True Places(72)

The officer said, “The Breathalyzer result was high enough to account for her state. Otherwise I’d have taken her straight to the hospital.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. She looked at Suzanne. “You might not remember, but I met you at the benefit last fall. The one for Matt Schuster. I’m Pat Nguyen.”

Suzanne nodded, although she couldn’t remember the woman or anything else at the moment.

Officer Nguyen pointed to a chair. “Mind if I sit down? It’s been a long night.”

Suzanne said, “Please. Can I get you coffee or anything?” Her voice sounded odd, like she was acting a part and doing it badly.

“I’m fine, thanks.” The officer sat. “First off, where did you think your daughter was tonight?”

Suzanne said, “At a friend’s house. It’s prom night and the parents agreed to host. The mom said she would supervise.”

Officer Nguyen raised an eyebrow. “We got a call about an hour ago about a fire alarm at a house on Wertland. A party was under way, mostly college kids but also a few younger ones.” She nodded at Brynn. “Your daughter was on the front lawn.”

Suzanne pictured it. Drunken kids running from the building, stepping over her daughter, passed out on the lawn, half-undressed. Suzanne glanced at Whit. His face was ashen.

“The ID says she’s fifteen, is that correct?”

“Yes.” Whit cleared his throat. “Was she, was she dressed?”

“She was pretty much as she is now. Her pants weren’t off, just unzipped.”

Suzanne wiped her face, surprised to find it wet. “Whose house was it? How do we find out who was there?”

“We talked briefly to three students who lived there. All over twenty-one, and we didn’t see anything other than a lot of alcohol. They all said they didn’t know your daughter.”

Whit’s eyes flashed with anger. “They would say that, wouldn’t they? Right after dumping her on the lawn?”

The officer nodded. She pointed at Brynn’s phone. “You might find some answers in there, if she won’t talk.” She put her hands on her knees and stood. “I’m going to have to charge her. Public intoxication and underage drinking.” Whit began to protest. The officer held up her hand. “Rules are rules.”

They thanked Officer Nguyen for bringing their daughter home and showed her out. Whit roused Brynn enough for her to drink a bottle of water; then they brought her upstairs. Suzanne cleaned Brynn up as best she could, took off the soiled clothes, and managed to get her into a fresh shirt. Suzanne sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her daughter’s hair from her face, wondering what had motivated the girl to do this. Suzanne couldn’t accept that this was normal teenage behavior; if it was, she would insist on recalibration of the word normal. Why had Brynn taken such risks? All the things Brynn had wanted—limos and designer dresses and staged photos—had not been enough. How had her daughter ended up this way, and how had Suzanne been oblivious?

Brynn’s phone was downstairs, and Suzanne wasn’t certain she could bear to explore what it might contain. Not tonight.

She kissed her daughter’s forehead and left the room. In the hallway she heard Whit climbing the stairs and met him at their bedroom door.

He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “It’ll be all right.”

Suzanne’s thoughts went to Reid. She wished she could talk to him, but he would be asleep. She let go of Whit. “I’m just going to check on Iris.”

“All right.”

She went to Iris’s door and opened it slowly so it wouldn’t creak. The room faced the backyard and was dark. Suzanne stepped over to the bed, straining to make out the girl’s sleeping form.

“Iris?” she whispered.

Suzanne touched the covers where Iris’s shoulder should have been and felt only bedding. She reached for the switch on the bedside lamp and pressed it on.

The bed was empty.

Suzanne ran from the room. She checked for the girl in Reid’s room and returned to the hall. “Whit!” Without waiting for an answer, she flicked on the lights and flew down the stairwell. She hurried through the dining room, the kitchen, the living room, back to the entry, hoping Iris was curled up in a chair somewhere. Whit rushed down the stairs. “What now?”

“Iris is gone! She’s gone!”

“Jesus! What the hell is going on? Did you check outside?”

“No. I didn’t think of it. Can you?”

He took off toward the kitchen and she followed. He opened the back door, threw on the security lights, and crossed the patio. Suzanne waited in the doorway while he made a circuit of the yard, moving in and out of the shadows.

Whit jogged across the patio, spread his hands, and told her what she already knew. “She’s not there.”

“Oh God.” Why would Iris have left the house? Suzanne knew instantly it had to do with prom, with Brynn.

She went to the living room, snatched Brynn’s phone from the table, and unlocked the screen.

Whit appeared at her side. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for photos.” Suzanne fixed her attention on the screen. Her trembling fingers refused to obey her. She opened the photo folder and accidentally closed it. “Shit!” She took a seat, dropped the phone in her lap, and wrung her hands to stop the shaking. She tried again, moved to the right folder, and scrolled through the most recent shots, ones taken at the house, in the limo, at the prom itself. Nothing more recent.