Page 8 of Nothing Hiding

"No sign that she was taken or grabbed?" Juliette asked.

Now, for the first time, Mrs. McKay spoke, her voice shaky.

"No. Her room was tidy. Everything in place. Her purse was gone, and her phone too."

"Her room wasn't tidy. It was a damned mess," her husband corrected her. "But there were no signs of a struggle."

Juliette nodded, taking in the information. "And what can you tell us about Daisy's routine? Does she usually go out at night?"

The ambassador's face grew red with anger. "No, of course not! She's not allowed to do that. I have very strict rules about it!"

Juliette nodded. She could see that McKay did run his household with high levels of control, and she was wondering if this outing had been a rebellious act. That was at the back of her mind, although there were other scenarios to rule out first.

"Have you received any recent threats? Any ransom demands?"

"Nothing!" McKay blustered. "But I know this has to be about me. It’s always been a fear of mine in this position. That’s why I've always told Daisy that she must listen to what we say and not expose herself. We had strict rules about her staying home. I know what it's like to be a diplomat, and that family members can be targeted. Plus, she was only eighteen and far too young to be out on her own!"

Juliette nodded, understanding the ambassador's concerns. She had seen it before, the need for control in situations where one feels vulnerable. But she needed to dig deeper.

"Do you have any enemies, Mr. McKay? Anyone who might have reason to harm you or your family?"

He scoffed. "Of course, there are people who don't like me, and yes, I can make you a list of the ones I’ve had recent problems with."

“We’ll definitely need that, fast,” she said. But before they focused on possible suspects, they needed to trace Daisy’s movements. That might allow them to figure out where she was taken, and cameras could provide some clues.

"Do you know where she was going?" she asked.

"Not a clue. For all I know it was just a harebrained scheme to defy me!" he said.

"She wouldn't do that!" his wife protested, and he scowled at her.

"Teenagers," he said darkly. “You know what they’re like. She’s never followed the rules or understood their importance.”

Juliette thought that comment was worth following up on, because for sure, there could have been rebellion against her dad’s firm control, but first, she wanted to see the circumstances for herself.

"Could we possibly take a look in her bedroom?" she asked.

He looked surprised. "Sure. If you think you can find anything in there, go ahead."

He stood up and marched across the carpeted living room, heading to the hallway, and leading the way up a wide, winding staircase with carved banisters. On the second floor, he turned right and strode down a corridor.

"This is her room," he said.

The door was open. Juliette stepped inside the spacious bedroom.

It was an uneasy mixture of impersonality and personality. With posters on the walls, colorful cushions, and a shelf full of stuffed toys and ornaments, Daisy had clearly done her best to put her own stamp on an impersonal, showpiece space.

The steel framed four poster bed looked rumpled, as if she'd spent some time on it but not slept inside it that night. There were no signs of a struggle that she could see. Other than the antique furnishings, it was a normal teen's room. A backpack lying near the writing desk, an empty soda bottle on the desk, some shoes and clothing on the floor, and more clothing draped on the large wingback chair.

There were cosmetics on the vanity, she saw. Glittering eyeshadow, a lipstick that hadn't been properly closed. There were a couple of tops slung on the back of the chair and all of them looked like the kind of gear that a young woman might have chosen before heading out to dance and party. Glittering, sparkling, bling items. A perfume bottle lay on its side.

Had she been choosing outfits for an illicit night of partying?

If so, Juliette knew who might know more about where she’d been heading.

"Daisy’s friends," she said to the angry father. "Do you know who her closest friends in London are?"

CHAPTER FIVE

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