Marge put down her pad. “Maybe we came too soon for you to do this. It’s not because we’re callous. It’s just that every second we let slip by is less time for us to do our job and more time for your daughter’s murderer to get away. But if this is too hard on you, we can come back tomorrow.”

Mrs. Bates dried her tears and shook her head no. “I’m all right.”

“Sure?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Bates said. “What was I saying?”

“It was Saturday,” Marge answered, taking up her pad.

“Yes, Saturday,” Mrs. Gates repeated. “Lindsey said she was going to the Galleria to shop, to look for a blouse…She’d just started driving and the mall was close to home….” She threw up her hands. “What else can I tell you? That was the last anyone ever heard of her…until now.”

“Do you know if she was planning to meet someone?” Marge asked.

Mrs. Bates’s face turned livid.

“The original detective asked me the same question. Don’t police ever read each other’s reports?”

“I like to be thorough,” Marge explained.

The woman sank back into her chair. “I’m terribly sorry for my behavior—”

“No, don’t apologize. You’re doing fine.”

“As far as I know,” Mrs. Bates said, “she wasn’t going to meet anyone. I can give you a list of all of her friends and you can ask them if Lindsey called them.”

“Thank you. That would be helpful.” She continued. “Do you know the stores your daughter routinely shopped at?”

“Bullocks, Broadway, May Company, Robinson’s. She like Contempo, although I always thought they were a little on the high side.”

“Did she follow a certain routine when she shopped? Park in the same place? Comb the stores in the same pattern?”

“Not that I know of. Her friends could tell you better than I can.” Her facial expression became wistful. “We used to shop together years ago, but you know kids…They like to be with their friends…Lindsey loved my taste in clothes. People often mistook us for sisters.”

Marge couldn’t see it. But the woman had probably aged ten years since her daughter’s disappearance. She consulted the notes Decker had prepared for her.

“Lindsey has a younger sister, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Were they close?”

“Yes,” she answered, with a defensive note to her voice. “We’re a very close family.”

“And she’s at school now?”

“Yes. Erin’s at school.” As if she were reassuring herself.

“I’d like to talk to her, also.”

The woman’s eyes darkened.

“Why? Do you think the girls were keeping secrets from me?”

“It’s routine, I assure you, Mrs. Bates.”

Mrs. Bates bit her lip.

“If you think it’s necessary.”

Marge nodded.

“The girls are…were very different,” Mrs. Bates mumbled.

“In what way?”