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“Neither do I.” He looked at me. “They could end up pinning this on us if we’re not careful. Do you understand that? They need someone, and we’re right here, being cooperative little bees. She was in our car, bleeding to death. They can forget about all the other details if they want to. That’s all they need.”
Eddie was right, and yet I didn’t feel fear. I’d faced worse things than Detective Quentin, as intimidating as he was. “Then we’ll be careful,” I said, “and maybe we won’t be as cooperative as they want us to. Starting now.”
He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about our next move. Todd said there was a Dollar Mart nearby. Maybe the people who work there have seen Rhonda Jean or know her, if she’d been there before.”
I looked out the window at the water. “Rhonda Jean didn’t just leave without telling anyone. She told Gretchen she was going to Nevada. She liked Mitchell, and he didn’t like her back, so she was leaving.”
“Mitchell, who was the last one here to see her,” Eddie said. “According to his story, it was right here.”
Maybe it was the air-conditioning, but despite the heat of the day I felt cold travel up my spine. Like the cold I’d felt earlier as I’d stood on Atticus Line.
If you see her, you’ll be the next one found at the side of the road.
A ghost? Or an urban legend, created to cover up for a murderer?
If you were the one left by the side of the road, did it matter which one it was?
I pulled the photo Gretchen had given me out of my pocket and handed it to Eddie. He studied it in silence for a long moment.
“Quentin hasn’t been here yet,” I said. “He doesn’t know what we know.”
Eddie’s eyes stayed on the photo. “He’s busy looking at us. Our backgrounds. Trying to figure out if we’re lying.”
“That’s true. But right now we’re a step ahead of him. I don’t think that will last.”
“He’ll probably be here in a few hours at most,” Eddie agreed, putting the car in gear. “We don’t have much lead time. Let’s go shopping at Dollar Mart.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dollar Mart was a yellow-and-red box in a vast square of parking lot, baking in the July sun. An outdated sign with removable letters, placed at the road next to the entrance, said closed july 4. sparkler, as though someone had removed the final “S.” There were barely half a dozen cars in the huge lot.
I got out of Robbie’s car and looked around. From Hunter Beach, this place would be about a half-hour walk—worth it, maybe, if you could pick up a ride from one of the locals in the parking lot. Eddie and I hadn’t passed a single car on the way here, so this would be a better bet than standing on the road.
Rhonda Jean hadn’t gotten her final ride here, but it sounded like the kids from Hunter Beach came here. Eddie and I crossed the parking lot to the store, my flip-flops slapping against the hot pavement.
I shivered again as we stepped inside, the bell over the door ringing above our heads. The air-conditioning in here wasn’t strong, but I still had chills. Eddie was right; there was something off about this whole place. Coldlake Falls, Hunter Beach—all of it. How had we ended up here? I didn’t exactly remember Eddie taking that wrong turn. Had I been sleeping? Why couldn’t I remember it?
Eddie and I walked through the store, past aisles of canned goods, an aisle of plastic cutlery and folded paper tablecloths. Elevator music tinkled out of the sound system. We glimpsed a few lonely people in the aisles, and that was all. The entire place seemed half-asleep, wilting in the summer sun.
A girl with greasy hair stood behind the counter. Eddie approached. “Hi,” he said to her. “Is it okay if I ask you a question?”
Her eyes darted to me, then somewhere over her shoulder, then back to Eddie. “What?”
Eddie slid the photograph of the Hunter Beach kids over the counter. “Do you know any of these people? Have you seen them in here?”
The girl looked at the photo, then shrugged. “Maybe. I guess.”
Eddie’s voice was patient. “Take another look.”
He could have been a cop, I thought. I watched the calm expression on his face, the way his gaze held hers, firm but not intimidating. The girl was staring at the photo, biting her lip, unaware that she was instantly doing as he asked. I knew I was good, but I also knew that my husband of two days just might be smarter than me.
“They’ve been here,” the girl said. “They’re Hunter Beach kids. They were with a few others. The owner doesn’t like the Hunter Beach kids to come in here, because sometimes they hang around outside and ask for rides. But he wasn’t here that day, so I let them stay. They bought cigarettes and food. I don’t think they stole anything.”
“When was this?” Eddie asked.
“Two, three days ago?” the girl asked no one. “Um, three.”
The bell above the front door jangled, and I peered around the nearest shelf to look. I didn’t see anyone. The door wasn’t moving.
