Fatal Intent - Jamie Jeffries Page 0,27

hit pay dirt when she located the girl’s parents, but her concern had increased when she spoke to them on the phone. They hadn’t heard from their daughter for over four months. And yes, they’d reported her missing.

Chandler, Arizona was a suburb of Phoenix, technically, but was less than an hour from Casa Grande. It would require some backtracking, but she’d planned the morning so she could interview Sarah’s parents first, then Dawn, then head for home. The first thing she was going to ask Sarah’s parents, the Davises, was why in the world Sarah was attending school in Casa Grande instead of a bigger school in the metro area.

She headed out ten minutes late, at eight-thirty, hoping to make up those minutes on the highway to get to the nine o’clock appointment on time, since she’d been the one to press for such an early meeting on a Saturday.

The Davises were a subdued couple, offering Alex a cup of coffee and insisting when she said she didn’t want to be a bother. As soon as Mrs. Davis returned to the living room with a fragrantly steaming cup for Alex and one for Mr. Davis, Alex asked them her burning question. The Davises didn’t seem offended.

“She was interested in the sociology of the Native American tribes in southern Arizona,” Mrs. Davis explained. “She felt she’d have a better understanding if she went to school in that area, where so many of them go to the same school. She was drawn to the activist group. That girl that lost her leg, Dawn something, Sarah knew her. Such a terrible thing to happen to a young person.”

Alex was silent for a moment, processing the coincidence. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she remembered Dylan’s insistence that true coincidences were rare. “Did Sarah publicize her involvement with that group in any way?” she asked. “Facebook? A blog? Anything?”

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Davis said, a smile breaking through for the first time. “Sarah was always posting on Facebook. Pictures of her with those kids, marching.”

“Mrs. Davis, did anyone ever speak to her housemates about her disappearance?” Alex asked.

“Well, no, I don’t think so. They called us, you know, to ask for Sarah, but she wasn’t here. I asked why they were calling, and they said because all of her things were gone. We all thought she’d gone on her own, so we were sure she’d turn up soon. When I finally persuaded my husband that she wouldn’t have stayed away so long without getting in touch, we told the officers that. They said she’d probably turn up if that was the case. I don’t think there was ever a real investigation. When you called, it was the first time anyone had.”

Alex carefully kept her face neutral. This must not have been a close family. Four months, and they were still sitting here, passively waiting for a missing daughter to turn up? It reminded her of her dad, still waiting for a wife who’d been gone almost fifteen years. That, in turn, pissed her off. She stood abruptly.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said. “And for the coffee. I’ll be sure to let you know if I learn anything.

“Thank you, dear. If you see her, ask her to give us a call. We miss her.”

Apparently not much.

“Of course I will,” Alex said. She didn’t expect to see Sarah. In fact, she had a horrible feeling Sarah could be one of the unidentified sets of remains on her blog’s database. Who sat back and waited that long? Oh, right, her dad.

Half an hour after leaving the Davis house, Alex sat in a straight chair in Dawn’s cramped bedroom while Dawn gave her the details about her accident. Alex shuddered at the brutality of it. There was no doubt, the person who sideswiped Dawn’s compact car, then forced it to the side and over the low barrier intended murder.

Dawn thought it was a man, but couldn’t give much of a description. Her terror when he relentlessly steered her toward the barrier had occupied every brain cell, she told Alex. She was looking at the barrier and fighting her steering wheel, not thinking about identifying him later.

Alex relived those terrifying moments with Dawn and fought the beginnings of a panic attack. She forced herself to remain calm by asking Dawn if she remembered the make, model or even the color of the other vehicle. But Dawn couldn’t say, other than it was a dark car.