“What do you think we’ll find?” Toni asked as we crossed Portage Bay on Lake Union.
I thought for a second. “From what Kelli told us, my guess is we’ll find a pretty dysfunctional family.”
Toni nodded. “Safe guess. Do you think the woman will talk to us?”
“Hard to say,” I said. “Remember, we’ve only heard one side of the story-and that second hand to boot. What Isabel said to Kelli is a serious charge, to be sure. But just to be safe, I don’t think we should be jumping to any conclusions as to whether or not it’s true-at least not until we talk to some of the other people involved. We don’t have enough information yet.”
Toni nodded again. We drove north for ten minutes or so without talking, listening to more of the new Brandi Carlile album.
We had just passed the Edmonds ferry off-ramp at Highway 104 when Toni turned to me.
“Thank you,” she said.
I glanced at her. “For what?”
“Thanks for taking the time to look into this.”
I smiled. “For you? Anything.”
“That’s nice, but this job doesn’t pay, and I know we need some paying jobs.” I hadn’t gone over our financial picture with Toni, but it didn’t come as any great surprise that she’d been able to figure it out. She’s quick, and she doesn’t miss much.
I shrugged. “We’ll be fine,” I said. “We have some things coming up.”
She was quiet for a few seconds, and then she said, “Well, thanks, in any case. You don’t have to do this.”
I smiled. “I want to. It’s important to you. And if it’s important to you, it’s important to me. Besides, I’d probably be all over this anyway-runaway abused teenager and all. That’s not really something you can say no to. Let’s just do a little checking around and see if there’s anything there.”
We got off the freeway at the Alderwood Mall Parkway exit in Lynnwood. I hung a quick left on 196th and three minutes later, we pulled up in front of Isabel’s house on 192nd Street. The neighborhood was a subdivision of single-family homes that looked to have the inexpensive, low-detail style that was prevalent in the early ’70s. Still, the landscape was mature and, for the most part, the homes were well kept. Isabel’s home at 4268 was one of a handful of exceptions-it was definitely in need of repair. The brown paint on the two-story home was faded to a grayish tan. The white trim was peeling. The door, also white, was worn and scuffed. The front lawn had more holes and weeds than lawn.
A light blue, ten-year-old Nissan sat next to an old pickup truck in the driveway. The primer-covered truck clearly hadn’t moved in quite some time-if the dirt and cracked windshield weren’t enough of a giveaway, the fact that both tires on the right side were flat was. The truck had a definite list and appeared to be banking like a motorcycle into a gentle right sweeper.
“Home, sweet home,” Toni said.
“It’s a shithole,” I agreed. “But I’ve seen worse.”
Toni nodded. “I believe it.”
We got out of the Jeep and walked to the front door. I rang the bell.
A few seconds later, an attractive woman opened the door. She was a couple of inches shorter than Toni, and she had dark, wavy hair. She was dressed in business clothes-royal blue blazer, a green skirt with a white top. She looked to be perhaps forty years old.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” I said. “Are you Marisol Webber?” Kenny had looked up the property owner records before we left so that we had full names.
As soon as I spoke, the woman’s eyebrows arched, and she sucked in her breath.
She nodded. “Are you police?” she asked. “Are you here about Isabel? Did something happen to her?”
“No, ma’am,” I said, shaking my head. “We’re not the police.” I handed her my business card, and Toni did the same. “We’re private investigators,” I said. “But you’re right-we are here about Isabel. We wondered if we might be able to ask you a few questions about your daughter.”
“You’re not police?” she asked again. She studied our cards carefully. I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”
“We’re here because a friend of Isabel’s contacted us,” Toni said. “She said Isabel is missing, and she’s concerned about her. We were asked to look into things.”
“Who?” Marisol asked. “Who hired you?”
We didn’t want to reveal Kelli’s name to Isabel’s mother, and especially not to her stepfather. “I’m afraid we’re not able to say,” I said. “Our client asked to remain anonymous. At least for the time being. They want to protect their privacy, but they are very concerned about Isabel. I’m sure you understand.”
She looked at me, confused.
“Would you mind if we came in and asked you a few questions?” Toni said.
Marisol hesitated. She glanced up and down the street quickly. “Okay,” she said. “But just for a few minutes. I have to go to work.”
“Thank you,” Toni said.
Marisol led us inside to the living room. The home was clean and neat. Toni and I sat on an overstuffed, floral-print sofa. Marisol sat in a chair across from us.
“Marisol-,” I started to say.
“Please, call me Mary,” she said. “I’m not used to Marisol anymore.”
I smiled. “Okay, sorry, Mary.” I opened my notebook. “Can you start by confirming for us that Isabel is missing?”
She stared at me for a moment. “She’s not home, if that’s what you mean.”
I cocked my head. Word games? C’mon. “Alright. Let me ask it another way,” I said. “Do you know where Isabel is?”
She looked out the living room window for a second and gathered her thoughts before turning back to me. “She left,” she said. “Isabel ran away from home-maybe a month ago now.”
I nodded. “Thank you. That’s our understanding as well, but I needed to confirm it with you.”
“During that time, have you heard from her?” Toni asked.
“She called once and left a message on my voicemail,” Mary said. “She said she was okay and that she’d call back later.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“And has she called back since then?”
Mary shook her head. “No. Not yet.”
“Does she have a cell phone?” I asked. I knew she did, but I wanted to hear what her mother had to say.
“Yes.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“Yes, of course. It just goes to voicemail. Isabel doesn’t call me back.”
“Have you filed a missing person report with the police?” Toni asked.
Mary stared at her for a moment. “No,” she said.
“Why not?” Toni asked.
“I can’t control her,” Mary said. “She’s sixteen. She’s making her own decisions now.”
I arched an eyebrow and then shook my head. “I’m not sure the law’s going to look at it the same way you do,” I said. “Matter of fact, I’m pretty sure that the law would say you’re supposed to file a missing person report if your minor child disappears.”
She said nothing, and the quiet began to grow in intensity.
This interview was off to a bad start. Toni sensed this as well, so she stepped in.
“Mary,” she said, “we’re not here to cause you any trouble, believe me. All we want to do is to help Isabel. Let me ask you this. Why would Isabel leave? Did something happen?”
“Yeah,” Mary said. “I guess she just grew up. She decided she doesn’t want to be here anymore. So she left.”
“Nothing happened around here to make her want to leave?” Toni asked.
Before Mary could answer, Toni continued. “Usually, kids don’t just up and leave for no reason. Usually, something happens that makes them feel like they need to leave. It doesn’t always make sense to us as adults, but it does to them. Did something happen that made Isabel feel like she needed to leave?”
Mary looked at Toni. “What do you mean? Something like what?”
“Anything,” Toni said. “Anything at all that might have caused Isabel to feel like she needed to leave home.”