A Killing in the Valley by JF Freedman Page A

filed a missing-persons report. Because Maria had been gone for less than two days, was over eighteen (which made her ineligible for an Amber Alert), and had a history of casualness in her schedule, the officer who took down the information didn’t give the call a high priority. He promised Mrs. Estrada that a detective would get on it in the morning, but that in all likelihood Maria would turn up soon.
    Although she was still worried after she talked to the cop, Mrs. Estrada was inclined to agree with him. She knew that her daughter was a tramp, and figured that Maria had probably found some jerk with money to shack up with for a few days. She would have a line of bullshit all prepared when she finally waltzed back home, and they would dance around the subject, and Maria would promise to stay in touch better, and they’d sweep the trouble under the rug, same as they always did.
    Kate Blanchard stared at the notes on her computer screen. The words were blurring together; she shook her head to clear the cobwebs.
    She was tired; recently, she seemed to be tired most of the time. She had nineteen active cases on her calendar. In addition, there were the two nights of law school, three hours each night, as well as her normal household chores. And of course, trying to spend time, not just sharing space, but real quality time, with Sophia.
    Since their return from San Francisco, Sophia had adopted an attitude of sullen nonaggression toward both her mother and her school. She was up early without prompting in the morning, the day’s clothing and accessories neatly laid out the night before. She talked to her mother about what was going on in her life—school, kids, her routine—without revealing anything personal, anything about her feelings. In the evenings she did her homework, watched television, talked to her sister on her cell phone. It felt to Kate like they were two strangers on a long ocean cruise who had been assigned to the same table for meals and had to exchange polite conversation.
    She was trying her best to bridge the gulf between them. The day after they returned home from San Francisco she had dipped into her savings and bought Sophia a car from a mechanic she trusted. It was a twelve-year-old Volvo with high mileage, but it ran decently. Sophia hadn’t shown much outward emotion when Kate handed her the keys—a quick hug and a “Thanks, Mom”—but she was thrilled to have it. She could come and go on her own now without having to worry about borrowing her mother’s car. Sophia had already started putting her own personal touches on the old wagon—dried flowers woven around a bird’s feather hung from the rearview mirror, and an Indian shawl she’d found in a local flea market covered the worn backseat.
    “Hi, Mom.”
    Kate turned in surprise. She hadn’t heard the front door open. “Hi there,” she answered back.
    Her office was on Anapamu Street, close to the courthouse, the central police station, and coincidentally, the high school. Last spring, Sophia would stop by after school and do her homework while she waited for Kate to drive her home. This was the first time this year she had come here after school.
    Kate flushed with enjoyment from the unexpected visit. “How’s school?” Not the most intimate of questions, but she was treading lightly these days.
    “The usual crap. My last period class was cancelled, so I thought I’d come bug my mommy.” Sophia tossed her backpack onto a chair. “You want to hear my latest news?”
    Kate looked up from her computer screen. “Sure.”
    Sophia unsuccessfully tried to appear nonchalant. “I auditioned for the fall play.”
    “That’s great!” Kate could feel the smile spreading across her face. “What is it?”
    “ The Wizard of Oz. It’s not a musical. We’re doing the original play, not the movie.”
    “What part did you try out for?” Kate asked eagerly.
    Under her olive complexion, Sophia crimsoned slightly. “Dorothy. I won’t