Griffin glanced over at Kate as they approached the two-story brick townhome mere blocks from Loyola’s campus. “Nice house for a couple of college kids.”
“Rich parents,” Kate said. Her Internet search had revealed Connor’s parents were both lawyers and lived in a gigantic home in the heart of Roland Park—the most expensive and luxurious neighborhood in Baltimore—and Connor’s townhouse reflected that same wealth. Griffin hoped he wouldn’t be too difficult to deal with.
“Here goes nothing.” He rang the bell.
It took a moment, but the black door finally swung open.
A young man—twenty-one according to his driver’s license—answered. He was five-ten, a hundred and seventy-ish pounds, with brown wavy hair cut relatively clean, and brown eyes. He seemed like an average college guy. “Connor Davis?”
Connor rested his right arm along the doorframe, leaning toward Kate and ignoring him. So he was that type of guy.
Griffin stepped forward. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Detective McCray.” Griffin showed his badge. “And my associate, Kate Maxwell.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a cop too?”
She shook her head. “I’m a PI.”
“Seriously?” He laughed. “No way. A gorgeous number like you.”
She ignored the “compliment,” likely not counting it as such. “Can we come in?”
Connor stiffened, glanced back at Griffin’s badge, and then turned his attention back to Kate. “What’s this all about?”
“Skylar Pierce.”
“Who?”
“Oh, come on, Connor.” Kate pulled out Skylar’s picture and showed it to him. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. Your fingerprints were in her trailer, on her headboard. . . .”
“Oh, right. Her. What about her?”
Griffin decided it was time to take this conversation off the front stoop. “Can we come in?”
Connor looked into the house and then back at them. “Fine, but make it quick. I have a test in an hour.”
“No problem,” Griffin said, taking in the nicely furnished home. A mommy job if ever he’d seen one. Paintings on the walls, a grand flower display on the hall table, and elegant lighting. The place was immaculate. Hmm. Perhaps a girlfriend’s upkeep as well, unless Mommy made regular visits.
Connor led them into the den. A fifty-five-inch flat screen was mounted on the wall over the fireplace. A leather sectional arched around a coffee table in front of it. Open textbooks covered the glass table along with cans of Red Bull and a bowl of Doritos.
“Summer classes?” Kate asked. Griffin could tell she was working to keep her tone friendly. They wanted Connor on their side. He decided to play it cool and let her run the show.
“Yeah. Anatomy and Physiology.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “Oooh. Tough course. You studying to be a doctor?” A bit over the top in Griffin’s opinion, but Connor didn’t seem to notice.
“Nah. Going to vet school, but my dad wanted me to keep my options open, so he has me picking up some pre-med classes.”
“Sounds like a rough workload.”
“It’s crazy, man.”
“I bet.” Kate took a seat when he offered, but Griffin continued standing. “I also bet you need some stress relief now and again.”
Connor smiled. “You interested?”
“I’m flattered, but let’s talk about Skylar. Is that what she was?”
“Yeah. We hooked up.”
“Often?”
His smile faded. “Once.”
“How come only once?”
He shrugged, but his shoulders tensed and his gaze flashed to a picture on the bookshelf. “Just the way it was,” he said.
“Where’d you meet?” Kate asked as Griffin shifted closer to the photograph. It was Connor, his roommate, Kyle Eason, according to his MVA records—they’d looked him up when his name appeared on the lease with Connor’s—and a slender blonde between them.
“At a bar,” Connor said, growing twitchy.
“Which one?” Griffin said, stepping from the photograph.
“Why does it matter?” His jaw stiffened. He was about done playing along. “She’s not saying I raped her or anything crazy? I’ve heard that happens. Girls trying to get money from guys.”
“No. Nothing like that. Skylar’s missing.”
“What do you mean missing?”
“As in hasn’t been seen,” Griffin said. “So tell us more about you and Skylar.”
“Whoa!” He jumped up from the couch. “You think I had something to do with some chick’s disappearance. You are way off track.”
“We’re not suggesting anything of the sort.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here, asking questions?”
“We’re here because your fingerprints were in her place, and we’re talking to everyone whose prints were there.”
“That must be a long list,” he scoffed.
“Meaning?” Kate pressed.
“Not like it’s a secret what kind of girl she is.”
Griffin linked his arms across his chest, looking at the photograph Connor had looked straight at when they asked why he’d only slept with Skylar once. “Any chance your roommate slept with her?”
Connor’s jaw tensed.
“Slept with who?”
Griffin turned to find the blonde from the photograph standing in the entryway.
“Hey, Mandy,” Connor said.
“What’s going on?” She eyed Kate and Griffin skeptically.
“They’re here about some missing girl.”
“Why here?”
“Because I hooked up with her.”
“And?”
“And as I was explaining to Connor”—Kate stood and stepped toward the girl—“we’re following up with everyone who saw or interacted with Skylar before she went missing.” She put out her hand. “And you are?”
The blonde ignored Kate’s hand and looked from Kate to him. “Amanda.”
“Amanda . . . ?”
“King. I’m a friend of Connor’s.” She looked at Connor, her gaze communicating something. What was she attempting to hide?
“Did you know Skylar?” Griffin asked.
“How would I know one of Connor’s conquests?”
“Conquest?” Kate said. “Interesting choice of words.”
“Would you prefer hookup or skank?” There was venom in Amanda’s tone.
“Are you sure you didn’t know Skylar Pierce?” Griffin asked, taking Skylar’s photo from Kate to show Amanda.
She barely glanced at it. “No.”
She was clearly lying. The question was why.
Kate followed Griffin outside when their questioning was done. “Nice car,” she said, gesturing at the convertible Fiat parked in the drive that hadn’t been parked there upon their arrival. “Must belong to Amanda. Hmm . . . Might have to be my next vehicle.”
“Please, you’re already a nightmare on the roads with your Mini Cooper, driving around like the world’s a racetrack.”
Kate climbed into Griffin’s truck with a smile. “Is there any other way?” As she buckled her seatbelt, she lifted her chin, indicating the front window of the townhouse.
He looked up to find Amanda King standing there, staring at them.