PROLOGUE
8:27a.m. August 23
Quinlan walked into Tom and Joe’s Diner on 13th Avenue. It was one of the many local diners and restaurants in the suburban town of Altoona, Pennsylvania where she lived. For a summer morning in the early part of the week, the place was hopping with breakfast customers. Most locals came out on the weekends, preferring to eat during the week. She knew she did, but today, she had a meeting.
Trish and Trenton Caswell waved from a table in the corner, but they weren’t alone. She headed to meet them, curious to find out who they had brought with them.
Trenton and their male guest stood. “So glad you could join us. This is our private investigator, Logan Burrows. I asked him to join us. I hope you don’t mind.”
“It’s your meeting,” she said with a smile. “I’m here to tell your story and to get the Altoona Police Department to continue searching for Barbie.”
Trish reached a shaky hand across the table and grasped hers when she sat down. “You’ve been our biggest supporter through all this, Quinn. Every word you’ve written for the Altoona Observer has helped. Even if the police say there isn’t enough evidence to support a conclusion. I know my sister. She wouldn’t just disappear, nor would she leave home for any length of time and not contact me.”
“I know. And I wish I could do more.” Quinn glanced around at the nearby tables. It seemed the diner had gotten quieter since they’d begun talking of Barbie as if the other customers knew why they were meeting.
She shook the notion off and smiled at Trish, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before digging the tape recorder out of her bag. “Let me set up and we can get started.” She laid the recorder and notepad on the Formica table in front of her. “You said you had some new information to share?”
“Yeah. Logan has been investigating for us since it was clear the police weren’t going to try to seriously look for Barbie, and he has decided to turn his findings over to you,” Trenton said.
The private investigator picked up a rubber-banded file folder from the floor about two inches thick and laid it in front of her. “These are copies, use what you want to write your stories,” Burrows said. “I’m heading to Lewistown. There was a report last night on the evening news of a waitress who simply vanished after one of her shifts. Sounds like what happened to Barbie.”
“I heard about that.” Quinn patted the file. “Thanks for this. It will come in handy. Is there anything in the file that stuck out to you?”
He nodded. “Several things, but I won’t spoil it for you. I’ll let you draw your conclusions and let that dog hunt.”
She found that odd. What exactly was that supposed to mean? She’d never heard the saying before, but he had her curiosity piqued, and she couldn’t wait to dig into the folder to see what nuggets of information were hidden. “Okay.”
He rose. “I need to get going. I’m meeting the woman’s employer before the brewery opens.”
“Brewery?” Quinn’s brow arched. “Sounds like just the place a frat boy would want to hang out.”
“There’s a restaurant and entertainment venue on-site as well. The place attracts large crowds, especially during the summer. It’s quite the tourist attraction for all sorts of clientele, even the frat boys.”
After he walked away, Trish sighed. “We’ve exhausted the frat boy angle.”
Quinn looked at the woman in her early thirties who appeared older and weary after months of trying to find her sister with no luck. “Everyone we’ve interviewed stated that Barbie came to that frat party with an older member who had graduated and returned for the Pembroke State weekend football game. They just didn’t get a good look at him because he was wearing a Pembroke State hat and sweatshirt like so many of them were that weekend. Other reports said that she was drinking heavily and doing recreational drugs while there. Which is why the Altoona Police Department continues to stand by their decision to rule her a missing drug user case.”
Trish started crying. “It isn’t true. She didn’t use drugs. And she wasn’t a heavy drinker. But no one will listen to me. I’m only her sister. If we didn’t live on the wrong side of the tracks growing up, and she hadn’t been a scholarship student they’d be doing more to find her.”
Trenton pulled her into his arms, running his hand up and down her back to console her. “Sh-h-h. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get the answers we need. We’re going to get justice for Barbie. Whatever that may be.”
Quinn nodded. “I’m going to take this file and follow up on any leads I find in here.”
“It’s going on two years,” Trish said. “Two years. I just want to know where my sister is.”
Quinn turned on her tape recorder. “It’s August 23. Two years after the disappearance of Barbie Martin. I’m speaking with her sister Trish Creswell as we continue the search for her sister. Can you tell me again what Barbie was wearing that night, the last time you saw her?”
CHAPTER 1
THE ALTOONA OBSERVER
August 25
Second Central PennsylvaniaWoman Goes Missing in Less Than Two Years but Authorities Have No Leads
Quinlan Moynahan
Another front-page storyabove the fold was great for her portfolio, but still no results from the police. And that’s what matters the most right now. Quinn sipped her morning coffee, reading over her article again in Newsprint while she nibbled on a day-old pastry that her friend Shelby had brought from her bakery and shook her head. It was hard enough to deal with the family of Barbie Martin, who were still trying to get answers, but now the parents of the Lewistown waitress, Heather Randall were demanding to be heard as well. They were having as difficult a time with the police over in Lewistown as the Creswells had here.
