In Her Tracks (Tracy Crosswhite #8)(18)

“Doesn’t appear to be. She’s nineteen, just moved here a month ago from LA, and works as a receptionist at a trucking company in Fremont, though she didn’t show up for work yesterday or today—I confirmed with her employer—which coincides with what the roommate told the mother.”

“Is the roommate Scott Barnes?”

“Affirmative.”

“Roommate or a boyfriend?” Tracy asked.

“Just a roommate, though I haven’t talked to him yet.”

“How old is the roommate?”

“Barnes is twenty.”

“You run his ID?”

“Clean. Not a scratch on him. He’s a student at UW Bothell and works as a barista at a Starbucks and as a dog walker.”

“It’s always the boyfriend, isn’t it?” Tracy said.

“Seems to be.”

Barnes had suggested he and Kins meet at Green Lake’s east parking lot so he could perform his afternoon job walking two dogs. The lake was the basis for the neighborhood’s name, and it included a three-mile walking path.

“That’s him,” Tracy said as they pulled into the relatively full parking lot and saw Barnes standing near paddleboats stacked on their sides and holding the leashes of what looked like an aging golden retriever and a spry rat terrier. Kins parked, and he and Tracy approached.

Kins took the lead and made introductions.

“Do you mind if we walk?” Barnes said. “I have to get the dogs their exercise or they drive the owner crazy the rest of the day.”

“Not a problem,” Kins said.

Tracy was glad to keep moving rather than stand in the cold. The temperature hovered in the upper thirties, and their breath was visible as they walked around the lake. The two dogs walked ahead of them, though they were relatively well behaved. Barnes called “heel” a few times, and both dogs obeyed. Tracy zipped her jacket closed and slid on gloves to protect her hands from the cold.

As lead detective, Kins asked the questions. “Tell me why you called Stephanie Cole’s mother.”

Barnes said, “I got up this morning and Stephanie wasn’t home. That was two days in a row. I thought maybe she could have driven home to LA. I really didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t want to freak out her mother, but . . . She kind of freaked out anyway.”

“And what’s your relationship to Stephanie?”

“Just roommates,” Barnes said. They stepped to the side to accommodate two approaching women. Joggers, bikers, mothers with strollers, and walkers of all ages were taking advantage of clear blue skies. “She moved up here about a month ago from the San Gabriel Valley. I was looking for a roommate . . . to save on rent.”

“You don’t share a room?” Kins asked.

“With Stephanie? No. It’s a two-bedroom apartment. We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend, if that’s what you mean.”

“Could Stephanie have come home and left before you got up?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“First, her bedroom door was open the same amount each morning. Second, I didn’t hear her get up yesterday or today. And her clothes weren’t on her bedroom floor or in the bathroom.”

“Do you always hear her get up?”

“Tuesdays and Thursdays I do. I don’t have classes until ten, so I try to sleep in, but Stephanie is pretty noisy. She turns the radio on in the bathroom. I can hear the music and the shower and the hair dryer. I would have heard her yesterday for sure if she had been there.”

“And she didn’t come home last night either?” Kins asked.

“This morning I got up and she wasn’t there.”

“You said something about her clothes being on the floor?”

“She runs when she gets home from work, which is right around four, four fifteen. She leaves everything on the floor in her room or the bathroom.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“Wednesday morning before she went to work.”

“Did she have any plans Wednesday night?” Tracy asked. She walked behind them to accommodate the joggers and walkers coming from the opposite direction. She flexed the fingers of her hands against the cold and regripped the pen she used to take notes.

Barnes spoke over his shoulder. “She said she’d been invited to a party by someone at work Wednesday night, and that she was thinking about going, but she hadn’t made up her mind yet.”

“Do you know if she went to the party Wednesday night?” Tracy asked.

“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think she did.”

“Why not?” Kins asked.

“She was making a costume. She’d cut up a skirt and a shirt she’d bought at a thrift store, so she’d have something to wear if she decided to go. She didn’t have a lot of money; she had to put down a first and last month’s rent on her share of the apartment.”

“I’m not following,” Kins said. “So why don’t you think she went to the party?”

“Because the skirt and the shirt are still on her bed. Seemed weird given the effort she went to.”

It did seem odd, Tracy thought.

“Oh, and she also didn’t go to work yesterday or today.”