Read Online Jilliane Hoffman by Pretty Little Things - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pretty Little Things
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Suspense, Thrillers, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Suspense fiction, Espionage, Mystery, Mystery Fiction, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), Fiction - Espionage, General & Literary Fiction, Intrigue, Online sexual predators
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looking for people who aren’t missing, Makala’s name wasn’t even on the list of possible victims back when her body was fished out of the water. She sat, unidentified, in a black evidence bag on a shelf at the Medical Examiner’s Office in Duval County for almost two years.
The fallout from Jarvis was bad. The reporting Coral Springs detective was fired, virtually the whole General Investigations Unit was reassigned to road patrol, and the department took a beating in the press. And a new departmental policy was instituted: Cover Your Ass. But for that new policy, most likely Bobby would never have even heard the name Elaine Emerson. ‘Assistance to clear it’ was code for ‘we already investigated, just sign off on the report already.’
‘Where was stepdad on Friday?’ Bobby asked.
‘Out with the boys. Or girls. The Mrs says he stumbled home around three. Stumbled was actually my word. Pulling from personal experience, I think most people are stumbling when they get home at three in the morning.’
‘Anybody interview him yet?’
‘Not yet. He got home too late last night and left too early this morning. Given the shit he’s had to put up with from stepdaughter numero uno , maybe he’s expecting the same from this one, and thinks, “Fuck that, I’m going to work and getting the hell out of Dodge.”’
‘One rotten apple …’ Bobby said softly.
‘Spoils the whole friggin’ barrel.’ Zo flipped his notebook closed.
Bobby looked at the overgrown lawn, the overflowing garbage, the house in need of a paint job. Didn’t look like Todd LaManna liked to come home much at all. ‘Your boy Veso’s late, Boss,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘’Fraid he’s gonna have to hear what he missed out on at briefing,’ he called out as he started up the cement walk. ‘The morning’s getting away from us and I wanna find out where the hell this kid is.’
13
‘I think her name was Karen or Carla.’ Debra LaManna shifted on the mauve sectional, and reached for another Marlboro, even though there was a crushed butt still smoldering in the ashtray on the cushion next to her. A thin haze of blue smoke hung in the modest, but cluttered, family room. ‘It was only a movie she was going to, for Christ’s sake,’ she added with a roll of her eyes. ‘Sorry if I didn’t think to get the kid’s social security number she was going with.’
Bobby studied the slight woman with the bony, freckled cheeks and mistrusting stare across from him. Her pin-straight, long brown hair was pulled off her face and into a low ponytail, which she draped over her shoulder and absently stroked like a cat’s tail. She looked tired and stressed, but for a mom whose kid’s been MIA going on two days, what she didn’t look was sad. No red-rimmed eyes. No messed-up make-up from crying rivers of tears. No look of rabid panic or fear. Just plenty of anger, which radiated from her thin frame like a force field. The message was clear: Boy, was little Elaine gonna get it – if and when she finally decided to come home.
‘Sometimes it’s the one question that wasn’t asked,’ Bobby replied, looking around the room. Bill Dagher, the Coral Springs detective, stood over by the kitchen, texting on his cell. As far as the locals were concerned, this investigation was over: the report had been taken and Elaine Louise Emerson’s name entered into NCIC as a missing juvi. The kid didn’t want to come home, plain and simple, and one look at the mom and the history on the sis gave them a pretty good idea why. It was up to a social worker with the Department of Children and Families to fix what made her want to leave in the first place. ‘Did she tell you what class they were in?’ Bobby asked. ‘Where the girl lived? A last name? Did she maybe mention a theater or the name of the movie they were going to?’
Debbie blew a plume of smoke in his face. ‘No, no, no and no.’
The more questions Debbie LaManna didn’t know
The fallout from Jarvis was bad. The reporting Coral Springs detective was fired, virtually the whole General Investigations Unit was reassigned to road patrol, and the department took a beating in the press. And a new departmental policy was instituted: Cover Your Ass. But for that new policy, most likely Bobby would never have even heard the name Elaine Emerson. ‘Assistance to clear it’ was code for ‘we already investigated, just sign off on the report already.’
‘Where was stepdad on Friday?’ Bobby asked.
‘Out with the boys. Or girls. The Mrs says he stumbled home around three. Stumbled was actually my word. Pulling from personal experience, I think most people are stumbling when they get home at three in the morning.’
‘Anybody interview him yet?’
‘Not yet. He got home too late last night and left too early this morning. Given the shit he’s had to put up with from stepdaughter numero uno , maybe he’s expecting the same from this one, and thinks, “Fuck that, I’m going to work and getting the hell out of Dodge.”’
‘One rotten apple …’ Bobby said softly.
‘Spoils the whole friggin’ barrel.’ Zo flipped his notebook closed.
Bobby looked at the overgrown lawn, the overflowing garbage, the house in need of a paint job. Didn’t look like Todd LaManna liked to come home much at all. ‘Your boy Veso’s late, Boss,’ he said, glancing at his watch. ‘’Fraid he’s gonna have to hear what he missed out on at briefing,’ he called out as he started up the cement walk. ‘The morning’s getting away from us and I wanna find out where the hell this kid is.’
13
‘I think her name was Karen or Carla.’ Debra LaManna shifted on the mauve sectional, and reached for another Marlboro, even though there was a crushed butt still smoldering in the ashtray on the cushion next to her. A thin haze of blue smoke hung in the modest, but cluttered, family room. ‘It was only a movie she was going to, for Christ’s sake,’ she added with a roll of her eyes. ‘Sorry if I didn’t think to get the kid’s social security number she was going with.’
Bobby studied the slight woman with the bony, freckled cheeks and mistrusting stare across from him. Her pin-straight, long brown hair was pulled off her face and into a low ponytail, which she draped over her shoulder and absently stroked like a cat’s tail. She looked tired and stressed, but for a mom whose kid’s been MIA going on two days, what she didn’t look was sad. No red-rimmed eyes. No messed-up make-up from crying rivers of tears. No look of rabid panic or fear. Just plenty of anger, which radiated from her thin frame like a force field. The message was clear: Boy, was little Elaine gonna get it – if and when she finally decided to come home.
‘Sometimes it’s the one question that wasn’t asked,’ Bobby replied, looking around the room. Bill Dagher, the Coral Springs detective, stood over by the kitchen, texting on his cell. As far as the locals were concerned, this investigation was over: the report had been taken and Elaine Louise Emerson’s name entered into NCIC as a missing juvi. The kid didn’t want to come home, plain and simple, and one look at the mom and the history on the sis gave them a pretty good idea why. It was up to a social worker with the Department of Children and Families to fix what made her want to leave in the first place. ‘Did she tell you what class they were in?’ Bobby asked. ‘Where the girl lived? A last name? Did she maybe mention a theater or the name of the movie they were going to?’
Debbie blew a plume of smoke in his face. ‘No, no, no and no.’
The more questions Debbie LaManna didn’t know
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