All Dressed in White (Under Suspicion #2)(5)
“Sandra, I don’t get it. Why did they call her the Runaway Bride? I could understand the police suspecting cold feet for a few hours or maybe even a day or two. But surely as time passed they must have shared your concern. What made them think your daughter would just take off on her own?”
Laurie could tell Sandra was reluctant to answer, so she pushed further. “You said there was no struggle in her room. Was her suitcase missing? Her purse?” Those were the kinds of facts police used to distinguish between runaways and foul play. It was hard to run without money or identification, she thought.
“No,” Sandra said quickly. “There seems to be only one thing missing from her wallet, her driver’s license. All of her clothes, her purse, her makeup, her credit cards, her cell phone—all of them were in her room. In the evening she often carried just a tiny purse with her room card, a compact, and lip gloss. That was never found. She could easily have slipped the license into it if she was planning to use the car. She and Jeff had rented a car at the airport. As far as we know, Amanda was the last one to use it when she and the girls went shopping that morning. There is a self-parking section on the grounds of the hotel. And that’s where they kept it.”
Or, Laurie thought, she took her license and some cash and met somebody. Laurie now understood why so many people had speculated that Amanda had left on her own accord. She did have another question, however. “What happened to the rental car?”
“It was found three days later behind an abandoned gas station about five miles from the hotel.”
Laurie could see that Sandra’s mouth had tightened and her expression had become fiercely angry.
“The police insisted on believing that she may have met someone at the gas station and gotten into a different car. The next morning, when the news broke that she was missing and they were showing her picture on TV, some woman in Delray Beach claimed that she saw Amanda in a white Mercedes convertible stopped at a traffic light around midnight the night she disappeared. She claims she was at a long light and got a good look at her. Amanda was supposedly in the passenger seat, but the woman remembered nothing about the driver except that he seemed tall and had a cap on. The woman was crazy, I know it. She loved the publicity. She couldn’t wait to get in front of a camera.”
“Do you think the police believed her?”
“Most of them did,” Sandra said bitterly. “One day outside the police station, I overheard two detectives arguing. They were leaning against a squad car, smoking cigarettes and talking about my daughter like she was some character on a TV show. One of them was certain that Amanda had a secret boyfriend—a Russian billionaire and she’s off on some island with him now. The other guy was shaking his head, and I thought he was going to defend Amanda. Instead he said—I’ll never forget it—‘You’ll owe me ten bucks when they pull her body from the Atlantic.’?”
Sandra swallowed back a sob.
“I’m so sorry,” Laurie offered, not knowing what else to say.
“Oh trust me, I gave them an earful. There’s a detective still officially assigned to the case. Her name is Marlene Henson. She’s a nice woman but I can tell the trail is ice cold. Forgive me for being personal, Ms. Moran, but I came here to you specifically for a reason. You know what it’s like to lose a person close to you. And to not know for years why it happened or who was responsible.”
Greg was killed by a single shot to the forehead while he pushed Timmy on a playground swing. The shooter had intentionally targeted Greg and even knew Timmy’s name. “Timmy, tell your mother that she’s next,” he had said. “Then it’s your turn.” For five years the only other thing Laurie knew about her husband’s killer was that he had blue eyes. That’s what her son had called him when he cried out, “Blue Eyes shot my daddy!”
In response to Sandra’s statement, Laurie simply nodded.
“Now imagine, Ms. Moran, knowing even less. To not even know whether the person you love is dead or alive. To not know whether they suffered or are out there, alive and happy. Imagine knowing nothing. I’m sure some part of you thinks I’m lucky. Until they find Amanda’s body, she could still be alive. I’ll never believe that she left of her own will but maybe she was kidnapped and is trying to get free. Or got hit by a car and developed amnesia. I can still hold out hope. But sometimes I think I’d be relieved to get that awful phone call telling me that it’s over. At least I’d know she’s at rest. I’d finally know for sure. Until then, I can’t stop. I’ll never stop looking for my daughter. Please—you might be my last chance.”
Laurie set her notebook on the coffee table, leaned back in her chair, and steeled herself to break Sandra Pierce’s heart.
5
Laurie tucked a loose strand of hair beneath her ear, always a sign that she was nervous. “Mrs. Pierce—”
“Please, call me Sandra.”
“Sandra. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to not know what happened to Amanda. But our program is limited in what we can do. We’re not the police or the FBI. We go back to the scene of a crime and try to re-create the events through the eyes of the people who were involved.”
Sandra Pierce was leaning forward, ready to defend her position. “That’s why Amanda’s case would be perfect. The Grand Victoria is one of the most famous hotels in the world. It’s a glamorous setting, and people love stories about weddings, and most of them can’t resist a mystery. I know I can persuade my family, including my ex-husband Walter, to participate. And I already called one of the bridesmaids, Kate Fulton, and she said she’d do whatever she could. I believe the two groomsmen will also agree. As for Jeff, I don’t think he would have the nerve to refuse.”