Elsie walked behind the two women as they exited the stone courthouse and headed over the lawn and across the street to the Barton Police Department. In contrast with the historic county courthouse, the police building was a squat, flat-topped, blond brick structure built in the 1960s.
They trod the steps to the Detective Division on the second floor. Desiree’s mother clung to the bannister for support. Bob Ashlock met them at the top of the stairs.
Ashlock greeted the women with a nod. “Breeon, Elsie.” He extended a hand to Desiree’s mother. “Ma’am, I’m Detective Ashlock.”
Kim trembled visibly as she grasped Ashlock’s hand. “I’m Kim. Kim Wickham.”
“Ms. Wickham, Ms. Arnold tells me your daughter has gone missing.”
“Yes.” She spoke with a gasp, and the tears began to roll again. “She’s gone. Since yesterday afternoon. She shouldn’t be out all night. She’s just in ninth grade.”
Ashlock led them into the second-floor conference room. The space held a table and eight chairs; the cinderblock walls were bare. The sole window overlooked the town square. Glancing down, Elsie saw two women from the clerk’s office shivering on a bench as they shared a cigarette.
Elsie turned her gaze from the window and took a seat at the conference table. Ashlock opened a file folder and pulled out a paper form. He set it before him on the table; it read Missing Person Report.
He spoke in a calm voice. “Let’s get this information down, ma’am. Your daughter’s full name?”
“Desiree Wickham. Desiree Hope Wickham.” She shut her eyes. “I’ve pinned my hopes on her since the day she was born.”
“Date of birth?”
“May 18, 2003.”
“Description?”
“She’s a little thing. Curly blond hair, just like me.”
Elsie cut her eyes to the woman’s hair. It was curly; the frizzy locks brushed her shoulders. And the ends were yellow, but the roots were a much darker shade.
“Specifically. Height? Weight?”
“Five foot one, I think. Maybe a hundred pounds, something like that.” She paused and rubbed her eyes. “Ninety-five? Could be ninety-five. Because she’s been dieting.”
Breeon exhaled; it sounded like an indignant snort. Elsie eyed her friend; it looked like Breeon was exercising rigid control to remain silent.
“Eye color?”
“Blue. Pretty blue eyes.”
Ashlock marked on the form. “Can you tell me what she was wearing when you last saw her?”
“I can show you.” The woman reached into her purse and pulled out the Veronica’s Secret catalogue she’d displayed at the courthouse. With shaking hands, she fumbled through the pages until she reached one that had been dog-eared. She pointed at a picture of a model wearing a push-up bra and a thong.
“We went to Springfield and bought it special, for the shoot. Because it’s pink, and they put her in pink at the audition. But she didn’t like wearing the things they put on her and Taylor, because they was used and they wasn’t clean.”
Breeon stood so abruptly that her chair tipped over and crashed to the floor. The noise made Elsie recoil.
“This is the third time you’ve brought my daughter’s name into this.” Breeon’s control had cracked; her eyes were blazing. “Do you understand that your false statements about Taylor constitute slander? Defamation?”
Kim looked up at her with a woebegone face. “It’s not false. I’m telling the truth. Desiree told me. She said that Taylor said you wouldn’t like it. That’s why it had to be a secret.”
Breeon’s fist slammed down on the tabletop. “So you’re informing me that someone is putting my daughter in dirty underwear and taking her picture?”
“I didn’t know it was like that. Not at first.”
“And who the hell are you, conspiring to hide this activity from me? I am her mother.”
Ashlock stood. “Breeon,” he said.
“Don’t you ‘Breeon’ me. If someone is taking advantage of my child, then this woman was a party to it.”
Desiree’s mother opened her mouth wide, and wailed. “Your daughter is safe at school! My baby’s missing!”
Ashlock set his pen down on the table, at a right angle with the paper form. “Elsie, would you like to take Breeon to my office while I conclude this interview? Maybe get her a cold pop so she can settle down.”
Elsie shot an inquiring glance at Breeon. Bree’s jaw was working. After a pause, Bree spoke.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then you’ll need to refrain from speaking out, Breeon. So we can get to the bottom of this,” Ashlock said.
With an air of dignity, Breeon bent down and righted her chair. As she sat down, Elsie reached under the table and took Breeon’s hand.
Then she regretted the gesture as Breeon squeezed her fingers in a crushing grip.
As Elsie winced, she looked from Breeon’s stony face to Kim’s puffy red eyes and wondered again: was it all related? The name Tony kept popping up. Could it be a simple coincidence? And if not, could she have done something to prevent this from happening?
Her stomach twisted and she squeezed Bree’s hand.
A box of store-brand tissues sat on the conference table. Ashlock reached out and pushed the box to Kim. She pulled three from the box and blew her nose into them.
He said, “What time did Desiree disappear on Sunday?”
She rubbed the tissues under her nose before she replied. “Well, I went into work over to Tyler’s at ten. But she was supposed to be at Denny’s at three.”
“Three o’clock in the afternoon?”
“Yeah. I got home around six, and she wasn’t there. Then I slept on the couch while I waited for her to get back. But I didn’t worry until I woke up at two, maybe? In the morning? Because she should’ve been home by then.”
Breeon interjected. “What’s the deal with Denny’s? Who’s doing a photo shoot over there?”
“That’s where Desiree goes to meet the agency. They pick her up there, then drop her off. It’s open twenty-four hours, so it’s real convenient.”
Ashlock said, “Who picks her up?”
“The agency. Marvel Modeling. She had her interview with the agency at Denny’s last Thursday afternoon. Then they met up in the parking lot on Friday night and Sunday afternoon.”
As the woman spoke, Elsie scribbled on a notepad: “Denny’s. Marvel Modeling. Th afternoon, Fri night, Sun afternoon.” She turned and looked at Breeon, but Breeon was focused on Desiree’s mother.
“So—who was it from the agency that picked Desiree up at Denny’s?”
“Dede.”
Ashlock’s pen quit moving. “Can you spell that?”
“I don’t know. Like it sounds, I guess.”
“Last name?”’
“I don’t know.”
Ashlock’s eyes narrowed. “Description?”
“I don’t know. I never met her.”
Breeon opened her mouth to speak, but Ashlock held up a restraining hand.
“Ma’am, you sent your fourteen-year-old daughter off with a stranger?”
Kim buried her face in her hands. For a long moment, they sat as she sobbed. Her shoulders shook.
When she recovered sufficiently to speak, Kim said, “Desiree wanted it that way. It seemed more grown-up.”
Breeon’s voice cracked like a whip. “But she’s fourteen.”
Kim shook her head. In a mournful voice, she said, “Des is fifteen. But they said they was eighteen.”
Breeon dropped Elsie’s hand. “Who said?”
When Kim met Breeon’s eye, there was a spark of challenge in her expression. “Desiree and Taylor. When they applied at the agency.”
Under her breath, Breeon said, “Sweet Jesus.”
Ashlock interjected. “I need the names of anyone else who was involved, other than the woman named Dede.”
“Tony. Tony was in charge.”
Elsie tried to catch Ashlock’s eye, but he remained focused on Kim. “Last name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Description?”
“I never saw him.”
Elsie spoke up. “Did he have a tattoo?”
Kim shook her head. “I don’t know, I told you. I never saw him. But it was Tony that took the pictures of Desiree.” She paused before adding: “And the pictures of Taylor.”
Breeon pushed away from the table and picked up her bag. As she made her way to the door, Elsie said, “Where you going, Bree?”
Without looking back, Breeon said, “I’m going to school. To see my daughter.”