Mal studies him. She hears the bitterness. She guesses school life was tough on this kid.
“How about Kit?” she asks softly. “Is she a skier?”
“Her mom cleaned hotel rooms and houses, and her dad worked at the sanitation plant. Kit never had money. If she got a chance to go skiing or snowboarding, it was because of a handout. What’s this got to do with her disappearance?”
Mal holds Boon’s gaze. “The clients you mentioned. Jon Rittenberg. He was a top downhill skier. An Olympian. Apparently he grew up on the North Shore, which means he skied plenty at Whistler. The ski team also has a lodge up there.”
“So?”
Benoit says, “Did you or Kit maybe know Jon Rittenberg back in the day? When you were kids? It’s a small town. Maybe you crossed paths.”
Boon says nothing. But his energy has shifted, and there’s a new tightness in his body. This guy knows something he’s not telling them. Mal suspects it might tie back to the ski town. Boon-mee Saelim edges a little higher up Mal’s persons-of-interest list.
“But you knew of Jon Rittenberg when you were a kid, right?” Mal says.
He moistens his lips. “Yeah. I’d heard of him. They named a ski run after him.”
Mal tries a new tack. “Can you tell us where Kit might keep her diary?”
“Diary?”
“Yes. A journal. Pink book with purple polka dots.”
“I didn’t know she kept a diary.”
“Do you know who her therapist is?” Benoit asks.
Boon’s gaze shoots to Benoit. “Kit doesn’t have a therapist.”
“So there are quite a few things she doesn’t share with you?” Mal says.
“Look, I would know if Kit had a therapist. I suggested one, way back. And she said not even if hell froze over would she see a shrink.”
“Why did you suggest one?” Mal asks.
Boon suddenly looks trapped. “Are you going to sit here asking me irrelevant stuff, or have you actually got a plan to search for Kit? Because she’s in danger. I know it. I can feel it in my heart.”
“Are you and Kit romantically involved, Boon?” Benoit asks.
“I’m a gay man. I had a boyfriend until recently. We broke up. Kit’s like a sister to me. More than a sister.”
“Does she have any siblings, any close relatives we can call?”
“She was an only child. Her father died when she was nineteen. And now her mom is gone.”
“Is Kit involved romantically with any significant other?” Mal asks.
“No. She was very briefly married once. It soured her on relationships.”
Surprise ripples through Mal. She didn’t see this one coming. “What happened to her marriage?”
“He—Todd Darling—wanted kids. She couldn’t have them.” He swallows. Mal’s instincts detect something. She thinks about the Instagram post Boon just described—Kit holding an ultrasound scan of someone else’s baby, posing in their nursery, pretending it was hers.
“Boon,” Mal says more gently, “I’m going to show you some photos on a tablet. One of them might be a little disturbing. It’s from the crime scene. Are you okay with this?”
He nods but looks terrified.
Mal shows him an image of the bloody shoe. “Do you recognize this sneaker?”
He stares. A great big silent sob shudders through his shoulders. Tears begin to slide down his face. He swipes his hand across his nose, sniffs, and nods. “It’s hers. It’s Kit’s.” He lifts his eyes. “What happened? Is this from the Glass House? Oh, God, please let her be okay. Is she hurt?”
“What makes you think it’s from the Glass House, Boon?” Mal asks gently.
“I heard on the news that police had descended on the house. People were saying it was a homicide unit. I tried to drive past, but the street was blocked off. Kit works there.”
“How about this photo? Do you recognize this?” Mal shows him an image of the diamond pendant.
“No.”
“Okay, and who are the people in this image?” Mal shows Boon the photo she shot of the group picture on Kit’s fridge.
“That’s Kit. That’s me there.” He points. “That’s Azim Shariff, a philosophy professor. Ella Carter there is his partner. And this is Onur Osman, he’s an EMT, and this is Vicky-Lee Murtagh. She works for a pathology lab. It’s our D&D group. We’re all close. We’re also all in the same amateur theater group.”
“One more question, Boon. Kit’s last name—”
“Is her married name. She kept it. She was Katarina Popovich before. She started going by ‘Kit’ after she dropped out of school and moved to the city.”
“And what happened to Todd Darling?” Benoit asks.
“He immigrated to the UK. He married a British woman. They have a toddler and an infant.”
“Did Kit express concern about her inability to have children?” Mal asks.
“Yeah. It messed up her marriage. Todd wanted kids, and apparently Kit had not told him about her damaged uterus before they married. It became a big problem between them. Todd said he was cool, that he’d deal with it. But I do think he must have felt betrayed. It was Kit who ended up shutting him out, letting him go. I think she wanted to give him a chance to marry again and have the things he’d dreamed for in his life.”
“Why did she not tell her prospective husband she couldn’t have kids?” Mal asks.
He shrugs. “I think she was just scared Todd wouldn’t want to marry her. I think she was desperate to be loved, wanted.”
“And now her ex has babies,” Benoit says.
“Yeah.”
“Did this upset her?”
“Probably. A little. Maybe a lot.”
Mal says, “You have in the past recommended therapy to your friend, Boon. You say she has a snooping addiction. You say she has not been herself, possibly due to unresolved grief. You think she’s been messed up by something she saw at Rose Cottage. She runs this questionable social media account, posing in clients’ clothes and pretending she is carrying their babies—how emotionally unstable would you say Kit is?”
He inhales deeply. “Kit is just a little eccentric. Unconventional. Theatrical. Sometimes dramatic. But it’s a shield. She’s soft inside. Kind.” His eyes fill with emotion again, and Mal finds him a tissue. He blows his nose. “It’s like she feels that if she hides in plain sight—behind her makeup, costumes, theatrical roles, her pretend Instagram life—then people won’t see past it all to the hidden, broken Kit. They won’t ask too many questions of her.”
“So what is she hiding from that she’s afraid of questions?” Benoit asks.
“I-I don’t know. I think something bad—really bad—happened when she was at school. And that’s why she dropped out and left town.”
“And she has not spoken about this to you?” Benoit asks.
He looks away. “No.”
Mal feels this is a lie. “Can you come into the station tomorrow, Boon? Make an official statement, give us a DNA sample?”
“DNA? Me? What for?”