In Her Tracks (Tracy Crosswhite #8)(50)

“Are you Detective Crosswhite?” the woman asked when she saw Tracy.

“I am,” Tracy said.

The woman reached across the desk to shake Tracy’s hand. “I’m Lynn Bettencourt. We spoke on the phone.”

Bettencourt, the executive director of the preschool, appeared younger than Tracy expected. Over the phone Bettencourt said she had been at the school for eight years and had taught Elle Chin the year of her disappearance, which is what prompted Tracy to seek to speak to Bettencourt in person.

“I’m just looking for Elle Chin’s file,” Bettencourt said. “I planned to do it earlier, but I have a teacher out sick so we’re scrambling.”

“Take your time,” Tracy said, though she was eager to get into the office to meet with Kins.

Bettencourt opened and closed several file drawers, searching. “We keep most everything on the computer, but I printed this file out for the divorce and custody proceedings, and I kept a copy. Here it is.” She pulled a two-inch-thick file from the drawer and slid the drawer closed. “Come on back.”

She led Tracy to an office with skylights. Windows looked out on an empty playground with climbing gyms on rubber mats. Bettencourt sat behind her desk and moved the extension arm to her computer monitor so she and Tracy could see one another.

After Bettencourt settled in, Tracy asked, “When did you teach Elle Chin?”

“I taught Elle the year that she disappeared,” Bettencourt said. “That was five years ago. It was really a tragedy for everyone here at the school, as I’m sure you can imagine. You don’t forget something like that. She was a sweet little girl. Smart.”

Tracy nodded to the file on the desk. “You said you printed out the file for the divorce proceedings?”

Bettencourt flipped open the file, thumbing through the pages. “They had a child psychologist involved in the parenting plan who met with Elle.”

“Did he talk to you?”

She nodded and closed her eyes. A habit. “Yes.”

“Before we get to that, how well did you know the parents?”

Bettencourt shrugged and gently shook her head. “Not well. We encourage the parents of our students to become involved in their child’s education, but it isn’t mandated.”

“Neither parent was involved?”

“I’d say sporadic. Not on a regular basis.”

“Which parent was more involved?”

“Mostly the father.” Bettencourt hesitated, as if about to say something more, then said nothing.

“You look like you wanted to say something else,” Tracy said.

Bettencourt paused. “Judgments are often unfair.”

“What was your judgment?” She paused. Bettencourt was contemplating her words, what to say. “I’m just trying to find out more about the parents,” Tracy said, trying to alleviate any concern.

“The mother seemed preoccupied with other things.”

“Working out?” Tracy recalled the neighbor Evelyn Robertson’s impression of Jewel Chin.

Bettencourt smiled, but it was pensive. “Yes.”

“Did you encourage her and Bobby Chin to become more involved?”

“We encourage all the parents, with varying degrees of success. I said judgments are unfair because some parents don’t have a choice. They have to work. Not working isn’t an option.”

“Did Jewel Chin work?”

“I’m not sure. The father was a police officer; I know that. The kids got a kick out of it when he came in dressed in his uniform.” Bettencourt smiled.

“So would you say Bobby Chin was more involved?”

Bettencourt looked troubled. She let out a sigh. “As I said, he worked a lot. There were days he was scheduled to pick Elle up from school and he’d get stuck. He’d send his sister mostly, and, less often, his mother or father.”

“Not his wife?”

Bettencourt shook her head. “The sister and grandparents were on our list of people approved to pick up Elle.”

“Did the wife list any family members?”

Bettencourt flipped through the file. After a moment, she said, “No.”

“Are the names of the grandparents and sister in that file?”

“They’re here, yes. Along with phone numbers.”

“How long did you teach Elle before she disappeared?”

“I taught Elle for about thirteen months, starting in September and ending the following October.” Bettencourt looked as if she were about to cry.

“Are you okay?” Tracy asked. Bettencourt reached for a tissue from a box on her desk and dabbed the corners of her eyes.

“Take your time,” Tracy said.

“It was a pretty big shock here at the school; we’ve never had anything like that happen before or since.” She blew out a breath.

“Your reaction indicates you were close to Elle.”

She blew out another breath. “You can’t help but love these kids. They’re so innocent. They come here bright-eyed and eager to learn. Our job is to foster their enthusiasm and inquisitiveness. You develop a bond. That’s what I miss the most about the teaching.”

Bettencourt seemed like a genuinely good person.

“Tell me about Elle. Did you notice any changes in her behavior?”