Page 32 of The Whispering Girls
“You need documentation and possible collection?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the address?”
“172 Spruce Street, apartment 112.”
There was a slight pause before he answered. “I can be there in about fifteen to twenty minutes.”
“Great. Thank y—” The call ended. “Okay…” she said.
“What?”
“That was abrupt.”
“Katie, you know we’re in a very small town and people can be a little different,” he said.
“I guess.” She put on her gloves and then insertedthe key into the lock. The knob was stuck and it took a couple of minutes to get the door open.
“Looks like someone messed with the lock,” McGaven said.
Katie pushed the door open. “Hello?” she said just to make sure no one was around. “Police. Anyone here?”
Satisfied the apartment was not occupied, both detectives stepped inside and stood at the threshold. It was a small one-bedroom apartment, which could have easily been a studio to give it a more spacious feel. There was no sofa, but a large comfortable chair with a side table in the corner, and a small two-shelf unit on the other side. There was also a bistro table with two chairs near a small kitchen with a stove, single counter, and sink along another wall. Besides the area being rather small, it still had a cozy personal feeling. There were a couple of homemade quilts, some artwork on the walls, pillows on the chair, and a pile of books on the floor. A vase of silk flowers was on the table and the kitchen was tidy, with a folded towel on the counter along with a washed plate, silverware, and a glass.
Katie moved into the room. It didn’t look like there had been a struggle and the space was neat and tidy. What struck her most was that this apartment seemed to belong to someone who was happy and enjoyed her home.
Katie walked into the tiny bedroom, which had a twin daybed and small vertical dresser. The bed was made and its blankets precisely folded. Several pillows were piled in order. The dresser had a couple of figurines, some cut-glass pieces, and two picture frames. In one frame, there was a photo of Theresa and two older people, which Katie assumed to be her parents. In another frame were Theresa and a young man. They seemed close and Katie expected that it was a close friend or boyfriend.
“Hey,” said McGaven from the kitchen.
Katie met up with her partner.
“I found this in the drawer,” he said. “It’s her address book. I haven’t seen a laptop or cell phone.”
“Seems strange.”
McGaven thumbed through the names and phone numbers.
“Anything?”
“This looks like her parents on this page. Have they been contacted?” he said.
“I’m assuming Officer Clark has that under control.”
McGaven gave her a look as if to convey that the officer may not.
Just then Katie’s phone rang. “Speak of the devil.” She answered it and put it on speaker. “Detective Scott. You’re on speaker.”
“Scott. Is McGaven with you?” said Clark.
“Yes. We’re at Theresa’s apartment.”
“I’ve pulled her cell phone records.”
“There isn’t a cell phone or computer here,” she said.
“Huh. Well, I’m looking at the call lists and it seems that there were a number of calls in the past week from a…Devin Bradley…and two days before her body was found there were at least a dozen calls from him but they lasted only five or ten seconds.”
