Ten minutes later, Maggie and Eva were parked outside Natalie Tellier’s house on Cormorant Crescent.
“Cute,” Eva remarked, looking up at the quaint bungalow. The setting sun cast a warm glow over the home, making it look even more charming than earlier in the day.
“Maybe I shouldn’t go in,” Maggie said. Nerves were already dancing in her lower abdomen.
“Why not? This whole thing was your idea.”
“I know, but she’s already met me and she doesn’t like me. You’ll have an easier time on your own.”
“But you’re the one with the lived experience. You might think of things to ask that I wouldn’t think of or pick up on details I might think are insignificant.”
“But —”
“You’re coming.” Eva’s tone brooked no argument. “Just let me handle the introductions.”
Maggie had no choice but to follow Eva out of the Prius and up the walkway to that little pink door. Eva rang the doorbell without hesitation.
When Annie pulled open the door, she looked exactly as she had earlier in the day, when Maggie had come alone, only her face was slightly more drawn, her shoulders slightly more stooped. Every hour that her daughter was missing took an increasing toll on her. She squinted at Eva, a glint of hope in her eyes until she spotted Maggie standing behind. She started to close the door before they could even get a word out.
“Ms. Tellier, wait.” Eva stepped forward and shoved her shoulder against the pink door to keep it from closing on them. It was an aggressive move, and Annie Tellier stepped back, startled.
“What do you want?”
“Just to talk.” Eva rooted through her handbag and presented Annie with a card. “My name is Eva Kurtz. I have a show called Kurtz on Crime.”
Annie hesitated, then took the card. She studied it carefully, inspecting both sides, and then squinted at Eva. “You’re a reporter?”
“A journalist, yes. This is my assistant, Maggie. I believe you met her this morning.”
Now she glared at Maggie. “I asked if you were a reporter, and you said no.”
“Because she’s not a reporter,” Eva said breezily. Somehow she was already standing half in the doorway. “She’s my technical assistant. I usually don’t have her deal with people because it’s not her strong suit.” Eva smiled conspiratorially at Annie. “I’m sorry if she put you off.”
Maggie felt a flush of irritation, but she had to admit Eva was playing this perfectly. And she wasn’t exactly wrong about Maggie not being good with people. She tried to smile at Annie, but the tortured grimace probably only made Eva’s story more convincing.
“It’s all right,” Annie said eventually, though she kept one mistrusting eye on Maggie. “I just didn’t like her implications about my daughter.”
“Of course not,” Eva said. Her voice was soothing. She had taken another step forward and was almost completely inside the entryway now. “And I assure you that Maggie meant nothing by it. Maybe we could come inside? I’d really like to hear all about Natalie and what you think happened to her.”
It was as if Eva had said open sesame. Annie stepped back and threw the door wide open. “Of course, please, yes.” She stumbled over herself. “Can I get you coffee? Tea? I have Diet Dr. Pepper — it’s Natalie’s favorite.”
“Just water would be great.”
Annie looked disappointed but led them down a narrow hall to a neat eat-in kitchen. The country-style cabinets were white, and the walls had been painted a warm buttery yellow. A blue glass vase held a bunch of Gerber daisies, which were fake but cheerful. A daisy-printed hand towel hung on a cupboard near the sink and a matching dish towel was draped over the handle on the oven door. The whole place smelled like banana bread. Perhaps Annie Tellier, like Aunt Liddy, drew comfort from baking.
“Sit, sit,” Annie said, gesturing to the round kitchen table. She got drinking glasses from one of the upper cabinets and a filtered water pitcher from the fridge. Maggie slid into a seat, but Eva continued to look around the kitchen, peering out a square window that looked straight at the side of the house next door.
“Does Natalie live here with you?” she asked.
Annie finished pouring the water before she answered. “Yes. For the most part.”
Eva turned back, her dark eyebrows raised. “For the most part?”
“She has a boyfriend. So sometimes she stays with him.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Joey something.” She closed the fridge a little too hard. “I suppose you think that’s horrible, that I don’t even know my daughter’s boyfriend’s last name.”
“No,” Eva said. “I don’t.”
“It is,” Annie said, leaning against the fridge, which was almost a foot taller than she was. “I know it is. But Natalie is so private about some things. You were a teenager once. Were you like that? You must have been. Girls, especially. They have to separate themselves from their mothers, don’t they? It’s part of growing up.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Eva said gently as she pulled out a chair and Annie deflated into it. “Do you mind if I record this?”
“Oh. I suppose not.” She patted her coiffed blonde hair.
“It’s just an audio recorder. No video. It just has better quality sound than if I used my phone.” Eva set a small black recorder on the table and held up a tiny black microphone. “I’ll just clip this to your jacket if you don’t mind.”
“Oh,” Annie said again. She seemed taken aback as if she’d forgotten Eva was a reporter. She watched Eva’s long fingers as they deftly clipped the microphone in place and turned to adjust the recorder. “I thought she was your technical assistant. Shouldn’t she be doing this?”
Maggie straightened and shot Eva a look, but Eva didn’t flinch as she reached for the recorder to turn it on. “Oh, she is, but she’s been training me on how to do it on my own, for those times when she can’t travel with me. It’s like this, Maggie, right? The sync button?”
“Uh… yes.” Maggie cleared her throat. “You got it.”
Eva flashed her a tiny smile and sat down across from Annie. “All right. Maybe you can start by telling us a bit about your daughter.”
Annie looked overwhelmed, like she was already on the verge of tears. “She’s a wonderful girl. Always has been.”
“What’s she like? Quiet, outgoing, cheerful, thoughtful…?”
“Yes.” Annie nodded. “All of those.”
This is going nowhere, Maggie thought, but Eva pressed on. “Can you tell me your favorite memory of Natalie?”
Annie sat back to think. “There are so many. It’s always been just me and her. Her dad was never in the picture. The last I heard, he was in Philadelphia, but that was ten years ago. So it’s just me and Nat.”
“Your favorite memory?”
Annie smiled, finally. “It would probably have to be the summer we went down to the coast. Nat was about twelve. Almost too old to be my baby anymore, but that trip was magical. It was as if we’d gone off to some sort of magical Neverland. She was like a little kid, running up and down that shoreline, bringing me all kinds of little treasures she’d find. Clamshells and sea glass and bits of bone-white driftwood. My goodness, you should have seen her when she found the starfish. I don’t think she had ever really believed they were real — thought they were made up, like unicorns — and then there it was. Her face lit up like —”
Annie started to cry. Not great gulping sobs, but just a steady leak of tears from the corners of her eyes. She grabbed a daisy-printed paper napkin from the holder in the center of the table and dabbed at her eyes.
“She sounds lovely,” Eva said. She had, at some point, withdrawn a notepad from her purse and was jotting down notes. Maggie didn’t know what to do with her own hands, so she kept them balled into fists on her lap.
“How about Natalie’s friends?” Eva asked. “Did she have many? A best friend, maybe?”
Annie considered the question. “She used to have a lot of friends. Or I suppose that’s what you’d call them. She played sports — soccer — and she was on the yearbook committee, so she had people she spent time with, in that sense. Her best friend was Jocelyn Winters. They were thick as thieves until Nat got a boyfriend. I haven’t seen Joss around here as much since then, but I know they were still friendly.”
“Have you talked to her since Natalie disappeared?”
“Oh yes. She feels terrible. She was actually with Nat that night. She agrees with me — there’s no way Nat just ran off.” She held her chin out defiantly, as if she expected them to challenge her on this.
“Do you know how we could get in touch with Joss?” Eva asked.
“Oh, sure — she works at the Royal Diner. Out on Route 8.”
Eva made a note of that and then set her pen down. “I have to ask you something a little more delicate,” she said carefully. “Did Natalie have any troubles?”
“Troubles?” Annie’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of troubles?”
“Please understand that I’m not placing any blame or casting any judgment on her. But she was last seen drinking at Roy’s Tavern, and she was only nineteen. Was that normal for her?”
Annie’s shoulders slumped. “Just in the last year or so. Just since Joey.”
“The boyfriend?”
Annie nodded. “You have to understand, Nat was a good girl. A really good girl. She got good grades; her teachers loved her. Everyone did. On her birthday, she would ask for donations of pet food instead of presents so that we could drop them off at the animal shelter. She wanted to be a vet. But then she met Joey and there’s been nothing but trouble ever since.” Bitterness had crept into Annie’s voice.
“What kind of trouble?”
“Staying out late, or not coming home at all. Drinking every night. Maybe drugs,” she said reluctantly, then hastily added, “I’m not sure. But maybe. The past few months, I’ve been noticing money going missing from my purse. I tried to talk to her about it, but that was the other thing — she’d got sullen. Almost mean.” Annie snapped her mouth closed and looked down at the digital recorder. “You aren’t going to use that, are you? I don’t want people thinking Nat deserved what happened to her.” She glared at Maggie as she said this.
“Don’t worry,” Eva said. “I’ll be tactful.”
Which didn’t answer the question, Maggie noted, but Annie seemed appeased.
“Now this Joey,” Eva said. “Do you know where we could find him? What do you know about him?”
“I know he’s trouble,” Annie spat. “But besides that, not much. I think he works at the slaughterhouse. Or at least he did. Nat’s always complaining that he stinks of blood.”
Maggie’s own blood chilled.