The Girl and the Unlucky 13 (Emma Griffin™ FBI Mystery) by A.J. Rivers (i have read the book .txt) 📕

“Alright. What does that have to do with the puddle?”

“Okay, watch it again. Right before she lifts her head, look at the puddle.” We watch and I quickly pause the footage. “Do you see that shimmer in the puddle? I think that’s a reflection of a car.”

Dean leans closer and scrutinizes the still image. “It is. Someone drove up to the side of the hospital. That’s what she’s reacting to.”

“Someone must have pulled up and said something to her. But when she gets up and goes around the corner, no car drives through. Which means it backed up. There’s an entrance to that part of the parking lot not too far from that side. It’s a service entrance, but whoever picked her up could have used it as a shortcut.”

“He must be familiar with the area,” Dean says. He looks at the footage again and makes an exasperated sound. “I wish we could see the reflection better. So we could figure out what kind of car it is. It looks dark, maybe blue or black. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about the license plate, no graphics or anything, so that narrows it down a little bit. We just can’t see what it says.”

“How much sway do you think we have when it comes to getting vehicle records?”

“It’s you, so… as much sway as you want to have before people figure out you maybe shouldn’t?” Dean suggests.

“Fair enough evaluation. Okay, I need you to find out what kind of car everybody in Ashley’s life drove at this time. Everybody among her family, her friends, her neighbors. All the people you can get your hands on, find out what they drove. Then we need to find out if there were any traffic stops, parking tickets, tolls, anything that night that would have documented where any of those cars was,” I say. “We’re going to do some process of elimination.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean says. “Don’t jog too hard.”

I wave at him over my shoulder as he goes inside, and I keep staring at the screen, hoping something else will pop out at me. My phone rings, and I can’t help but smile when I see that it’s Sam.

“Hey, babe,” I say.

“What about winter wonderland on the beach? How does that strike you for a wedding theme? Sandcastles that look like polar bears. Christmas trees decorated with starfish. Little baggies of graham cracker crumbs and white chocolate seashells as our favor.”

I laugh. “It would definitely be unique.”

“Unique is one of those words people say when they don’t want to be really mean, but they can’t think of anything nice, isn’t it?” he asks.

“I think the little baggies of graham cracker crumbs sound very nice,” I offer. “We could add tiny marshmallows and it could be a beach-themed s’mores kit, because I love your s’mores than anything.”

“Xavier would be so ashamed that just came out of your mouth,” Sam says.

“I am.”

I jump, nearly dropping my phone. Xavier steps back slightly as if he’s startled by my whipping around to look at him.

“What the hell, Xavier?”

“S’mores use milk chocolate. Sometimes dark, in extremely specific circumstances. Never, and I repeat never, white chocolate. Seashell shaped or not.”

“How long have you been standing there?” I demand.

“Since Dean walked out of the room without me,” he shrugs.

“Did he know you were in the room?”

“Probably not. He left me making waffles with Ava. She puts too much batter in and it leaks, but she flips it over anyway. I can’t handle that,” he says, walking out onto the balcony.

“I don’t know if I like how easily he was able to sneak up on you,” Sam says.

“I didn’t sneak up on her,” Xavier says. “I was here the whole time.”

“Not reassuring.”

“Why do you want to know about all the cars?” Xavier asks. “I can understand a couple of them, but why everybody’s car?”

“I just want to narrow down the options,” I say.

“The options for what?” Xavier asks.

“What is he talking about?”

I let out a sigh. “Hold on. I’m going to video call you. We might as well turn this into a full-on conference.”

I hang up and call Sam with video so I can explain everything to both of them. I tell them about my conversation with Ashley and Misty.

“Are you saying you don’t think they’re telling the truth?” Sam asks. “You think this is…what, a hoax?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“For what benefit, though? What would they get out of lying about her being missing? And where has she actually been? That’s a whole lot of mass delusion if you think that she’s been around, but the town is convinced she’s been missing for five years,” Sam says.

“I’m not saying I think she’s just been hanging out, going to school, flipping burgers at the diner, and no one has noticed,” I clarify. “It just doesn’t add up. Nothing does. I can’t decide which of the people around her I trust the least.”

“Or her?” Xavier says.

I sigh, sliding through the pictures on my tablet to one I’ve been thinking about all morning. One taken of Ashley when she first walked out onto the soccer field and Misty ran to her. The one that shows Ashley’s hand gripping her mother’s arm as the two embrace, and the streaks of red polish on one of her nails.

Forty-Nine

The door to the room opens and Ava comes in, looking frantic. Her face relaxes as soon as she sees Xavier.

“There you are,” she sighs. “I swear, I took my eyes off him for two seconds.”

“You go ahead,” Sam says. “Seems you have a lot going on there. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Think about the winter beach.”

“I don’t think I have any option but to think about the winter beach,” I reply.

“Bye.”

He laughs and his face disappears from my phone. I grab up everything from the small table on the balcony and head into my room.

“He’s not a child,” I tell Ava, putting everything onto the larger table inside