The Running Girls(13)

“So,” she asked him, “what do we have?”

“Eighteen-year-old girl, Grace Harrington. High school varsity athlete. Went out running last night and never returned.”

“And we’re finding out about this now?”

“Dad is away in Houston on business. Mom was out for the evening. Got home late and didn’t check the girl’s room. Became worried this morning when she wasn’t up and ready for school. Called her friends, reached out to her social media groups, and no one has heard from her.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Girlfriend. Tilly Moorfield. They’d had a little falling-out last night before Grace went for her run.”

“Here we are,” said Laurie, pulling down a private driveway to a Mediterranean-style property overlooking Offatts Bayou.

Remi whistled. “I didn’t know people actually lived in these places.”

“What, you think they were for show?”

“Something like that. Holiday homes maybe. Not the kind of place you look for on a detective’s salary, now is it?”

“Amen to that.”

There was already a police presence at the house. Two uniformed officers introduced them to Grace’s mother, Sandra Harrington.

Sandra was a tall, slender woman in her fifties. She was wearing tennis shorts and a sports jacket, as if she’d been about to go for a run or to the gym. She guided them to an expansive, wood-paneled sitting room. “Call me Sandra. I know what this looks like. An eighteen-year-old girl not coming back for the night, big deal, right? But you don’t know Grace. She would never stay out, especially on a school night. And if she did, she would have been with Tilly.”

“Tilly Moorfield,” Laurie said. “Grace’s girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Where is Tilly?”

“She’s on her way over. They’d got into a bit of a fight, but Tilly is beside herself with worry.”

“And Mr. Harrington?”

Laurie spent her life reading faces—David had more than once told her she could be a pro poker player—and the change in Sandra’s features at the mention of her husband was subtle, but noticeable. The word distaste came to Laurie’s mind as Sandra squinted and said, “He’s on business in Houston. He’ll be here soon.”

“OK, let’s go through this stage by stage, Sandra,” said Laurie, catching a look from Remi that meant, Why the hell isn’t the father back by now?

“I’ll go and check on the teams,” said Remi.

Laurie nodded, the understanding implicit that he was going to check on Mr. Harrington’s current location, and turned back to Sandra. “Were you here when Grace went out for her run?”

“Yes. I left at the same time. It was easier that way, as I could make sure the alarm was set.”

“You set an alarm?”

“Can’t be too careful,” said Sandra, her brow furrowing in concentration. “Why do you ask?”

“You had to disarm the alarm when you came back?”

“Yes.”

“Did that not make you think that Grace hadn’t returned?”

“Oh, I see. No, Grace sets the alarm when she goes to bed and is alone in the house. It’s triggered by movement downstairs. I presumed she’d set it before going up.” She swallowed with some difficulty and said in a choked voice, “I should have checked in on her.”

“Would you usually do that?”

“No.”

“Then, please, you can’t blame yourself for that. OK?” Laurie let the woman compose herself before continuing. “Grace’s run. Does she always follow the same route?”

“I don’t think so, but she nearly always heads toward the West End. She likes to run along the seawall, like all the others.”

“How long does she run for?”

“Depends. Can be thirty minutes, sometimes an hour plus.”

“She’s a varsity athlete?”

“Yes. Middle distance.”

“Eight hundred and fifteen hundred?”

“Yes.”

“She must record her training times. Does she have a device?”

Sandra glanced down at her slender wrist. “She has one of these,” she said, pointing to the smartwatch on her wrist.

“Great. That links to a laptop, I imagine?”

Sandra’s face lit up as if Laurie had just solved the case. “In her bedroom.”

Laurie followed the worried mother through the house. It was quite a hike. The high ceilings and wide rooms made Laurie and David’s apartment feel pitifully small and poky in comparison. In many ways, the place was the type of dream house Laurie had always wanted. She pictured herself here with David, an unnamed child playing in the garden, and was immediately struck by guilt, as if she were betraying Milly’s memory.

“Here,” said Sandra at last, leading her into Grace’s bedroom. The room was nearly the same size as Laurie’s apartment. Posters and picture frames adorned the walls, but the room wasn’t what Laurie had expected. It was impeccably neat and organized. In one corner was a laundry basket, half filled with clothes. On the desk, the only visible thing was a MacBook laptop.

“She likes her order,” said Sandra, as if Laurie had been waiting for an explanation.