Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(15)

I looked down to see six dogs. Most of them were mixed breeds, but one of them was related to a German shepherd and one to some kind of toy poodle. None of them crossed the threshold of the front door. They all just stared at me silently.

Mrs. Parker smiled. “That’s called proper training. While you and I are chatting, they won’t make a peep. They’ll bark when someone knocks at the door, but they won’t run outside unless I give them permission.”

“Their training is very impressive.”

“Too bad my control over my children isn’t as good.”

I stepped inside as I said, “You think you could’ve stopped whatever happened to Emily?”

“I would’ve stopped her from ever joining the FBI. I would’ve talked my youngest daughter into going to school closer to home, and I would’ve tried to convince my middle daughter not to marry that moron. I would’ve convinced my son that pot affects your life decisions in a bad way.”

Mrs. Parker led me to a comfortable couch and offered me some coffee. I had to admit that the dogs were extraordinarily well-behaved and never intruded on me. There was nevertheless a musty funk in the room. I don’t know if the smell was just the dogs themselves or if they had newspapers they peed on.

One dog, with a face like a basset hound and the body of a heavy-set Doberman, stood next to my place on the couch and laid a head on the cushion. His giant, brown eyes looked up at me. I knew a command to rub a head when I saw one. I tickled the top of the dog’s head. His body remained motionless, but his tail started to wag.

When Mrs. Parker walked back into the room, the dog withdrew. It was like magic. I thought about stealing her training secret. My human kids didn’t listen nearly as well as these dogs.

Now that I looked at Emily’s mom, after she settled into an easy chair across from the sofa, I could see the strain on her face. Emily had told me years ago how she admired her mother for her toughness. A missing child can break through anyone’s tough facade.

I went through all the obvious questions. Last time she had seen Emily. Did Emily talk to her about any concerns? Had Emily talked about any of her cases? The usual. Then I wanted to go a little deeper.

“Does Emily ever talk to you about dating or boyfriends?”

“No, that is something she keeps to herself. If I ever ask, she changes the subject. I understand. I was young once. She had a rough time with her marriage. John has turned himself around, and I’m okay with my granddaughter living with him for now. But since she divorced him, Emily has never told me about any boyfriends.”

I said, “Has Emily ever disappeared before?”

Mrs. Parker thought about it for a moment. “No one has asked that yet. And the answer is yes. Several times. She can suffer from depression. And once, while in college, she was gone for almost two weeks. All she ever told me about it was that it was like hunkering down for a hurricane in a hotel room. She called it her own emotional hurricane.

“Then about four years ago she dropped out of touch for five days. At least that time she gave the FBI a heads-up and told them she didn’t feel well. But no one could reach her. Her sister Laura figured it out. Emily was staying at a cabin in Virginia owned by a boyfriend. Laura said she was just sitting there by herself and hadn’t eaten in two days.”

“Did Emily ever tell you if getting away for a few days helped her?”

“I never pressed her for answers. It was important that the girls knew I was here for them no matter what. Emily’s father used to press her for answers, and they barely spoke for the last three years of his life.”

“I’m sorry. When did your husband die?”

“He’s not technically dead. He left me. He said I loved the dogs more than him. Which is probably true. Anyway, he’s dead to me. And to my girls. My son, Tom, still has a relationship with him but not so much with me. He calls once a week, but that’s it. One day he’ll come back into the fold. All I have is my son and three girls. And I need you to find the missing one.”

For the first time since I started looking into things here in DC, I had some hope of finding Emily alive.





Chapter 19



I made the short trip from Bowie to Springdale, Maryland, again on the John Hanson Highway, back to the I-495 interchange. Emily’s sister Laura, whose married name was Nardo, was two years younger, a fourth-grade teacher who lived with her husband and baby in a development that looked almost exactly like her mother’s. Even the house was a similar three-bedroom, two-bath one-story. With a single tree in the middle of the trimmed front yard.

When I knocked on her door, I did not hear the sound of dogs.

I should have told myself to beware of memories. The woman standing inside the open door looked exactly like Emily. Laura had the same slender frame and pretty face. Her hair was a little lighter, cut in a similar style as Emily’s so that it fell playfully across her face. My heart hurt looking at her.

Laura gave me a weak smile. The first words out of her mouth were “I can see why Emily always talks about you.”

She was a little like her mom: direct and to the point. In no time, I found myself on a comfortable sofa in a living room littered with baby toys. A mesh playpen stood in the corner.

Laura noticed me looking around the room and said, “You have good timing. The baby’s been down about fifteen minutes and usually sleeps for a good two hours.”