Page 89 of Someone Just Followed You

‘How?’ Ash asks.

‘By checking CCTV,’ Dylan says, gesturing toward the customer service kiosk. ‘Come on.’ He walks up and gives the old dude behind the desk the kind of smile he usually saves for his bishop. ‘Hi, sir,’ he says. ‘This is Garrett Clark, and these are his kids. Their sister’s missing, and she was last seen here, on Friday, and we were hoping—’

‘Yeah, I know about Maple Clark,’ the guy interrupts. ‘Feds only left thirty minutes ago, once we’d copied the CCTV for them.’ He turns to Garrett. ‘I feel for you, man. I have four kids myself.’

‘So there is CCTV of her then,’ Dylan says. ‘Can we see it?’

‘Ah, you’ll have to ask the police or the FBI about that. It’s officially evidence now.’

Garrett lifts his palms. ‘Please. I just want to see her. And see the guy who took her, the whites of his eyes, you know?’

‘Honestly, man, I get it. I’d be raging too if I was walking in your shoes. But it’s more than my job’s worth, you know? Talk to the feds. I’m sure they’ll let you see it.’

‘Were you working here Friday?’ Garrett asks, changing tack. ‘Did you see her?’

The man shakes his head. ‘I was here, yeah, but this place is busy. Especially on a Friday afternoon in summer, people going a hundred different places. I didn’t see anything.’

‘What about other people who work here? Could we talk to them?’

The guy sighs, like he’s starting to get impatient. ‘The police have already interviewed everyone. I promise your best bet is to go see them.’

Dylan mutters ‘thank you’ and guides Garrett away from the desk. ‘How about we film a TikTok here,’ he suggests. ‘It might jog someone’s memory.’

‘I’ll do the filming,’ Aspen says, flipping down her hand. Dylan drops his phone into her open palm then walks to the seating area where the guy, Chris Brent, said he saw Maple. He waits for Aspen to set up, then starts talking.

‘So we are here, at Bonneville Transit Center in Las Vegas, close to the spot where Maple was last seen, and she was talking to a man we’re almost positive is very dangerous.’ He pauses, the thought of not knowing who that man is, two possible suspects, hitting his gut harder than his dad’s punches ever have. He takes a breath. ‘So please, if you were here on Friday afternoon around three o’clock, think about what you might have seen. And get in touch. My DMs are open.’

‘Hey, man. You’re Dylan Dope, right?’

Dylan turns toward the voice. It belongs to a young skinny guy with cropped ginger hair, wearing the same uniform as the guy behind the customer service desk. ‘Yeah, that’s me.’

‘I’m Sam. I follow you on TikTok. Your riding’s sick, man.’

‘I appreciate that, Sam, thanks.’ Dylan can sense the guy’s got more to say, so he waits, praying that it’s to do with Maple and not skateboarding.

‘Listen,’ Sam finally says. ‘I’m sorry about your friend. You know, I saw her, and the guy she left with.’

‘You did?’ Garrett takes a step forward. ‘That guy behind the desk said—’

‘Shit, no,’ Sam interrupts, his eyes widening. ‘I wasn’t even here on Friday. What I mean is I saw her on the CCTV; I copied the footage for the feds. And I just thought you should know that she seemed okay with things. Maybe a little nervous, but he didn’t drag her out or anything.’

‘Right.’ Garrett’s shoulders slump.

‘Can you tell us anything about the guy?’ Dylan asks. ‘What he looked like, what he was wearing? Anything at all, man. We’re kinda desperate.’

Sam’s face flushes beetroot. ‘Well, he was wearing a Raiders cap. Sorry, I should probably go.’

‘Do you have a photo of him?’

Dylan turns toward Ash. The kid barely speaks, but his stare is pretty intimidating now, and Sam’s face flushes under its scrutiny. And it makes sense, Dylan supposes, for this guy to take a keepsake with all the drama Maple’s disappearance is causing. Clout for his socials.

‘Listen, man,’ Dylan says, reaching out and touching the guy’s arm, just gently. ‘If you have something you could share with us, I would be so grateful. We all would.’

Sam bites his lip, looks at the guy behind the desk for a second, then exhales. ‘Bring your phone closer,’ he murmurs.

Dylan does as he’s told, and a moment later, sees the familiar ripple of an Airdropped file. Sam gives him a tiny nod, then slopes off behind a door marked Private.

Chapter 105