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Authors: S.J. Harper
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takes out his notebook and pen. “When did you last see Hannah?”
“Friday morning when she left for school. It was like any other morning. I woke her up. We had breakfast together. Waffles. I made her lunch. She packed up her backpack. Then I drove her to school and waved good-bye.” The tears start to flow. “I wish she’d never gotten out of that car.”
I spy a box of tissues on the counter space that doubles as a breakfast bar and serves to separate the kitchen from the living area. I tilt my head in its direction and Zack picks up my cue.
“What time did you drop her off?” I ask.
“I’m an RN. I work the seven-to-three shift at Sharp Rees-Stealy in Point Loma. So I drop Hannah off at six forty-five every morning and pick her up at three fifteen. Except for days off, of course.” She plucks a fresh tissue from the box Zack offers and dabs at her eyes.
“What time does school get out?”
“Two thirty. Hannah usually starts on homework while she waits. She’s a good student. She skipped theseventh grade altogether. Don’t know where she gets it. She has a 3.85 GPA.”
“Was she having problems with anyone at school?” Zack chimes in.
“No.”
He sets the tissues on the coffee table and reclaims his seat. “Any problems here at home?”
“Things have been going really well, better than they have in years.”
“How so?”
“Hannah’s father, Jason, moved out about six months ago. He . . .” She swallows hard, then looks Zack right in the eye. “He would drink too much. And he would beat me. One of the doctors at the hospital caught on. He talked me into going to a support group. After a few weeks, I started to bring Hannah with me. We’d both lived in fear for so long, I thought it would help, and it did. Finally I was able to get a restraining order. He’s broken it. Twice.”
“Do you know where he lives?” Zack asks.
“He
was
staying in the apartment above his sister’s garage in Chula Vista. They had a falling out about a week ago and he moved out. I called her Friday night. I figured he should know—about Hannah. His sister has been trying to track him down.”
“We’d like to get your sister-in-law’s name and address from you. Has Mr. Clemons made any threats toward Hannah?”
“No. Absolutely not. He’s a shit and a deadbeat, but he never hurt Hannah.”
“Did Hannah have a boyfriend?”
“She has friends who are boys. No one she’s especiallyinterested in. I’m afraid living in this house has made her a little gun-shy about relationships.”
Zack slips three pictures out of a folder. He lays them faceup on the table in front of Mrs. Clemons. “Did Hannah know these girls?”
Mrs. Clemons’ eyes quickly skim Rain’s picture, and Julie’s, but pause at Sylvia’s. She picks it up. “Sylvia is in Hannah’s cheer squad.”
“She’s been missing since Saturday.”
“What? No!”
“You didn’t hear about Sylvia?”
She swallows back a sob, pauses, composes herself. “I haven’t listened to the television for three days. Or answered the telephone without screening calls. I’ve been afraid to. Afraid there would be news of Hannah . . . or that there wouldn’t be.”
Zack nods that he understands and points to Julie and Rain. “What about these two girls? Do you recognize them?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know them. If they’re students at the Academy, Hannah probably does. The school isn’t that big. Are they missing, too?”
I tap Julie’s photo. “This one is.”
“Dear God.”
Zack slides a bank statement across the table. “We’ve found an account in your daughter’s name at a local bank in Ocean Beach. Were you aware she had opened it?”
“No. But it doesn’t surprise me. She’s been saving for college for as long as she’s known what it was. First it was change in a little piggy bank. Then she cashed that in and started stashing babysitting money in a shoe box in her closet.”
I point to the
“Friday morning when she left for school. It was like any other morning. I woke her up. We had breakfast together. Waffles. I made her lunch. She packed up her backpack. Then I drove her to school and waved good-bye.” The tears start to flow. “I wish she’d never gotten out of that car.”
I spy a box of tissues on the counter space that doubles as a breakfast bar and serves to separate the kitchen from the living area. I tilt my head in its direction and Zack picks up my cue.
“What time did you drop her off?” I ask.
“I’m an RN. I work the seven-to-three shift at Sharp Rees-Stealy in Point Loma. So I drop Hannah off at six forty-five every morning and pick her up at three fifteen. Except for days off, of course.” She plucks a fresh tissue from the box Zack offers and dabs at her eyes.
“What time does school get out?”
“Two thirty. Hannah usually starts on homework while she waits. She’s a good student. She skipped theseventh grade altogether. Don’t know where she gets it. She has a 3.85 GPA.”
“Was she having problems with anyone at school?” Zack chimes in.
“No.”
He sets the tissues on the coffee table and reclaims his seat. “Any problems here at home?”
“Things have been going really well, better than they have in years.”
“How so?”
“Hannah’s father, Jason, moved out about six months ago. He . . .” She swallows hard, then looks Zack right in the eye. “He would drink too much. And he would beat me. One of the doctors at the hospital caught on. He talked me into going to a support group. After a few weeks, I started to bring Hannah with me. We’d both lived in fear for so long, I thought it would help, and it did. Finally I was able to get a restraining order. He’s broken it. Twice.”
“Do you know where he lives?” Zack asks.
“He
was
staying in the apartment above his sister’s garage in Chula Vista. They had a falling out about a week ago and he moved out. I called her Friday night. I figured he should know—about Hannah. His sister has been trying to track him down.”
“We’d like to get your sister-in-law’s name and address from you. Has Mr. Clemons made any threats toward Hannah?”
“No. Absolutely not. He’s a shit and a deadbeat, but he never hurt Hannah.”
“Did Hannah have a boyfriend?”
“She has friends who are boys. No one she’s especiallyinterested in. I’m afraid living in this house has made her a little gun-shy about relationships.”
Zack slips three pictures out of a folder. He lays them faceup on the table in front of Mrs. Clemons. “Did Hannah know these girls?”
Mrs. Clemons’ eyes quickly skim Rain’s picture, and Julie’s, but pause at Sylvia’s. She picks it up. “Sylvia is in Hannah’s cheer squad.”
“She’s been missing since Saturday.”
“What? No!”
“You didn’t hear about Sylvia?”
She swallows back a sob, pauses, composes herself. “I haven’t listened to the television for three days. Or answered the telephone without screening calls. I’ve been afraid to. Afraid there would be news of Hannah . . . or that there wouldn’t be.”
Zack nods that he understands and points to Julie and Rain. “What about these two girls? Do you recognize them?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know them. If they’re students at the Academy, Hannah probably does. The school isn’t that big. Are they missing, too?”
I tap Julie’s photo. “This one is.”
“Dear God.”
Zack slides a bank statement across the table. “We’ve found an account in your daughter’s name at a local bank in Ocean Beach. Were you aware she had opened it?”
“No. But it doesn’t surprise me. She’s been saving for college for as long as she’s known what it was. First it was change in a little piggy bank. Then she cashed that in and started stashing babysitting money in a shoe box in her closet.”
I point to the
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