Page 22 of Fallen Creed

“Of course, I asked. She hasn’t wanted to share, and I wasn’t going to push. The girl just tried to kill herself, for heaven’s sake.”

“Do you have any idea where she lived before?”

“She has a Virginia driver’s license,” Spencer offered.

“Do you know how old she is?”

“Driver’s license says twenty-one,” he said.

“But you don’t believe that?”

“Hell if I know. Kids these days all want to be older.”

“We did, too, Ted,” Nora told him. “You just don’t remember.”

“Nora, you told me she was nineteen or twenty.”

“I didn’t know. We had very little information about her when she was admitted to the hospital. And I didn’t know Ted snooped out her driver’s license.” She swatted at his shoulder. “The girl deserves some privacy, Ted.”

“You mentioned she has a car?” Maggie stayed on track.

“Not hers. We’re loaning it so she can get to work,” Spencer said.

“Actually, she’s buying it from us.”

“Really?” Spencer looked genuinely surprised.

Nora put her hand on her husband’s arm. A gesture that sent him back to his sandwich.

“I told you she’s paying us a little something every month now that she’s working. You just don’t remember.”

Again, something he didn’t remember or a piece of the story they hadn’t rehearsed. Maggie wondered if there were other things Nora had kept from him about their houseguest. She waited out the uncomfortable pause between them. Usually people felt compelled to fill a silence. And it didn’t take Nora long to do just that.

“She got a job at the Menard’s in Hastings. Got it all on her own. She’s a smart girl. Hard worker, too.” Then to her husband, she added, “She brought home groceries last week. Remember? Even bought that fancy cheese you loved.”

Spencer nodded and took another bite.

Maggie tried to put together a narrative that fit Pakula’s earlier suspicions. Not being from Nebraska, the attempted suicide, not sharing her age. These were all things that could point to Libby Holmes being a trafficking victim.

“What has she told you about herself?”

“Not much.” Spencer chimed in this time.

Nora didn’t add anything.

“Have you called her friends? Co-workers?”

“I talked to her supervisor,” Nora said. “I only know a couple of her friends. Co-workers really. She doesn’t spend time with them outside of work. One said he talked to her over the weekend. I haven’t heard from the other. But Libby mostly stays home when she’s not working. Goes for long walks along the river.” Nora’s eyes slid to the window that looked out over the woods behind the house. “She takes pictures on her phone. She has such a good eye.”

“How about boyfriends?”

“Oh, no.” Her eyes cut back quickly to Maggie. “No boyfriends.” Immediately, she seemed to realize she had said it too emphatically. As if to cover or distract, she decided she was hungry now. She pulled a plate off the stack, clanking it clumsily, then filling it with salad. All the while, she kept her hands busy and turned her face away, hiding whatever expression might still be there.

“Any recent arguments with either of you?”

“Arguments?” This time Nora laughed, but the forced sound fell flat. “We all have such different work schedules. We’re lucky to sit down together for a meal once a week, let alone argue.”

“So you have no idea what or who could have made her leave suddenly without telling you?”