Pretty Little Girls Read online

  She gripped her phone. Only a few more minutes before she would finally meet him in person. This was it. She squared her shoulders and marched out of the bathroom with the saunter of a runway model, shoulders back and neck extended. Her stomach fluttered and her legs were a little weak, but years of performances at the Children’s Theater had taught her how to conceal nervous excitement. She passed the Coppa Coffee and Tea store. Maybe she and Damian would come back and have a latte together. She really liked the Chai tea lattes there. If Damian didn’t already have a plan for hanging out, she would suggest it. But probably he did, since he was older and seemed so confident and sure of himself. Would he look the same as he did in the pictures he’d sent over the internet? Or had he photoshopped those to make him look like a movie star? In a short time, she would know for sure.

  She slowed her pace so as not to arrive early. But what if she was late and he left because he figured she wasn’t coming? She sped up again.

  The escalator took her down to the parking garage where they had arranged to meet. She hadn’t thought twice about the odd choice of a location. Despite her nerves, she had to look nonchalant and cool, like meeting Damian was no big deal. Wouldn’t it be great if one of her classmates saw her with him—maybe some of the older girls from her school? They would be impressed.

  With her coat wrapped over her hands, she leaned back against the wall, then stood up straight, then leaned back again, unable to decide which pose was better. Fidgeting with her hands, she pretended to read a mall directory. What if he blew her off? What if he’d never intended to come? She shifted her purse to her opposite shoulder. It was a little heavier than usual because Damian had asked her to bring her MacBook along. She had no idea why. Maybe he wanted to show her some new game.

  “Emma?”

  She turned around at the raspy voice and her stomach flipped over. Damian walked toward her. Hard to believe, but he was even more handsome in real life.

  “Hi.” She giggled as her nerves threatened to turn her into a silly child.

  Damian’s skin was the color of Emma’s perfect spray tan. He had a beautiful smile, and his hair was cut in a cool way, neat and not messy. His outfit was perfection—olive-colored jeans, a navy shirt, and a North Face jacket—and it looked so good on him. He looked like he played football or rugby. Not too big, but strong enough to protect them if necessary.

  She expected him to walk over to her, but he stopped a few yards away and glanced around. He had one hand inside his coat pocket. For a second, she worried he had changed his mind about hanging out with her. But then his smile grew bigger. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine. And you?” Her answer was automatic, the same response she would offer a teacher or one of her parents’ friends. She needed to do better, but her mind was racing, part of it wondering why he hadn’t come closer. She walked toward him until she was a more normal distance away. She cocked her head and batted her eyelashes until she could think of something clever to say.

  “Hope you haven’t been waiting long.” He glanced up toward the escalator as he spoke. There was no one coming down.

  “Me? No. I just got here, like seconds before you did.”

  He nodded. “You look really nice.”

  His smile made her tingle inside. There was nothing creepy or immature about the way he looked at her. She could tell he approved, and his gaze made her confidence soar. “Thanks,” she said, shifting her weight, and moving her coat into one hand so she could put the other on her hip.

  “I forgot the mall would be so nuts with Christmas shopping starting already. It took forever to find a parking spot.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” Heat rushed to her face with her lie.

  “Since it’s so crowded, what do you say we go to the Starbucks down the street? That one usually has booths and tables open around this time. We can jump in my car, it’s a little cold for walking.”

  The Starbucks was close to her neighborhood. What if her mother went to the grocery store and then grabbed a latté and saw them? Nah. Her mother never did the grocery shopping anymore, Magda did it. But here’s who did visit that Starbucks—Emma’s friends. She would love them to see her with Damian.

  “Sure,” she said, in as natural and confident a manner as she could muster, already imagining how she would casually wave to any of the girls from school who might see her. How great would it be if a few girls from her field hockey team were there?

  Emma headed toward the exit.

  “Wait. This way.” Damian gestured to the other end of the entry with one hand, the other hadn’t left his pocket.

  “Why? There’s an exit over here.”

  He smiled. “Just come this way.”

  “Okay.” She caught up to him, walking alongside him as he led her on a roundabout route through the garage.

  “Sorry. Forgot where I parked.” He laughed, occasionally looking up toward the corners of the parking structure as they weaved through and around dozens of cars.

  Strange that he’d already forgotten when he only arrived minutes ago, but he must have been nervous, too. Emma barely gave it a thought, so concerned was she with her walk and her hair, worrying about looking old enough, and feeling grateful her orthodontist had taken her braces off a few months earlier than planned.

  Chapter Four

  Agent Victoria Heslin set her suitcase down and stroked each of her seven dogs in turn as they clamored for her attention. “Sorry, my darlings. We’re not going for a hike today. I have to take a trip.”

  Ned leaned against the kitchen counter, smiling at her over a steaming cup of coffee. “Eddie’s been moping since he saw your suitcase come out. He barely touched his breakfast.”

  “Poor Eddie.” She rubbed the big greyhound’s ears. “You can’t come with me, baby. But I’ll miss you.”

  “We’ll miss you, too.” Ned ran a hand through his tousled hair. Barefoot as always, he cut an athletic image in the morning light.

  Victoria let out a heavy sigh and met his gaze.

  Ned laughed. “They’ll be fine. We have our routine down. I’ve got this.”

  “Thanks for doing this on such short notice. I owe you big time—again.”

  “It’s my job.” He grinned, tucking his hand into the pocket of his faded jeans. “But according to you, the list of favors you owe me is getting pretty long.”

  “Well… maybe we’ll cash a few in when I get back. Deal?”

  Ned pushed his way through the pack of wagging tails and placed his hands on her shoulders. He kissed her deeply. She opened her eyes and he stepped back, grasping her hands in his.

  “Something else to look forward to.” She glanced at her watch. “Darn. I’m going to miss my flight if I don’t get going.”

  “Take care of yourself. Oh, and catch the bad guys.”

  “Will do.” She smiled again before sliding her arms into her FBI jacket and walking out, trailed by the pack of dogs. “I’ll call you later.” She entered the garage and got into her black Suburban. Ned waved at her from the door, blocking the dogs’ escape. Waving back, she pulled out of the garage and drove down the long driveway of her estate. The first rays of sunlight were just peeking over the horizon as she rolled through the large iron gate.

  Time to call her boss and find out exactly what she was getting into.

  “Listen, Victoria.” Larry Murphy’s firm voice gave no indication of the early morning hour. “This is official business—but it has a personal side. Kind of a favor.”

  “Happy to help, boss. Is this for your FBI counterpart in Charlotte?”

  “Nope. Now and then I’ll get a call from a friend. You know, when you’re a SAC at the FBI, that’s going to happen. This time, one of my wife’s college sorority sisters asked for me to look into something. It’s early in the process, might be nothing.”

  “But could be something.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, I’m just wrapping up paperwork from our last case. I’m—”

 
; “The subject of the investigation is Emma Manning, a fourteen-year old girl. She disappeared from a Charlotte shopping mall last night. There’s no strong evidence to suggest she’s been abducted. But it would be good to have someone look at the whole situation immediately—someone who knows what they’re doing. You know, in case she’s not just a runaway. The Charlotte PD is on it already, as much as they can be at this point.”

  “Who’s my contact?”

  “Detective Martin Connelly. I’ll send you his phone number. He'll be expecting you. Listen . . .it might be . . . it might be a trying situation.”

  “How so?”

  “The girl’s mother is begging for all the help they can get.”

  “That’s expected. And the father?”

  “Let’s just say he might not be as receptive to detectives poking around in his business.”

  “Got it. Well, I understand firsthand the stress of a loved one going missing. How about I help the local PD find out what happened and see if I can assist the parents in handling the situation. Sound good?”

  “Yes. I sent you a photo of the girl.”

  “I saw it.” A professional photo of a teen with a pretty face, perfect teeth, and almost red hair with golden highlights. There were hints of adolescence in her dimpled cheeks but a stronger sense of blossoming maturity in her confident pose—one leg bent, one hand on her hip, head slightly tilted, playing it up to the camera.

  “Sorry to send you during Carolina’s Football Festival weekend. Might want to avoid the stadium area. I heard it’s chaos.”

  “What’s football festival weekend?”

  “It’s a first-time-ever thing. My wife calls it pigskin-fan frenzy weekend.” Murphy laughed. “Two top-ranked college teams are playing on Saturday. After that, the Carolina Panthers play at home on Monday Night Football. There’s a whole schedule of events surrounding it. ESPN’s coverage has been wall to wall. Catch a game if you can and you can thank me for it later.”

  Not likely. “Thanks, boss. I’ll give you an update once I have something to report.”

  “Safe travels, Victoria.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  As her plane landed, she double tapped her phone to close out of the mystery novel she was reading and noted the time. Less than an hour in the air from DC to Charlotte. At the terminal, she bought a sandwich in case her day got so busy she didn’t have a chance to eat later.

  The temperature in Charlotte was forty-five degrees, though it would warm up for the afternoon. She put on her jacket before leaving the airport. Following the signs for the rental car area across the street, she looked both ways and stepped into the crosswalk.

  To her left, a white Maserati pulled out from behind a minivan and drove toward her with no signs of slowing.

  Does he not see me?

  She threw herself backwards as the driver slammed on his brakes and came to a screeching halt.

  Shaken, and imagining how close he’d come to hitting her, she glared at the man behind the wheel, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

  He waved, shaking his head and mouthing “sorry.”

  Once she had her rental car, she sent a message to let Detective Connelly know she was on her way to the Charlotte PD headquarters.

  The Charlotte roads had no trace of litter. Medians with neatly trimmed grass and rows of perennial fall flowers were nearly everywhere. Scanning street signs so she wouldn’t miss her turn, she passed out-of-state cars with football flags flying from painted windows. Uptown—that’s what the woman at the rental car place told Victoria they called downtown—a few men and women wearing suits walked hurriedly on the sidewalks, but most of the crowd heading in and out of bars wore college team T-shirts and sweatshirts.

  She drove through a network of skyscrapers and parked at police headquarters. After adjusting her ponytail, she walked inside, and stopped at the desk. “Hi. I’m here to meet Detective Martin Connelly.”

  The receptionist had the wrinkles of a long-time employee with a tired attitude to prove it. She held up one finger as she pressed a button on the console of blinking lights in front of her. “Charlotte police department. Hold please.” Beside her, another officer worked the incoming barrage of calls.

  Victoria turned and smiled at the person waiting next to her. She sent Ned a message to say hello and let him know she had arrived safely.

  Several more phone lines were put on hold before the woman could address Victoria again. “Sorry for the wait . . . for?”

  “Detective Martin Connelly.”

  The woman pressed a few buttons, and finally said, “He isn’t here.”

  Victoria drew a deep breath, tapping her toe against the floor.

  The phone rang again, and the woman at the front desk turned away.

  “Agent Heslin?” asked a man who looked to be in his late thirties, walking toward her.

  She caught a flash of black and silver as he slipped something into his pocket. Their eyes locked. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. His brown hair was thick with a bit of loose curl. His lively green eyes were quick to smile above dimpled cheeks in his round, boyish face. Under his dress shirt, his stomach was more round than flat.

  “I’m Detective Marty Connelly, agent.” He said Mahhty, like he was originally from the Boston area. The detective moved his unopened can of Coke from his right hand to his left, wiping his palm on his pants before extending his hand to greet her. “Glad you could come down to lend a hand. Hope you didn’t have to wait long.”

  “No. Just got here.” She stepped away from the busy front desk.

  “Need anything to drink or . . . whatever?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Well, if you’re ready, we can go visit the girl’s parents, and I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  “I’m ready.” She opened her arms. “Let’s go.”

  He started walking and she fell in beside him.

  “How was your flight from DC?” he asked, holding the door open for her.

  “Fine.” Victoria tilted her head. “You look familiar. Have you worked with the FBI recently?”

  Connelly’s smile grew. “Not with anyone from your neck of the woods.”

  “I thought I might have seen you before.”

  “I would have remembered you if we’d ever met before. I must have one of those faces. That’s good for a cop, don’t you think? Easily forgotten.”

  “I suppose it is.” Victoria laughed as she lifted her hands behind her back to stretch. A light breeze caught her hair. A walk outside would have been nice rather than getting back into a car.

  “Heard someone called in some favors to get you. You’re a kidnapping expert?”

  “I’ve had my share of experience.”

  “Hope it won’t need to apply here, but just in case, it’s nice to have you.” He smiled as he led her toward the police cruisers and unmarked cars lined up behind the building.

  “So, you’re the primary assigned to this case?” She released her hands and extended her arms forward, still needing to get out the kinks from traveling.

  “Yes. If it turns out to be a case.” He smiled again. “It could end up being nothing more than a spoiled runaway situation.”

  “Right. Honestly, I hope so. It’d be the best thing for the family at this point.”

  “Exactly. So, how long you been with the Feds?”

  “Eight years.”

  Martin let out a low whistle. “Eight fun years, huh?”

  “I don’t know if I’d call it fun, but I do love my job. Those eight years have gone by fast.”

  “This family has friends in high places.” Connelly clicked the key fob for one of the unmarked sedans and stopped to open his door. “Guess that’s why you’re here.”

  Victoria opened the passenger side. “I hope I can help make a difference, once we figure out what we’re dealing with. Fill me in.”

  “Well, first off, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours sinc
e Emma Manning disappeared.” Connelly placed his soda in the center console and strapped on his seat belt as Victoria sat. “No leads yet.”

  “What are the chances she ran away?” Victoria asked, securing her own seat belt.

  “The mother says zero, and she’s got it pretty good at home, nothing to run away from, as far as I can see.” Connelly started the car. “But the girl’s not completely innocent. She told the woman that works for them she was meeting two of her friends. Those friends swear they never had plans and didn’t have any idea who she might have been secretly meeting.”

  “Someone she didn’t want her family or friends to know about.”

  “That’s what I think.” He looked behind him to back out of the tight spot.

  “Who talked to the friends?”

  “Me. That’s what I spent most of the morning doing. I met with the parents late last night and then talked to Emma’s closest friends this morning at her school, a very exclusive, private one.”

  Victoria studied the crowds as they drove through the city. “And you think they were being truthful?”

  “I do. I put some pressure on them, wanted to be sure she wasn’t bunking in someone’s posh guest room. They didn’t seem to be hiding anything. We can circle back to them if she doesn’t come home. But right now, just can’t waste too many resources without even knowing there’s any foul play involved.”