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“Did she give any indication as to what that reason might be? Was she in touch with you before it happened?”
“I hadn’t heard from her in a month, but you mark my words—it was the cops. If you’re going to carry on with this investigation of yours, then that’s where you need to start, but watch your back or you’ll end up in the same place as Kaylin.”
Which was where? There was something off about Chelle La Rocca’s answers to my questions, and I’d been struggling to put my finger on what it was, but now it hit me. She was angry and bitter and vengeful, guilt-ridden over the shortcomings in Renée’s and Kaylin’s lifestyles, but the devastation I’d expected was missing. Not once had she expressed sadness over Kaylin’s fate or fear that she might have met a tragic end.
Did she know that she hadn’t?
“I appreciate the warning.” I took a deep breath and prepared for the backlash. “Ms. La Rocca, has Kaylin been in touch with you since the night she left the Bluebird Inn?”
There it was. The fear. Not fear that Kaylin might be lying in a shallow grave, but fear that I might be about to unearth truths Chelle didn’t want me to find.
“It’s the cops,” she said stubbornly. “Look at the cops.”
“What did she say?”
“That’s none of your business, missy.”
“If you want me to look at the cops, then I need any information Kaylin gave you. As you said, I don’t want to end up in the same position.”
“Nothing. She said nothing, okay? It was just a Christmas card, and she didn’t even sign it.”
“Then how do you know it was from her?”
“Because it had a penguin on the front, and penguins were Kaylin’s favourite animal. Plus there was money inside. Ain’t nobody else gonna be sending me five hundred bucks, that’s for sure.”
“Do you still have the card?”
Chelle folded her arms and stood. “I threw it away.” She hadn’t, but nor was she going to show me. “Wherever Kaylin is, she doesn’t want to be found, not while those cops are still carrying badges. If you find evidence that’ll put them behind bars, then maybe she can come home.”
“To do that, I need to understand what happened leading up to that night. Why did Kaylin go to the Bluebird Inn?”
“Someone probably sent her there. She was too trusting.”
“Why would they send her there?”
I could guess, but I wanted Chelle to say it. Did she think Kaylin was capable of illegal activity? Working as a drug mule, for instance? She hadn’t made it big as a model, and in NYC, even an apartment the size of a closet could bankrupt a person. Had she been desperate for money and made a grave error?
“She’d always help out a friend who needed a favour, and she wasn’t the best judge of character, I’m sorry to say. First, there was that agency boss who charged her hundreds of bucks for portfolio pictures and never found her any work, then the idiot boyfriend who emptied her bank account, and the roommate who took her clothes to a consignment store. And those were just the ones she told me about.”
Okay, that could explain why Kaylin had gone to Manassas, but not why she’d stayed in the Bluebird Inn for over a week. If she was running a shady errand, surely she’d have headed right back to New York?
“Did she have friends in Manassas?”
“Who knows? Kaylin could be cagey when it came to her new life. Too many bad influences.”
Bad influences? Or she just hadn’t appreciated her grandma’s attitude? Chelle La Rocca cared in her own way, that much was clear, but she also came across as opinionated and judgmental. Nico had described Kaylin as sweet and sensitive. Maybe she’d gotten sick of the lectures?
Chelle moved toward the door. She wanted me to leave, and I couldn’t afford to overstay my welcome, not when I might need to speak with her again in the future.
“Thank you for your help.”
“If you keep on after this, watch your step around those cops.”
* * *
Back at Blackwood’s headquarters, I picked at a salad—okay, it was mostly pasta and fried bacon with a generous dollop of ranch dressing—while I tried to organise my thoughts. Was there any truth to Chelle’s theory? Could the Manassas cops have been involved? As a former cop himself, Crumb might have been biased against following that line of enquiry. But Chelle wasn’t exactly unbiased herself, and her contempt for law enforcement had shone through.
New York or Manassas? New York or Manassas? Where were the clues? I couldn’t even talk it over with Dan because she’d gone somewhere with Emmy. They could be hunting for cheeseburgers, or starting World War III, or anything in between. And the office was quiet today. Folks were either getting lunch, or out in the field, or working from home. Only Kellan was in sight, munching his way through a bag of potato chips, and he was a former cop. If I asked his opinion, would his view be clouded by his former profession?
