18th Abduction (Women's Murder Club) Read Free Page A

found their bodies?”
    “No, no,” Conklin said. “We’re treating this missing persons as top priority. All units, all hands are on deck.”
    Stroop looked relieved. I asked him, “Did you see Myers, Jones, and Saran leave the school Monday night?”
    He shook his head. “I go off duty at four.”
    “But you know them, right?”
    “Sure, casually. I see them in the hallways, say, ‘Morning,’ ‘Have a great weekend.’ Like that.”
    I asked, “Would you know if any of them have enemies? Maybe a jealous boyfriend? Or a disgruntled student who didn’t get the grade he or she wanted? Anyone showing inappropriate interest in any of them?”
    He shook his head no again.
    “They’re all nice ladies. Our students are good kids.”
    I nodded. “I do have some routine questions for you.”
    He said, “Go ahead.”
    I asked where he had been the last couple of nights. He’d spent Monday home all night with the wife and son; last night he and his wife had gone to a birthday dinner at a restaurant with friends.
    He pulled out his phone and produced time-stamped selfies at the dinner table, which he forwarded to me with his phone number and that of the birthday boy.
    He said, “I wish I knew something. I want to help. I can’t stop thinking about them.”
    Conklin handed his card to Stroop. “Call anytime if a thought strikes.” Then we entered the main building and started down the wide hallway.
    Two days ago Carly Myers, Adele Saran, and Susan Jones had walked this same hallway on their way to and from class. As Stroop had confirmed, Monday had been an ordinary workday. He hadn’t seen any red flags that had caused alarm.
    So what had happened to the three schoolteachers?
    My sense was that they’d had no clue their lives were about to veer off from ordinary workday to an extraordinarily bad place. That they’d be abducted on Monday night within minutes of leaving the Bridge.
    Every passing hour made it more likely that they were dead.

CHAPTER 5
    Conklin and I checked the names on the doors as we made our way down the broad, locker-lined hallway to the office of assistant dean Karin Slaughter.
    In a conversation with the dean, we’d learned that Slaughter was thirty-two, had a master’s degree in education, had been with Pacific View Prep for five years, and, importantly, was friends with the three missing women.
    Even if she didn’t know it yet, she might have a clue to their disappearance.
    We found Slaughter’s office, and Conklin knocked on her open door. Slaughter stood up from her desk and stepped forward to shake our hands. She was a conservative dresser, wearing a midcalf-length black jersey dress, low-heeled shoes, and a look of genuine concern.
    I heard myself say, “You have the same name as one of my favorite writers.”
    “I hear that a lot,” she said with a smile. “We’re Googlegangers,” she said.
    “Googlegangers? Let me guess; people with the same name?”
    “That’s it. Google
Karin Slaughter
and we both come up. I’m a big fan of hers, too.”
    I liked her immediately. She indicated a row of Slaughter’s bestsellers on her bookshelf, but as she returned to her desk, her welcoming expression drooped with worry.
    My partner and I took the two chairs across from Slaughter’s desk, and she blurted out, “I’m so frightened. I cannot sleep or think about anything but them. Did you know that I was supposed to go out with them Monday night? I couldn’t go. I had too much work. I had to beg off.”
    Conklin and I had the missing women’s photos, home addresses, and work schedules but knew little about their personalities, habits, and relationships. Karin Slaughter was eager to fill us in.
    “Carly Myers is a born leader,” she said. “She’s the one to organize a party or a field trip. She teaches history and loves sports. Baseball, football, whatever. I’d say she’s outgoing and adventuresome. In a good way.”
    Then Slaughter described Jones, who taught music, was