeans, so she didn’t offer an explanation. Wardrobe was low on the list of priorities.
Getting to Yvonne’s workplace was higher on the agenda.
That lunchtime, the building was bustling. People came and went. Commandeering colleagues on the street or in dark alleys may be more discreet, but they had to go inside to ensure they talked to the right people.
“Hi,” she said, projecting confidence in her voice. “I need to talk to someone about Yvonne Ingham.”
The startled receptionist glanced at Mila, then back at her. “Are you with the police?”
“I just have a few questions.” Not a denial, not a confirmation either. “I’d really appreciate it if someone could help us out… We can wait… as long as we have to.”
Something no business would want. People loitering around for all to see. People interested in the employee who’d gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Maybe she added that last part, but it was true.
“Let me see if I can…” Though the receptionist was hesitant, she picked up the phone. “I’ll see if her supervisor’s available.”
“Thank you.”
Reversing a step from the desk, she held her chin high. Confidence. She was a Stratford. Her father’s daughter. Her dad could talk his way in anywhere. The Ritz? No problem! A back-alley dive bar? Would be his home within the hour. Her high school French teacher’s panties? Easy as pie… or was that easiest pie? That had been a hell of a parent-teacher conference. Especially with her mom and Ted there too… But she got an A, which, come to think of it, she’d never thanked her dad for.
The receptionist jumped up as a door in the corner opened. The guy who came out didn’t look happy to see them. Could be a lead. Maybe this guy was their perpetrator. Did he and Yvonne have a thing? Had he wanted them to? Had the young beauty told him no one too many times?
Jagg came to mind. Hadn’t she told him she wasn’t the paranoid tweaker? Now everywhere she looked, there were clues and duplicity… Her father would be proud. “Suspect everyone” was one of his mottos. Though “always make friends with your enemy” was his favorite. How did those gel?
“Hello,” the guy said. “I’m Simon Langspring, Yvonne’s supervisor. What’s the problem?”
“No problem,” Imogen said, pleased to see the starch leave his shoulders as his eyes flicked between them.
That’s right. Just two pretty ladies, innocent, unthreatening… felt a little like drawing the fly into her web. Was she a predator? Some might say. Jagg, for example.
“You have questions? Come this way.”
He took them into a glass-fronted conference room and closed the blinds while gesturing at the long table.
“Sit down,” he said. “Is there news? Do we know something?”
Oh no, had she given this guy false hope?
“I don’t,” she said, seating herself next to Mila. “Sorry.”
“You have questions? Yvonne was a hard worker. Smart. Comfortable with clients… not too comfortable. Good at her job. I didn’t know her much outside of work. She came to functions, she was closer with other members of her team… Everyone spoke to the cops.”
“I know,” she said, addressing his confusion. “We just want to go over a few details. Did she leave at the normal time?”
“Yes, everyone was out on time. There was talk of meeting later for a drink. Everyone, you know, not just her and… She spoke to her boyfriend. He said they were going out for dinner.”
Interesting. “Did you see him? Did he come here to pick her up?”
“No, she called him on the phone.” Damnit. “On the street, while Yvonne flagged a cab, Claudia invited her to come for a drink later. Them, I suppose.”
Yvonne and the boyfriend. “And did they? Come for a drink later?”
He shook his head, clasping the back of a chair. “I don’t believe so. I didn’t go out with my colleagues that night. I have a wife. A home.” So even if he wanted to party with any of the underlings, it might be forbidden… The bead of sweat on his brow gave the impression his wife held that leash tight. “None of this is good for our company’s image. I hired her. I thought she was… I never got the impression that she was flighty.”
Blaming the victim? In his defense, he didn’t know she was a victim. They didn’t either. Confirmation would be difficult to come by without a body, and they didn’t want it to get that far.
“We have no reason to believe she intended to cause anyone distress.” Again, neither true or false. “Or that her disappearance was premeditated.”
“Claudia would’ve known if Yvonne planned to leave. They were close… as close as colleagues are, I suppose. I believe it was her who first raised the warning flag.”
“The warning flag?”
“That Yvonne was unreachable… Her family was immediately worried, I’m sure.”
Was that fact or fiction? “Would it be possible to speak to Claudia?”
“She’s off this week. I gave her some time… seemed the reasonable thing to do.”
“Yes.”
“Her number should be in your files.”
If they were cops, it would be. “Thank you,” she said, standing up with Mila at her side. “We appreciate your time.”
They started for the door, which Langspring opened for them.
As they passed, Mila stopped. “Before she disappeared…” Mila said. “Was she different? Did you suspect anything had changed in her life?”
“No,” he said, though he maybe wasn’t the best man to ask. “I didn’t.”
Mila’s expression didn’t change as she walked out. Imogen offered a smile and hurried after her.
She caught up to her on the street. “What was that about? Was she different?”
“I worry, you know,” Mila said, slipping her phone from her pocket. “Maybe I missed something.”
“You can’t do that to yourself,” she said. “You were Steph’s closest friend.”
“And I didn’t see anyth—”
The abrupt stop concerned her. “What? What is it?” Her friend fixated on the phone screen. “Mila?”
“He wants to meet,” she said. “He wants to meet today. Now.”
“Who?”
“Bryan,” Mila said, turning the phone around. “We have to go.”
Yes, they did, but when Mila grabbed her hand to pull her down the street, she held back.
“Maybe we should tell the cops… even unofficially. If they want to talk to him—”
“They talked to him before. That means they must know how to get in touch with him if they have to. They don’t need to talk to him, we do. We can’t waste this chance.”
They merged into the crowd crossing at the green. “Let me call Jagg…”
She couldn’t remember his number being in her phone, but the shop had to be in the book. Ford was an option too. Though too many new faces might spook her friend, never mind the guy who could be wrapped up in the plot.
“We don’t have time. He’s there now.”
“Where?”
“A coffee place Steph loved. That’s a good sign, right? A sign he’s still thinking of her.”
Or that he got some sick kick out of putting his victim’s friends through the pain of enduring constant reminders of their lost loved one.
“Mila, we have to be careful,” she said, tugging her friend to a stop. “Let’s think about this. Just for a second.”
“He’s there,” Mila said with a predictable impatience. “We have to go. We have to get there before he leaves.”
“If he wants to talk to us, he’ll wait. How far away is this place?”
“Less than two blocks. Five minutes and we’ll—”
“How did he know we were here? That you were so close?” Glancing around, suddenly, nothing felt safe. “Does anyone know where you are? Your family? Friends?”
Mila exhaled annoyance. “We have played this your way so far. Have I complained? Have I argued with you? I trusted you.”
“I know and I appreciate that—”
“I want you to be there with me because you know about this stuff. You have a knack for it, I guess, for putting people at ease. This is important. Steph is important.”
“Yes, she is, but she wouldn’t want you hurt.”
“We don’t know if Bryan is involved in what happened to her. Maybe he’s just a guy. A heartbroken guy. We won’t know unless we go there, unless we talk to him.”
“Okay, we just have to be careful.”
“Careful. Right,” Mila said, guiding her over to the crosswalk. “But we have to be quick.”
Did they? A heartbroken guy wouldn’t decide to meet and then back out less than twenty minutes later.
Her awareness stayed keen as they walked the next block. When her phone rang, she slowed.
“Wait a second,” she said, stopping when she read her boss’s name. “I have to take this.”
“It’s right there,” Mila said, pointing across to the midpoint of the opposite sidewalk. “We can just…”
She answered. “Steeple?”
“Still haven’t shown up, Stratford.”
“I know, I’m sorry. It’s been a nutty few days.”
“Still on this murder thing?”
“Yeah, and I’m making progress, I—”
A horrified scream on the road brought her attention around just as the sickening thud of metal on a human body ended the sound. Mila. Mila! On the road, she was, they had…
Taking off, the car spun its wheels with an urgent squeal. Horns blared, people called out, but she ran to her friend. Ran into the road. Over to the woman sprawled at all the wrong angles.
“Mila,” she whispered, stroking her hair from her face. “Mila!” She swallowed, ignoring those gathering around her. Her friend was… She was… “Call 911!”
Others echoed her plea. Cars stopped; people held a makeshift cordon that crowded way too close. Her friend had… They were… The danger had known exactly where to look.