Page 16 of Secrets Beneath the Waves

“Look at everything in the last fifty years. We don’t want to miss the first one.” Ramon glanced at Zeyla.

Her dark eyes pinned him with a stare. “Is this guy a serial killer?”

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Ramon walked upto the front door first with Zeyla behind him. The house was an older single-story structure on a well-established side of town, where the decent schools were located—the ones that parents had attended years ago and now their children went there. The front flower beds were a hodgepodge of shrubs that probably didn’t require much maintenance, and the car in the driveway was an early two-thousands model Toyota.

He spotted the doorbell camera but lifted his fist and knocked anyway. The woman who opened the door wore a robe over pajama pants with plenty of pilling in the fabric. The front of it just kind of draped open, revealing a T-shirt with a Disney character on it. She had stringy hair, and the remnants of the previous day’s makeup were smeared under her eyes.

Ramon said, “Mrs. Harrison?”

The woman frowned, deepening the lines around her eyes. “There is no Mr. Harrison here, if that’s who you’re looking for.”

“We were actually hoping to speak with you about your daughter.”

Mrs. Harrison glanced between him and Zeyla. “You guys cops?”

Ramon shook his head. “I’m a private investigator, and this is my associate. Is it okay if we come in?”

“If you want to talk about Chelsea, then you can listen to what I have to say.” She stepped back, holding the door wide. “The police haven’t done squat about it. They just keep telling me that the case is cold and there’s nothing they can do. No new leads. Every year, they call and tell me that.” She shook her head. “Are you guys on the case?”

Ramon turned in the hallway and faced her. Zeyla stepped just inside the door so that Mrs. Harrison could close it. “Can we sit?” he asked.

“Through here.” Mrs. Harrison led the way down the hall. “I’d like to show you something first.”

The house smelled musty. The floor had dust gathered at the edges, or perhaps it was pet hair. But he didn’t see an animal anywhere. Mrs. Harrison’s house could use a deep clean and some time with the windows open to get the fresh air in. But then, he wasn’t here to judge her cleaning habits.

He discovered where she put all her time and effort when they stepped into what probably was meant to be the dining room.

Along one wall, where the light from the window could shine on the surface, Mrs. Harrison had set up what could only be described as a shrine to her missing daughter. Photos littered the wall above the table, on which framed images had been laid out specifically. There were even a couple of medals and certificates of achievement.

Candles between every item had burned low, dripping wax down the sides. It smelled like incense in here. Almost like she might want to summon her daughter’s spirit after death.

Ramon didn’t know much about the spiritual world, but he knew that it was a bad idea to try and conjure anything. Therewas enough evil in the physical world without having to bring the spiritual into it.

Mrs. Harrison touched a small speaker on the center of the table. A voice came through that sounded a whole lot like a teenage girl. “Mom, it’s me.”

Ramon froze and glanced at Zeyla. She lifted her brows as the voice from the speaker continued.

“Practicesucked, but I’m on my way home. I’ll be there soon, okay. Love you,bye.” Chelsea Harrison dragged out the last word, and then the line went dead with a click.

“I come in here every day, so I remember what I have to live for. The child I will never forget.” Mrs. Harrison turned, her hands clasped in front of her.

Ramon wanted to tell her he was sorry for her loss, but if she was refusing to give up hope that her daughter would be returned to her one day, he didn’t want to tread on that hope. “Could you tell us a little about the circumstances of her disappearance?”

Mrs. Harrison wandered into the neighboring room, which was dimly lit thanks to the heavy curtains being almost closed, and sat in an armchair. The thing looked worn, and she had laid a blanket over it. She motioned for them to take seats on the couch, which Ramon did. Zeyla stayed in the corner of the room like a sentry. “First, you should tell me why you want to know about Chelsea.”

Ramon set his forearms on his knees and laced his fingers together. The couch creaked under his weight, and dust now danced in the air. No one had sat on this couch for a long time. “New evidence has come to light in a different case that we believe might be related to your daughter’s. In the pursuit of that case, we thought it necessary to speak with you about Chelsea. Just in case our investigation provides information that might give you some kind of closure.”

“She’s still out there somewhere.” Mrs. Harrison laid a hand on her chest. “I can feel it, in here.”

“I would never tell you to give up hope. But I don’t want to oversell our role here.” He motioned at Zeyla. “We may not find anything, but we’re certainly going to try.”

“Has there been another disappearance?”

Ramon said, “It’s possible your daughter’s case is connected to another missing young woman. Perhaps several, in fact. We are still in the early stages of the investigation, though. So we don’t know for sure.”