Stalked. Elizabeth Heiter
this. Haley hated living in that house. Linda’s new husband is a real jerk. He resents having to deal with a teenager, treated Haley like crap.”
“How so?” Evelyn asked, hoping he’d be more willing to go through the details again if she was the one asking, instead of Sophia.
He studied her, and she could see him cataloging the details: long, dark hair, carefully knotted into a bun; light green eyes from her mother that always stood out against light brown skin, which had come from her father; prim black suit, cut too large to conceal her weapon, that made her look even smaller than she already was.
She suspected he’d be like a lot of suspects and translate “small” into “not a threat.” If he was responsible for Haley’s disappearance, though, she vowed to make him regret it.
“Haley never told me any specifics. But she made all these offhand remarks about Pete Varner that made me think...” He shuffled his feet, drawing Evelyn’s attention back to the mud on his boots, an odd contrast to the clean, tidy house.
At least what she could see of the house. The three of them were jammed into the entryway, just far enough back that Evelyn could peer into a small living room. Everything looked dust and knickknack free, but nothing had much personality. Just a dark, matched set of furniture and a big-screen TV, probably purchased after the divorce.
She wondered how much of Bill’s animosity had justification, and how much was just resentment toward his family for moving on. Then again, all she knew about Linda’s new husband, Pete Varner, was what was in the background checks Sophia had completed. Nothing had stood out, other than his job installing vending machines. A job that took him to a lot of high schools, including Haley’s. Maybe he’d seen the daughter before he’d married the mother.
“You think there was sexual abuse?” Evelyn cut straight to the point, watching Bill carefully.
His head jerked backward at the question, and he shook his head. “No, not... No. I don’t think so.”
“So what kind of abuse? Does Pete hit her?” Evelyn pressed.
“I—I don’t know. Maybe.” Bill fidgeted. “What I know is she was unhappy. What I know is she hated it there. She ran away.” He yanked his wrist up, stared at his watch, then said, “I’ve got to be somewhere soon. Call next time and I’ll come to the station.”
“This could help us locate Haley,” Evelyn started.
“You’re not asking me anything I haven’t already told Detective Lopez,” Bill responded. “And here’s the thing—I know Haley ran away. I’m not going to help you bring her back to her crazy mother and that asshole she married.”
“What if she didn’t run away?” Evelyn pushed, even as Bill got in her personal space, practically herding her out the door. “What if you’re wrong?”
She didn’t move, just tilted her head back so she could look up at Bill, who had almost a foot on her. Sophia stayed right beside her.
“I’m sure—”
“You haven’t heard from her,” Evelyn reminded him. “Which means there’s a chance someone took her. Even if there’s only a small possibility she’s in trouble, don’t you want to make sure she’s okay?”
Something shifted in Bill’s eyes, but Evelyn couldn’t be certain what she’d seen before he blinked and it was gone.
“That didn’t happen,” Bill insisted, and this time, he actually put his hand on her arm, pushing her backward. “I want you to leave.”
Evelyn pulled free of his grasp, and planted her feet farther apart. “Okay.” She peeled off a card and handed it to him. “But the FBI doesn’t usually waste their time chasing runaways. Call me if you think of anything that might help.”
She turned and headed for the door, but not before she saw him frown down at her card.
Once they were back in Sophia’s police car, Evelyn asked, “What does Bill Cooke do for a living?”
“He’s a construction foreman. Why?”
Evelyn nodded. That might explain the mud on his boots, although she still found it odd that he’d track mud through his ultraclean house to answer the door for them. Especially since he hadn’t wanted them there. But maybe he hadn’t looked through the peephole before he’d opened the door. Or he’d been so anxious to deal with them and then get rid of them he wasn’t worried about the mud. “Just curious.”
Sophia jabbed her keys into the ignition, but didn’t start it up. “Okay, I have a question, too. What do you think? Is Bill Cooke lying to us? Did he take Haley?”
Evelyn frowned at the house as they sat in the driveway. She could see the curtain move at the front of the house, as though Bill was watching them. “He’s lying. I’m not sure what about—maybe the abuse claims. But he seemed genuinely surprised—and worried—when I mentioned sexual abuse. So, it’s hard to say. I don’t think he would have let us in the house if he had Haley in there. But does he know where she is?”
She sighed, wishing there was an easy answer. “Maybe. He was quick to insist he hadn’t heard from her, but when I asked if he was positive she was okay, he looked like he wasn’t sure. Still, it is odd he’s not more worried about her condition or where she might be, who she could have run off with. That could be a sign he’s not concerned because he knows the answer. His behavior was a little contradictory.”
Sophia tapped her hands on the wheel in a frustrated thump-thump-thump, and then started up the engine. “What do we need to do so you can point us in a solid direction? I’m running in circles with this case. And if Haley’s out there somewhere, I want to bring her home.”
As she pulled out of the driveway and Evelyn watched the curtain flutter back into place in Bill’s front window, Sophia added, “And if Bill’s abuse claims are legit, I want to deal with that, too.”
“Let’s talk to Linda and Pete, then,” Evelyn said. “Profiling isn’t a Magic 8 Ball. I can’t just talk to someone for ten minutes and tell you if he did it. But once I get a better handle on all the players, I should be able to help you narrow your search.”
Sophia’s phone rang, cutting off any reply she’d been about to make. She pressed the phone to her ear as she turned onto the street. “Lopez.”
There was a pause, and although Evelyn couldn’t hear whatever was being said on the other end of the call, Sophia’s suddenly furious expression told her it was bad news.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sophia said into the phone, then gave a heavy sigh and said, “Yeah, I’ll deal with it.”
She ended the call and tossed her phone onto the console, muttering, “Un-fucking-believable.”
“What is it?”
“You wanted to meet Haley’s mom?” Sophia gunned the engine. “Let’s do that now. I’ve got some things I want to say to her myself.”
“What was the call about?” Evelyn asked, bracing her elbow against the door as Sophia took the turns out of Bill Cooke’s neighborhood too fast.
“As if that TV interview wasn’t enough, someone just posted a picture of Haley’s note online.”
“What?” Evelyn gaped at her.
“You heard me,” Sophia said. “Now the whole world knows that Haley predicted someone was going to kill her. Which means all the wackos who weren’t already calling our tip line claiming to have seen her are going to start now, claiming to have killed her.”
“And it tells everyone with an internet connection that the person who grabbed Haley Cooke is probably someone she knows,” Evelyn said.
“Yep,” Sophia agreed. “Which means whoever did it knows we could be on to him. That person could be destroying evidence as we speak. And if