Chapters (68)
- Dedication
- Title Page
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Copyright
Jeremy was kneeling, trying to peer up into her face. “You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to fine. It’s their fault. Those idiots. They caused this.”
I wanted to smack him.
“See if you can stand up,” he said.
“No,” I said. “Don’t move, Charlene. Just stay right where you are.”
Already, I thought I heard a siren in the distance. I looked in the direction of the parking lot entrance. It wasn’t what I saw pulling in that caught my attention, but what was pulling out.
A black van.
Twenty-Nine
TWENTY-NINE
DUCKWORTH told Trevor to stay at Carol Beakman’s building. He would come to him.
Ten minutes later, he was pulling into the lot in his black, unmarked police cruiser. Trevor was sitting on the edge of a short brick edifice that ran the length of the building, phone in hand. The moment he saw his father, he jumped to his feet. Duckworth brought the car to a stop in the no-parking zone directly out front of the building.
“Let’s find the super,” he said.
They went into the lobby together. Duckworth found the directory button marked “Building Superintendent” and leaned on the buzzer.
Several seconds later, a crackling female voice said, “Yeah?”
“Police.”
“What?”
“Police,” Duckworth repeated.
“Hang on.”
Duckworth said to Trevor, “This Toyota she drives. I don’t suppose you know the plate off the top of your head?”
“Jeez, no, how would I know that?”
“That’s okay. Just asking.” He got out his phone, entered a number. “Yeah, hi, it’s Duckworth. I need you to try to track down a plate for a silver Toyota Corolla, around 2012, registered to a Carol Beakman.” He gave the address. “Yeah, okay, give me a call when you know anything.”
The super, a pale woman in her forties wearing a dark blue bathrobe, turned the lock on the glass door and opened it. “Can I see some ID?”
Duckworth displayed it. He asked her name, which was Gretchen Hardy.
“What’s the problem?”
“We’re worried about one of your tenants,” he said. “She’s not answering her phone or knocks to her door.”
“If you’ve already been to her door, whaddya need me for?” Gretchen asked.
“We need you to let us into her apartment.”
“Don’t you have to have a warrant for something like that?”
Duckworth shook his head. “We’re not searching it. We just want to see if she’s there, and if she’s okay.”
Gretchen Hardy nodded. “Go on up to the third floor. I’ll meet you there.”
Going up in the elevator, Duckworth asked Trevor, “What about family?”
“Huh?”
“Remember I mentioned that maybe there was some kind of family emergency. Do Carol’s parents live in Promise Falls? She got any brothers or sisters? Maybe she spent the night with one of them.”