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Zachary
Still no sign of her.
I’d heard those words so many times over the last however many hours. They knocked around in my brain, giving me a headache.
I stared at the mug of lukewarm black coffee on the table in front of me. Activity swirled in the Copper Kettle. Sometime in the night, it had become unofficial Marigold search headquarters. Sheriff Jack and his guys were doing their thing at the station, but the rest of the town had mobilized under the direction of the Squirrel Protection Squad.
Fortunately, law enforcement wasn’t wasting time treating this like some kind of accident or misunderstanding. We’d checked with everyone—Isabelle, Audrey, Annika, Stacey. None of Marigold’s friends had seen or heard from her. Her car was fine. There was no reason for her to have left it. And no one had given her a ride.
She was officially missing.
The SPS were still out there, taking shifts looking for her. The sheriff had alerted police in neighboring towns, as well as the state patrol. But every hour that went by increased the dread in my gut.
Where was she?
He’d taken her in the dark in the middle of the worst storm we’d had so far this season. No one had seen a thing, nobody’s camera had caught it. We had no idea where to even begin looking, let alone anything like an actual lead.
Garrett put a hand on my shoulder. He’d changed into street clothes and the circles beneath his eyes betrayed his lack of sleep. His shift must have ended the night before, but he hadn’t gone to bed. We’d both been up all night.
“You should crash for a couple of hours,” he said.
“Not gonna happen.”
He shrugged, as if he’d known I’d say that. “Sun is coming up. That’ll make looking for her easier.”
I shook my head. “She’s not wandering around town. She could be anywhere by now.”
“I know.”
“How does a guy roll into town, grab a woman out of her car, and disappear again? There has to be something.”
“Seattle PD checked his known residence there,” he said. “Nothing unusual, but they’ll keep an eye out.”
“He’s not going to take her to his place in the city. He’s not stupid. He’ll know we’re looking for her.”
“Yeah, but we have to start somewhere.”
“Can’t you guys track his phone or something?”
“His known number isn’t moving. If he has a phone on him, it’s either a burner or a number we don’t have.”
I raked my hands through my hair. “We’ve got nothing. Not a fucking thing.”
His jaw hitched. “I know.”
At least he wasn’t bullshitting me. And I knew the cops were doing what they could. I just hated feeling so helpless. I didn’t want to be here, in some stupid diner. I wanted to be out there, finding her.
The door swung open and a group of SPS members trudged in, wet and bedraggled.
“Nothing new to report,” one of them said, his voice somber.
Of course there wasn’t. She wasn’t here.
“Can’t we track his credit cards?” I asked. “There’s no way they’re on foot. Won’t he stop for gas eventually?”
“We’re working on it, but bank records require a lot more paperwork,” Garrett said.
“We don’t have time for fucking court orders and warrants and all that bullshit.”
