"I thought he might be coming after me," Lyla stammered.

"Why would you think that?" Morales asked, her tone now sharper.

"He threatened me when I was leaving the party."

Morales crossed her arms and cocked her head. "Threatened you?"

"At the party, he put something in my drink. I don't know what it was but it was super powerful. Everything started spinning. Then he attacked me."

Her father's blood boiled. "He drugged you and attacked you?"

"Jack came to my rescue. And I got into my car and drove away as fast as I could. But then my car broke down."

"So, did Keenan Ames chase you into the woods?" Morales asked.

Lyla knew the detective was setting the trap, hoping for Lyla to admit she'd seen him out on that dark road.

"No!" Lyla said in frustration. "Like I said, I was really high... and I wasn't thinking straight. And I was scared."

Both detectives wore skeptical expressions. She knew that they had put the pieces together. They had come to trick her into confessing.

She pleaded her case. "When my car broke down, I was afraid that he was right behind me. And so I hid in the woods. I was so scared."

"But you didn't see him? Not after you left Coughlin's Farm?" Steiger pressed.

"No. I didn't see him." She averted her eyes.

"And while you were wandering around up in the woods this bracelet just fell off your wrist." Steiger studied her expression.

"I guess. I don't remember. I wasn't wandering around, I was hiding."

"Funny thing about that," Steiger continued. "If you look, you'll see that the bracelet is still clasped. See that? It broke apart. How does a thing like that happen all by itself?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Maybe it got caught on a branch or something."

"You remember your bracelet getting stuck on something?" He raised an eyebrow.

"She just said she doesn't remember. He drugged her," Ryan fumed. "We're lucky she's still alive. Who gives a damn about the bracelet?"

"Mister Perry, we're conducting an investigation of a missing person and—"

"I'm gonna be late for work." Ryan gulped down his anger. "The next time you want to talk to my daughter, you're going to have to speak to our attorney. Now get the hell out of my house."

The detectives crossed the porch to their car.

Ryan turned to his daughter. "Are you okay?" Lyla nodded but he could see that she was upset.

"We have an attorney?" she asked.

"No, not really," he said quietly. "But they don't need to know that."