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Holy shit. It suddenly dawned on me that he was searching for clues that would tie my young friend, employee, and babysitter to the disappearance of my daughter.
“What do you want me to do?” I managed around my dry throat.
“Check the bathroom.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Anything that confirms her innocence...” He pierced me with those glacial eyes. “Or not.”
“Right.” Guess I’d know it when I saw it. I spun away and flipped on the light in the bathroom that was disorganized and full of young woman things, as if they were left in the middle of someone who was getting ready and had to leave in a hurry. Hairspray and a flat iron, gobs of makeup, skin care items, feminine hygiene products, clothes, and a towel scattered on the floor—men’s and women’s.
For some reason, seeing the men’s clothes surprised me, though I wasn’t sure why. Sofia was a pretty girl, plus she had a roommate. She just had never mentioned anyone other than her abusive ex.
I leaned down and picked up the jersey that smelled heavily of a familiar cologne. I set it on the toilet, then paused when I noticed the logo. I’d seen that one before. But where?
I was about ready to pull out my phone to search it when the upturned bag on the ground caught my eye that the jersey had been covering. Denim, Nirvana patch with black leather.
Sofia’s bag. I’d know it anywhere.
I reached down and picked it up, but it was unzipped and its contents spilled out at my feet.
Her cherry lip gloss, hair ties, gum, and ID... and a photo.
With shaking hands, I picked up the candid family photo of a young girl’s birthday party—Sofia’s, I’d guess around age eight or nine, her mother smiling down on her with her pink princess birthday cake as she stared up with the adoration that only a little girl could have for her daddy.
For Christoph.
My hand flew to my mouth, not quite believing what I was seeing, though the proof was right in front of my eyes.
“Olivia?”
I startled and flew around at Justin’s voice.
His eyes drifted down to the photo in my hand, then back up. “What is it?”
I couldn’t say anything. Instead, I handed it to him and watched as he studied the picture for several long seconds before looking back up at me.
“That’s him?”
I nodded, fresh tears swimming in my eyes. Nothing made sense in that moment. Sofia was Christoph’s daughter?
I was struck with a sudden, very intense memory of standing on his doorstep, emotionally raw after nearly losing my pregnancy, and coming face-to-face with his wife. But the part of that day I’d let fade from my recollection was the clear sound of children in the home. I’d been so focused on mine, I’d forgotten about hers.
“Come on.”
Justin’s barked order snapped me out of my spiral and I blinked up at him. “Where are we going?”
“We need to get back to your house and regroup now that I have a clearer picture of what the hell is going on here.”
“And what is that?”
He paused on his way toward the door and looked at me like it was obvious, but nothing was obvious to me. “Olivia, she’s the daughter of the ex who wished you and your child dead. It’s not really too big of a leap to think she might’ve found you, found a way into your life, to do his bidding.”
All the blood drained from my head and my knees buckled beneath me.
He was there in two long strides, catching me before I hit the floor. “Easy there, baby. We’ll find her before anything like that happens.”
“How do you know that?”