Page 21 of The Missing Couple

He hadn’t called her this morning. He’d mentioned a conference call with his agency and then a trip to see the sheriff again. He hadn’t invited her to join so she hadn’t asked if he needed her. There were aspects of this situation in which she could be no assistance to him, but she still wanted to help. She really, really did. If for nothing other than to serve as a buffer when he spoke to any of the locals or the sheriff. She had known Tully Malone most of her life. She pretty much had him figured out. The possibility that maybe Billie didn’t exactly like the way she took over the conversation when she felt compelled wasn’t lost on her. It was a bad habit, she supposed. He likely wasn’t accustomed to having someone else intrude into whatever he was doing on a case.

Particularly one as personal as this.

She thanked the man who had helped her load up with a nice tip and then climbed behind the steering wheel. If Billie received the list of places where the couple’s credit cards had been used, they could check the businesses for cameras. Maybe determine if someone had been following them if there was video footage. Wasn’t that what kidnappers did? They watched and followed their prey until they found the right opportunity to pounce?

Then again, she may have watched far too many true-crime shows.

And there she went, acting like she knew what their next step should be.

Charly had just started to back out of her slot when banging on her vehicle had her slamming on the brakes. She stared at the rearview mirror, hoping she hadn’t nearly run over someone. Clear. Then another knock on the glass right next to her face made her jump.

Deputy Cohen Lathan stood outside her door, grinning like a jackass. Slumping with a combination of relief and frustration, she shoved the gearshift into Park and then powered the window down. She might have ignored him and continued backing up if not for the possibility that he might have an update on the case.

“Hey, Cohen.” She tried her best to prevent the anger that tinged her voice, but it just wasn’t possible.

Hands on hips, head cocked with sunglasses shielding his eyes, he studied her a moment. She barely resisted rolling her eyes.

“What have you been telling that guy from Chicago?” he demanded.

Charly drew back at the accusatory tone. “What are you talking about?”

“He showed up in the sheriff’s office this morning making all kinds of accusations about missing women and unsolved cases from the past.” He tore his sunglasses off. “So, I ask again, what have you been telling him? Obviously, you’ve got him all fired up about old cases that aren’t even relevant anymore much less related to his missing sister. Geez Louise, where’s your sense of community? Your loyalty?”

As much as Charly wanted to tell him exactly what she thought about his accusations and him, she recognized that it was better to go at this from a different angle. “I didn’t tell him anything about any cases,” she said firmly. “Everything he learned was from the internet and…” She shouldn’t do this; she really shouldn’t. “From the FBI. He has major connections, and he intends to do whatever necessary to find his sister.”

The fact that every ounce of blood seemed to drain out of the cocky deputy’s face was almost enough to make her smile.

But Charly wasn’t finished yet. Too late to turn back now. “You know he works for the Colby Agency. I looked up that agency and it’s a really big deal.” She widened her eyes as large as possible. “Seriously, I’m talking huge. They’re looking into the case as well. Two more investigators may be showing up.”

The last was total fiction but she couldn’t resist.

Red replaced the pallor that had claimed his face. “Well, let them,” he sneered. “We’re doing everything we can with the resources we have. This ain’t Chicago and we can’t just pull stuff out of our—”

“I know.” Charly nodded vigorously, almost feeling guilty. “I’m sure you’re doing all you can.” Despite the guilt, she decided to dig. “I’m sure that video footage we got from Vince Cox will be very useful.”

He harrumphed. “Worthless. You can’t ID a vehicle without seeing the license plate or the driver or something. That damned SUV could be from anywhere. The footage is worthless.”

Exactly what she’d expected. “Well, we tried.”

“More likely,” Cohen argued, “the two had a big argument and she took off with someone else and then her new husband dumped their rental in the water just to spook her. Newlyweds do stupid stuff. They’ll probably show up any day now and make up like nothing ever happened.”

Was he serious? “May…be,” she offered.

He leaned his head closer to her open window. “For all we know the two were drugged out of their minds. They could be anywhere.”

Charly held her mouth shut for five seconds until she could speak without telling him what a stupid idea that was. “You never know.”

He eyed her suspiciously then. “Has he—this Jagger guy—told you anything else? Or said anything about our department?”

Charly’s head was moving side to side before he finished speaking. Time to smooth the feathers she’d ruffled. “I’ve told you everything. He’s beginning to realize, I think, that ours is not your usual small-town department.”

“Good. Because we’re not. We’re the best.” He shoved his sunglasses back into place. “Now, you let me know if he tells you anything else you feel we need to know. We locals have to stick together and don’t you forget it.”

As if the situation couldn’t get worse, Laney Rogers drove past on her way out of the parking lot. She stared a hole through Charly and the scene playing out at her front driver’s-side window.

“Well, I should get the groceries home,” she announced as she reached for the gearshift once more.

“Good talking to you, Charly.”