Part 15 (1/2)
Chapter Twenty-one.
Jill hustled toward the police station, which was an aging, low-rise building of nicotine yellow brick, shaped like a grocery-store sheet cake. It had a stop-time blue sign with art-deco letters that read POLICE 6TH DISTRICT, and a parking lot beside the building held a handful of white cruisers bearing the distinctive yellow-and-blue stripe of the Philadelphia Police. There weren't any cops on the street or out front, and she hurried inside the smudged stainless-steel-and-gla.s.s entrance.
She found herself in a hallway of dingy tile that ended in a forbidding steel door, obviously locked. To the right was a pay phone, and to the left was a poster that read CURFEW CRACKDOWN, then a small sliding window in a blue frame. She crossed to the window, which revealed a rectangular room barely large enough to fit four old desks of gray metal, arranged cheek-by-jowl, each with a black swivel chair. Two of the chairs were occupied by a female and male police officer, and the female looked up, rose, and came to the window.
”Good morning, I'm Officer Mendina,” she said, pleasantly. Her nameplate read Veronica Mendina, and her blue s.h.i.+rt matched the earnest hue of her eyes. Her thick brown bangs were held off her forehead by a bobby pin. ”May I help you?”
”Hi, I'm Jill Farrow, and I'm worried that my former stepdaughter is hurt in her house, or missing. Her name is Abby Skyler, and she lives on Acorn Street. Her car is there, but there's no answer at the door.”
”How old is she?”
”Nineteen.”
”When was the last time you saw her?”
”Around seven o'clock last night, and she hasn't returned my calls or her sister's. Her father just died, and she believes he was murdered.”
Officer Mendina's eyes flared. ”She believes he was? Was it ruled a homicide or not?”
”No, it wasn't, but she still believes it was.” Jill realized something. ”Would you be the ones who investigated it, when the police were called? His name was William Skyler.”
”No, that's Central Detectives, up on 21st Street. So you say she's missing, but it's only been one night. Does she usually stay out all night?”
”I don't know, I don't live with her. I'm a mom, so I worry.”
”I hear that.” Officer Mendina reached under the window and pulled out a form, revealing a black Glock holstered on one hip. On her other hip was a radio, its stiff antenna sticking up like a black spire. ”Now what did you say your daughter's name was? Also, I'll need to see an ID.”
”She's not my daughter.”
”I thought you said she was.”
”No, she's my ex-stepdaughter.” Jill went into her purse, got her driver's license, and slid it across the sill. ”I used to be her stepmother, and both of her parents are dead.”
Officer Mendina examined the driver's license. ”Are you her legal guardian, Dr. Farrow?”
”No.”
”Then what exactly is your relations.h.i.+p to the girl, again?” Officer Mendina returned the driver's license, but withheld the form.
”I'm her ex-stepmother. I was married to her father, who died last Tuesday.”
”Then you don't have standing to file a missing persons. Sorry.” Officer Mendina put the form away.
”Does it matter who reports it? She's hurt or missing, that's all that matters.” Jill pulled a photo from her purse that she'd printed from William's laptop before she left the house. It showed all of them together, down the Jersey sh.o.r.e. ”Look, this is us, from when I was married to her father. The long-haired one is Abby.”
Officer Mendina scrutinized the photo. ”Who's this other girl, the tall one?”
”Her sister, Victoria. Can she file a report?”
”No, she can't. You say the girl's over eighteen, so she's legally an adult, and it's not against the law to want to be left alone. It's only one night.”
”But can you check the house? She's been so distraught since her father died, and drinking.”
”I'm sorry, I can't help you. Our manpower is limited, and we can't go chasing down every nineteen-year-old who has a few beers.” Officer Mendina pursed her unlipsticked lips, and Jill saw empathy in her eyes.
”But she's just been orphaned, and that's hard at any age. Are you a mother? Can't you just check on her?”
Officer Mendina paused. ”Wait here. I'll talk to my supervisor.”
”Thank you, I really appreciate it.” Jill watched her walk back to the office and disappear out of view, and she returned a few minutes later with a shortish, African-American police officer in a white s.h.i.+rt. He had wire-rimmed gla.s.ses and a serious expression, and he walked over to the window with Officer Mendina, then took the lead.
”I'm Sergeant Destin, and I'll tell you what we can do for you. I'm going to send Officer Mendina and another officer of mine to do a walk-through of the house. Make sure everything's okay.”
”Thank you so much,” Jill said, grateful.
”You can't file a report, but we can make sure nothing's going on inside. We can also talk to the neighbors, see if any of them saw her, and put your mind at ease. You say you don't live with her, though?”
”No, I don't.”
”You have keys? We don't break in.”
Jill had a.s.sumed they would, unfortunately. ”I don't, but I can get you some. Gimme an hour.”
”Do it, and we'll meet you there. What's the number on Acorn?”
”382.”
”Okay.” Sergeant Destin checked his thick watch. ”Wait for us at the house.”
”Thanks so much.” Jill turned, slid out her cell phone, and scrolled down for Victoria's phone number as she hurried out of the police station. The call rang twice, then connected. ”Victoria, it's Jill.”
”Don't tell me, let me guess. Abby's over your house. Does she have her own bedroom yet?”
”She's not with me.” Jill hurried toward her car, which was parked in front of the Vietnamese restaurant next door. ”I need you to meet me at your father's house, with the keys. The police are going to go inside and-”
”The police? What do they want?”
”They're coming to the house to check it out and-”
”What are you doing? This is none of your business, Jill.”
”Victoria, please don't give me a hard time. I'm worried that Abby is inside and may be hurt. Her car is there but she doesn't answer.” Jill got her car key, then chirped the door open. ”Just come with the keys. Please.”
”I can't, I have to study.”