“You said Amanda’s contract had been terminated.”
Dunne twisted the pinky ring again. “Even so.”
Connor shrugged. “Fair enough. What about the days leading up to her disappearance? Did Amanda seem different at all? Upset? Distracted? Like she had something on her mind?”
“Nope. Not that I recall.”
“Any idea why she’d be at a motel out on the Twentynine Palms Highway?”
“None whatsoever.”
The lawyer glanced pointedly at his Breitling watch.
Connor took the hint, got up from his chair.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Dunne.” He pulled a business card from his back pocket, slid it across the desk. “In case you think of anything else. I’ll see myself out.”
Connor strolled back down the hallway to the reception area, tossed a wave and a smile at Vanessa, and turned toward the elevator.
“Mr. Connor?”
He turned to see the receptionist holding up a square of neon-yellow paper.
He walked over to her. “What’s that?”
“Amanda’s address. I pulled it from the files. I thought it might be useful.”
Connor grinned and pocketed the note. “You’re a star, Vanessa.”
“Don’t I just know it.” She hesitated. “Look, there’s something else you should know.”
“What’s that?”
She glanced down the hallway. “Not here.”
“Okay. Tell me where?”
“I get off at six. Hank’s is my go-to for a post-work Scotch and soda. I’ll meet you there.”
7
JESSICA
It was a short stroll from the gallery to Laurie’s apartment.
Jim Morrison gazed down from the corner of 18th and Speedway, the huge infamous Rip Cronk mural, one of several decorating the buildings around the beach town. Speedway was a narrow back street lined with apartment blocks tagged with graffiti and daubed with slogans and song lyrics. A blaring horn made Jessica start and she jumped out of the way just as a young guy raced past on a scooter, whooping and jeering, a fist pumping the air.
“Jerk,” she muttered.
Laurie’s apartment was on the first floor of a modest drab building with a street-facing balcony. Jessica climbed the stairs and raised a hand to knock on the front door out of habit. She shook her head, lowered her hand. No one would be answering. She found the spare key Renee had given her. Unlocked the door and hesitated before crossing the threshold. The idea of stepping inside a complete stranger’s home without their knowledge or consent felt very weird.
It felt even more weird once Jessica was inside.
The door opened straight into an open-plan living, dining, and kitchen area. The place had a Mary Celeste vibe about it. Not quite the table set without any crew to be found but not far off it. A wine glass and a plate were stacked on the drainer next to the kitchen sink, probably washed and left to dry after dinner the night before Laurie disappeared. A half empty bottle of red with a stopper in the top stood on the counter. There was also a smaller plate and a coffee mug in the sink, likely used for breakfast on that last day. A glossy magazine lay open on the coffee table, two TV remotes were on the arm of the couch, a light sweater had been tossed onto an overstuffed armchair, and a pair of sneakers had been kicked off next to the front door.
Jessica ran a finger over the surface of a big wooden sideboard. No dust. She noticed the mail had been piled neatly on top, next to a sea turtle sculpture and some coffee table art books. Renee had clearly dusted and sorted through the bills in Laurie’s absence but had otherwise left the apartment as it was the last time her daughter was home. As though she might walk through the door again at any moment.
The thought prompted a stirring of unease in Jessica. Her skin prickled and the tiny hairs on her arms stood on end. She suddenly had the feeling of being watched, as though someone’s eyes were on her. She turned around slowly, almost expecting to find Laurie standing there, demanding to know who this stranger was poking around in her apartment. But, of course, there was no one there. Jessica was alone.
She pulled open the sliding door next to the sideboard and stepped out onto the compact balcony. It was dominated by a rusting wrought-iron bistro set and some potted plants and lanterns. There wasn’t even a hint of a sea view, or any view at all really, unless neighboring buildings and fire escapes and tagged dumpsters were your kind of thing. But Laurie had made an effort all the same with the table and chairs and accessories.
Maybe she used to sit out here with a glass of wine and the sun on her face and watch the world go by. Might be nice if you didn’t mind the exhaust fumes and the marijuana smoke drifting up from the street below. Despite the lack of view and the unpretentious surroundings, Jessica figured a two-bedroom apartment this close to the beach would still cost a hell of a lot of green. A lot more than the average struggling artist would be able to afford. Did Laurie appreciate what she’d had? Or did she grow to resent it?
Jessica went back inside.
She went into the master bedroom next. The bed was made although slightly rumpled, as though someone had sat on it. Cheap jasmine and patchouli-scented candles in jars cluttered the bedside table. Fairy lights were twisted around the bedframe. A turquoise and purple dream catcher hung above the bed. Jessica knew they were traditionally used to protect sleeping people from bad dreams and she wondered if Laurie’s life had somehow become a waking nightmare a couple of months back despite the talisman. She opened the closet doors to find tank tops and tees folded on the shelves, sneakers and flat sandals in messy pairs on the floor. Floaty skirts, rainbow-colored maxi dresses, jeans, and the black dress from the birthday photo hung on the rail. A few of the wire hangers were empty.
There were more candles in the bathroom, as well as the kind of stuff you’d expect a young woman to keep in there. Tampons, hand cream, bubble bath, a spare roll of toilet paper. Jessica made a mental note of what she saw—as well as what she didn’t see. No shampoo or conditioner. No toothpaste or toothbrush. No shower gel. She went back through to the living room and found another closet next to the front door. Inside was some luggage. One of those matching sets that comes in threes—except there were only two suitcases. The smallest one was gone, a dusty rectangle showing where it had once been stored next to the others.
It looked a lot to Jessica like Laurie Simmonds had been planning a trip. Not a long one. Maybe an overnighter. Two days at most. Certainly not two months. Had Renee also picked up on the missing items? Jessica thought she probably had, wondered why Laurie’s mother had neglected to mention it in their meeting earlier. She decided it might be a good idea to pay a visit to the Simmonds’ place sooner rather than later. Jessica and Connor still had to speak to Laurie’s father in any case.
She wandered through to the second bedroom, which had been turned into a smaller version of the studio at 2Women. Tons of natural light and paints and brushes everywhere. An easel was set up holding an unfinished painting, just like the space Laurie shared with Elizabeth. Jessica felt another chill creep down her back, that icy finger on her spine once more. The idea of a life unexpectedly and abruptly disturbed, waiting to be resumed again at any time. She spotted two canvases stacked in a corner. They were wrapped in brown paper, which had been ripped down the front, exposing the artwork inside.