She paused, looked at Jamie. “You can take it.”
“Thanks. That’s when she had the kid,” Jamie continued. “Baby boy. No name, no father listed. Did you get the car wreck?”
“What? No.” Quilla blew annoyance at her pink bangs. “What’d we miss?”
“She was in a vehicular accident in ’99. She wasn’t driving, but the driver—a Marshall Riggs—was charged with DWI. She ended up with a concussion, a dislocated shoulder, a busted wrist, and a couple of cracked ribs. She lived—maternal grandmother’s address—in Arcadia until 2000, then it looks like she took to the road. What employment I found—again sketchy—bar work, cocktail waitress, did some stripping. No address or employment I could find from early 2002 on. But she had a car registered in her name—had to be a beater.”
“Anything on her or the kid from Child Services?” Eve asked. “Social Services?”
“Nothing I found. And there’s nothing, Dallas, like poof, after 2002. I got this picture—ad for a strip club, Nashville, 2002. Computer, display doc McKinney 3-A.”
Working. Displayed.
She had her head thrown back and her arm around a pole. She wore a Gstring, pasties, and looked worn around the edges to Eve.
“Magnify her face.”
When Jamie had, Eve studied it. “Yeah, a resemblance, a type, more pronounced with the shorter hair. She’s on something. I can see user on her. She’s what—damn math.”
“Like twenty-four,” Quilla said.
“Yeah, like that, has a kid about three or four, and she’s riding a pole, living off the grid to stay ahead of Child Services, doesn’t stay in one place long. She tried selling herself at sixteen, so there’s probably that. But she either took the kid with her when she hit the road, or paid him regular visits.”
Mira nodded. “While he could have become obsessed due to the absent mother, and formed the illusion, there are too many details to his re-creation attempts. The trauma occurred sometime after she left Arcadia. They had a relationship. And I would say, in her way, she loved her son. Easier, by far, to have walked away, left him with the grandmother.”
“Let’s be sure she didn’t.”
Nadine set aside her coffee mug. “According to Lisa’s half brother—who still resides in Bigsby, she didn’t. I contacted him first thing this morning. He remembers Lisa’s mother calling his father when Lisa left and took the child. He doesn’t remember the name of the child—the son of the half sister he didn’t really know wasn’t part of his life. But he remembers hearing his parents arguing about it, as his mother was very upset about the situation.”
“You’ve got more. What else does he know?”
“His mother didn’t like the fact that his father had, essentially, cut ties with his daughter. And his father didn’t like the fact that his mother kept pushing him to try to reach her—Lisa, and his grandson. His father claimed Lisa was a junkie whore, and he was done with her. He remembers that clearly, as his father didn’t use that kind of language. So I’d say you’re right, and she was on something in Jamie’s photo.
“I also have his sister’s contact information, but haven’t contacted her as yet because she lives in Oregon, and it’s too early.”
“Is the info on the disc?”
“It is.”
“We’ll take it. This is good work, all around.”
“And my one-on-one?”
“We’re trying to save a life here. That life.” She pointed to the board and Covino. “If we go public with this before we find her, he’ll kill her. You’ll get it, and if I were you, when this is wrapped, I’d do a segment on how a couple of young interns helped break a case, save a life, and find a killer.”
Nadine smiled. “Already on my agenda. You’ll have an on-air conversation with Quilla, won’t you, Jamie, about how the two of you assisted in finding information that led to an arrest?”
“I—yeah, I guess.” He managed to look surprised, delighted, and embarrassed all at once. “Yeah. Could be frosty. I’d want a go on it from the captain.”
“I could interview him,” Quilla suggested. “I think, maybe, as a journalist, I shouldn’t be part of the story, and discussing the research on our end comes too close to revealing a source. Sort of.”
“Listen to you, telling me exactly what I’d hoped to hear. What’s like a fish without gills, Quilla?”