“The kid had a sense of humor,” she said. “Listen to this. It’s dated about a year ago. ‘We made love again last night.’ She’s referring to Chris. ‘I did something I’ve never done before. I opened my eyes and looked at him while he was doing it. He looked like he was going to sneeze but it never came out so I guess that’s just how he looks when he’s into it. I like to make love, I like the closeness to Chris, but I kept wanting to offer him a tissue when I watched him. From now on, I think I’ll keep my eyes closed.’”

Decker smiled, but it was edged with sadness. Marge caught the melancholy in his eyes.

“This is very ghoulish,” she said, flipping the page.

“At least we’re on the side of truth and justice.”

“You forgot the American way.”

The Plymouth hooked onto the 210 Freeway, the major thoroughfare that linked the Foothill pocket communities with intercity urban sprawl. Dusk coated the mountains, obscuring their hard edges. Marge took out a penlight to augment the dwindling light.

“Did she write about boys other than Chris?” Decker asked.

“Nope. At least not so far.” She read a few more pages to herself. “Lindsey was wild about Chris. Gushing. True love.”

“Get a feel for him?”

“He liked sex.”

“That’s the majority of the diary?”

“Oh no, not at all. Most of it is very mundane—one-sentence entries. She didn’t even write every day. Here—the whole weekend is summed up as ‘I bought a pink blouse.’ Two days later she writes, ‘I got a new pair of sandals.’ The next weekend it’s, ‘I gotta get to a beach. My tan’s fading. I look like Ghostwoman.’”

Marge went back to reading. The police radio spat out calls that concerned neither of them. Decker lit a cigarette to break the monotony of the ride.

“Listen to this,” Marge said. “Dated around six months ago. ‘Erin came home dressed in her bag-lady getup.’”

“Aha.”

“‘Honestly, she’s just hopeless! And she could do so much more with herself if she’d just try. God, I’m sounding like Mom. How gross!’”

Decker laughed. “Insight at fifteen.”

“Hey, some never achieve it in a lifetime.”

“That’s true. Did she write about posing for Chris in the nude?”

“Yeah. Let me find the entries…Ah, here’s one. ‘Cris took more nude pictures of me. Like always, we made love afterwards, this time doggie style. Man, he’s big, I like it the best when I’m on top.’” Marge smiled. “Adventurous little thing, wasn’t she.”

“Can’t hold back raging hormones.”

She looked at him. “Is it hard being the father of a teenaged daughter?”

“It has its moments.” He definitely didn’t like the tenor of this conversation. “Is there anything to suggest that Chris coerced her into posing nude?”

“Not that I can tell.”