Pretty Girls Dancing(31)

“Thanks again for shoehorning me into your schedule.” Mark sank into the chair as he opened the bottle, took a swig. “I really didn’t want to wait until Monday to talk to you.”

“Better here than at my home,” David said candidly. “This DeVries girl’s disappearance has my wife pretty upset. She’s been . . . emotionally fragile for the last few years.”

“I can imagine anyone would be after what you both endured.” The sympathy in the agent’s expression looked sincere. “We’re taking another look at your daughter’s case. I hate to remind you of that time again, so I’ll be as brief as I can.” The agent took a notebook out of his coat pocket, flipped it open. It didn’t escape David’s notice that he didn’t promise not to speak to Claire.

“The report indicates that Kelsey left home on her bike.”

“Yes. She and Claire had argued, and Kelsey stormed out. It was unusual for her, but she was fourteen. All hormones, you know? Up one minute, down the next.” David stopped and took another drink of water, the next words hard to summon. “We never saw her again.”

“Had she mentioned any new friends? Someone she’d met online?”

Impatient, David shook his head. “Nothing like that, and Kelsey probably would have. She was always the talkative one.”

“Except there had been a change in her behavior recently.”

Mark’s words were like a dash of ice water, and acted like a wake-up call. David cursed himself mentally for lowering his guard. The man’s congenial attitude might be the polar opposite of Hal Miller’s years ago, but he was cut from the same cloth. And who knew what was included in Kelsey’s investigative file? If it had included Miller’s biases, that would put this visit in a whole different light.

“Like I said, Kelsey was fourteen.” He slid the nail of his thumb under the label of the bottle, loosening it. “Bubbly one minute, moody the next.” He manufactured a smile. “I’m told teenage daughters and drama go hand in hand.” He spoke more from practice than memory. Seven years had chipped away at his recollections of his eldest daughter. Sometimes a sliver of recall would filter through, and he could hear her laughter, see her smile as vividly as if all the intervening years had disappeared. But in the next moment, it would slip away like a wisp of fog. And he’d be left with pictures, videos, and oft-repeated memories to fill in the shadows left by her absence.

“Your daughter’s school counselor was concerned about her change in behavior.” The agent tipped the bottle to his lips, his gaze watchful over it. “Her grades had slipped a bit. Her teachers noted the moods, too.”

“But they weren’t able to suggest what might be causing it.” David knew that because several of them had sought them out after Kelsey’s disappearance to tell them as much. “None of her friends could shed any light on where she might have been heading, what might have been on her mind . . .” His voice tapered off, a familiar guilt flickering. As Kelsey’s father, it had been his responsibility to make his daughter’s world right. But family life was always far more complicated than any parenting books would lead one to believe.

Driven to move, he surged to his feet, drank the rest of the water and then crossed to the trash can in the corner to drop it in. When he shoved his hands into his pants pockets, his fists were clenched. “You think the missing girl has something to do with Kelsey’s case?”

Mark cocked a brow. “Two girls of a similar age disappear from smallish towns twelve miles apart, we have to look for possible connections. I realize this is difficult for you.” The concern in his voice sounded genuine. David didn’t buy it. “Bringing up the past is painful. But maybe they knew some of the same families. Or you and the other parents had similar acquaintances.”

David’s shoulders slumped slightly as he experienced an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. There was a special type of hell reserved for parents who’d lost a child. An infinite invitation to suffering. “Claire and I both provided exhaustive lists of everyone we’d ever met. As did Janie. I was told the people checked out.”

“Would you be willing to fill out another?” Mark asked. “Of anyone you’ve met since then, either socially or through work? And your wife and daughter, as well.”

Wearily, David nodded, though he was uncertain about mentioning this to Claire. The last thing his wife needed was verification that her fears had been realized, and they were looking for similarities between the DeVries girl and Kelsey.

“I can promise that we’re following up on every single link we find, no matter how remote. Which is why I’m asking if you knew Whitney DeVries.” At David’s head shake, the man continued. “Brian DeVries? He’s a deputy for Fenton County.”

“No.”

“Shannon DeVries?”

David started to shake his head again, then stopped. “Claire knew . . . her mother-in-law, I think. My wife attended church over there for a period of years.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not religious, so Claire would take the girls, when she could force them to go.”

“So she’ll be on the list your wife filled out seven years ago.” Foster was scribbling in his notebook.

“She might be. We both did as well as we could, but we were pretty shell-shocked at the time.”