“Are you alone?” asked Laurie, when Tilly answered.
“The officer from before is here but no one else. You said I wouldn’t get anything more than a slap on the wrist.”
“You probably won’t, but Mia’s mother has insisted you be processed, and to be honest at this moment, Tilly, I have more pressing concerns. Where did you find Grace’s diary?”
“It was in her locker at school.”
“What? When did you retrieve it?” Like the house, the school had been searched, including all the contents of Grace’s locker.
“When she first went missing. No one noticed.”
“And where is it now?”
“In the spare room where I’ve been staying, in the bedside table drawer.”
“Stay on the line.” Laurie took the phone upstairs to the spare room, where she retrieved the diary. Shutting the bedroom door, she asked Tilly softly if Glen Harrington had ever tried anything on with her.
Tilly’s laugh in reply was cold and mirthless. “I’m not his type,” she said.
Laurie didn’t understand why, but she was fixated on what Tilly had said. She glanced at her short, stocky legs as she made her way downstairs. Like Tilly, her shape was a stark contrast to Mia’s, and to the long-limbed Harrington women’s. Glen clearly did have a type but Grace Harrington, like Annie Randall, hadn’t been sexually assaulted. Maybe Glen hadn’t been able to go through with it, or maybe he’d had nothing to do with his daughter’s death. Either way, it was imperative that she speak to him.
As she reached the kitchen, Sandra Harrington was opening a bottle of wine. “Please, Sandra, you’ll be much more use to us sober.” Shooting Gemma a fierce look, she took the bottle away from the woman. “Come and sit down. Maybe Gemma could make us some coffee?” said Laurie, holding Sandra’s arm as she guided her to the sofa.
Laurie wasn’t shocked by the situation Sandra found herself in. Loveless marriages, particularly ones where the female spouse felt trapped, were all too common. Even Glen’s predilection for teenagers didn’t feel that uncommon and she’d met many women over the years who’d turned a blind eye to such behavior, and sometimes to things even worse. “Did you ever try to leave?” she asked Sandra, sitting next to her.
“I certainly made a lot of noise about it. That’s why we ended up getting the place in Houston. His little fuck pad. Out of sight, out of mind, that’s what they say, isn’t it?”
“Did Grace know?”
Sandra shook her head. “Not until she saw him kissing Mia. Jesus Christ, what a night that was. All three of them crying. Glen begging Grace’s forgiveness. She worshipped him, you see. Well, they worshipped each other. I could never have said a bad word about him. She would either not have believed me or taken his side anyway. You know how it is.”
Laurie thought about Milly. Would she have turned out to be a Daddy’s girl? David had so looked forward to being a father that it broke her heart even to think about it. “And after she found out about Glen and Mia?”
“She hasn’t spoken to him since. Never will now, will she?”
“How did Glen take it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was he sad? Angry?”
“Glen is not great at emotion. Truth is, we haven’t seen that much of him these last few months. Very busy at work, you understand,” she said, with cutting sarcasm.
“And Grace? Tilly thinks Grace only got together with her because she was on the rebound.”
“Tilly’s a sweet little thing. I don’t know if that’s true or not. Fact is, Grace and I weren’t on great speaking terms, either, after Glen left. I think a part of her blamed me. And you know what, that part was right. I should have kicked that man out long ago. He is poison, and he destroyed my daughter’s last few months on this Earth.”
Laurie paused, preparing for the question she’d wanted to ask since arriving. “I’m sorry that I have to ask you this, but I’m afraid I have no option,” she said.
Sandra frowned, smudges of mascara breaking out on the side of her eyes. “Ask me what?”
“Do you think Glen ever tried anything with Grace?”
This time, there was no pause for reaction. Sandra’s face contorted into a mask of rage. “Of course not,” she said, heaving herself to her feet. “What the hell is this? You think Glen and . . . and . . .”
Laurie slowly got to her feet. Even in her shoes, she was a few inches shorter than the barefooted Sandra and was forced to look up at the woman. “I know it’s an awful thing to think about, but please, Sandra. For Grace’s sake.”
Just like that, the anger drained from Sandra, and she fell back into the sofa. Laurie remained standing, this time looking down on the woman, who looked beaten and worn out.
“You think Glen may have killed her?” Sandra’s voice was ragged, empty, the true horror of that potential truth beginning to resonate.
“It’s something we have to explore. It would help if we could speak to him.”
“I can’t believe he would sink this low, though I said the same thing when I found out about Mia. I don’t know where he is, I truly don’t. I didn’t think Tilly knew about the situation between them. I’ve been sleeping and . . .”
Gemma walked over and handed Laurie her phone. “Station has been trying to reach you.”
Laurie took the phone. “Detective Campbell.”
“Laurie, it’s Rodriquez. I thought you’d want to know first. Been a bit of trouble in a bar on 23rd Street. A couple of arrests. I’m afraid we have Warren in custody.”
“Is he OK?”
“Yeah. Evidently someone said something about Annie and he took it the wrong way. Busted the guy up pretty good.”
“OK. Let him sleep it off, and I’ll come and get him soon.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Laurie tried Glen’s phone again before leaving for the station. Leaving Gemma Clayton with Sandra, she told the officer to keep gently nudging the grieving mother. It seemed obvious to Laurie that Sandra was stuck in an abusive relationship. And even if the extent of the situation was beginning to dawn on Sandra, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t protect her husband, consciously or not. It was highly likely that Sandra knew where Glen was at that moment, and for everyone’s sake they needed to find the man before he disappeared for good.
Laurie skimmed ahead through Grace’s diary, alighting on the last entry, where she’d caught her dad and Mia together. That had been six months ago, and the diary hadn’t been touched since. She tried to imagine what that would have done to Grace, but found it impossible to comprehend. Placing the diary in an evidence bag, she forced herself to listen to local radio as she made the short journey to the station, the wind rocking her car side to side as the waterline crept ominously toward the seawall. A category 4 hurricane, cutely named Heather by the National Hurricane Center, had briefly made landfall in Cuba and was now bearing down on the Gulf of Mexico. It appeared to be heading toward the coast of Texas, but no one could guess if it would make landfall or lose power over the gulf. Some islanders weren’t taking any chances and had already begun leaving the island city, fearing the chaos of a last-minute evacuation, which in previous years had seen vehicles stuck in queues in excess of fifteen hours. The mayor had yet to announce any official evacuation plans, though a hurricane committee was closely monitoring the storm and all emergency departments were on standby.