Page 34 of Breathe Me In

“You’d be surprised what a daughter will keep at home instead of her own place.” Bree wiggled a pair of gloves on and headed straight for the vanity.

I moved around some books to seem busy, when really, I was watching Bree dig through the top drawer.

“When I was younger, I used to keep this journal tucked between two floorboards. I kept all my deepest secrets in there, and when I moved”—she closed the drawer and moved on to the bottom one—“I left it. The idea of moving it from the safety of my childhood home was scary. Home is safe.” Her voice trailed off, then she held up a small iPad that was tucked between some notebooks. “Time may pass, but girls’ habits are still the same. Any chance you know about this?”

“Of course.” Mrs. White nodded. “That’s her iPad. When her father picked her up from the airport after her trip, she had it with her. She wanted to spend the night here, then go out with her friends. She was going to come by to pick it up with the rest of her things before”—she suddenly choked up—“before work. Only she never . . .” We gave her a minute. Then she pulled open the closet to show us Shelly’s unpacked suitcase.

“May I take this?” Bree asked, holding up the iPad. “Detective Stone has a great IT guy that can get past the password. As soon as we’re finished, I’ll make sure it gets returned to you.”

Mrs. White covered her chest and nodded a few times. “Sure. At this point it’s only stuff, and I’d give up my own life just to find out what really happened.”

Bree removed her gloves and moved to stand in front of the grieving mother. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. We’re”—she waved a hand between the two of us—“usually on the other side of things, but as a human and someone with a big old heart, can I offer you something for comfort?” Mrs. White nodded as Bree stepped in and wrapped her arms around her. “My mom always says that a daughter’s hug can be felt through anyone. On behalf of your daughter, this is her.” I held my breath, worried that Bree had gotten too personal, but Mrs. White held on to Bree, squeezed her eyes shut, and let her tears flow. With a painful expression, Mrs. White whispered something to her, then kissed her cheek.

“Sorry to interrupt, but, Bree, we are due back at the station.” I knew we needed to get moving.

“Okay.” Bree smiled warmly at Mrs. White, and they walked arm in arm down to the front door, where she asked us to stop by anytime. Of course, that was directed at Bree, and I was happy with that. You couldn’t pay me to return to this house of feline horror unless a fat raise and free dry cleaning were involved.

“You were really good with her,” I said as soon as we left the driveway and I was far away from those cats. “I can see why parents would choose you to find their children.”

“I appreciate that.” She smiled as she pulled out the iPad and rested it on her lap. “And I think you’ll appreciate what I found too.” She started to tap away on the screen, and I grinned when I saw there wasn’t a passcode. She was good. “When we went through her social media on her watch, phone, and laptop, we found three platforms she was on—Instagram, Facebook, and Snapchat. What was odd was she didn’t have a TikTok account. Everyone her age has TikTok. Hell, even I do. So when I found this guy”—she held up the iPad—“and saw this funny-looking icon and clicked it, look what popped up.” I pulled over and took the device from her.

“Why hide it?”

“I’m not sure, but”—she leaned over, and I was instantly enveloped in her perfume—“she has a follower that likes and comments on her posts a lot.” She pointed at a name. “Puff the Magic.” She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous name. “But more importantly look at what they wrote here.” She leaned over farther, and I fought the urge to touch her.

“Hang on, that’s the outfit she was wearing when she was killed.”

“Yes, and look what Puff wrote.”

“‘Hope to see you tonight, maybe you should wear velvet.’” She read out loud. “So, it’s probably a he, and he knew she was going to be there, and from what I can see on here, he was pretty obsessed.”

“Interesting, considering she never posted on any of her other sites that she was going to be there.” I tapped my finger on the wheel as I thought. “Does her boyfriend follow her on there?”

“Um . . .” She tapped around, and I watched her fingers play with her chain as she concentrated. “It doesn’t look like it, unless he uses a fake name and background.”

“I think maybe we question him on that.”

“Agreed.”

“Two for two, Bree.” I turned, and our faces were inches apart. She didn’t move. She just stared at me, then her gorgeous brown eyes moved down to my lips, and that same crackle of electricity zinged through me as it had the other night. “Nice job.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, and I felt my jeans tighten. She pulled back, and I finally relaxed my body and breathed in deep. “We should get to the lab. Oh, and I need Smith to look into this as well.” She showed me an evidence bag that held a napkin with a phone number on it.

“And that’s the part I don’t want to know about, but for what it’s worth, nice find.”

“Thanks.” She grinned.

“Yeah.” I checked my blind spots and eased back onto the road. I wished I didn’t love it so much when I made her smile like that.

The lab was white, cold, and sterile, but despite the overall feel, my buddy Wes loved his rock music, so when we walked in the door and Chickenfoot blasted at us through his speakers, I just grinned at Bree.

“This wasn’t what I expected.” She laughed.

“Just wait.” I opened an inner door for her, and she stepped into the smaller lab, and her face lit up. “Yeah, Wes loves his music.” One wall was covered from floor to ceiling with posters of rock bands.

“And this is allowed?”

“When you’re as smart as Wes, yes, they leave him alone to do what he does best. Music and science.”