Daisy shook her head. “I came right from work. I assume somebody’s called him by now, but maybe not. I’m sure he’d be here if he knew.”

“One thing I’ll need to ask him-or maybe this is something you can tell me yourself-do you recall what your mother was wearing the day she disappeared?”

“A sundress. Lavender cotton with white polka dots. Leather sandals and thin silver bracelets, six of them. I don’t actually remember any of it. It was in the report my father filed at the time.” She seemed so tense, I expected her teeth to chatter. “Are you going to tell me if she’s down there?”

“I’d do that, of course. You have a right to know.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

As he walked away, she tracked his departure with a calculating eye. “Well, he’s cute. Married, no doubt.”

Tannie laughed. “Just your kind of guy. Too bad he works. He’d be perfect for you.”

Within minutes, we could see two deputies encouraging bystanders to move on. People began to drift away. Car doors slammed, engines coughed to life, and one by one the crowd dispersed. In truth, at that remove, there wasn’t much to see. The excavation was being treated like an archaeological dig-sketched, diagrammed, measured, photographed, and documented with a video camera as well. Two-man teams were set up, and as each scoop of dirt was freed, it was loaded into one of two sieves, shaken, and sifted for physical evidence.

At dusk, portable generators were brought in and high-intensity lights were set up. By then Daisy was shivering.

I linked my arm through hers. “Let’s get out of here. They’re not going to find anything tonight. You’re freezing and I’m starving. Plus, I gotta pee so bad I’m about to wet my pants.”

“Oh, me too,” Tannie said.

21

Jake

Thursday, July 2, 1953

Jake Ottweiler drove into Santa Maria for his bimonthly haircut, pausing outside the barbershop to put a nickel in the vending machine and extract a copy of the Chronicle. In his truck he’d discovered Mary Hairl’s soiled nightgowns in a bundle on the front seat, where he’d inadvertently left them the night before. Once he got home, he’d do a load of wash and take her fresh clothes on his visit the next day. He usually went afternoons or evenings without fail, but she’d urged him to take a day off. He’d argued the point, more as a way of disguising his relief than with any desire to prevail.