Pretty Little Girls Read online

  “I get the balancing act, but we need something in the first 24 hours.”

  “So that’s why I’ve been up most of the night working this. One thing worth mentioning—the missing girl was featured in a newspaper article about a month ago.”

  “An article about what?”

  “A trip she took to Jamaica, something sponsored by her school. You know the kind—touted as a volunteer opportunity, but really it’s just a boondoggle for padding college applications.”

  “That’s kind of cynical.”

  He grinned. “Just calling it like I see it.”

  “I’m sure they do some good there.”

  “Like bring a few sacks of their old clothes?” He laughed. “I saw the picture. One of the girls had a scuba mask in her hand.”

  “Did the article have Emma’s photo in it?”

  “Sure did. Big photo of her wearing a halter top thing. All of the girls’ names were listed.”

  “Anyone might have seen her.”

  “Yep.” At an uptown intersection, he smiled at the agent. “What do you like to do in Virginia?”

  “Well, I’ve got seven dogs.”

  “Seven? On purpose?”

  “Yep. We like to hike. My boyfriend and I do a lot of outdoor activities with the dogs.”

  Hearing herself say “boyfriend” out loud surprised her. She wasn’t sure if Ned was her boyfriend. Probably not—or not yet anyway. But saying the actual word was strange—and nice. “What about a boyfriend for Emma? Did her friends know if there was anyone?”

  “They say she doesn’t have one. Hiking, huh? I don’t know a lot about hiking in the area. We have a National White Water Center here. That place has some trails. And there’s Crowder’s Mountain with an amazing view at the top.” He flipped back the top of his soda and took a few gulps. “Do you like to eat?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “So, what kind of food do you like? Because over there—that’s the best pizza in the city.” He wagged his finger to the right and then swung his hand to the opposite side of the car. “And to the left, that place has the best burgers and milkshakes.”

  Victoria glanced at the restaurants. “What about Emma’s cell phone?”

  Connelly laughed. “Turned off. And the find my iPhone feature was disabled. The mother said that had been an ongoing issue, the daughter not leaving it on.” He pointed again. “If you like wings—that’s a good place there. Not the best, but really good—if you like ‘em hot, that is. You like ‘em hot?”

  “Sure,” Victoria responded, absent any enthusiasm. “Any history of running away?”

  “Nope. That there is the best place for a draft brew, unless you prefer dark, then the best is a little brewery on the other side of town.”

  As they drove, Connelly continued pointing things out on every street, making Victoria wonder if she’d accidentally ordered a guided tour of the best casual dining places in the city and if it was too late to tell him she was a vegetarian. She devoted most of her attention to her phone and scanning through Emma Manning’s social media pages.

  “Over there, that’s the mall Emma disappeared from.”

  Victoria studied the enormous building with protrusions in every direction. It was surrounded by other stores: Crate & Barrel, a fancy shoe store, a wine bar, upscale eateries, a modern hotel, and condos with tall glass windows and iron balconies.

  “See that place? The Cowfish. They’ve got the best hamburgers. I recommend the Texas Longhorn.”

  She smiled. “A few miles ago, Shake Shack had the best hamburgers.”

  “Yeah. These are the other best hamburgers.” He laughed. “Her neighborhood isn’t far from here.”

  “Has anyone looked through the surveillance videos yet?”

  “Yes. Already did it.” He grinned. “I’m good, aren’t I? Fast.”

  Victoria let out a small laugh. “The videos didn’t show anything?”

  “We know exactly when she was dropped off. We can trail her exact route, she wasn’t there long—fifteen minutes, maybe. The surveillance cameras show her walking to the restroom alone, then to a lobby in the parking garage. She meets someone down there, but whoever it is never stepped into the view of a camera. They exchange a few words, maybe she’s acting a little shy or nervous, but from our analysis of the body language, it appeared she liked and trusted whoever she was with. She starts walking, then, bam!” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that, she disappears. None of the other cameras in the parking garage picked her up.”

  An uneasy feeling rose in Victoria’s gut. “Whoever she was with knew exactly how to avoid every camera in the garage.”

  “Yeah, I suppose it’s possible. Or, it’s just a coincidence.”

  “I’d like to walk the area, see how easy it would be to go undetected. I also want to see the videos. If we can’t figure out what she’s saying, at least I can get a feel for the body language myself.”

  “Sure. I’ll send you the video after we meet with the parents. One of my guys made a clip of all the parts from yesterday with her on it.”

  Connelly slowed the car for a turn. “Here’s the neighborhood. Might want to brace yourself to meet the parents. The father is a successful real estate developer. Lotsa money. They think they’re all that. Think they hold all the power.”

  “No worries.” Victoria smiled inside, realizing she’d just used one of Ned’s phrases and also because “lotsa money” was a relative term. Martin apparently hadn’t researched her and had no idea of her family background. Good. That’s how she wanted it. Sometimes people treated her differently when they found out she was an heiress.

  Connelly pulled the car up to a brick, one room gate house in front of the neighborhood. A sign in front of it read, “All guests and deliveries must stop here.”

  A guard stepped out to greet them. His hand hovered above a tablet. “Hello, Detective. Welcome back.”

  “Thank you. I’m with Agent Victoria Heslin, here all the way from our country’s capital.”

  “I don’t actually live in DC,” Victoria said.

  “Oh. My bad.” Connelly held up his hand. “Anyway, here to see the Mannings again.”

  “I sure hope their daughter turns up soon.” The guard tapped the stylus on the tablet before returning to the gate house. Connelly finished his drink while they waited for the tall black gates to slide open.

  Chapter Five

  The Mannings’ house was a large, white, brick structure set deep within the quiet neighborhood. The house stretched from one end of the lot to the other, with Medieval-style spires atop multiple roof lines.

  A three-tiered fountain sat in front of a pristine circular driveway, surrounded by a horseshoe-shaped arrangement of bushes and ornamental plants. Not a single weed marred the lush grass there or in any of the adjacent lawns. A Porsche Cayenne was parked under a porte cochere.

  The doorbell was answered by a woman with black hair and olive skin, in her early sixties, holding a dust mop in one hand. She looked tired, with shadowy circles under her eyes, but her face lit up when she saw Connelly. “Detective! Glad you’re back. Anything?”

  “Not yet,” Connelly said. “Agent Heslin, this is Magda Peres. Emma Manning’s . . . nanny?”

  “I used to be Emma’s nanny.” Magda tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Now I’m more of a house assistant.”

  Victoria shook Magda’s hand. “Hoping I can be of some assistance.”

  “Thank you for coming.” Magda’s lined forehead conveyed her worry. She stepped back to open the door all the way. “Come in. Please.”

  The interior was open and spacious. Tall windows revealed a back yard that could have been a resort. An outdoor entertainment area with a tiki-style roof housed a huge curved television. Beyond a patio and pool stretched a large fenced yard, but no sign of pets. No curious animals running to see who is at the front door. What a waste of an excellent yard.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Mag
da asked, setting the mop aside. “Coffee? Flat or sparkling water? Sweet tea?”

  “I’d love a glass of regular water.” Victoria smiled. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll take one, too.” Connelly took off his coat and slung it over his arm. “Thanks.”

  Inside a living room with heavy cream-colored chairs, a well-dressed, slender woman stood up from a Chesterfield couch. Walking stiff and straight, she approached them with a frown.

  “You’re who Larry Murphy sent?” she asked, much to Victoria’s surprise. In situations like this, Victoria was used to people being grateful for her presence.

  “Yes. I’m Agent Victoria Heslin with the FBI.”

  The woman responded with a sigh. “I’m Patricia Manning.” She waved her hand towards an adjoining room. A large diamond graced her finger. “And that’s my husband, Tripp.”

  Through the arched doorway, a trim, handsome man with short dark hair, graying at the temples, paced in front of a large desk. He was in his early fifties, about the same age as his wife. He held a phone to his ear and stopped moving to stare at Victoria from head to toe in a way that made her uncomfortable. There was no other sign of a welcome. An uneaten sandwich and large, red strawberries sat on a plate on his desk.

  Patricia massaged her temples as she inspected the agent. “Do you have any experience with kidnappings?”

  “I do. Experience and a string of successes, all of which resulted in safe return of the victim, and the kidnappers either apprehended or . . . deceased.” She didn’t share that her initial expertise in the area came from poring over the files of her own mother’s kidnapping—what went wrong and if there had been any way it could have ended differently.

  “There isn’t any solid evidence that Emma has been kidnapped, but while we’ve got Agent Heslin here to help, I’ll let her take the lead,” Connelly said. “She’ll see if there’s anything else we could be doing to help get Emma back home.”

  Patricia narrowed her eyes at Magda as she set down a tray holding water glasses. “And I expect you’ve met our assistant. She’s the one who dropped Emma at the mall yesterday without checking to make sure her friends were there.”

  Patricia’s haughty attitude irked Victoria. Fear, stress, and lack of sleep could make any worried parent sound curt and aggressive, but something here was off.

  Magda stood with her head bowed, wringing her hands. “She didn’t send me a message to pick her up and didn’t answer her phone, so I called the friends she was supposed to be with. They didn’t know anything about meeting her at the mall.”

  “Did anything happen at home, recently?” Victoria asked. “An argument?”

  “No.” Patricia’s voice was firm. Magda turned to look out the window.

  “And there’s been no communication of any sort?” Victoria picked up one of the water glasses and held it between her hands. “From your daughter or anyone else?”

  “None. And I know what you’re thinking.” Patricia’s voice rose with each word, her head moving side to side in short, angry movements. “But she wouldn’t run away. She has varsity field hockey play-off games this week. There is no way she would miss those.”

  Victoria took a sip of water and set the glass back down. “I don’t have enough information to decide what I think happened yet.” She removed her tablet from her coat pocket to take notes and looked from Connelly to Patricia. “Did Emma have credit cards or ATM cards that have been used?”

  Patricia leaned against the back of a chair, frowning at Victoria. “It would certainly help this whole situation if you could communicate with the detectives so we’re not wasting time rehashing the same information. Time that could be spent searching for my daughter and whoever has her.”

  Victoria inhaled deeply, forgiving Patricia’s behavior and again contributing it to a parent’s shock and terror. “I understand, but bear with me, please. You may have to answer some of the same questions again. Even if I’ve already heard the answers second hand from the detectives. What makes you think someone has her?”

  “I just said, she wouldn’t run away.”

  No, but there are a lot of things in between running away and being abducted. Partying with friends, an unscheduled sleepover to push a few parental buttons.

  Detective Connelly crossed his arms and turned to Victoria. “Emma has a few credit cards and a debit card. None of them have been used. We’re monitoring them.”

  “Good. Thank you.” Victoria thought through the information they had so far. “Have you contacted the media yet?”

  The detective answered. “Not—”

  “He hasn’t.” Tripp entered the room, head held high. “Because we asked him not to. Not yet.”

  “And why would that be?” Victoria asked, genuinely puzzled.

  “Just in case she did run away, we don’t need the whole city to—”

  “She did not run away!” Patricia shouted, slapping her hand against the chair.

  Scowling, Tripp walked to the picture window at the front of the house and stared out toward Connelly’s car in the driveway. “Glad you brought an unmarked car. Nosy neighbors.”

  Wouldn’t want the neighbors thinking you’re in any trouble, would you?

  He turned from the window. “Let’s take this into the kitchen.”

  Inside the gleaming, white kitchen, he took a seat. The others sat down around him.

  Victoria set her water down. “I suggest we get pictures of Emma broadcast on the local news as soon as possible.”

  Tripp frowned. “I’d prefer the whole city and whole country not—”

  “I really don’t care how you think it makes you look.” Patricia’s mouth twisted into an ugly expression.

  “How it makes me look?” Tripp narrowed his eyes, staring at his wife. “You’re her mother.”

  “I just want her found, and then we can figure out who is to blame.”

  Emotions could quickly run high and ruin an interview. Victoria had seen people at their worst. It was best to keep the Mannings focused and not venting at each other. “We’ll need some recent pictures of Emma,” she said, setting her business card down on the table. “Specifically, if you have ones where she is wearing whatever coat or shirt she might have been wearing when she went to the mall.”

  “I know what she was wearing,” Magda said. “I’ll try to find some photos.”

  “Thank you.” Victoria now had an inkling that any questions about Emma might be better answered by Magda, but asking a parent first was the respectful thing to do. She turned to Patricia. “Detective Connelly said you weren’t able to locate her laptop when he was here this morning. Have you had any luck finding it since?”

  Patricia shook her head. “It’s not here. She must have taken it with her.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Victoria said. Their best source of information was missing with Emma. If she’d been kidnapped, there was a good chance that someone—a sexual predator most likely—had been communicating with her online. “Who is your email provider?”

  “Spectrum Cable,” Tripp answered. “Emma had a Gmail account and an email for school.”

  “Write those addresses down for us, please,” Victoria said. “And before we leave, I want to set up traces on your cell phones, in case you get a ransom call. Make sure you answer any calls that come in, known or unknown.”

  “We’re already doing that,” Tripp snapped. “We’re not incompetent idiots.”

  Victoria kept her response to herself, but stole a quick glance at Connelly, who was barely masking his displeasure. It was going to be a long evening.

  “Good.” Victoria took a sip of her water and set it back down on the tray. “We need to be prepared in case a ransom call does come and they expect a quick turn over. If they just want your money, we should know very soon.”

  “We know,” Patricia replied, her voice cool. “And we’ll be prepared to pay them whatever they ask.”

  “If your daughter was abducted, her kidnapper is probably known
to her. That is usually the case.” Victoria chose her words carefully. “So, we’ll need a list of your contacts, particularly anyone you might have conflicts with.”

  “A list of all your enemies.” Patricia sneered at her husband. “That’s going to take quite some time.”

  Victoria faced Patricia. “And yours as well.”

  Patricia threw her head back and laughed.

  Victoria pretended not to notice. Stress like Emma’s family was experiencing could make people act strangely. “Is there anything in your life we should know about now? Gambling debts, problems with the law, drugs, enemies, affairs. Tell us now so we don’t have to waste time digging it up on our own.”

  “You see, Patricia.” Tripp’s voice grew deeper. “Do you really want our lives turned upside down, without even knowing if she might just be off with new friends somewhere? I told you, the private investigator will be able to do more for us than the police. That’s all we need right now. You didn’t have to start calling in the brigades.”

  He reached for her arm. She pulled away from him, standing up to pace in a corner of the room. Her husband watched her, looking just as angry, rubbing the back of his neck.

  There was something going on with this couple’s marriage, but Victoria had yet to determine if it had anything to do with their daughter’s disappearance. Their cooperation was critical. “May I remind you that lying or withholding information from a federal agent is a federal crime.”

  Patricia stopped pacing. “I don’t see how our personal lives are relevant to you doing your job. She could be tied up in the back of some sociopath’s trunk right now, and all you’re doing is—”

  Connelly put his hands out. “We’re working on finding your daughter. And I did suggest to you this morning that you also hire a PI. It can’t hurt.”

  “If it turns out your daughter’s life is on the line,” Victoria said, “we need to know everything that might pertain to her situation. Any persons who might have a reason to hurt your family, we need to know who they are.”

  Patricia huffed. “My husband has a little problem he can’t seem to get under control.”

  Tripp shouted. “You want to subject us to all this?”