AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The kids who called in the report told us who had been in the car. The driver was Thomas Bacon Jr., known in town as Tom-Tom. He was there with his girlfriend, Tricia, who was a star on the high school’s track and lacrosse teams.
Even though it was quite late, we had to talk to the parents. The first place Sandy drove was the missing girl’s house. Sandy didn’t know her personally. She said a lot of houses outside the city limits fed the high school in town.
Tricia Green lived in a well-kept trailer park not far off US Route 2, west of the city. We pulled to a stop on the gravel in front of the trailer, and almost immediately the front door opened.
An attractive African American woman around forty was already calling outside. “Tricia, you’re more than two hours past your curfew. That means you’re grounded for the weekend, and I don’t care…” She saw that she wasn’t talking to her daughter.
The woman stared at us for a moment and saw that we were both wearing police Windbreakers. She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “What’s wrong? Is my baby all right?”
Sandy stepped forward quickly and said, “Mrs. Green, I’m Sandy Coles from the Linewiler Police Department. We don’t know anything about your daughter. That’s why we’re here. We found Tom-Tom Bacon’s car abandoned on Hillside Road, and someone said he was there with your daughter. Have you heard from her?”
The conversation went exactly like every conversation with a panicked parent goes. I just listened as we headed inside and sat on the vinyl sofa while Mrs. Green made us each a cup of coffee.
She was a lovely woman and clearly proud of her daughter. There were pictures of the beautiful lacrosse player all over the walls.
Mrs. Green caught me looking at the photos and said, “My Tricia has a track scholarship at Auburn and is going to play lacrosse at the club level.”
Sandy said, “Auburn is a great school. You must be very proud.”
Mrs. Green nodded.
Then Sandy carefully navigated the more sensitive questions. After the normal questions about the last time Tricia called and where she liked to hang out, Sandy said, “Has your daughter ever expressed any need to hurt herself?”
Mrs. Green took the question in the right way and said, “No. Never.”
“And she has been seeing Tom-Tom for a while?”
“Since the beginning of the semester. He seems like a nice young man, and his family is certainly prominent.”
“Have you ever suspected that your daughter or Tom-Tom uses any kind of drugs?”
That caught Mrs. Green by surprise, and she hesitated to answer. Finally she said, “Kids today are curious and try a lot of things. But you can’t be an athlete at Tricia’s level without taking care of yourself.”
Sandy was masterly in the way she got more information, such as the name of Tricia’s cell-phone carrier and other personal tidbits. Then she assured Mrs. Green that we were doing everything we could to find her daughter.
Sandy stood, and Mrs. Green followed us outside to the car. I knew what Sandy was doing and admired the way she had asked important questions before this most important aspect of the meeting.
/> Sandy reached into the car and brought out the shoe we had found. She showed it to Mrs. Green and said, “Is this Tricia’s shoe?”
Mrs. Green gasped. Slowly she nodded. A tear welled up in her eye.
Sandy said, “It doesn’t mean anything by itself, but I wanted to make sure we were on the right track. Give us some time, and we’ll find the kids.”
As we headed out of the trailer park, I noticed a small figure leaning on the fence surrounding it. I realized it was the girl I had seen at the clambake. The homeless girl named Sadie.
She gave me a sharp salute.
I didn’t know what to do except return it. I was rewarded with a pretty smile as we pulled onto the road. Then I noticed she was wearing a dress with a bright pattern on it. Maybe she got around faster than I thought.
Chapter 50
It was the middle of the night by the time we pulled up in front of Tom Bacon’s house. It was a beautiful redbrick ranch house built directly on a lake, not far from the center of town.
Sandy had called ahead, and Mr. Bacon had the door open before we even pulled to a complete stop in his wide driveway, which led to a three-car garage. A Range Rover and a new F-150 pickup truck sat in the driveway.
Mr. Bacon was tall and carried extra weight around his midsection. He looked like the stereotype of a successful businessman. His red face hinted at how much he drank most nights, but he was stone cold sober as he approached us.
He gave no greeting, and his first words were, “Is someone going to take care of my son’s car, or do I need to go up and get it?”
