If She Ran (Martina Monroe Book 2)

by H K Christie

  "Was she a good student?"

  "She did okay. As, Bs, Cs. To be honest, she never really gave me any real trouble."

  "Is her father around?"

  Daisy's face twisted. "Her father left about ten years ago, right before Daniel was born."

  "Are you married?"

  "Technically, yes, to him. He just up and left one day. We didn't see him again. I never bothered to get legally divorced."

  "Do you date or have a partner?"

  "No, thank you. The two Ds are all the testosterone I need in my house." She chortled.

  "How about Layla? Did she have any boyfriends?"

  "Nothing regular. She had dates to the prom and that kind of thing, but nothing serious. She never seemed terribly interested in boys. I wondered if maybe she was gay, you know?"

  "Was there any specific reason you had to suspect she was gay? Other than that she didn't want to date boys?"

  "Not really. Her best friend and her were pretty close, though."

  I studied Daisy's face, her physique and the boys. They all seem well fed and healthy. "Do you have any pictures of Layla that I could see?"

  "Yep." Daisy excused herself from the table and went to the back of the house and returned with a photo album. She placed it in front of me and flipped open the cover. "Here she was in junior high. She was a pretty girl. She sure did get a lot of attention from boys and men." Daisy bit her lower lip.

  "She is beautiful," I said.

  Daisy continued to flip the pages as I watched Layla grow from a preadolescent to a teen and then into her late teens. "She's awfully thin. Was she ill?"

  "In a way. One day, she collapsed at school, and they rushed her to the emergency room. They admitted her because she had gotten so thin from not eating that she passed out. They kept her in the hospital for two weeks. They diagnosed her with anorexia nervosa. It's an eating disorder. They say it's a psychological condition."

  "When did you first notice she wasn't eating?"

  "She was always a fussy eater. In her early teens, she would hardly eat her food, mostly she'd just pick at it. She was really into running too. For hours she'd run. At first I was suspicious that maybe she was meeting up with boys or getting into trouble, but turns out she really was running for several hours a day."

  "Before she collapsed, did you realize she had an eating disorder?"

  "No, it's not something I really knew a lot about before she collapsed. I just thought that she was too skinny, and I told her so."

  "How did she respond to that?"

  "She said she wanted to be an actress, and actresses had to be thin. When they released her from the hospital, her attitude changed, but she still obsessed about it. She gained a few pounds, but she stayed pretty thin. The doctor told me to monitor her, but she'd get mad when I would tell her she was exercising too much or wasn't eating enough."

  "Where did you say that she was hospitalized?"

  "Delta Hospital ER and then the eating disorder clinic. She was there for two weeks, then she entered outpatient care for about six months after that."

  "Do you have the name of her doctor?"

  "I probably have it somewhere."

  "Did you ever attend any family group sessions or participate in her counseling?"

  "At first, yes. They were really concerned about her home life and thought it had contributed to her disorder. Layla swore it had nothing to do with her family. It was simply so she could become an actress. But..." Daisy looked over her shoulder at the boys, who were watching television, an old Tom and Jerry cartoon, before returning her focus to me. "When Layla was about twelve, I caught her dad in her room, late at night, giving her a massage. She didn't have a shirt on." Daisy paused as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I told him to get the hell out of my house. The bastard tried to say it was nothing, and I was overreacting. But I wasn't. I told him I'd kill him if he didn't leave."

  I nodded, as if I fully understood what she was implying. Layla's father had abused her. That was likely why she had the disorder. Abuse was a common precursor for eating disorders, especially one as dangerous as anorexia. "So, it's not likely Layla went to see her father?"

  "I doubt it. She hated him—really hated him. I never knew why until that night."

  A shiver went down my spine. What an awful discovery. "Is there anything else you could tell me about your daughter that would help me find her?"

  "Other than talking to Jennifer, that's about it."

  "May I see her room?"

  "We packed up her stuff when she didn't come back. Now it's one of the boys' rooms, but I can show you her boxes in the garage."

  "I'd appreciate it."

  I followed Daisy into the hallway and through the door into the garage. I entered and was a little surprised. There were shelves with stacks of boxes, a washer and dryer, and cabinets. The garage was tidier than I would have expected, based on the interior of the house. Daisy pointed to six boxes. "Those are Layla's. I didn't get rid of her stuff in case she came back, you know, clothes, jewelry, that kind of thing. I need to feed those boys, if you don't mind."

  "Of course, please go. Do you mind if I stay and look through the boxes?"

  "That's fine." She paused. "Do you really think something happened to her? Something bad?"

  I wasn't exactly sure how much to tell her, considering all I had was a hunch and a theory. "I'm working a couple other missing persons cases that have a lot of similarities to Layla's case."

  "There are others?"

  "There are others, and we are determining if they're related. If they are, chances are Layla didn't leave on her own."

  She nodded quickly, as if it were too much to think about, and exited the garage, reentering the house. I glanced back at the boxes and hoped we'd find Layla Carmichael alive, because if she wasn't, it was sad to think that these boxes were all that remained of her.

  I placed the last box of Layla's belongings back on the shelf. I hadn't found anything extraordinary, but what I didn't find was makeup or a hairbrush. I wondered if she brought those items with her on the day she disappeared. In my hands, I held a headshot and a watercolor and pencil drawing, presumably Layla's art. Her mother hadn't mentioned any hobbies. I walked back into the house and found Daisy in the kitchen. "I'm just about finished."

  Daisy turned to look at me. Her eyes were red and watery. I wondered if it was the first time Daisy was grieving the loss of her daughter, and just now realizing that something awful may have happened to Layla. "I found this headshot and these pieces of art. Did Layla create these?"

  Daisy bit her lower lip before answering. "After her stay in the hospital, she started doing the drawings and the watercolors. Her doctor called it art therapy. She wasn't half bad, was she?"

  "No, they're quite nice. Do you know when she had this headshot taken?"

  Daisy cocked her head. "I'm not sure, but from the looks of it, probably right before she left." I handed her the photo, and she flipped it over. "I don't think it was her senior portrait. It doesn't have the signature of a studio."

  "Have you seen this photo before?"

  "No, but she didn't share a lot with me. I don't know if you remember being a teenager, but I do, and I remember hating my mother for no good reason and never telling her anything about my life. It wasn't any different with Layla."

  Maybe Layla hated her mother because she hadn't noticed or hadn't stopped her father from abusing her? "Do you mind if I hold on to these for now? I'm going to go speak with Jennifer Redmond, her best friend, a little later."

  "Layla probably told her a lot more than she ever told me," Daisy said rather sadly.

  She was probably right. "As part of the investigation, we will keep you updated on any new developments."

  "I'd appreciate it. Do you think you'll find her?"

  "I hope so. Also, the sheriff's department is going to announce that we're reopening Layla's case along with the other young women. They're hoping that by telling the public that we're reopening t
he case, that maybe people who didn't come forward before, will do so now. I just thought you should know."

  I handed Daisy my business card and told her she could reach me at any time, before waving to the boys and exiting the house. I wondered why Daisy had never followed up on her daughter's disappearance if she had suspected Layla was no longer a runaway. Was Daisy hiding something else?

  6

  Martina

  I walked up the cement steps to the top-level apartment of Jennifer Redmond, Layla's best friend. I knocked on the door. The door creaked open, and a young woman wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt looked out. "Are you Jennifer Redmond?"

  She opened the door fully and nodded.

  "I'm Martina Monroe. We spoke on the phone. I'm the private investigator hired by the sheriff's department to look into the disappearance of Layla Carmichael. Is it still a good time to talk?"

  "Yes, please come in." I stepped into the tidy apartment. A small sofa and coffee table sat across from a small kitchen. Jennifer fidgeted with her sweatshirt.

  "Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?" I asked.

  "Yes, please, have a seat on the couch. Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

  "No, I'm fine, thank you." I took a seat at the end of the sofa. Jennifer took the other corner and faced me. "Thank you for speaking with me with today. According to the police report, it says you were the one who reported Layla missing. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, I hadn't heard from her in over a day. She was supposed to call me that night and she never did. It's not like her at all. I called her house, and they hadn't seen her either. I knew something bad happened. I just knew it."

  "When was last time you spoke to Layla?"

  "The morning that she disappeared. We talked on the phone. She was really excited because she was going to meet a new photographer about a modeling job. It was out in the boonies, and he was going to pick her up at BART. It sounded pretty sketchy. That's why I made her promise to call me after."

  "Do you know the name of the photographer?"

  "I didn't know the photographer's name, but her agent set it up. He should have the name, right?"

  "Layla had an agent for acting?"

  "For acting and modeling. She met him through a referral from someone Layla had met in the hospital."

  I was surprised Layla's mother hadn't mentioned Layla's agent. Surely, Layla would have used it as leverage in one of their arguments. "Do you know her agent's name?"

  "I do. I remember because his name sounded fake. Jordan Starr. Sounds made up, right?"

  "Did you ever meet Jordan Starr?"

  "No, I never met him, but I heard a lot about him. He promised Layla a lot of things. Like headshots, which she had done, but then I guess this photographer was going to do more photos for her portfolio and maybe even give her a paying modeling job."

  "You said she met her agent through a connection at the hospital. Can you tell me more about that?"

  She nodded. "Yeah, one nurse at the eating disorder clinic had the hookup. I don't know if you know this, but she was anorexic. Layla collapsed at school. She'd been taking diet pills and not eating and exercising way too much. Before she collapsed, I begged her to get help, but she wouldn't. She swore she didn't have a problem, and that she was just trying to be thin like an actress, but even I knew it was more than that. But she wouldn't listen to me. She refused to eat more than a morsel at a time. Anyhow, after she collapsed at school, she was rushed to the hospital, and put into the eating disorder clinic, she met one of the nurses there—a male nurse. His name was Jon. He said his brother was an agent, and the rest was history. Jordan Starr signed her almost right away. He told her he'd get her acting jobs and photographs taken right here in the Bay Area. He explained that she didn't need to go to LA right away and that there's plenty of jobs right here in the San Francisco Bay Area. She was so excited."

  Maybe she hadn't told Daisy about her agent. I agreed with Jennifer. It sounded super sketchy to me. My guess was that Daisy would have told her as much. "Did you ever have any reason to think Jordan Starr wasn't on the up and up?"

  "Nothing specific. It just seemed too easy, you know? Too coincidental. I told all of this to the police, but they didn't listen. The detective swore she was probably a runaway." Jennifer teared up and buried her face in her hands. Her body shook as she cried.

  My heart broke for her. I placed my hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Jennifer. I will do everything in my power to try to find out what happened to Layla."

  She emerged from her hands and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. "You'll find her?"

  "I promise. It may take some time, but I'll do my best. Do you know if she ever booked any acting or modeling jobs?"

  "No, nothing ever paid. Her first real chance was with the photographer on the day she went missing. Odd, considering Jordan Starr said he was going to make her a star," she said with sarcasm in her voice.

  I went into my bag and fished out the headshot and artwork from Layla. I displayed the headshot to Jennifer. "Do you know when she had this photo taken?"

  Jennifer delicately picked up the photo of Layla. The tears streamed down her cheeks once more. "They were new. Jordan Starr set it up. This was her headshot. I miss her so much. I’ve missed her every day since she's been gone."

  "I'm so sorry. I know how bad that feels."

  She glanced up at me. "You do?"

  "My best friend disappeared right after we graduated from high school. She was also deemed a runaway, but I knew she didn't run away. I was her best friend. I knew better." I supposed it wasn't surprising I'd picked this as my first case.

  "What happened to her? Did you find her?"

  "I did—just last month. I was working on a different case that was related. At the time I didn't realize it, but when I teamed up with Detective Hirsch, the head of the cold cases at the sheriff's department, we solved both cases and found Donna."

  "You found her?"

  "I found her location. The crime scene technicians uncovered her body." Not exactly comforting, but maybe it was a good idea to not give Jennifer false hope.

  "Do you think Layla is dead?"

  "I don't know. I hope not."

  "Me too."

  I showed Jennifer the watercolor and pencil drawings. Jennifer teared up again. "They're good. I miss her."

  "What do you do now?"

  "I'm finishing up my last semester at Cal State East Bay."

  "What are you majoring in?"

  "Biology."

  "Good for you."

  "Thank you. "

  "Is there anything else you can tell me that you think could help us find Layla?"

  "That's all I can think of."

  I warned Jennifer that the sheriff would announce Layla's case was being reopened and then gave her my business card before exiting.

  It had been a productive day, and I had a new set of names to research and interview. At the top of my list would be Jordan Starr and his brother. It was odd to me that a medical professional, like a nurse working at an eating disorder clinic, would refer a patient to his agent brother. It sounded a little too scammy for my taste.

  7

  Martina

  I stared into the aqua-blue eyes that matched her daughter's. "Gwen Stevens?"

  She nodded.

  I extended my hand. "I'm Martina Monroe, the private investigator who is looking into your daughter, Willow's, disappearance. We spoke on the phone earlier. Is now still a good time to talk?"

  Her handshake was firm. "Yes, please come in."

  I entered the spacious two-story home and followed Ms. Stevens past a sitting room and a formal dining room on the left and then into a large eat-in kitchen.

  "Can I get you anything like coffee, tea, or water?"

  "Water would be great, thank you."

  Gwen continued to the sink. "Tap, okay?"

  "Yes, that's fine."

  She nodded and filled the glass from the faucet. "Please have a sea
t."

  I set my messenger bag on the floor before pulling out the dining chair and sitting across from Gwen Stevens.

  "I appreciate you meeting with me. Like we discussed, we're reopening Willow's case as well as a few other missing persons. In the original report, it says that you believed Willow ran away. Can you tell me why you thought that?"

  Gwen fidgeted in her seat. "Well, for starters, she was a defiant teenager who had just graduated from high school. That and at the time she ran away, her father and I were fighting all the time. We're divorced now, but back then you name it and we fought about it. Money, the kids, and most frequently, about his string of girlfriends. I wouldn't blame her for wanting to be gone."

  "Did Willow ever get into any kind of trouble? Anything that would fuel the arguments between your husband and yourself?"

  "My ex-husband, and yes, there were some. My ex was a jerk to me and to my daughters. Basically, if you opened up the dictionary and looked up the word jerk, you'd see his ugly face. I can't believe I stayed with him as long as I had. I was stupid. I'd married him right out of high school, that old story. I was young and naïve. I hadn't realized he would be a control freak who insisted on perfection. He'd pick on me and the girls about our hair, makeup, fashion, and weight. I blamed him for Willow's eating disorder. She was anorexic. She was even hospitalized because of it. He nearly killed my daughter. I blamed him, and he blamed me for being a bad mother." She shrugged. "Maybe I was for staying with him as long as I did."

  I knew it. "Where was Willow hospitalized?"

  "Delta Hospital. She was treated in the eating disorder clinic for two weeks and then did outpatient care for over a year. You know, I always feared that she would kill herself with that disorder. If she had, it would have been our fault. As it is, if she ran away or something happened to her…" She shook her head and tears formed in her eyes. "That's our fault too."