Nate’s shoes echoed in the empty school corridors as he clipped his way down to Ms. Stewart’s science lab. She was the only teacher at Aspen Falls High who had agreed to meet with him at such short notice. Out of the eight names Eddie had given him, only two had taught Mila and only one was available for comment.

Nate racked his brain to see if he could remember Ms. Stewart when he’d been at Aspen Falls High, but she’d never taught him. He couldn’t remember Mila Schnyder either. She would’ve been a sophomore when he was a senior, and as hard as he studied her picture, he couldn’t even conjure an image of passing her in the school corridor.

He’d stopped by home on his way to the school and dug out his yearbooks. He found a few images of Mila. One on the track team, another in the Science Club, and then her student photo in the sophomore section. That was the best one. Her smile was broad and toothy, her blonde curls carefully managed. She had a cheerful sparkle in her blue-gray eyes, which reminded Nate of Sally.

His gut pinched as he fought off images of his ex-girlfriend and focused back on the case. He paused outside the science lab and tapped his knuckle on the door that was just slightly ajar.

“Yes, come in,” a woman with a featherlight voice called.

Nate had already seen the woman on the AF High website, and she looked exactly like her photo—middle-aged, short gray-speckled curls, creases around her eyes. She wore pastel colors and clothes that looked a decade or two old. She obviously didn’t care too much about fashion, but it was clear she’d dedicated her life to teaching.

Her lab was spotless and tidy. The board was covered with formulas and annotations, and assignments were piled high on either side of her desk. She was scribbling a lengthy comment on one assignment with a bright red pen, not even looking up as Nate approached her.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Stewart. I’m Detective Hartford.”

She finally glanced up and pulled the glasses off the end of her nose. “Oh hello, Detective.”

“Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.”

“It’s not a problem.” She capped her pen and indicated for Nate to take a seat at the lab table closest to hers. “Although I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. It was a long time ago now. But you are the police, and it’s my civic duty to assist as much as I’m able.”

Nate gave her a tight smile, glad she didn’t know that this casual chat was kind of bending the rules. He pulled out his notebook and perched on the stool. “So, Mila was in your Advanced Chemistry class in her senior year.”

“Yes. I went through my computer and pulled up her records, trying to jog my memory. That was twelve years ago now, and I had to study her ID photo to even remember her, but I think I do. She was a straight-A student. Very motivated and alert. Somewhat intelligent, although I think her grades reflected her attitude toward learning and hard work more than her natural ability.”

Nate’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Yet she dropped out.”

“Yes.” The woman frowned. “Very surprising, although according to my records here, it did show her grades slipping in the last few months.” The woman closed her eyes, her wrinkles highlighted as she scrunched up her face. “There were a few wayward girls that year. I’m just trying to think if they were friends with Mila or not. I can picture a little cluster of them.” Her curls bobbed as she shook her head. “Not sure, but Mila’s test scores show a sharp decline after spring break. I don’t know what she got up to, but she came back very distracted. She didn’t seem to care about schoolwork as much as she had before, and it reflected in her grades.”

“Do you know why she was acting that way?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m here to teach, Detective, not be a counselor. I leave that job to the experts, which is why I suggested she spend some time with our guidance counselor. I made a note of that at the time.” She pointed at her computer screen.

“And did she?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I couldn’t force her to go, and from what I observed in class, she wasn’t high or intoxicated. She just seemed distracted.” The teacher squinted at her screen, putting her glasses back on before reading. “Mila is not herself, staring out the window with a dreamy smile. I’ve never seen her so unfocused. Have suggested she have a session with Mrs. Griffin before her grades are affected too badly.”

“A dreamy smile?” Nate repeated.

“Yes.” The woman nodded, looking slightly mystified by why a motivated seventeen-year-old would suddenly become distracted this way.

A dreamy smile.

Didn’t that say it all?

Nate checked the woman’s hand and saw no rings on her fingers. He was tempted to ask if she was single and how long she’d been that way, but it was none of his business.

A dreamy smile.

Anyone who’d experienced a high school crush would understand.

“Ms. Stewart, do you know if Mila had a boyfriend? Did she maybe start dating someone during spring break?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know.” The woman stiffened. “It’s not my job to keep track of my students’ love lives. The amount they switch and change partners these days is ridiculous.”

“I was just wondering if Mila was distracted because she was in love.”

“She was seventeen.” The woman looked incredulous. “You can’t fall in love at seventeen.”

Nate had to bite back his snicker. “I’m sorry to disagree, ma’am, but I think teenagers fall in love all the time. Their emotions are often much stronger too. Dreamy smiles and distracted behavior indicates to me that Mila Schnyder may well have been in love.”

The woman frowned and snatched her red pen off the table, fidgeting with it while she muttered, “Yes, well, I don’t really know too much about that sort of thing.”

“Right.” Nate swallowed and changed tactics. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Ms. Stewart was passionate about teaching science… and only science. She wasn’t one of those teachers to get to know her students on a personal level. “So, when Mila stopped attending classes, were you aware of any rumors circulating? Did you hear any other students talking about her?”

She popped the cap off her pen, then replaced it. “Such a long time ago now, it’s hard to remember. Rumors circulate around my lab constantly, and I tend to ignore them and tell my students to get on with it. Although…” She started wagging her finger in the air. “I get confused with who got up to what. I’ve seen a lot of students in my extensive years of teaching, but was she the girl who got pregnant? Or did she run away?” The woman’s shoulder hitched. “Something like that sounds familiar. There were a couple of things going on with that senior class that year, I just can’t remember which crisis belonged to which student.”

Nate scribbled down ‘pregnant’ and ‘runaway.’

“Can you remember anything else?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful, Detective. I really see so many students each year and I don’t get to know them all. There are just too many.”

Her tight smile indicated that she preferred to keep them at a professional distance. They were there to learn, not bond with her.

Nate stood, holding his sigh in check as he slipped his notebook and pen away. “Thank you so much for your time, Ms. Stewart.”

“Of course.” She nodded once more before she uncapped her pen and got back to work.

Nate walked away from the classroom, his brain buzzing as he strode to the car. Pregnant or runaway. Two great reasons to drop out of school.

Runaway.

Nate toyed with that scenario as he walked to his car. “I wonder if there’d be a police report about that.”

Picking up his pace, Nate double-timed it back to the AFPD precinct.

It took Nate longer than he expected, and he was close to giving up when he discovered mention of a 911 call from the farmhouse on Fraser Road. Dispatch had been called at 3:45pm on May 22, 2006. It was like the information had been buried intentionally with the effort it took Nate to dig it up. After multiple failed searches, he’d ended up trawling through records from spring break of 2006 onward.

Cam and Jessica had already checked out for the night, but he’d stayed on, unable to rest until he’d found something on the Schnyder family. And his determination had paid off.

Mrs. Darlene Schnyder had called the police, claiming her daughter was missing. Unit 2579 was sent to follow up.

“Missing. Bingo.” Nate’s forehead wrinkled as the skeleton on Chad’s table flashed through his mind. Puzzle pieces were slotting into place quickly, and he didn’t like the picture they were creating.

“So, where’s the police report?” Nate scrolled down the login page and found no follow-up information.

With a marked frown, he stood from his chair and headed for the back of the station.

The storage unit wouldn’t be manned at this time of night, so he’d have to hunt down the information on his own, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

Sally’s beautiful smile penetrated his brain, like a painful knife wound.

He paused against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples and wishing he could live without her. Why did she keep haunting him?

“You okay, Detective?”

Nate popped his eyes open and spotted the new rookie. He stood there nervous and unsure which way to look.

Clearing his throat, Nate gave him a short nod. “I’m fine.” And walked around him.

He reached the storage room and swiped his keycard, letting himself in and starting up the computer. It whirred and groaned for what felt like an hour before finally beeping that it was ready. Typing in his password, then the date and time stamp of the dispatch call, Nate tapped his finger on the desk while he waited. Finally the screen lit up with the same information that he’d been looking at in his office, except this system had the added bonus of a log number.

He touched the screen and murmured, “Two-five-oh-six-Mar-Sch.”

Taking the second aisle from the right, he ran his finger along the shelf until he reached drawer 25-06. It screeched when it opened and Nate winced. Shuffling through the files, he found Mar-Sch. He pulled it out and clicked on his flashlight—a force of habit. Even though the lights were on, he still scanned things by flashlight. It helped him hone in on details he might otherwise miss.

“Arrived at the house at 4:12pm. Darlene Schnyder hysterical—agitated and yelling. Vern Schnyder visibly upset, but calm.” Nathan murmured the important details as he read them.

Officer Glenn Marshall had written the report, and it was brief.

Basically he and his partner turned up at the house and talked the mother into sitting down and explaining what had happened. She was convinced her seventeen-year-old daughter, Mila, had been taken, but the father had a different story. The mother had been away for two weeks visiting with her sister in Montana, and in that time Mila had run away with her boyfriend. The father had tried to stop her, but he couldn’t force her to stay and was worried if he did that they’d lose her forever.

“Did he call to give his wife a heads-up?” Nate asked aloud. He frowned, kind of appalled that the mother had returned to find a very important member of her family missing.

“She’ll come back to us. We just have to give her time.” Nate’s eyebrows rose as he read a direct quote from the father.

Darlene Schnyder was unconvinced and wanted to file a missing persons report.

Mother wants a missing persons report filed, but father says there is no point as he let the daughter go willingly. Regardless, a report will be filed.

Nate flipped up the page he was reading and noticed the missing persons report behind it. He quickly skimmed Mila’s details and the comments below them.

Runaway is turning eighteen in less than three months. Will keep an eye out for her when on patrol. If runaway is found, police will issue her with a warning and strongly suggest she return home. Boyfriend is liable to be charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor.

Vern Schnyder claims the boyfriend is a white male in his early twenties (speculation). Sandy-brown hair. Name: Jamie. Drove a black sedan. License plate unknown.

Nate clicked off his flashlight but kept staring at the file.

Black sedan. License plate unknown.

He hated those words. It made him think about the mysterious black car that killed his mother. All he’d been able to tell the police was that it was black, and he’d hated himself for it ever since.

He wondered if Vern Schnyder felt the same way.

Or if his story about the boyfriend was a big fat lie.

Why was the mother so convinced her daughter would never run away like that, enough to call the police, yet they did nothing?

How could a father let his daughter go off with a man in his twenties so easily while the mother was away?

The father obviously knew something he wasn’t willing to say.

Nate’s gut twisted.

Slapping the file closed, he shunted the drawer shut and headed out of the storage room. He signed out the report to study more carefully.

What he really needed to do was speak to Officer Glenn Marshall, but he hadn’t heard of him, so he was guessing the guy had retired.

He stepped out of the room and ensured the door was locked properly before opening the file again. Scanning down to the bottom, he noted the name of Marshall’s partner—Brent Higginson.

“Higgs.” Nate smiled and tapped the officer’s name.

Walking into the meeting room, he checked the duty roster and saw the guy was on for the next day.

First thing in the morning, he was tracking the guy down and having a chat.

Maybe he could help clear up a few of the unsettling mysteries swirling in Nate’s gut.