“Thank God Bruce isn’t here.”
“Mrs. Seabright,” I said, “I’m looking into a case at the equestrian center which might involve your daughter Erin. I’d like to speak with you in private, if possible.”
She looked at me, wild-eyed, still angry. “There’s nothing to discuss. We don’t know anything about what goes on over there.”
“But Mom—” Molly started, desperately wanting her mother to care.
Her mother turned a withering, bitter look on her. “If you’ve told this woman some ridiculous story, you’re going to be in such hot water, young lady. I can’t believe the trouble you’re making. You don’t have any consideration for anyone but yourself.”
Two red dots colored Molly’s otherwise paste-pale cheeks. I thought she might start to cry. “I’m worried about Erin,” she said in a small voice.
“Erin is the last person anyone needs to worry about,” Krystal said. “Go to school. Go. Get out of this house. I’m so angry with you right now . . . If you’re late for school you can just sit in detention this afternoon. Don’t bother calling me.”
I wanted to grab a handful of Krystal Seabright’s overprocessed hair and shake her until the hair broke off in my fist.
Molly turned and went outside, leaving the front door wide open. The sight of her wheeling away her little book bag made my heart ache.
“You can leave right behind her,” Krystal Seabright said to me. “Or I can call the police.”
I turned back to face her and said nothing for a moment while I tried to wrestle my temper into submission. I was reminded of the fact that I had been a terrible patrol officer when I’d first gone on the job because I lacked the requisite diplomatic skills for domestic situations. I have always been of the opinion that some people really do just need to be bitch-slapped. Molly’s mother was one of those people.
Krystal was trembling like a Chihuahua, having some control issues of her own.
“Mrs. Seabright, for what it’s worth, Molly has nothing to do with this,” I lied.
“Oh? She hasn’t tried to tell you her sister has vanished and that we should be calling the police and the FBI and
America’s Most Wanted
?”
“I know that Erin hasn’t been seen since Sunday afternoon. Doesn’t that concern you?”
“Are you implying I don’t care about my children?” Again with the bug-eyes and the practiced affront—always a sign of low self-esteem.
“I’m not implying anything.”
“Erin is an adult. At least in her own mind. She wanted to live on her own, take care of herself.”
“So you’re not aware that she was working for a man who’s been involved in schemes to defraud insurance agencies?”
She looked confused. “She works for a horse trainer. That’s what Molly said.”
“You haven’t spoken with Erin?”
“When she left she made it very clear she wanted nothing more to do with me. Living a decent life in a lovely home was just all too boring for her. After everything I’ve done for her and her sister . . .”
She went to the hall table, glanced at herself in the mirror, and dug her hand into a big pink and orange Kate Spade purse. She came out of the bag with a cigarette and a slim lighter, and moved toward the open front door.
“I’ve worked so hard, made so many sacrifices . . .” she said, more or less to herself, as if it comforted her to portray herself as the heroine of the story. She lit the cigarette and blew the smoke outside. “She’s done nothing but give me grief since the night she was conceived.”
“Does Erin’s father live in the vicinity? Might she have gone to spend time with him?”
Krystal burst out laughing, but not with humor. She didn’t look at me. “No. She wouldn’t have done that.”
“Where is her father?”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t heard from him in fifteen years.”
“Do you know who Erin’s friends are?”
“What do you want with her?” she asked. “What’s she done
“Mrs. Seabright,” I said, “I’m looking into a case at the equestrian center which might involve your daughter Erin. I’d like to speak with you in private, if possible.”
She looked at me, wild-eyed, still angry. “There’s nothing to discuss. We don’t know anything about what goes on over there.”
“But Mom—” Molly started, desperately wanting her mother to care.
Her mother turned a withering, bitter look on her. “If you’ve told this woman some ridiculous story, you’re going to be in such hot water, young lady. I can’t believe the trouble you’re making. You don’t have any consideration for anyone but yourself.”
Two red dots colored Molly’s otherwise paste-pale cheeks. I thought she might start to cry. “I’m worried about Erin,” she said in a small voice.
“Erin is the last person anyone needs to worry about,” Krystal said. “Go to school. Go. Get out of this house. I’m so angry with you right now . . . If you’re late for school you can just sit in detention this afternoon. Don’t bother calling me.”
I wanted to grab a handful of Krystal Seabright’s overprocessed hair and shake her until the hair broke off in my fist.
Molly turned and went outside, leaving the front door wide open. The sight of her wheeling away her little book bag made my heart ache.
“You can leave right behind her,” Krystal Seabright said to me. “Or I can call the police.”
I turned back to face her and said nothing for a moment while I tried to wrestle my temper into submission. I was reminded of the fact that I had been a terrible patrol officer when I’d first gone on the job because I lacked the requisite diplomatic skills for domestic situations. I have always been of the opinion that some people really do just need to be bitch-slapped. Molly’s mother was one of those people.
Krystal was trembling like a Chihuahua, having some control issues of her own.
“Mrs. Seabright, for what it’s worth, Molly has nothing to do with this,” I lied.
“Oh? She hasn’t tried to tell you her sister has vanished and that we should be calling the police and the FBI and
America’s Most Wanted
?”
“I know that Erin hasn’t been seen since Sunday afternoon. Doesn’t that concern you?”
“Are you implying I don’t care about my children?” Again with the bug-eyes and the practiced affront—always a sign of low self-esteem.
“I’m not implying anything.”
“Erin is an adult. At least in her own mind. She wanted to live on her own, take care of herself.”
“So you’re not aware that she was working for a man who’s been involved in schemes to defraud insurance agencies?”
She looked confused. “She works for a horse trainer. That’s what Molly said.”
“You haven’t spoken with Erin?”
“When she left she made it very clear she wanted nothing more to do with me. Living a decent life in a lovely home was just all too boring for her. After everything I’ve done for her and her sister . . .”
She went to the hall table, glanced at herself in the mirror, and dug her hand into a big pink and orange Kate Spade purse. She came out of the bag with a cigarette and a slim lighter, and moved toward the open front door.
“I’ve worked so hard, made so many sacrifices . . .” she said, more or less to herself, as if it comforted her to portray herself as the heroine of the story. She lit the cigarette and blew the smoke outside. “She’s done nothing but give me grief since the night she was conceived.”
“Does Erin’s father live in the vicinity? Might she have gone to spend time with him?”
Krystal burst out laughing, but not with humor. She didn’t look at me. “No. She wouldn’t have done that.”
“Where is her father?”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t heard from him in fifteen years.”
“Do you know who Erin’s friends are?”
“What do you want with her?” she asked. “What’s she done
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