“Well…” She’d already dismissed the topic and was on to the purpose of why she’d invited him up. “Here’s what I’ve got so far,” she said, pointing to a table covered with papers, pictures, notes, and her laptop. A chipped cup held pens and a small bowl contained paper clips, tacks, pushpins, and a roll of tape. On the wall she’d tacked up posterboard that included pictures of the four missing girls. Beneath the photographs, she’d listed personal information that included physical and personality traits, family members, friends and boyfriends, employment information and schedules, addresses for the past five or six years, classes taken, and various other information in the form of notes that looked like she’d printed them off her computer.

“Do you give this much attention to your studies?” he asked, noting the colored overlining on some of the information.

Kristi snorted. “Want a beer—? Oh, wait, I don’t know that I have any. Damn.” She walked to the kitchen alcove and peered into a narrow, short, obviously barren refrigerator. “Sorry. Didn’t know I’d have company. All I’ve got is a hard lemonade. We could split it.”

“I’m okay,” he said as she extracted the drink, slamming the refrigerator door shut with her hip. She opened the bottle, poured it into two glasses, and found a bag of microwave popcorn in a cupboard. “I missed dinner,” she explained, placing the bag onto the rotating platter.

She set the timer, switched the microwave on, and handed him a glass of lemonade that he didn’t really want. Her shoulder brushed just above his elbow as she studied the intricate charts she’d created. He smelled a hint of perfume over the lingering scent of smoke from the bar. She took a swallow and said, “I’ve assigned each of the missing girls a color—for example, Dionne, the first girl that we know went missing, is in yellow.” All of Dionne’s information had been highlighted by a neon yellow marker. “Then there’s Tara, who, incidentally lived here—”

He jerked his gaze away from the charts to stare at her. “Here? In this apartment?” he asked, even though he saw the address listed in her information. He couldn’t believe it.

She was nodding, her gaze turned to his. “This very unit.”

“Are you kidding?” But he could see she was serious. Dead serious. “Jesus.” She had all of his attention now and he didn’t like what he was hearing. One of the girls who’d disappeared had lived in this very studio? What kind of weird twist of fate was that? He studied Tara’s chart as if it were the key to salvation. He held up a hand. “She lived here right before she disappeared? Did you know that when you moved in?”