How come between the two of us we didnt figure out to hit the monster-sized hotel first? Ellie asked, keeping her eyes on the elevators digital display as it counted down each passing floor.
I guess the first twenty floors are misleading. Makes it look larger than it really is.
Thats what she said. Ellie hadnt meant to slip into a Michael Scott impersonation in front of her new partner, but the response to his comment had been automatic.
So was Rogans. He laughed. It was a good laugh. Loud. From the gut. Careful, Hatcher. If word gets out youve got a sense of humor, the guys at the house will really be chasing after you, and I wont be able to protect you. That is, assuming you ever get around to taking a shower.
The Monday-morning traffic was already starting to pour from the Lincoln Tunnel into Midtown. Rogan hit the wigwag flashers on the headlights of the Crown Vic and made it to the circular driveway at the Sixth Avenue entrance of the Hilton in four minutes flat. Leaving the car pulled up behind a large Trailways bus, he badged the valet as they headed for the lobby, working their way through a large group of teenagers wearing John Marshall High School band T-shirts and dragging backpacks and instrument cases. Most of them were using cell phones to snap their final photographs of Manhattan as they milled around, waiting to board the jumbo bus.
Ellie knew theyd found the right place when she spotted two girls huddled next to the bell stand on the opposite side of the lobby. She couldnt make out their words, but she could tell from the pitch of their raised voices that the girls were distressed. They appeared to be arguing, but then one of the girls burst into tears, and her friend placed an arm around her shoulder. A bellhop in a red uniform and captains hat stared at the girls awkwardly, clearly wishing to extract himself from the situation.
J. J. started toward the reception desk, but Ellie grabbed his elbow and cocked her head toward the agitated girls.
You go check that out, he said. Ill take the key to the front desk and see if they can get us any information on it.
As she approached the bell stand, she was able to catch the tail end of the girls conversation.
We cant leave without Chelsea. The crying girl had dark brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail, topped off with a black headband. She wore a pink hoodie sweatsuit and Puma tennis shoes.
The girls friend was rubbing her shoulder soothingly. I didnt say we should leave without her. I just said we should go to the airport. Chelseas probably there.
The comforting girl was petite with a black pixie haircut. Ellie spotted the top of some kind of tattoo peeking out from the back of the waistband of her jeans. The girl looked at her watch with a furrowed brow. Were missing our flight anyway. Its almost seven oclock.
They said it was delayed, the girl in the ponytail reminded her. She was starting to get control over her tears. Chelsea would never leave us hanging like this.
Another bellhop hurried past the duo and grabbed a set of car keys from the counter beside them. Andale, he shouted, hurrying along the perplexed bellhop who was trapped with the girls.
Chewanna cab or not?
The question sent the crying girl into sobs again, and the bellhop finally gave up, grabbed a set of keys from the counter, and fled to the hotel entrance.
Do you two need some help with anything? Ellie asked.
The pixie threw her an impatient look, as if the attention of strangers was yet another piece of unwarranted drama.
Were fine, maam. We didnt mean to make a scene.
No need to apologize. Ellie flipped up the badge that was clipped to the waistband of her pants. Youre looking for one of your friends?
Shes just running late. Its fine
Stop saying its going to be fine, Jordan. The crying girl pushed her friends hand off her shoulder. Shes missing. She should be here, and shes not here. She knew what time we were leaving, and shes not here. Shes shes missing.
Ellie heard the girls pain in the way she spoke that single word. She said it with the knowledge that to be missing meant so much more than to be in an unknown location.
The petite girl with the pixie haircut and tattoo, the one whose name was apparently Jordan, said they just needed to get to the airport. If they could get to the airport, they could make it onto a later flight and wait for Chelsea.
I told you, Im not leaving.
Jordan muttered something under her breath. Ellie heard it but hoped the crying girl hadnt.
But she had, and she responded as predicted. Seriously? Chelseas missing, and you decide to say youre going to kill her? Do you have any idea how disgusting that is?
All right. Just try to calm down, both of you. Your names Jordan? She spoke directly to the tattoo girl, who nodded in response. No ones killing anyone, Jordan.
Yeah, Im sorry. Sorry, Stef.
And youre Stef? Ellie asked the crying girl.
Yeah, Stefanie. Stefanie Hyder.
Okay. So youre obviously upset, but I need one of you only one, she said, holding up a finger, to tell me whats going on. Can you do that, Stefanie?
The girl sniffed a couple of times and tugged on her ponytail nervously. Were on spring break. Our flight leaves this morning like, basically now. And our friend Chelsea isnt here.
But
Ellie held up her hand. Youll get your turn.
Stefanie continued without prodding. We went out last night. It was time to come home, and she wouldnt leave. Chelsea wouldnt leave. I should have stayed, but it was time to go home. And she promised.
Jordan placed her arm around Stefanies shoulder once more, and this time Stefanie didnt push away. Her tears brought on sobs as she spoke.
She looked me in the eye, and she promised shed be back by now. She promised shed be here. She promised. And shes not. Something happened to her. Somethings wrong.
Rogan had snapped a digital photograph of the girl from East River Park, but she didnt want to do the ID that way. Not in a crowded Midtown hotel lobby. Not now.
Do you have a picture of your friend?
The girls both shook their heads.
You sure? Ellie recalled the band students outside snapping shots with their phones. Not in your cell phone or something?
Yeah, right. No, of course. The one called Jordan stepped over to a tangle of bags that were piled in the corner next to the bell stand counter. She rifled through a large white tote, pulled a patent leather clutch from the larger bag, and then began sifting through its tightly packed contents. Sorry. You have to put everything in two bags for the airlines.
She finally slid out an iPhone and pushed a few buttons before holding it out toward Ellie. Thats her, just last night at dinner. In the middle.
Ellie took the device from her and peered closely at the picture. The three friends were huddled together, posing for the camera with open-mouth smiles, as if theyd been laughing. A bystander in the background didnt look too happy with them. The girls had probably been too rowdy for the restaurant. At least their last night together had been a happy one.
It was a small screen, but she could make out three faces. The girl on the right was Stefanie Hyder, with her hair down and her eyes bright, not bloodshot as they were now. The one on the left was pixie-haired Jordan.
And Ellie recognized the girl in the middle as well. She recognized the long shiny blond hair before it had been hacked off. She recognized the red sleeveless shirt, chosen no doubt to match the crimson bead chandelier earrings that peeked out from behind the beautiful blond hair. And she recognized the smiling face before someone had used it as a carving board.