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“If it’s bad news, tell us. We’ve been so worried. We’d rather just know,” Mr. Terry emphasized.
“Last night, a photographer left a camera in the woods, a couple of miles out of Fairshore,” May explained. “And in the morning, there was footage of your daughter caught on it.”
“What?” Mrs. Terry sounded appalled. “She was in the woods? But . . . but how’s that possible? What was the footage of?”
“She seems to have been running from someone,” May said.
She wished there was an easier way to say this. Mrs. Terry grasped her husband’s arm and burst into tears, burying her head in his shoulder.
“How . . . how do you mean?” Mr. Terry asked over his wife’s sobs.
“She was clearly being pursued. She was barefoot. The footage shows her looking scared.” Feeling like she was the worst person in the world to have to give them this news, May opened her iPad and showed them a couple of the shots. They’d avoided the ones where her daughter looked the most scared. Seeing this footage was traumatic enough.
The Terrys both stared down at it, Mrs. Terry sobbing violently.
“It’s her, without a doubt. Our baby girl. In the woods? Does someone have her hostage there? Did you see who it was?”
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t visible from the footage,” May said.
“But surely if she’d been kidnapped there would be—I don’t know, a ransom demand or something like that?”
“Have you had nothing like that?” May asked. “No strange phone calls, no notes, no anonymous emails?”
“Absolutely nothing. And because we have been worried about her, we’ve been very aware of all incoming calls and mail,” Mr. Terry said.
So, it was not a kidnapping attempt with a ransom demand. At any rate, not yet.
“We think she is being held. We are making it a top priority to find out where.” May paused. “There was a tree not far from the scene, where two locks of hair were tied. One blond, one dark. We’re getting the DNA analyzed to see if the blond hair belongs to Chloe. Do you have any samples you could give us? A hairbrush, a toothbrush, anything with her DNA on?”
“Her curlers. She always curls her hair with heated curlers before a shoot,” Mrs. Terry said. “Those would have hairs on them, I’m sure. They’re in the storeroom.”
May felt pleased that they were going to be able to provide a sample to match up with.
“And do you know of anyone with dark hair who the other sample could be from? Was she with a friend at the time of her disappearance, or did she have a close friend with long, dark hair?”
The Terrys looked at each other blankly.
“No. No, I can’t say I do,” Mrs. Terry said.
“What we need to know, now that we’re sure she has been taken, is whether there was anything at all happening in her life that could have led to this. Any trouble, any issues, any threats that were made against her. Maybe someone was jealous she was going to enter the big beauty pageants? Anything you know, but you haven’t yet told us, might be really helpful,” Owen said.
The Terrys stared at each other, but May noted that Mrs. Terry looked away first.
"I don't recall any trouble or jealousy,” Mr. Terry said. We run a very tight ship here, all our models are supportive. Chloe worked hard and everyone knew she earned her place when she got assignments. There was no possibility of favoritism just because we owned the agency. It’s the client who decides."
May thought hard. "Any other issues that might have caused a problem? Anything at all?"
Now, it was Mr. Terry’s turn to look down.
"Well?" Owen pressured. "If there was anything going on, we need to know!"
Mr. Terry mumbled something to his wife, but in such a soft voice neither May nor Owen could hear. They exchanged a confused glance.
"Say again?" May asked.
"She was into botany," Mr. Terry elaborated. “I don’t know how that could have gotten her into trouble, though. It was just her sideline business.”
"How do you mean?"
