Abby Ivers was a cute, perky blonde in a tight T-shirt and low-waist jeans. Deep dimples sliced her cheeks, and her eye makeup was heavily applied.
“Abby?” She introduced herself and Will and flashed her badge. “Do you have a minute?” Carina motioned for her to follow them back to the bench where they’d been sitting.
“Sure,” she said, hugging her books to her chest and frowning. “I guess.”
When they were seated, Carina asked, “When was the last time you saw Angie Vance?”
Abby’s eyes grew wide. “Oh God, something happened,” she said all in one breath.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because she hasn’t returned any of my e-mails, and her IM is offline, and she didn’t journal all weekend. I TM’d her on Saturday night and it bounced back ’cause her cell wasn’t on.”
Abby sounded just like Carina’s sister Lucy.
“TM’d?” Will asked.
“Text messaged,” Carina translated.
“Right, so what happened? Did she get in an accident or something? Is she in the hospital? She’s okay, right?”
“I’m sorry, but she’s dead,” Carina said gently.
Abby’s tanned face noticeably paled. “Dead?” Her chin quivered. “Wh-what happened?”
Carina gave her the bare minimum story. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“Friday night.”
“Where?”
“The Sand Shack. On Camino del Oro, off the beach.” Abby’s eyes teared and Carina glanced at Will.
He asked in his soothing voice, “What time did you see her?”
“She left at twelve-thirty, I think. She works there, you know, but got off at ten. Then we just hung out. Jodi and I walked her to her car, but we went back because there was this cute guy…did her mom say she didn’t get home? Did she get carjacked?” Like many survivors, she was looking for answers. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any.
“We’re trying to establish when and where Angie was seen. Was anyone paying unusual attention to her? Giving her a hard time? Maybe she had a boyfriend she’d broken up with recently.”
Abby blushed and looked down. “Angie had a lot of boyfriends. I mean, they all loved her. But she was particular.”
“How so?”
Abby shrugged.
“Abby, if you have anything to tell us, now would be the time.”
“There’s nothing. Just…she broke up with a lot of guys because they weren’t the one.”
“The one?”
“Like, someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.” She diverted her eyes and sniffed. “Angie was such a romantic.”
Carina sensed that Abby wasn’t telling them something, but before she could push Will said, “What about Steve Thomas?”
“What about Steve?”
“Was he one of Angie’s ex-boyfriends?”
She nodded. “They dated back in November, I think. Maybe December, too.”
“But he wasn’t the one,” Will said, using Abby’s own phrase.
“No, they weren’t even exclusive.”
“Abby.” Carina remained silent until the girl looked at her. “Is there something else you think might be important? Something about Angie that might help us find out what happened to her?”
“No, nothing,” she said too fast.
Before they could push her, a male voice called from across the courtyard. “Abby!”
Carina and Will turned simultaneously and watched a lean, athletically built man with broad shoulders run toward Abby. He was older than the average college student and barely gave them a glance before saying, “Abby, have you seen Angie at all this weekend?”
“Angie’s dead!” Abby grabbed his arm and held on tightly, her voice quivering. “Steve, these are the police. They’re talking to Angie’s friends.”
Steve? Steve Thomas? Carina watched the man’s face closely. He matched the description Dean Robertson had given her over the phone. Dark blond hair, blue eyes, late thirties.
His face tightened and he shook his head. “No, dammit!” He looked up to the sky and breathed deeply. “I knew she was playing with fire. I just-oh, Angie.” He closed his eyes. He pulled Abby into a hug and she clung on to him.
Carina cleared her throat and Steve let Abby go, but held her to his side. He glared at Will and Carina. “I went to the police on Saturday. I knew no one believed me. Is it true? Is Angie really dead?”
His tone was full of anger and accusation. Carina wondered where it was coming from. One minute he sounded like he was concerned talking to Abby, the next ticked-off. Anyone who could flip a switch that fast had anger close to the surface.
They showed their IDs. “Steve Thomas?” Will asked. “Did you try to file a missing person’s report on Saturday?”
“Not that anyone would listen to me. I knew something was wrong, but because she hadn’t been missing long enough, the cop said he couldn’t do anything.” He let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry. What happened? Are you sure it’s Angie?”
“Do you have a few minutes to talk?” Will asked without answering Thomas’s questions.
He looked like he was going to refuse, then gave a curt nod.
Carina said, “Let’s go to the student union, Mr. Thomas. Unless you would prefer to talk downtown.”
“Fine,” Thomas said through clenched teeth.
After taking down Abby’s contact information, they let her go. Carina planned to talk to her again. Abby knew something.
Now, however, they were faced with a suspect. The overwhelming majority of the time, when a woman was killed it was by her husband, boyfriend, or an ex.
Will led them to a relatively quiet table on the far side of the student union, though with the lunch crowd coming in it was rapidly filling up.
“What happened to Angie?” was Thomas’s first question.
“We’re waiting for a positive identification of her body, but-”
“So it might not be her!” He started to rise, but Will motioned for him to sit.
“We’re certain it’s her,” said Will. “The rest is just a formality.”
Thomas sank back into his chair, his military-straight posture caving. Was his hope that she was alive an act? He sounded genuine, but killers were liars. They could con anyone, often keeping their crimes from their loved ones. Lying to the police was second nature to criminals.
“Where were you Friday night?”
He tensed, sitting up straight. Grief, if that’s what it was, turned to hot anger. “I don’t fucking believe this. I’m the one who told you guys something was wrong!”
Thomas was an explosive pendulum of emotions. Almost as soon as he finished his outburst, he took another deep breath and apologized.
“I’m sorry, I just-I thought I was doing the right thing going to the police, but now you’re here talking to me rather than looking for whoever killed Angie.”
“Mr. Thomas,” Carina said, “I can assure you that regardless of your actions on Saturday, we would have been talking to you eventually. You’re Angie’s ex-boyfriend and she filed a restraining order against you.”
“That was-”
Will interrupted. “Where were you Friday night?”
“When?” Thomas asked through gritted teeth.
“Let’s start at dinner and work from there.”
“I had dinner with a friend at a Mexican restaurant downtown.”
“Does your friend have a name?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with Angie’s disappearance.”
“It would establish an alibi.”
“I can’t believe this!” he repeated. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Angie.”
“Did you see Angie Friday night?”
“I saw her at the Sand Shack when she got off work. Around ten. I offered to take her home. She declined. I left.”
“You offered to take her home when she has a restraining order against you?” Carina looked at her notes. “According to the order, you are not allowed within a hundred yards of Angie unless you’re in class.”