Chapter 4
“Sheriff?” she answered the phone as the entire table fell silent.
“Gone?” Bel sat to attention, thankful she hadn’t eaten yet. There was no fear quite as sickening as a missing child. “How old is she?”
“Um... nineteen,” Griffin said.
“Nineteen?” she repeated, wondering if she’d misheard.
“That’s right.”
“Nineteen is a legal adult. How is a teenager not being home on the weekend cause for calling 911?” Bel asked. “Are there signs of forced entry or foul play?”
“No.”
“And they saw her last night?”
“That’s what they said.”
“She hasn’t been missing for twenty-four hours, so without signs of wrongdoing, we can’t file a report. She’s probably out with friends or a boy.”
“That’s what I suggested, but her father’s concerned because all of her stuff is still at home. Her shoes, keys, wallet, and phone. What nineteen-year-old leaves the house without her phone?”
Bel cursed because she was thirty-five, and she went nowhere without her cell. Granted, she was a homicide detective who needed to always be within reach, but it didn’t change the fact that most people didn’t leave their phones at home.
“Mr. Triton wondered if she’d gone for a walk or something, so he took a drive, but he didn’t find her,” Griffin continued. “Their neighbors haven’t seen her either.”
“She’s probably at a boy’s house,” Bel said as she stared at her sisters.
Growing up, she’d seen all of them sneak out at least once to visit a boyfriend.
“A lot of parents and kids share their locations via their phones’ apps.
Maybe she didn’t want her dad knowing that she’d snuck out to party or hook up with a guy. ”
“Being that it’s the weekend, that’s the most likely scenario,” Griffin said.
“But her parents are worried, and while I know this won’t officially become a missing persons case until twenty-four hours have passed, I can’t get those Matchstick Girls out of my head.
Jax Frost froze over forty women to death because he picked girls no one checked on. ”
“And you want to do your due diligence to put your mind at ease,” Bel said.
“Exactly. We probably have a case of teenage rebellion on our hands, but on the off chance it’s an emergency, I don’t want to dismiss it. I’d at least like to double-check things for the family.”
“No, I get it.”
“It’s why I’m calling you. Gold has been covering your shifts since you’ve been off, so I can’t make her pull more overtime. I’m going to drive over to the Triton’s, but I’d like a woman with me. The family, and eventually the daughter, might find it easier if you’re there.”
“I agree.” Bel stood up, mourning the breakfast she could no longer enjoy, but before she could pity herself, Eamon returned to the dining room. She hadn’t even realized he’d left her side, but he held a sandwich freshly wrapped in parchment paper for her.
“Text me the address,” Bel said as she accepted the to-go breakfast and kissed Eamon’s cheek. “I’ll head over now.”
“Great. Thank you,” her boss said. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“As I’m sure you’ve all guessed, I have to go.” Bel moved to Briar as she hung up the phone and hugged her sisters and their families goodbye. “It’s probably nothing, so I’ll be home soon.”
“Be safe, kiddo.” Reese hugged her a little too tightly. It seemed he’d gleaned enough from the one-sided conversation to trigger his fatherly protectiveness.
“I always am,” she said, which earned her a disapproving grunt from Eamon.
“Thanks for the sandwich.” She shook her head at her boyfriend before kissing him. “I’ll try not to be too late.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Triton, I’m Sheriff Griffin, and this is Detective Isobel Emerson,” Griffin said when the burly and bearded fisherman-esque gentleman and his redheaded wife answered the door.
They lived in the more rural part of town close to the lake, meaning the officers had to drive down a neighborless dirt road to get there.
It wouldn’t be difficult for a teenager to slip out of the house and neighborhood unnoticed.
“Come in.” Mr. Triton gestured past his dazed wife to the living room, and Bel couldn’t help but pat the woman’s arm as she entered. It didn’t matter that her daughter had most likely snuck out to party. A mother’s worry always drove down the path of unthinkable outcomes.
“On the phone, you said your daughter went to bed last night, but when you woke up, she was gone?” Griffin asked as they settled on the sofa across from the couple.
“That’s correct,” Mr. Triton said.
“How did she seem last night?” Griffin asked. “Agitated? Afraid? Anxious?”
“Ariella seemed completely normal,” the father answered. “We had dinner together, watched some TV, and then turned in.”
“Is that a typical evening for your family?” Bel asked.
“It is,” he confirmed. “We’re very close. It’s just the three of us.”
“Did you fight last night?” Griffin asked.
“No. It was an uneventful evening.”
“And her belongings are still here, correct?” Bel said. “Did you notice anything missing after you called us?”
“No, that’s her car right there.” Mr. Triton pointed out the window, and the officers followed his directions to where the quintessential teen’s first car sat parked on the gravel.
“Her keys are on the hook by the door. Her purse, with her wallet inside, is in her room, as is her cell phone. Her clothes and shoes haven’t been touched, and our suitcases are still in the closet. ”
“What about your wallet?” Bel asked. “Is your credit card missing? Or perhaps your cash?”
“I didn’t think to look.” Mr. Triton crossed the room to the foyer table and snatched his wallet out of the collection basket. “My cards are still inside. Cash too. Ariella has her own credit card, though. Why would she need to take mine?”
“Because she has her own card,” Bel said, “therefore, that’s the payment form you’d expect her to use.
Maybe she hoped that if she left her wallet behind, you’d see her money still inside and assume she hadn’t taken anything, ignoring your own wallet.
And by the time you realized you should check, she would’ve purchased whatever she needed to disappear. ”
“My daughter didn’t run away,” Mr. Triton insisted.
“There were no signs of forced entry, and she left everything traceable behind,” Bel said. “There’s a good possibility that’s exactly what she did.”
“I don’t like what you’re implying.”
“It doesn’t mean she left for good,” Bel said. “She probably snuck out to attend a party, drink, get high, or hook up with a boyfriend. There’s a whole host of reasons why she might—”
“Ariella isn’t that sort of girl,” Mr. Triton cut her off. “She doesn’t drink or do drugs, and she certainly isn’t off having sex with some boy. She doesn’t have a boyfriend, plus she knows how we feel about that?”
“Feel about what?” Bel pushed.
“I just meant she’s too young to be having sex. She is going to community college to save for her bachelor’s. She’s a smart and innocent girl. Arielle isn’t sneaking out for a night of debauchery.” The man grimaced, and Bel and Griffin exchanged a half-formed look.
“Okay, well maybe she’s at a sleepover or out for a run,” the sheriff interjected diplomatically. “You said there were no signs of forced entry, so I doubt she was taken. If she was, it was by someone she knew, but—”
“Taken?” Mrs. Triton spoke for the first time. “No, she couldn’t have been taken.”
“I don’t think she was,” Griffin said. “Did you check her phone? Maybe she got into a fight with a friend and needed to cool off with a run? Or maybe a friend picked her up for Sunday brunch, and she forgot her phone. There’s no need to panic yet.”
“But her shoes are here, and I drove the surrounding roads earlier searching for her,” Mr. Triton said. “I would’ve found her if she’d gone for a run.”
“Do you mind if we check her room?” Bel asked. “If I know anything about teenage girls, it’s that they have a lot of clothes. It’s possible she wore new shoes or ones you haven’t seen before. I grew up in a house with six sisters. Clothes literally spawned from thin air.”
“Um… sure.” Mr. Triton patted his wife’s knee. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go put on a pot of coffee while I show the officers upstairs?”
“Yes… coffee, okay.” Mrs. Triton stood on unsteady legs and drifted toward the kitchen. She believed their only daughter was missing. Bel prayed Ariella would stop playing games and come home soon for her mother’s sake.
“This way.” The burly man gestured for them to follow him, and the trio climbed the stairs to find a girlishly cute room at the end of the hall.
“Who’s this?” Bel plucked a framed photo of two smiling girls off the dresser. The redhead wearing a shell necklace was the spitting image of the mother downstairs, but the dark-haired girl was unfamiliar.
“That’s Ondine Mar,” Mr. Triton said. “Ariella’s best friend.”
“Did you call her?” Bel asked.
“We did, but Ondine hasn’t seen her.”
Bel nodded before throwing Griffin another look. “Do you mind giving us a minute?” she asked their host.
“Yeah…” Mr. Triton’s eyes flitted about the bedroom.
“We won’t disrupt your daughter’s things,” Bel soothed. “We just want to look around without compromising the room further with too many people.”
“Okay. I’ll be downstairs with my wife.” The man left, and the moment he was out of earshot, Griffin whirled on her.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.