Dorsey headed back toward Hatton, but couldn’t get there fast enough. Her first stop would be her motel room. She needed the list of names and addresses Judith had given them the first time she and Andrew had visited the Randall home. She hoped it was among the notes she’d kept in her folder, and not in Andrew’s briefcase.

She all but flew into the motel parking lot, kicking up some pebbles as she rounded the corner. She turned the key in the door and went right to the desk where she’d left the notes she’d been making all week. Relieved to see that the information she needed was there, she was back into her car within minutes of having left it. She drove straight out of town, following the directions Judith had given them. She turned right two blocks past the center of town; at 1813 Meadowlark Lane, she parked the car and got out.

The two-story colonial was perhaps a decade old and well landscaped. Dorsey admired the flowering shrubs and lush flower beds that lined either side of the walk as she approached the front door. She rang the bell and waited. The woman who answered appeared to be in her mid-thirties. She was trim and pretty and held a toddler in her arms.

“Yes?” the woman asked.

“Kimmie White?”

“Kim White was my maiden name, yes.” She tilted her head slightly, as if about to ask a question.

“I’m Special Agent Collins, FBI.” Dorsey held up her badge for the women’s inspection. “I’d like to talk to you about the Shannon Randall investigation.”

18

“I saw that press conference over at the Randall’s last night, and I don’t mind telling you, I just could not believe my ears. ’Course, there have been rumors flyin’ around town these past few days, but I didn’t pay them any mind. I mean, who would ever have thought…”

Kim Holbrook, the former Kimmie White, held her sleepy two-year-old in her arms, her voice barely above a whisper as she swayed slightly from side to side to lull the baby, whose eyes were all but closed. “Poor Miz Randall, I bet she’d like to die just about now.”

She continued to speak softly as she led her visitor into the living room of her beautifully appointed home.

“I was more or less expecting someone to come over, sooner or later.”

“Why is that?” Dorsey asked.

“Well, I was one of Shannon ’s best friends. I testified at the trial.” She shook her head. “I just cannot believe all the things that FBI agent was saying on the news last night. I told Art-my husband-that finding out now, all these years later, it’s like Shannon died all over again.”

She realized what she said, then laughed nervously. “Well, of course, she did. Die, I mean. That just did not come out right.” She rolled her eyes before heading toward the steps. “If you would excuse me for just one minute, I need to put her down in her crib…”

Kim climbed the winding stairs to the second floor before Dorsey could respond, but she didn’t mind. A few minutes alone would give her an opportunity to look around a bit.

The Holbrook home was lovely. There were photos of three towheaded children on the ornate mantel, including the youngest one in her mother’s arms, but to look around the handsome room, one would never suspect a child lived in this house. There were no toys on the floor or behind the chairs that flanked the large fireplace. The sofa and chairs were expensively upholstered, the drapes on the room’s three large windows raw silk. The carpet was oriental, and looked antique. All in all, Dorsey would have to say that Kimmie White had done quite well for herself. So much better than her childhood friend had. Dorsey felt a flush of anger for Shannon ’s sake as she looked around at all the dead woman had been denied. The children, the beautiful home, the good life in her home town.

“Sorry,” Kim said as she came down the steps. “I was just about to put her down for her nap when the doorbell rang. Can I get you some coffee? A cold drink, maybe?”

“Nothing, thank you.” Dorsey had returned to her seat when she’d heard her hostess’s footfalls on the stairs. “Your home is lovely.”

“Oh, thank you. We’ve only been here for about six months now, but it seems we’ve been working on it forever.” She took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa from Dorsey. “This was my in-laws’ house, and when my father-in-law passed two years ago, my husband inherited it. We’ve been renovating all that time-Lord, but it needed everything, nothing was up to date…” She stopped and stared at Dorsey for a moment, then said, “But you didn’t come to hear about that. You came to talk about Shannon.”

“I understand you were with Shannon the day before she disappeared.”

“We were at my house working on some project for school. I don’t even remember now what it was we were doing,” Kim told her. “ Shannon left to go to the church for choir practice that night, just like any Wednesday. The next day she wasn’t at the bus stop before school, and she wasn’t in homeroom. Me and Heather-she was our other friend-called her house at lunchtime, thinking she was sick? But no one answered the phone. Then later that day, we heard she was missing.”

Kim crossed her arms over her chest. “It was just the worst feeling; the worst thing that had ever happened to any of us, finding out that Eric Beale had killed her.”

She visibly shuddered. “But of course, we know now that wasn’t true…”

“Was there any point over the years, when Shannon might have tried to get in touch with you?” Dorsey asked. “Phone calls, for example?”

“No.” She shook her head adamantly. “No. If she had, I would have told someone. I can’t help but wonder why she didn’t, though, if she’d been alive all that time. We were really close, you know? I just can’t get over how crazy this whole thing is. That FBI agent on the news last night, he was saying how Shannon had been a…a prostitute? Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why? When?” Kim floundered. “I’m sorry, I’m just having such a hard time imagining her doing something like that. Shannon was such a goody-goody. She didn’t even have much interest in boys back then.”

“But you did.”

“Well, yes.” Kim laughed self-consciously. “But we were in high school, after all.”

“Did Shannon ever give you any indication that she was thinking about running away? Leaving home?”

“None. Honestly, no.” Kim shook her head from side to side. “I swear I would have said something back then, if I’d thought she ran away. But no, it just wasn’t something she would do. At least not that any of us had seen. It just all seems so out of character, you know? It makes me feel as if maybe I didn’t know her at all-but I know in my heart I did. It’s all very confusing.”

“Was she having any problems at home that you know of?”

“No. Oh, her little sister used to get on her nerves a lot, but little sisters do that. God knows mine did, too. But no, she was happy as far as I remember. She had a pretty good relationship with her family, especially her mother. They were real close. Miz Randall used to bake cupcakes for school, cookies for the girls when they came home in the afternoon. Pretty birthday cakes. I always thought Shannon had it really good, frankly.” Kim laughed. “I still find it hard to believe she ran away from all that.”

“Did she ever mention that she was being abused by anyone?”

“Abused?” Kim’s eyes went wide. “Oh, uh-uh. No. She never-I don’t think she was ever-oh, no…”

Kim rubbed the back of her neck with her right hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m still having a hard time with all this. This is just all so crazy, you know?”

She got up and paced slowly. “If something bad was happening, she never let it show.”

Kim wrapped her arms around herself and said, “Honest to God, if Shannon was being abused, she never let on. No one would ever have suspected something like that.”