Saturday, 12:50 p.m.
Though the candles had been snuffed hours before, the scent of spiced vanilla hit Leyna as soon as she entered the house. She intended to confront her mom with the Polaroids, but she wasn’t in the house. Maybe she was in the backyard? Leyna looked out the window and saw her at the edge of their property line. Before heading out, Leyna stole a quick glance at her laptop. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.
She’d gotten a message from Ellie’s friend Amaya—Call me, with a phone number.
Leyna immediately located the cordless handset and punched in the number. Amaya picked up on the first ring. “You found Ellie’s bracelet?” She sounded guarded, as if she’d responded to many messages like Leyna’s that had turned out to be nothing.
“In an Airbnb in our neighborhood.”
“And where’s that?”
“Plumas County.”
“Describe it.”
“Open gold cuff with a hinge. A pair of red roses.” Amaya’s silence confirmed what Leyna already knew—the bracelet was Ellie’s. “Do you know if she was wearing it Thursday?”
“She wears it every day.” Leyna noted the use of the present tense, even though Leyna had the bracelet and Ellie was gone. “It was a gift from her parents.”
“What about a boyfriend—does she date?”
“Casually, sure. But Ellie plans to go to college in a year if things work out. She’s not looking to start anything serious.”
“Maybe she didn’t tell you.”
“She tells me everything.”
Leyna felt Amaya slipping away, so she tried a more neutral tone. “Any chance she just met someone? Someone she felt she had to keep a secret, even from you?” she asked.
She heard the hiss of breath that suggested Amaya had relaxed. “Ellie’s been into theater ever since she was cast in the role of Molly in our middle-school production of Annie. She should’ve gotten the lead, she was that good.” She paused, and Leyna could feel her weighing her allegiance to Ellie against the possibility that Leyna might be able to help find her. “Ellie’s always been good at reading people. At knowing what it takes to get them to open up.”
“Why would she lie to me?”
“Why wouldn’t she? She doesn’t know you.”
“She had a photo of me, my sister, and a couple of childhood friends,” Leyna said. “She was showing it around. Asking questions.”
Amaya went quiet. Finding her words or constructing a lie?
“Did she know a guy named Adam Duran?” Leyna asked.
The silence stretched, and Leyna gave Amaya time to think before she nudged. “She seemed spooked when I mentioned him, and she’d been asking around about him too.”
“We didn’t talk about anyone named Adam.” Even though Leyna was just hearing it on the phone, it sounded like a lie. “She might’ve known him from social media or whatever, but he wasn’t someone who was important to her.”
“Then why did she come to Plumas County?”
Amaya sighed. “Because at the restaurant, you told her that’s where you’re from.”
This time, it was Leyna who fell silent. Finally, she said, “But like you pointed out, I don’t know her.” She felt the sudden sting of intuition. “Was our meeting at the restaurant random?”
Amaya laughed. “Nothing Ellie does is random. She’s had a five-year plan since she was twelve.”
“So she tracked me down because—”
“She came across you on some forum or something. She’s into true crime.”
So that’s what it was after all—a murderino or podcaster interested in dredging up an old missing-persons case. But why? There was no body. No real clues. Most people still believed the teens had run away.
But maybe that was the point. With the case so cold that the file might as well have been stored in a freezer, there would be less competition for a young podcaster or journalist looking to break the story.
Young love turned deadly?
By adding the question mark, Ellie could make the angle whatever she wanted.
Did Adam kill Grace?
Did Grace kill Adam?
Did the teens join a cult, go on a murder spree, buy a bookstore in Poughkeepsie?
“Was this for a podcast?”
When Amaya went quiet again, Leyna said, “The video you posted, this call… you must care about Ellie.”
“Of course I care about her,” she said, halfway between indignant and bone-weary. “She’s my closest friend.”
“Then why aren’t you being straight with me?”
Amaya sighed. “I don’t know as much as you think. If I did, I’d know where to find her.”
“You must know why she was up here. You loaned her your car for the day.” When she was met with more silence, she went on the attack. “Unless that video was just a way for you to get views.”
“Fuck you.”
“Then tell me why she was up here showing that photo.”
Leyna could feel Amaya distancing herself from the conversation. Leyna wished she were with Amaya so she could read her expressions. When did she look away? When did she smile? When did her face twist in an obvious lie? It would’ve been harder for Amaya to disguise the weak parts of her story if they’d been sitting across from each other.
“I’m not sure,” Amaya said. “It was spur of the moment. She was going to tell me everything when she got back but…”
“Okay, then, so why’d she dye her hair that shade of strawberry blond?”
“For a part, I think.” She paused. “I almost didn’t tell my parents. When she wasn’t home by ten, I thought it was just Ellie being dramatic. Making us worry.”
“Is Ellie close to her parents?”
“She’d been fighting with them a lot lately, but they’re cool.”
“What were they fighting about?”
Amaya paused, as if choosing her words. “That’s another reason I almost didn’t tell my parents she was late,” she said. “I knew her mom would go batshit and lock her in her room for life.”
Leyna wasn’t sure whether to take Amaya’s comment as hyperbole or a warning sign. “How’s the Byrds’ marriage?” she asked.
Amaya made a confused sound. “Uh—why?”
“Just curious.”
“It’s okay, I guess. I mean, they’re parents. It’s not like I’ve ever asked them about it. ‘Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Byrd—still keeping the fire alive?’ Not my business, and… gross.”
“Is Ellie adopted?”
“Why would you ask that?” Her surprise sounded genuine.
“Was she?”
“No.” Confused again.
“She doesn’t look like her parents.”
“Do you look like your parents?”
Leyna looked like her father, or so her mom used to tell her every time they argued. “Unfortunately.”
“Well, not everyone does.”
“You’re sure?”
When Amaya answered, she was adamant. “Being adopted isn’t something she would hide from me. It’s not like it’s a big deal. Plus you know how moms are, especially Sarah—talking about how long labor lasted and how she’d had an emergency C-section. She even showed me the scar. I think it’s our moms’ way of making us remember how much we owe them.”
Though Amaya aimed for nonchalance, Leyna heard the affection there.
“What did you mean when you said Ellie plans to go to college if things work out?”
“Her family’s broke, and NYU isn’t cheap.”
Money. The most violent crimes often came down to that, didn’t they? Leyna considered greed as a possible motive, but it didn’t feel right. “What do you think happened to Ellie?”
Amaya had probably spent every moment since Thursday night considering that question because she didn’t hesitate.
“The car was dumped, obviously,” she said confidently. “Did you hear about the bumper?”
“News stories said it was dented.”
“They’re pretty sure the car was dumped somewhere with the keys in it and then someone took it for a joyride,” Amaya said. “The police found blue paint on a tree not far from where my car was found. Which is what I thought all along. Ellie wouldn’t have stopped to use a port-a-potty, especially after dark.”
Amaya stopped short of voicing what that meant: Ellie was taken.
Though she’d run out of questions, Leyna was hesitant to break the connection. Amaya seemed hesitant to hang up too, and as they settled into the awkward pause before goodbye, Leyna again looked out the window at her mom.
What is she doing out there in this heat?
Amaya broke the silence by taking a breath. Leyna expected a quick Goodbye. Maybe a Text me if you hear anything. Instead, Ellie’s friend said, “I know you’re looking for a connection, because she has that photo and she’s been asking about this guy you knew. Adam. But I’ve got to ask—did you give her Adam’s name?”
In the yard, her mom stopped what she was doing and trekked back to the house. She held something in her hands. Had she been weeding?
“Leyna?”
“Sorry. Yes, I mentioned him. Why?”
“I told you Ellie was into theater, right?” At Leyna’s mumble of acknowledgment, Amaya said, “Some might describe her as a method actress. Like, she really gets into it. Especially with the tragic stories.”
Like Grace’s.
Amaya continued, “I wasn’t lying when I said she dyed her hair for a part. For her senior project, she’s writing and acting in a play.”
“About what?”
“She wouldn’t say.” She must’ve sensed Leyna’s disbelief, because she quickly added, “She tells me everything, like I said, but with her art, it’s different. With that, she’s all about the big reveal. As far as I know, the police haven’t even found any of her notes on her laptop.” She paused, and Leyna could feel her thinking. Amaya sucked in a breath, then said, “But if I had to guess? It probably has to do with you and this Adam Duran. I know she was interested in you before she made that trip to Reno. It wouldn’t surprise me if she went to that restaurant to get a reaction. Original material for her play.”
“And the photo?” Leyna waited for her to confirm that the photo Ellie had been flashing around town was the fourth Polaroid missing from Grace’s wall, that it belonged with the other three that Dominic had found at Rocky’s place.
Leyna heard the back door click shut as her mom entered the house.
“Ellie got that photo online, I think. Social media, maybe?” Amaya said. “Ellie digs deep when she’s researching a role.”
Leyna couldn’t help but notice the two qualifiers—I think and maybe. So Amaya didn’t know or she wasn’t saying. Either way, yet one more dead end.