“Then where’s his body?” her partner argues.
“Maybe an animal got to it. A month in the wilderness is more than enough time for wild animals to devour his body.”
“And his clothes, wallet, and cell phone?” I counter.
The captain eyes me in warning. Alex clears his throat again.
Lucy tilts her head in thought. “Where was he going hiking?”
“Wanda doesn’t know.” Which means there’s nowhere we can even start a canvass besides popular hiking trails in the area.
Lucy speaks again, eager to be the one to break the case wide open. “Maybe he died of the elements.”
I don’t know Lucy well enough to know her capabilities, and while she seems sharp, she doesn’t seem to be thinking past the honeymoon-haze of being on her first case with a new department.
“Or maybe,” I say, ignoring my captain’s reddening face, “he came along someone on his hike who appeared to need his help. Someone faking an injury.”Like Chloe Stark.
“Why are we investigating a missing hiker?” Lucy’s partner interjects in frustration. He’s not wrong, but I won’t admit it because I hate him.
Daniel Baker. We were beat cops together, and he earned his detective promotion shortly after I took my leave. Our personalities have never jived. He’s cocky, even though he has no right to be. He’s rude—which,okay, maybe I am too sometimes, but I’ve earned that right. I’ve been with the department for almost a decade, a detective for over five years. I’m not convinced he evenlikesbeing a detective, especially because all he does—and all he’s doing right now—is draw endless spirals on his notepads and, apparently, argue with his new partner.
All eyes in the room trail up to Alex—except Daniel’s, whose eyes are glued to the fucking circles his pen is grating into the paper.
“A second man was just reported missing at the beginning of the week.” The manilla folder falls from Alex’s hands and lands on the table with a slap.
“Because the details of their disappearances are vague, Commissioner Lane wants us to explore the possibility that they’re connected, and there’s foul play involved,” Captain Barrett says from the back of the room.
Alex points to the picture next to Richard’s on the whiteboard, this one showcasing the professional employment headshot of a good-looking, middle-aged man. “Grayson Tyler. Thirty-eight. Married with children.”
I glance at my captain out of the corner of my eye, mostly because I can no longer stop myself from asking questions and I’m trying to gauge his tolerance level for me. He’s frowning, but he tilts his head in a single nod of permission. I might be on thin ice, but I’m a good detective, and he knows that.
“Who reported him missing?” I ask, turning back to Alex.
“His employer, West and Associates, reported it Monday afternoon when he didn’t show up for work and they couldn’t get in touch with his wife.”
“And his wife?”
“Her and the two kids have yet to be located.”
“So they’re also missing?”
“Technically, yes.”Jesus Christ, Alex.Maybe lead with that. “Grayson was last seen over the weekend at a hardware store.” He flips open the folderand slides a few blown-up pictures out, pushing them in my direction. I analyze them as his voice fades into the background explaining the wife and children were last seen getting onto a bus that was headed toward the center of town.
The photos of Grayson are damning, all things considered. He’s dressed casually, face mostly shielded by a black baseball cap. At the register, his cart is full of everything you would need to bury a body—or three. Multiple bags of soil, a shovel—which, who doesn’t already own a shovel?—different types of ropes, duct tape, and a large barrel sits off to the right of the register.
“Has anyone talked to the cashier?”
Alex turns to Daniel, who doesn’t notice because he hasn’t lifted his eyes from the table as long as this conversation’s been going on.
“Daniel?” Captain Barrett prompts.
Daniel doesn’t so much as spare the room a glance when he says, “I haven’t made it in yet.”
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” I push back from the desk and rise from my chair, rage flowing through me. I reach over and snatch the paper from in front of him, balling it up and tossing it off to the side. It’s the only thing that gets a reaction out of him—finally—and he stands, too, coming eye to eye with me. Well, almost. He’s not quite tall enough, which actually makes me huff out a laugh. His chest is puffed out in my direction, but mine is not, because I have nothing to prove. IknowI can kick his ass. And I want him to give me a reason to.
“Colin,” Captain Barrett warns, standing from the desk at the back of the room.
I hold Daniel’s stare when I respond to our captain. “This motherfucker is sitting in this room right now,drawing, while five people are missing and he’s supposed to be talking to witnesses. He needs to be written up.”
