"I understand." What was this beautiful young woman doing with a man like Lucassi? He treats her better than any of the other jerks she's hooked up with over the years, Skye had said. Considering Lucassi's condescending manner, those previous relationships must've been bad indeed. Jonathan couldn't have tolerated someone like Lucassi for five minutes. "For the record, could you both state your full names and birthdates?"
"Zoe Elizabeth Duncan. September 13, 1980."
Nineteen-eighty. That meant she was Jonathan's age. Briefly, he tried to imagine a girl in his sophomore class as a rape victim, having a baby at fifteen or sixteen--and keeping it. They'd been mere kids at sixteen. To top it all off, Zoe hadn't had the support system he'd enjoyed. Knowing what he did about her father, he wondered how she'd gotten by in those early years.
But now wasn't the time to ask. He turned his attention to Lucassi.
"And you, sir?"
"Anton Kenneth Lucassi. November 1, 1965."
Fifteen years between them. Jonathan would've guessed at least that much. "Mr. Lucassi, you mentioned you were the last to talk to Zoe's daughter, and the first one home. Could you tell me what happened yesterday?"
"I called Sam over lunch to see how she was. She said she was fine and--"
"Wait a second." Jonathan held up a hand. "Over lunch? Yesterday was Monday. Why wasn't she in school?"
"She has mono," Zoe explained. "She's been out of school for over a week."
"I see."
"So both of us have been checking on her quite often," Anton continued. "But about three hours after I talked to her, Zoe called me at the office, worried because she couldn't reach her."
"Where were you?" he asked Zoe.
"Work."
"This was about three o'clock?"
"That's right," Lucassi said. "She asked me to come home and check on her."
"Which you did."
"Reluctantly," he admitted. "I couldn't imagine that anything bad had happened to her. This is a nice neighborhood, you know? But when I got here--" he shook his head helplessly "--she was gone."
Jonathan crossed his ankles and leaned back, hoping to encourage Zoe and Lucassi to relax by appearing relaxed himself. "And you, Ms. Duncan?
When was the last time you saw your daughter?"
"Before work yesterday. I went in to her bedroom to say goodbye, as I always do."
"Where do you work?"
She began digging at her thumb cuticle. "I used to work at Tate Commercial, but I don't anymore. I quit yesterday."
"When you found out your daughter was missing?"
"No. Before. Sort of," she corrected. "I couldn't reach her. I was distraught. My temper got out of hand."
"I see." So she was feistier than she seemed in this zombielike state.
"Has your daughter ever taken off on her own?"
"No."
Lucassi made a noise of disagreement. "Zoe, tell him everything."
She covered her face as if trying to compose herself. But it didn't make any difference. Tears spilled over her lashes when she dropped her hands. "She got angry when I decided to move in with Anton because it meant we had to give up her dog."
"She took off running down the street, and we had to chase her in the car," Lucassi added.
"Where was she going?" Jonathan asked.
"Nowhere." It was Zoe who answered. "She was...running because she was upset. Any child would be upset over losing her dog."
"She said she'd rather live on the street than let Peanut go." Lucassi again.
Zoe wiped her tears. "But once I explained to her what this move meant to us, she eventually calmed down."
"But she talked about running away again, in a note to her best friend," Lucassi said.
Skye had mentioned only the letter to the grandfather. "Where did you find this?"
"In her backpack."
"But you don't think she was serious."
Lucassi shrugged. "Who can say? It's possible. I wasn't aware of how she felt about me."
Had he cared enough to notice? "And how did she feel about you?"
"We had Marti Seacrest over last night. That's her best friend, her only close friend. Sam hasn't been at this school very long, and at first, she was pouting over the dog so she refused to acclimate. Anyway, when we showed Marti the note, she finally admitted that Samantha was always complaining about how...uptight I am."
"Do you consider yourself uptight?" Jonathan asked.
"Of course not." He nudged Zoe's knee. "Would you say I'm uptight?"
When she stared at him without answering, he frowned. "I'm not uptight. Sam just wasn't used to having any rules." He turned to Jonathan and lowered his voice as if confiding a great secret. "They've always lived in dumps, so they've never had to worry about taking care of personal property."
"At least she could keep her dog in those dumps," Zoe said.
"You're blaming me for the dog? You're the one who wanted to move in here. You liked the schools, the neighborhood."
Anger flared in her eyes. "You forced me to choose."
"And you made the right choice. Her education is more important than keeping a dog in the house, with all that hair and the smell." He wrinkled his nose. "The dog's fine, by the way," he added. "I made sure it went to a good home."
"I still don't understand why Peanut couldn't have lived in the backyard," she said.
"Because we have landscaping back there. And the damn thing wouldn't quit barking."
Jonathan coughed discreetly. "Can we move on?" They fell silent, and he continued. "In what condition did you find the house when you arrived home yesterday, Mr. Lucassi?"
The two exchanged sulky glances but stopped bickering. "No different than it is now," he said.
As far as Jonathan could tell, there wasn't so much as an out-of-place magazine or a gum wrapper to disturb the pristine cleanliness. He couldn't imagine a child living in such a mausoleum; it wasn't any surprise to him that a dog would be out of the question. But that was none of his business.
"Were any of the doors open? Was the shower running, the TV on? Did you notice anything at all? Describe the scene for me."
Growing more agitated, Lucassi rubbed his hands back and forth on the arms of his chair as he spoke. "The doors were all closed and locked, except the one leading to the pool. She'd been tanning when I called, so I walked outside, expecting her to be asleep on the chaise. Instead I found the iPod we gave her for Christmas, a towel and a book."