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Her voice echoed over the sounds of the cafeteria.
The man in question turned. As did the governor, the people around him. Her own family.
They looked at her, paused.
Heather waved a hand at her twin. Joy knew what to do and was fearless enough to do it. So was Hope. And Marcia and the rest. When it mattered.
Her family spread out. Stood shoulder to shoulder. A physical barrier. Blocking the doors. These men weren't going anywhere.Unless they went through a wall of determined Coleson women.
Far braver men had tried and failed.
Heather headed straight for them. "Chief Marshall, I am Lt. Heather Coleson. IA, Wichita Falls. We've spoken recently about a position."
"I'm afraid I don't have time for hiring discussions right now." There was an impatient look in his green eyes. One that told her he had moreimportantthings on his mind now.
He wasn't going to just give her the brush off. Heather shot a look at Hope. Who jumped right in front of the chief, all 108 pounds of her.
"I don't give a damn about a job," Heather said, still loudly enough for everyone who'd been with him to hear. The entire cafeteria could hear her now. They were looking at her now. Exactly as she wanted it. The more people who knew about Bonnie and Crispin, the better. She held her baby girl close and continued. "At approximately nine-forty-five a.m. this morning my eighteen-year-old niece disappeared from the campus of FCU. Hermother,my sister, was supposed to meet me right here so we could search for her daughter. My sister is now nowhere to be found."
“Have you called it in?” He at least paused. Looked at her. Almost like he gave a damn. Well, Heather wasn’t a fool. There were too manyimportant peoplelistening and waiting right now for him to just brush her off. And people had cell phones. Social media.
Yeah, he was a career politician, just like the governor next to him.
"Chief Marshall, my sister's bag and her phone were found dumped beside her car. In the rear parking lot.Here.She is a nursehere. There is fresh blood on her car. She was supposed to leaveherealmost three hours ago. We were told to wait. But we are running out of time. It's her daughter that is missing." Hope was in herWichita Falls TSP Forensicspolo. It would buy Hope a moment of the man’s time. Maybe. "There was evidence of a struggle. Something is going on. Nowtwowomen in our family are missing. At separate times."
“Have you called this in?” the chief asked.
“Of course, we did!” Hope said, crossing her arms and challenging him. “We got the brush off from the Finley Creek TSP.”
"I called it in myself.YourDetective Kimball told me not to worry my little head, and to just tend to my newborn. That my sister and her daughter will show up eventually. Because pretty girls usually justdo." Heather's tone was as scathing as she could make it. Loud.
And people were moving closer. She had his attention now. His…and the governor’s.
This was the only real shot she was going to get to get the help they needed right now. "I understand you are busy with whatever happened today, and with therich girlsthat are missing. But who is going to helpmyfamily find the ones we love that are missing? Or are the rumors I’ve heard true? Does the Finley Creek TSP only help those who canpayfor it now?”
Her family stepped closer. Formed a semi-circle behind her.
As they stared at the governor of Texas and the chief of the Finley Creek TP, two powerful men who could move mountains.
If they wanted to.
The governor and the police chief studied each of them, one by one.
“Well? Can you answer my questions? Or should my sisters and I go hunt for Bonnie and Crispin ourselves?”
Ember’s fussing was the only sound for a long, long time.
Heather shifted her baby closer—and waited.
107
Murdoch shovedopen the rear door. That damned thing was like solid oak. But finally he was in. In a kitchen straight from the 1980s or something.
He almost tripped over the dead woman on the floor around the corner peninsula. His foot slipped in blood, and he almost went down.
Murdoch swore, but bit it off before he said it aloud. He turned her over, checked for vitals. There weren’t any. She was definitely gone.
From the location of the wound, it had been instant, at least. Fifties, white, greying brown hair, a good sixty pounds overweight. He'd never seen her before, not around Garrity. He was almost certain of it.
