Free Jilliane Hoffman by Pretty Little Things Page A

at least one of the above categories, but not My Kid. Like the invisible ghost ‘Not Me’ who wreaked havoc in the Family Circle comic strip, it was always Somebody Else who was a fuck-up or a bad influence. There wasn’t much more he was going to extract from the lady.
    ‘Where’s your husband?’ Zo asked.
    ‘Work.’
    ‘Where was he Friday night?’ Bobby asked.
    ‘Don’t know, don’t care,’ Debbie replied icily. ‘And I’m thinking that’s none of you all’s business, seeing that Elaine’s the one who didn’t come home.’
    Ouch. He’d definitely hit a nerve, but Debra LaManna wasn’t giving up anything to the cops without a fight, including dirt on her cheating spouse. ‘We’ll need to talk to him,’ Bobby replied, closing his notebook. Then added, ‘I’m not gonna beat around the bush, Mrs LaManna. I know you’ve had some problems with your older daughter, so let me ask you, is there a reason why Lainey might not want to come back home?’
    Debbie’s eyes flared like a cornered animal. ‘You cops are something else! I don’t know who the hell you think you are. Because my older daughter’s a piece of shit means my younger one is, too? Means I’m a horrible mother and the kids just can’t wait to get away from me?’
    The grandfather clock started to chime the hours down the hall and no one said anything.
    Debbie stroked the ponytail, eyes focused on her lap. She sucked in a sniffle. It was the closest thing to an emotion Bobby had seen besides pissed off. ‘Just find her. Please,’ she said finally in a small voice.
    ‘That’s what we’re trying to do,’ Bobby replied softly. ‘Does Elaine have access to a computer?’
    ‘In her room. Todd gave her his when we moved.’
    ‘What’s her email address?’
    ‘Damned if I know. I don’t email her.’
    ‘Does she have a MySpace? Facebook? An AOL networking account?’
    ‘What?’ she asked. It was obvious Debbie didn’t know what he was talking about. Most parents didn’t. Obviously, no one had asked her that question yet. But then, Bobby suddenly caught a flicker of something other than confusion in her brown eyes. A flash of fear, perhaps, like the mother of a toddler who’s wandered out of sight in the backyard suddenly remembers that her neighbor has an in-ground pool. MySpace, Facebook, AOL . A creepy mental picture had popped into Debra LaManna’s head, perhaps from newspaper articles she’d read or Dateline segments she’d caught, expounding the dangers of the internet for kids. ‘No, no,’ she said, defiantly, catching herself, not letting her thoughts go there. ‘Elaine’s allowed to use the computer for homework, and some video games – that’s it.’
    ‘Do you mind then if we take a look at the computer, as well as her room?’ Bobby asked.
    She shrugged again. The fear was dismissed as quickly as it had surfaced. The lone tear had dried up. My Kid wouldn’t do that. My Kid knows not to go in the pool when an adult’s not around . ‘G’head. It’s a mess. She’s a slob, you know.’
    ‘Thanks for your cooperation, Debbie,’ Bobby finished, rising.
    ‘Third room on the left,’ she answered without looking up, as she crushed out another cigarette.

14
    Thumb-tacked posters of Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner from Twilight movie fame, Jesse McCartney and most of the cast from the TV show Heroes covered light pink walls. The twin bed was not just unmade – it was everywhere, as if it had exploded when the alarm clock went off. Cardboard boxes filled with books, comics, trophies and what looked like miscellaneous junk were pushed against the walls. Clothes spilled from others. Obviously Elaine had not completely unpacked yet from her move. The drawers were not emptied, but Bobby knew it would be pointless to ask Mom what, if anything, was missing.
    The computer sat on a cluttered desktop. Back when Bobby was in high school, the telephone and good, old-fashioned note-passing were the communication