and muggings to their own deaths.”
“Lauren isn’t faking anything,” Sophie said. “She started her career as an investigative reporter. I think she had a lead on a big crime and came here to report on it.”
“What kind of crime?” Graham shifted in his chair, the only sign that he was growing impatient.
“I don’t know. It would have to be something big, if she was going to boost ratings.”
“And she didn’t tell you anything?” Carmen spoke slowly, thoughtfully.
“No—just that she was working on a new project that would fix everything.”
“And she never said anything about coming to Montrose or Black Canyon Park or anything like that?” Simon snapped off the question, as if interrogating a suspect. Rand knew this was just his way, but Sophie bridled at this approach.
“No,” she said, and pressed her lips together, clamming up.
“How often did you talk to her?” Rand asked.
She turned toward him. “Once a week or so. Sometimes more often.”
“Anyone else she was close to? A best friend? Neighbors?”
“She still talked to her ex-husband, Phil, occasionally. Have you interviewed him?”
Rand frowned. “Why do you think we should talk to him?”
“Aren’t husbands—or ex-husbands—always the first people police suspect when someone disappears?”
“It depends on the case,” Graham said. “Did Lauren and Phil Starling have a contentious relationship?”
She flushed. “No. I mean, she wasn’t happy about the divorce—he was cheating on her, after all. And he left her to be with the other woman.”
“But she’d already granted the divorce, right?” Simon asked. “She didn’t put any obstacles in his way.”
“No. She even agreed to pay support, since she made more money than he did.”
“So he didn’t really have any reason to follow her from Denver to Montrose and do her harm,” Rand said.
“We don’t know that for sure. And you won’t know until you talk to him.” She looked stubborn, chin up, mouth set in a firm line.
“What about other family members?” he asked. “Brothers, sisters, parents?”
She shook her head. “There’s just the two of us. Our parents were killed in a car accident when I was a sophomore in college. Lauren was a senior in high school.”
“So you’re used to looking after her,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Maybe she resented that,” Simon said. “Maybe she purposely kept things from you.”
“I’m sure she kept a great deal from me. Whatever you think, I didn’t try to run her life. But I know her. She wouldn’t take her own life. And you can quote statistics all day long, but even if—and it’s a huge if in my mind—even if she wanted to kill herself, why would she travel five hours away from her home to disappear in a national park?”
“Sometimes people choose a place that’s meaningful to them,” Marco said. “One they associate with memories or special people.”
“She’d never been here before. This park meant nothing special to her. She loved the city. She wasn’t a hiker or a camper or anything like that.”
“So why was she here?” Graham brought them back to the essential question. “What was this story you think she was working on?”
“I don’t know, but it must have been something major, if she thought it could save her career.”
“If she wanted to report on a major crime, you’d think she’d stay in Denver,” Carmen said.
“Except you guys are here.” Sophie sat up straighter, and looked them each in the eye. “Why form a special task force if there isn’t something big going on here? I did my homework. I know about the drug busts, the human-trafficking ring and the murder of that pilot. Maybe Lauren had uncovered something to do with all that.”
“She never came to us, or to local law enforcement with that information,” Graham said.
“Maybe she never had time,” Sophie said.
“In the course of your research, did you see the newspaper articles about your sister’s disappearance?” Graham asked. “Written by a local reporter who’s taken an interest in the story.”
“Emma Wade. Yes, I read the stories. I plan to talk to her, but I came to you first.”
Rand watched the captain closely. Only those who knew him well would register the slight flush that reddened the tips of his ears at the mention of reporter Emma Wade—soon to be Emma Ellison. Her reporting on Lauren Starling’s disappearance had put her at odds with the gruff commander at first, but now they were engaged.
“Ms. Wade came to us with her concerns about your sister and we have followed every lead,” Graham said. “But there’s nothing there.” He slid back his chair and stood. “I’m sorry, Ms. Montgomery, I wish I had better news for you. If you find out something more, don’t hesitate to contact us.”
The others started moving chairs and rising also. Carmen gave Sophie a sympathetic look and patted her shoulder. Sophie’s expression clouded and Rand braced himself for a storm—of tears or anger, he wasn’t sure which.
But she was stronger—and more determined—than he’d given her credit for. “Wait,” she said. “There’s one other thing that might tie her to this area—to your jurisdiction.”
Graham paused on his way to the door. “What’s that?”
She dug in her purse and held up a small rectangle of white cardboard. “I found this in her apartment. It was tucked into a book beside the bed—the police said they searched her apartment, but they obviously didn’t feel this was significant.”
Randall took the piece of thin cardboard and stared at the crisp black letters on its glossy finish.
“What is it?” Simon demanded.
“It’s a business card.” He turned it over and over, then looked up at his coworkers. “A business card for Richard Prentice.”
Sophie tried to read the look that passed between the officers. The business card definitely interested them. “Do you know Richard Prentice?” she asked. “Have you asked him if he knows anything about my sister’s disappearance?”
“You don’t know Prentice?” Rand Knightbridge asked. “Your sister didn’t mention him?”
“She never said anything about him. And I’m not from here, so I don’t keep up with local people and events. I looked him up on the internet, but all I learned is that he’s a very rich businessman and he has an estate near the park. That seems significant, don’t you think? Maybe she came here to see him.”
“Where are you from?” Captain Ellison asked.
“Madison, Wisconsin. Tell me about Richard Prentice.”
“Like you said, he’s a rich guy who owns a mansion near here,” Officer Woolridge said, his sour expression making clear his opinion of Prentice.
“We should talk to him,” Sophie said. “Maybe he knows why Lauren was here. Maybe she interviewed him for a story.”
Again, Rand and the captain exchanged looks. “What is it?” she demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”