on lined paper torn from a small, spiral pad.
Dearest Eddie, I love you. I miss you with all my heart. You are my dearest and only love, my precious man. You will be forever. I hate living without you.
The handwriting was shaky, as if Debra Sue Roland was weak when she wrote to her husband.
Cole shut the drawer, and went to Isabel’s room.
Izzy’s bedroom was small, but bright and cheery. A blue frame bed with a matching nightstand, a dresser thick with earring trees, and a mirror that was too large for the room. A bookcase under the window was cluttered with yearbooks, paperback novels, and a little girl’s ragged army of dolls. A floor-to-ceiling memory board was pinned with birthday and holiday cards, ticket stubs, and photos. One of the cards caught Cole’s eye. A picture of Isabel in a royal blue graduation gown standing with an older man wearing a broad-brimmed Stetson cowboy hat. The photo was push-pinned to the board with a card and an envelope. Cole pulled the pin, and read a handwritten note inside the card.
Princess,
I am so proud of you and everything you accomplished. Your Dad may be up in Heaven, but I know he’s proud too. You’re a special young lady, Izzy, just like your Mom.
Congratulations, and have fun with this money!
Love you,
Uncle Ted
The return address showed the sender was a Ted Kemp from Palmdale, California.
Cole took the card and envelope, and found Carly on the couch. She covered the phone when he entered.
“I’m on with Gina. I already talked to Lauren. Izzy called when she learned they were getting out, but neither of them knew about the car, or anything new.”
Cole showed her the picture.
“Who’s Uncle Ted?”
Carly smiled at the picture.
“He isn’t really her uncle. He was friends with her mom and dad, so that’s what she calls him.”
“A family friend?”
“He came to her mom’s funeral. He used to come to her birthday parties when we were little. We thought he was a cowboy. He was funny.”
Cole thought about Isabel calling her friends. Izzy had phoned Carly, Lauren, and Gina, and now Cole wondered aloud if Izzy had phoned anyone else.
Carly blinked, her eyes wide and curious.
“We can find out. Easy.”
Cole didn’t understand.
She pointed her phone toward the hall.
“Izzy writes down her passwords. Check her cell account. Go look.”
Cole returned to the cabinet, and found a file marked CELL PHONE. Debbie had kept meticulous, well-organized files, and Isabel had continued her mother’s practice. The file contained her service provider contract along with a sheet containing her account number, user ID, and password. Cole brought the sheet back to the living room as Carly finished her call.
“Find it?”
“I did. Thanks to you.”
Carly took the sheet. Two minutes later, they huddled over a billing list showing Isabel’s charges for the past seven days. The column of charges showed the outgoing and incoming call numbers in chronological order, along with the date, time, and duration of each call. The most recent call was at the top of the list.
Carly pointed.
“These are all me. This is Lauren. This one’s Gina. I don’t know this one.”
Cole recognized Pike’s number near the top of the list.
Pike had phoned Isabel earlier that morning and twice the evening before. Each call showed a usage time of only one minute, suggesting Pike had left a message, or hung up when her voice mail answered.
Isabel’s final outgoing call had been placed at 5:40 the previous evening.
Carly said, “See? This is when I told her to call the police.”
Isabel had phoned Carly two earlier times, and Lauren and Gina an hour after her first call to Carly. She had phoned a 661 number twice, and called Pike eight minutes before she made the first 661 call.
Cole pointed at the 661 number.
“Recognize this one?”
“Uh-uh. Where’s 661?”
The two 661 calls had been placed three minutes apart, and—like the call to Pike—were one-minute calls. Calling Pike had been important, but she only called Pike once. Cole wondered why Isabel called the 661 number twice.
Carly said, “What are you doing?”
“Thinking. Impressive, isn’t it?”
“Is this what detective work looks like?”
“Only when I’m showing off.”
“You’re funny.”
“A national treasure.”
Cole scrolled through the entries until he found Isabel’s call to Pike on the day Karbo and Bender were arrested. Isabel had phoned Pike at exactly eight P.M. Twelve minutes after speaking with Pike, Isabel phoned the 661 number. Another one-minute call.
Cole said, “I think we found a clue.”
“We did?”
The 661 number never appeared as an incoming call, which meant her calls