They talked about their frustration for a minute and compared notes on the West Virginia drifter we were pursuing.
“Do they have a security camera? Did he pay with a credit card and have to list his license number?” I said.
“At the Evergreen? You kidding me? They only take cash and they don’t ask questions,” Brody said ruefully. “She’s been hangin’ out at the Ritz in Charleston I guess,” he said to the other cop, and I scowled at him briefly.
“Look, we know she was here, that she may still be alive. This is good news,” I said stubbornly.
It felt bad though, knowing he was on the loose with those girls. That we didn’t know where to look for them next.
22
Brody
That earring should’ve been our breakthrough. If this were an episode of CSI, we would’ve been able to trace that earring to somehow recover the missing girls within minutes. Instead, two days had dragged by with no fresh leads. No trace of the drifter on any security cameras, no sightings or tips called in. We were all on edge, frustrated, knowing that the longer it took, the less chance we had of finding them before it was too late.
Bobby and Clint were arguing over the last Cherry Coke in the break room refrigerator like we were all in high school again or something. I had Mrs. Rook call for pizza delivery, hoping if I fed them, they’d all be reasonable again. By the time the sausage and pepperoni deep dish arrived, I’d had to take the single can of Coke away from them and handed it to Carl because he wasn’t acting like a damn child. Carl shrugged, popped the top and drank it in front of them. They cussed and blamed each other. I had to laugh to keep from knocking their fool heads together. Laura was on the phone again, probably bugging Max in Charleston for anything he could do to help. I think she believed she should have some magic insight on this case because she’d been targeted or because she came from the city. She was as helpless as the rest of us.
For my part, I’d combed that drifter’s file like I was a trained criminal profiler—which I wasn’t—to see if I could find any way to predict his next move. He could be in Florida by now, or Tennessee. There was no guarantee he was sticking around the area, except for his interest in Laura. That’s what I was betting on. That he hadn’t taken off because he hadn’t been able to grab her yet.
We all ate pizza and struggled to talk about anything but the case. I mentioned the Little League game last night, but since our team had lost, it wasn’t a great story. Clint asked Laura how her dad was doing. She shook her head.
“Thanks for asking,” she said. “He’s got an appointment with the nephrologist next week. I’m gonna take him if that’s okay. My mom will want to go, but she doesn’t need to have to hear this alone. He was stable for a few months on the meds and dialysis, but we know he’s starting to go downhill. He needs a transplant, but a man of his age and condition isn’t going to the top of the list when there’s little kids whose kidneys got trashed by chemotherapy and stuff.” She cleared her throat.
I looked at her with concern. She’d been staying with me and never said a word about it. The only place she ever went was seeing her parents or saying hi to Rachel at the diner. So she was keeping this inside, worrying about it on top of the missing persons case we were working. I wasn’t surprised she didn’t feel like she could talk to me about with the way things were between us though. It made me miserable.
When the pizza was gone, we cleaned up and headed home. At the house, I handed her a beer and asked her to sit down at the table with me.
“I know it’s been weird,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said, taking a drink. “I’m confused about what happened between us. By confused, I mean hurt and pissed off. Because you acting like I’m a leper staying at your house isn’t the most comfortable I’ve ever been. I mean, being stalked by the kidnapper has been less terrible.”
“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have been together like that. I shouldn’t have. You’re Damon’s sister and my officer.”
“And you knew those things about me before you took off your pants, Peters,” she countered. “So don’t go acting like you were shocked to find out I work for you, or that I used to write ‘wash this piece of crap’ in the dirt on your truck when you were in high school.”
“I thought that was you,” I said with a wry half smile.