Forgive Me(13)

“Have you found anything helpful on Nadine’s computer yet?” Carolyn asked.

Bao spun around the small wooden desk chair to face Carolyn. “She wanted to cover her tracks. She deleted her browser history before she ran. This was a planned event.”

Carolyn looked crestfallen.

“Don’t worry,” he said, pushing his long black hair from off his face. “Nothing is ever deleted on a computer. She must have read something about deleting the cookie file, but there are other ways to get at the data. Right now, I’m running a system restore and I’m also parsing the log files. We’ll know soon enough what she was looking up online. Chances are, that’s where she headed.”

“How do you know?” Carolyn asked.

“Because that’s what I would have done.”

“Most runaways don’t go far,” Angie said. “From my experience, the ones who leave foster care are more likely to leave the state. Others stay close to home, crash with friends, people they meet. Few leave home thinking the street is their ultimate destination.”

“But I’ve already called every one of Nadine’s friends and all my relatives, like you asked,” Carolyn said. “She’s not with any of them.”

“That’s why I’m going to talk to each person individually,” Angie said. “Maybe one of them isn’t telling us the truth.”

Bao returned to his efforts while Angie spent some time cross-referencing the list of friends she had compiled with the pictures Carolyn had collected. Angie was clicking through the photos, taking in every detail of Nadine that she could. Was there a boy online she’d been talking with? Somebody who had lured her away? Somebody who made her feel special and loved? Bao would find that out soon enough.

“Bao, any luck with the Facebook page?”

“No, she logged out and her Facebook profile is set to as private as can be. I’m working on getting access, though.”

“What about social media accounts? WeChat? Vine? Twitter? Instagram? WhatsApp?”

“Checking them all and the logs,” Bao said. “No activity on any of her other social media accounts.”

“What about any kind of tracking on Nadine’s cell phone?”

“Like a Find My Phone app?” Bao answered. “I wish, but we’re not getting that lucky.”

“Carolyn, whatever you do, do not turn off the phone,” Angie said. “I’m assuming it’s in your name.”

“It is.”

“I want a call log history,” Angie said. “I’ll need your help for that. Your cell phone provider should be able to assist. Get on that right away, if you can.” And no more booze, she wanted to add. “We need the last few hours of calls, every text, every call coming in and out of that phone.”

“What’s that going to do?” Carolyn asked.

“We’re looking for patterns. Who was she talking to around the time she went missing? Had she made other calls to that person? Who was she texting?”

“You think somebody lured my daughter away?”

“It’s a possibility. It happens more often than you think. We need to compile a list of key people and then we’ll head to those locations, hang up posters, start asking questions. That’s how we get information. Once you get a few answers, it usually snowballs from there. Then we can figure out which way we need to go.”

“Or I get into her online accounts, browser history,” Bao said. “That might help, too. Unless you’ve found a diary, Ange.”

“No, I haven’t. I don’t think she kept one.”

“The police have to do this work,” Carolyn said with venom. “I can’t believe they’re not doing this for my daughter! She’s missing and they’re not doing anything to find her. She might be dead for all I know!” Carolyn sank to the floor, tears streaming, her body convulsing as she sobbed.

Angie went to her, knelt down, and brushed away some of the tears streaming down her client’s face. “I know this is hard, beyond hard, and it’s so frustrating. I know you want the police to do more, but unless we can prove there was a crime, they’re going to be limited in what they can do for us. That doesn’t mean they don’t care. They want to help and we’re going to help them. We’re going to keep them informed every step of the way.”

Angie’s phone rang. DAD the display read, so she let it go to voice mail. Carolyn needed and deserved her full attention right now.

“It’s just not right,” Carolyn said, no longer crying, but her hands still shaking. “God, I need a drink. Can I get you two something?”

Angie bit her tongue. It was not the time or place to confront Carolyn’s drinking.

Angie’s phone buzzed as a text came in. Sweetheart it’s Dad . . . call me ASAP 911. It’s Mom.

Angie’s breath caught and her hand went to her mouth.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Carolyn asked, taking notice of Angie’s distress.

“Hang on, hang on.” Disoriented, Angie dialed her father, her hands shaking violently.

“Daddy? Daddy, what’s going on?” Angie said soon as her father answered.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.” Her father’s breath came in spurts. He was crying, something Angie had never heard him do before.