looking at him so she couldn’t tell if he saw. Oh, she bet he understood everything. He just wanted to watch her squirm.
“How old are you, Miss Quinn?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Did you two start college late? Amy is also twenty-four.”
“I didn’t start late, I just…kept going.”
He was observing her. “For six years?”
“For six years, yes.”
“And still not graduated?”
“Not quite.”
“I see.” He switched subjects then, as if they were file folders lying on his desk. “So—you didn’t go to your graduation, because you weren’t graduating. Fair enough. But Amy didn’t go either, and she was graduating.”
“Hmm.” That was surprising. Lily had no answer to it.
“Were you and Amy close?”
“We were, yes. Are I mean. Are.” She paused and decided to take the direct approach. “You’re confusing me.”
“Not deliberately, Miss Quinn. So what were you doing in Hawaii?”
“Sunbathing looks like,” said Harkman from behind her.
Detective O’Malley didn’t say anything, but in between the blinks of his eyes, behind his black-rimmed glasses, his flicker of an expression made Lily blush, almost as if…he could see her sunsoaked brown nipples.
Pulling the cardigan closed, she looked down at the table and bit her lip. “My parents. I went to visit my mother.”
“You left when?”
“On the Thursday morning, very early. My flight was at eight. I took a cab to JFK at six in the morning.”
“Was Amy up?”
“No.”
“Was Amy home?”
“I think so. I didn’t check her room, if that’s what you mean.”
“So she could’ve not been home?”
“She could’ve not been, but—”
“So the last time you actually saw her would be…”
“Wednesday night, May 12.”
“Had time to recall some dates since our phone call?”
Lily lifted her gaze. Detective O’Malley’s eyes stared at her unflinchingly from his clean-shaven, calm, angular face, and she suddenly got the feeling that the firm and casual handshake was a ruse, was an affect, that she should be very careful with the things she said to this detective because he might remember every syllable.
“Yes.” She crossed her arms. “Initially I had been taken aback by your phone call.”
“That’s understandable. Did she seem normal to you that Wednesday?”
“Yes. She seemed the same as always.”
“Which is how?”
“I don’t know. Normal.” How did one describe a normal evening with Amy? Lily became flummoxed. “She was her usual self. We drank a little, talked a little.”
“About what?”
“Nothing. Everything. Movies. Finals. Really, just…regular girl things.”
“Boyfriends?”
“Mmm.” Lily didn’t want to tell this detective about her pathetic love life, and since that’s all the boyfriends they talkedabout, she couldn’t tell the detective anything. “We talked about our mothers.”
Detective Harkman stood behind Lily and every once in a while, Detective O’Malley would glance at him for a silent exchange and then look back at her. Now was one of those times.
“Then you left…”
“And I haven’t heard from Amy since.”
“You never called to tell her how you were getting on in Maui?”
“I did, a couple of times, I left messages on the machine, but she never called me back.”
“How many times would you say you called her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe three?”
“Three?”
“Around three.”
“So possibly two, possibly four?”
“Possibly.” Lily lowered her head. She didn’t know what he wanted from her.
“Does she have a cell phone?”
“No.”
“Do you?”
“No. I can’t afford one. I don’t know why she doesn’t have one.”
“So you called a few times, she didn’t call back, and you gave up?”
“I didn’t give up. I was going to call again. I was even thinking of calling at her mother’s house.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I couldn’t remember the number.”
“Did she tell you of her plans to visit her mother the
“How old are you, Miss Quinn?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Did you two start college late? Amy is also twenty-four.”
“I didn’t start late, I just…kept going.”
He was observing her. “For six years?”
“For six years, yes.”
“And still not graduated?”
“Not quite.”
“I see.” He switched subjects then, as if they were file folders lying on his desk. “So—you didn’t go to your graduation, because you weren’t graduating. Fair enough. But Amy didn’t go either, and she was graduating.”
“Hmm.” That was surprising. Lily had no answer to it.
“Were you and Amy close?”
“We were, yes. Are I mean. Are.” She paused and decided to take the direct approach. “You’re confusing me.”
“Not deliberately, Miss Quinn. So what were you doing in Hawaii?”
“Sunbathing looks like,” said Harkman from behind her.
Detective O’Malley didn’t say anything, but in between the blinks of his eyes, behind his black-rimmed glasses, his flicker of an expression made Lily blush, almost as if…he could see her sunsoaked brown nipples.
Pulling the cardigan closed, she looked down at the table and bit her lip. “My parents. I went to visit my mother.”
“You left when?”
“On the Thursday morning, very early. My flight was at eight. I took a cab to JFK at six in the morning.”
“Was Amy up?”
“No.”
“Was Amy home?”
“I think so. I didn’t check her room, if that’s what you mean.”
“So she could’ve not been home?”
“She could’ve not been, but—”
“So the last time you actually saw her would be…”
“Wednesday night, May 12.”
“Had time to recall some dates since our phone call?”
Lily lifted her gaze. Detective O’Malley’s eyes stared at her unflinchingly from his clean-shaven, calm, angular face, and she suddenly got the feeling that the firm and casual handshake was a ruse, was an affect, that she should be very careful with the things she said to this detective because he might remember every syllable.
“Yes.” She crossed her arms. “Initially I had been taken aback by your phone call.”
“That’s understandable. Did she seem normal to you that Wednesday?”
“Yes. She seemed the same as always.”
“Which is how?”
“I don’t know. Normal.” How did one describe a normal evening with Amy? Lily became flummoxed. “She was her usual self. We drank a little, talked a little.”
“About what?”
“Nothing. Everything. Movies. Finals. Really, just…regular girl things.”
“Boyfriends?”
“Mmm.” Lily didn’t want to tell this detective about her pathetic love life, and since that’s all the boyfriends they talkedabout, she couldn’t tell the detective anything. “We talked about our mothers.”
Detective Harkman stood behind Lily and every once in a while, Detective O’Malley would glance at him for a silent exchange and then look back at her. Now was one of those times.
“Then you left…”
“And I haven’t heard from Amy since.”
“You never called to tell her how you were getting on in Maui?”
“I did, a couple of times, I left messages on the machine, but she never called me back.”
“How many times would you say you called her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe three?”
“Three?”
“Around three.”
“So possibly two, possibly four?”
“Possibly.” Lily lowered her head. She didn’t know what he wanted from her.
“Does she have a cell phone?”
“No.”
“Do you?”
“No. I can’t afford one. I don’t know why she doesn’t have one.”
“So you called a few times, she didn’t call back, and you gave up?”
“I didn’t give up. I was going to call again. I was even thinking of calling at her mother’s house.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I couldn’t remember the number.”
“Did she tell you of her plans to visit her mother the
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