“I hear congratulations are in order. Another baby. That’s great.”

Robbie said, “Hey, thanks,” but his attention had already transferred to his daughter. “Boots by the door,” he told her as he set her down. When Erynn went straight for her grandmother and the toys, he only laughed. “You’ve made Suze pretty happy, you know, with this visit of yours. She never got over losing you as a friend. She talks about it sometimes. I get the sense she was kind of devastated about the way you left her.”

“Oh.” Hearing it put that way was devastating in and of itself. “I do have some regrets about that.”

“Bah, you were kids. What can you do?”

“Right,” I said, all too happy to have an excuse.

I hadn’t thought much about Robbie since my conversation with Crissy, but now that he was here, I wasn’t going to let the opportunity to question him slip by. His relationship with Crissy hadn’t lasted long, but a lot can happen in a few months when you’re a teenager. A lot had.

“Not sure if Suze told you,” I said, “but I’ve been talking to Crissy about Brett.”

He nodded. “Man, that news came as a blow.”

“Yeah. I had no idea she and Suze were friends, by the way.”

“Oh, that. Not gonna lie,” he said, “it was a little weird at first, but Crissy and I dated for like five minutes when we were fourteen. In a small town like this, everyone’s paths cross eventually.”

“Come on, sweetie,” Cheryl said, taking Erynn’s hand. “Let’s get you a snack.”

As soon as they were gone, Robbie sat down. “It’s hard for her,” he said, nodding after his mother. “She doesn’t like to talk about Crissy, and she definitely doesn’t like Suze spending time at Crissy’s place. She reminds her too much of Brett, I think. Let’s face it, she was no angel, and when her dad left out of the blue . . . Ma needed someone to blame, I guess.”

I’m not in the habit of putting words in people’s mouths. When I’m interviewing a witness, I keep my questions dead simple to flesh out the situation and look for discrepancies. To try to catch them in a lie. Leading questions aren’t just unproductive; they can muddy the waters of an investigation. So while I was dying to ask whether there might be another reason Cheryl couldn’t stand to look at Crissy—lingering guilt over offing her father, perhaps?—I held my tongue. “Can I ask you something?” I said instead. “When Crissy was fifteen, she went missing for a while. Do you remember that?”

Robbie’s expression softened. “’Course I do. Let me tell you, now that I’ve got Erynn not a day goes by that I’m not cursing all the psychos out there waiting to prey on an innocent girl.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, and Robbie, as if he’d only just remembered my profession, gave a knowing nod. “I’m trying to piece that whole thing together, but my memory’s a little fuzzy.”