dinnertime to bring the family together. And if she happens to be out, I’ll wait.”
“She drives a dark green SUV.” Ryan gave Marc the year and the model, along with the license plate number. “So if you see the car in the driveway or the garage, you’re in luck.”
“Gotcha.” Marc glanced across the conference room table at Casey, who’d been unusually quiet during this minimeeting. “Does that work for you or do you need me here?”
“It works. And I’m going with you.” Casey set down Jan Olson’s date book, which she’d been studying for the past hour. “We need to really probe the boyfriend angle with Brenda. Whether Jan was seeing one guy or ten, I want as much info on them as possible. And Brenda is more apt to be open with another woman than with a man. You can question her about everything else, Marc. But I’m taking the boyfriend route.”
“Okay.” Marc’s eyes narrowed quizzically. He knew that expression on Casey’s face. She was focused on something in particular—something she thought might be significant. “Want to share?”
Casey pointed at the date book. “Daniel Olson was right. Jan was a typical teenage girl, who made typical entries in her date book. One of the most common notations is something a father would never notice.” She pointed at one page, then another, and finally a third.
“What are we looking for?” Ryan asked.
“Dots.” Claire spotted them in an instant. “Each of those pages has a dot on it.”
“And the dots show up every four weeks, almost to the day.” Casey indicated a few more pages. “Jan was keeping track of her periods. Most women do. And hers came like clockwork, right up until two months before her disappearance. Then they stopped altogether.”
“You think she was pregnant,” Ryan concluded.
“I think the timing is too coincidental to be ignored. No period for two months, followed by an inexplicable disappearance?” Casey frowned. “That connection definitely requires investigation.”
“Makes sense.” Marc looked thoughtful. “Although it feels like a reach. A single young woman becoming pregnant, even fifteen years ago, wasn’t an eyebrow-lifter. And it wouldn’t be difficult to take care of quietly, especially on a college campus. Health services would be right there to give her a hand, no matter what she decided. And they’d keep it confidential, by law.”
“True,” Casey agreed. “But the Olsons are a very traditional church-going family. There were childhood photos of Jan receiving her First Communion in the living room. And Mr. Olson mentioned that he’d donated Jan’s clothing to their church. If religion factored heavily into their lives, maybe Jan couldn’t cope with a pregnancy emotionally, even if she could take care of it physically.”
“Which brings us to the baby’s father.”
“Exactly.” Casey nodded. “Who is he and how far would he be willing to go to make this pregnancy—and the mother—go away?”
Marc still seemed pensive. “Did your friend Holly ever mention a boyfriend?”
Casey knew just where he was headed with this. “No. She definitely wasn’t seeing anyone. We were pretty close. She would have said something to me if there was a guy in her life.”
“Then if your theory turns out to be true, you’ve probably scratched the idea that we’re dealing with a serial killer. The motives in Holly’s and Jan’s cases would no longer match. Jan’s situation would be a personal, not a random, crime. For all we know, she took a fat check from the baby-daddy and disappeared. Or, at worst, he killed her. Either way, it dashes your hopes of linking this to Holly’s death.”
“I realize that.” Casey met Marc’s gaze. “And, no, it doesn’t make me happy. But I told you from the beginning that my first priority was to find out what happened to Jan Olson. And that’s what I intend to do—whether or not it links to Holly.”
“Fair enough. Then let’s interview Brenda together. Between the two of us, we’ll get everything she knows about her best friend.”
* * *
Brenda Reins was just popping a casserole into the oven when her doorbell rang.
She wiped her hands on her apron, glancing at the clock with more than a little annoyance. It was rare that her family was all together for dinner. Between Daisy Scouts, Little League, music lessons and sleepovers—not to mention Ronald’s endless hours at his law office—it was a battle to get the five of them home and gathered around the table at the same time.
She’d planned tonight for a week, synchronizing all the schedules so they could enjoy a fun evening at home—right down to the popcorn and the movie. The kids were already upstairs, finishing their homework. And Ron was wrapping up a meeting and heading home.
If the person ringing that doorbell was one of her younger kids’ friends, she was going to be one very irritated mom.
Determined to get rid of whoever was on her doorstep, Brenda marched into the foyer and flung open the front door.
Whoever she might have expected, it wasn’t the couple standing there. “Can I help you?” she asked, brows drawn in question.
“I hope so,” the woman replied. “I’m assuming you’re Brenda Reins?”
“I am. And you are...?” She waited for an answer.
“My name is Casey Woods.” Casey held up her New York private investigator’s license. “This is my associate, Marc Devereaux. We’re from the investigative firm Forensic Instincts. We’ve been hired to look into the disappearance of Jan Olson.”
“Jan?” Brenda was taken aback. “She vanished over fifteen years ago. Why are you checking into this now? Have you learned something new about what happened to her?”
“We’re not sure,” Marc said frankly. “But the investigation has been reopened. We understand that you were her closest friend. We were hoping you could take a few minutes to talk to us, to tell us more about her.”
Brenda hesitated. “You say the case has been reopened. By whom? Who hired you?” she asked.
“Technically, the NYPD hired us,” Casey responded. “They don’t have the resources to devote to such a long shot. We do. If you’re asking who requested the investigation, the answer is Jan’s father. He’s gravely ill. He’s desperate to find some closure to his daughter’s disappearance before he dies.”
Sadness clouded Brenda’s face. “Mr. Olson was such a kind man. He used to take a bunch of us out to dinner whenever he visited—and he always included the kids who lived far away and couldn’t get home to see their own families. I’m so sorry to hear he’s ill. Please, come in.”
“Thank you.” Casey preceded Marc into the house. It was a richly appointed colonial, with a grand foyer and French provincial furniture to match.
Brenda led them into the living room and gestured for them to have a seat on the sofa. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
Casey waved away the offer. “We appreciate your taking the time to talk to us. We’ll make this as brief as possible and then be on our way. Could you give us some insight into Jan Olson? Her personality, state of mind, friends, interests, classes—anything the two of you shared or that you were aware of?”
Brenda let out a long sigh. “It feels like a million years ago. Yet it still stuns me to think about it. Jan was a sweetheart with a heart of gold. I can’t imagine anyone who’d want to hurt her. She was shy and studious, with just a small circle of friends.”
“Did you know most of those friends?” Marc broke in to ask. “Would you able to compile a list?”
“Sure. Although, with the exception of our mutual friends, I have no idea where the others are now.”
“Finding