Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Do you know if either of the girls know anyone out here?” I glance over at Martinez.
“I don’t know about Anna, but Grace’s mother didn’t think so,” he says from the passenger seat, where he’s spent the drive on the phone with Mrs. Taylor—Grace’s mom and the one who reported the girls missing this morning. He’s also been in contact with the grandfather of Grace, who will be meeting us at the car with a spare set of keys so we can avoid causing any damage, if possible. “We’ll know more when Anna’s parents call us back, but I’m guessing with them living in Seattle, the answer will also be no, but I could be wrong.”
I ignore the twist in my gut. Winter is still young, but as a parent, I can’t imagine waking to a missed call from a number I don’t recognize, only to call it back and find out that it’s an officer letting me know that my daughter is missing. And I hope in my life I never have to experience the kind of fear that would be attached to a call like that. Especially being who I am, with my career, and knowing the statistics.
As we pull up to the area where the car was located just a few hours ago, it’s obvious it’s all hands-on deck. Either that or this is the most excitement that any of these men have had in a while. There are more than a few police-issued vehicles parked on the side of the dirt road along with a single state police vehicle.
I park, then reach over and open the glovebox, taking out a pair of neoprene gloves before I get out and meet Martinez at the hood of my SUV. Then, the two of us walk to where a black Honda Civic is pulled carefully off to the side of the road, near where the officers are gathered.
A younger gentleman wearing a standard state police uniform is the first to separate from the men he’s standing with and approaches us with his hand out. He introduces himself as Kelly, and Martinez greets him, shaking his hand.
When he’s done, I introduce myself, then dip my chin toward the car. “Are you the officer who found the vehicle?”
“I did. My wife and I just moved out this way a few months ago, and I was heading into work when I came across it. I didn’t know at the time it was attached to two missing girls but stopped to have a look and make sure there was no one in the vehicle who might need help.”
I nod and follow him toward the car when he starts that way. The first thing I notice is there are multiple shoe impressions outside the vehicle in the dirt. All the shoe impressions look like standard-issued police boot prints and are most likely from the men who are all standing nearby. So, if this is a crime scene, we’ve already lost evidence.
Fuck.
“Has anyone checked the doors of the vehicle?” I ask as the other men join us.
“I did. They’re locked, and it doesn’t look like there are any keys inside,” Officer Kelly says.
I pull out my cell and take some photos of the footprints around the car. They aren’t professional, but they’re better than nothing.
When I’m done, I join Martinez as Kelly introduces the other officers, then we all turn as another vehicle approaches. Once the large white truck is parked, a man who must be close to seven-feet-tall with a wide build and gray hair gets out. Grace’s granddad, judging by the worry etched into his features.
“Mr. Taylor, I’m Detective Thatcher, and this is Detective Martinez.” I hold out my hand when he reaches us, and he takes it, his grip tight. When he lets me go, he shakes Martinez’s hand.
“There is no reason Grace would have been all the way out here,” he tells us, looking around. Normally, I might think he’s wrong. Young adults often have entire lives their families know nothing about, so I never assume anything. Except, in this situation, there isn’t much of a reason for anyone to be out here, unless you happen to live out here. Where we’re standing, there isn’t a house in sight, and since Martinez and I arrived, not one single car has driven by, going to show just how few people travel this road.
“Did you bring the key?”
“I did.” He takes it out of his pocket, and a moment later, I hear the chirp of the locks as I put on my gloves.
Walking to the driver door, I open it up, and the first thing I notice is the seat is set all the way back. So, whoever drove the car last needed the extra legroom.
“How tall is Grace?” I ask.
“Five-four,” he says, and I lean into the car. There doesn’t seem to be anything out of place, but there is a slight smell of some kind of disinfectant. I check the cupholder for a key; it’s not there, and I scan the back seat. Two backpacks, a sweatshirt, and a couple of books are shoved to one side near the passenger-side backdoor, as if someone had been sitting in the back behind the driver. Unfolding from the car, I look to Grace’s granddad.