Page 36 of Last Seen
“Hello?”
A man’s voice; rough, abrasive. “I’m looking for Halley James.”
“Is this Tyler Armstrong?”
“Yeah. What’s this nonsense about you knowing where Cat is?”
She is taken aback by his harshness. “I didn’t say I knew where she was. I said I’m her sister.”
“She never told me she had a sister.”
“Did she tell you anything about her past?”
“Just that her mom died when she was sixteen.”
“Didn’t you live in Nashville then? Didn’t you know her in high school? I remember you picking me up from school once with her.” Unsaid: “How did you not hear about your friend murdering her mother?”
“Your memory is better than mine. My family moved to Boston at the beginning of my junior year. We met again in college. What is this about?”
“You had a sister named Tracy, though, right? I was in elementary school with her.”
He gives a sharp, nonamused laugh. “You’re just determined to ruin my day, aren’t you? Tracy OD’d four years ago. Thanks for bringing it up.”
“Oh. I am so sorry to hear that. Were you close?”
“Not particularly. I was a lot older, and already out of the house, went to boarding school junior and senior year. She got wrapped up with some guy she met at a church lock-in when she was sixteen, and he got her hooked on crack.”
Sixteen. Halley was here, safely ensconced in the bosom of Goode, with her dad looking over her shoulder. Not in a bad way, in a welcome way. He kept her from making too many dumb mistakes. Her shyness helped with that, too.
“And you went to Harvard with Cat?”
“Listen, I’m busy as hell. Cat bailed on me fifteen years ago, and personally I think she’s dead, though there’s no way to prove it. If you know where she is, I would like to hear, so the court can follow up. Otherwise, you’re wasting my time.”
“I don’t know where she is.”
“Then good luck to you.” He hangs up.
“Asshole,” she mutters. “No wonder she divorced you.”
Interesting, though, that Cat used the same story Halley’s dad did—that her mom died in an accident. Tyler’s recall of Cat’s past seemed to be as cut and dried as Alison’s. Maybe he knew the truth and was covering for Cat? Though he didn’t seem like the type to do anyone a favor that didn’t benefit him.
That leaves her wondering how big of a story the murder was. You’d think something as salacious as a daughter murdering her mother would be all over the papers. She hasn’t been able to find much at all, but 1989 was before the internet became ubiquitous, and Catriona was a juvenile, too, so it was easier to keep things quiet. But if a friend’s mother was murdered, wouldn’t you at least hear about it? How had Cat managed to convince everyone her mother had died in an accident?
Maybe she was very convincing. Maybe she was charming. More likely she was a cobra, swaying back and forth, hypnotizing her prey.
Before she can take that thought any further, her phone rings again. She recognizes the number—the therapist.
“This is Jana Chowdhury.”
“Hi. Thanks for getting back with me.”
“I’m very happy to finally talk to you, Halley. Cat told me so much about you.”
“She did? That’s surprising to hear. She didn’t seem to share anything about her past with her friends. Or her husband.”
“Hm. Well, therapy is different. Sometimes people need to protect themselves. That said, you know I can’t discuss her case with you unless there is news on her whereabouts, or a court order.”
“So you know she’s missing?”
