Page 85 of Fallen Creed

“They told me it was a waste of time. She obviously ran away because she was guilty.”

“Someone in law enforcement told you that?”

“In so many words.”

Her anger suggested an exaggeration of the truth. Maggie wasn’t sure if Mrs. Hobbs’ frustration was with the local police because they hadn’t found her daughter, or if it was with herself for not searching harder.

“Was Emma seeing anyone or involved with someone before she disappeared?”

“I don’t know. She was partying a lot. Which is something she rarely did throughout high school. I figured she should be allowed, right? She’s a good kid. She’s always been a good kid. She’s worked really hard to get a scholarship to play college soccer. That’s what she’s always wanted. What she’s always loved. I thought maybe the partying was something she just needed to get out of her system before she left for college.”

“She wasn’t spending a lot of time with any one person?”

“She became very secretive. I don’t think she was hanging out with any of her regular friends. They’re all athletes like Emma. I know they drank alcohol sometimes, but they wouldn’t use drugs. Suddenly Emma was coming home late at night, drunk. Maybe even stoned. I was upset. I told her I was disappointed.” There was emotion attached to the word. “I still can’t believe I told her that.”

The hitch in her voice made Maggie uncomfortable. She’d always lacked the patience for interviews with victims’ loved ones. Put her in a room with a criminal, and she could find a way to trick and outmaneuver the information she needed. But interviews with a victim’s family member required too much handholding and head nodding. She simply wanted to push on to the details that would find the middle-aged man who may have orchestrated two brutal murders.

“Did she ever mention a friend named Lara White?” Maggie asked as she readjusted her earbud and stopped at the desk where she’d left a notepad and pen. Supposedly, Lara White was a person of interest in Franklin’s death, too. That is, until her unfortunate automobile accident.

“No, that name doesn’t ring any bells.”

“Did Emma know Gina Franklin?”

“The woman who was murdered?”

“Yes.”

“No, of course not. I told you, that was all a misunderstanding. There’s no way Emma was involved.”

“What did Emma say about it?”

Mrs. Hobbs went quiet. Maggie waited.

“By the time the cops came knocking on my door, Emma was gone. She was supposed to be staying at her father’s. I didn’t realize she wasn’t there.”

“She just disappeared without letting you know where she was?”

“The divorce was not amicable. We split up three years ago. I don’t want to sound like one of those ex-wives who blames everything on her ex-husband, but he went from being at Emma’s soccer games and spending weekends with her, to hardly having any time for her, because he and his new wife were starting a new family.”

These were exactly the things Maggie didn’t have the patience to wade through. She put down the pen and resumed her pacing, stopping to glance out the window. Families of victims looked for reassurance that they weren’t to blame. They second-guessed decisions that often had nothing to do with why or how the victim was targeted or attacked.

“He hasn’t heard from her either?”

“He claims she wasn’t even supposed to stay with him the whole week. That’s where I thought she was.”

“She didn’t usually check in with you?”

“She used to. But she was spreading her wings. Cutting loose. Whatever they call it these days. She wanted me to cut her some slack. I thought I’d give her some space, you know?” The emotion hitched, again, at the end of the question. “And I honestly thought she was with her father.”

“I know this is difficult for you,” Maggie said, “But I need to ask, again, why didn’t either of you file a missing person report?”

“By then, the cops told us she was a murder suspect. No, not a suspect. A person of interest. And yes, they laughed at me when I suggested filing a missing person report. I think they still believe we know where she is and we’re helping her hide.”

“What about her cell phone?”

“They said she must have ditched it. Somehow, they seemed to know she didn’t just turn it off. They accused us of helping her disappear. They threatened to charge us as accessories for the murder. It was all so crazy.”

Maggie had hoped this conversation would lead to the man in the video feed or some facsimile of him appearing in Libby/Emma’s life before she left Virginia. She kept telling herself the cases were too similar to not be connected. She needed a better description than the brief digital caricature they had of a short, frumpy man with a saggy middle wearing a Husker ball cap and thick black-framed glasses to disguise his face. Alonzo had suggested the guy was middle-aged, but there was no way to be certain of that. She had hoped to get a name.