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Will contact Kirkwood PD re: backup. Stand by for update.
Bri tossed the phone onto the seat beside her, buckled up, and sped toward the close-in suburb known for its small-town feel.
As she arrived at the bustling downtown area and began the often-difficult search for a parking place, her cell began to vibrate again.
She snatched it up as she did another circuit of the loop between a row of businesses and the farmers’ market.
James Wallace.
Pressing talk, she jammed on her brakes as a patron of the quaint garden supply store began to back out of an angled parking spot. “Mr. Wallace, can you hold a moment?”
Without waiting for a response, she set the cell on the passenger seat, staccato-tapped the steering wheel as the shopper executed a slow-motion exit from the spot, then pulled in, set the brake, and picked up the phone. “Sorry. I was in the midst of parking. What can I do for you?”
“Well, after you left, I read through your list again—and that prompted me to go through the photo album I put together of Michelle. The one I showed you on your first visit. I thought one of those shots might jog my memory. I found one that did.”
Bri twisted her wrist. She had fifteen minutes to connect with the Kirkwood PD and cross the street to the farmers’ market. Could this wait?
No.
If Wallace had information to share, she needed to hear it.
“I’m listening, Mr. Wallace.”
“The Larry name on the list may be a loose connection. I remembered it when I got to Michelle’s sweet sixteen birthday photo—the shot of her with a group of friends. I never heard the man’s last name, but there was a guy named Larry who was somehow related to Michelle’s best friend in high school. I know her friend didn’t like the man.”
Bri’s blossoming hope wilted.
Wallace was grasping at straws.
Hard to blame him, in light of all the trauma and tragedy he’d endured. In his position, she’d be turning over every rock too, no matter how obscure.
She had to let him down easy.
“I suppose there could be a connection, Mr. Wallace. I’ll keep it in mind as I contact other family members of the victims.”
“Michelle’s best friend could tell you if the man’s last name matched the one on your list.”
Humor him, Bri. He’s only trying tohelp.
“I could certainly consider calling her. Why don’t you give me her name and any other information you have about her?” Bri fished out her pen again and pulled the sheet of names from the folder.
“I don’t have any recent information. She and Michelle had a falling-out in high school, so all I have is her maiden name. Alison Lawrence.”
Bri frowned.
Alison?
Strange coincidence that Michelle’s best friend shared a name with Alison Stephens.
Or was it?
A tingle of suspicion began to niggle at her.
“Where did your daughter go to high school, Mr. Wallace?”
“Nowhere you’d recognize. We lived in Springfield back then.”
Where Alison had grown up, based on a passing reference she’d once made about her childhood.
