Chapter 18 #2
“On an empty skid out back. One of the kitchen guys found it.” Matt’s got bags under his eyes. The man works long hours any given day, but on holiday weekends like this, we’ve seen him rolling out as late as four a.m. only to return a few hours later to let the kitchen staff in.
I look to Clara. “Have you canvassed out back yet?”
“Not yet. Samir’s out there now. We did a quick eyeball but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary besides the broken surveillance camera.”
“Yeah, that’s been like that for weeks,” Matt admits. “I keep replacing them and—”
“Show me where your staff found the phone,” I interrupt, in no mood for chitchat. Holly still hasn’t come home, and she didn’t stay at any of her friends’ houses, according to Isla’s digging.
“Sure thing.” Matt leads us down the long narrow hall and out the back door.
I note a tin can holding spent cigarette butts and the smashed camera above as we follow Matt about thirty feet away to a stack of wooden pallets.
“Hey, Staff.” Samir lifts his uniform cap to scratch his thick mane of black hair before resetting it. “Kitchen guy said he found the phone here, tucked down in between the slats. He heard it vibrating when he came out to toss the garbage.”
“What time was that at?”
“Around one o’clock.”
That must have been when Isla was calling.
There’s another can for cigarette butts nearby. “What is this area? Do people hang out here?”
“Sometimes my staff does, yeah.” Matt nods. “If they’re sneaking out for a break. Gives them somewhere to sit that’s not right by the door.”
“Beside the dumpsters?” I scan the massive gravel lot. Beyond it is a sparse row of leafy trees and then acres of farm fields. There’s not much of anything out here, besides the pallets, the two covered garbage bins, and, not too far off, Matt’s truck.
“I looked inside those already,” Clara says before I have a chance to ask. “One’s empty and the other has five bags.”
“Truck came yesterday,” Matt confirms.
“Okay, thanks. We’ll let you know when we have more questions for you.” I need time to think without him chattering in my ear.
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Matt scratches his jaw, a rare serious expression taking over his face. “I hope you find her. She’s a good kid. Comes here a lot. Always orders the sweet potato fries.” He heads back inside, leaving me to stare at the mostly vacant lot.
“What are you thinking?” Clara’s arms are crossed over her chest as she assesses with me. Of all my officers, she’s the sharpest.
“Based on what Isla uncovered, Holly left here with her friends around nine to check out a house party on Maple Drive.” Which tracks with her being gone when I left. They probably took off after I yelled at them. “But they came back at midnight. Holly said she was meeting a guy here.”
“They say who?” Samir jumps in.
I shake my head. “Just that he was older, and she’d be in big trouble if anyone found out.
They hung out back here for a while. There were a couple of young truckers parked overnight, and they started talking to them.
They gave them alcohol and weed. The other girls headed home, but Holly said she was staying. They couldn’t get her to leave.”
“So, they left her here?” Samir frowns. “Isn’t there a code against that?”
“They’re sixteen years old. They had curfews.” There are so many things I could say, but all we need are facts that might help us find Holly. “They said one of the truck drivers seemed really interested in her.”
Clara’s eyes flash with understanding. “What time was Holly supposed to be home?”
“Noon today, and she told her mother she was sleeping over at my house last night.”
She checks her watch. “We’re almost fifteen hours since anyone’s seen her.”
I take slow, measured steps, regarding tread marks left in the dirt. “And possibly seven or eight hours since that trucker left this morning.” The transport trucks usually roll out at dawn.
“The lot was empty this morning when I started shift,” Samir confirms.
That puts this driver potentially as far north as near Thunder Bay, deep into the US, or all the way in Montreal by now. That’s a lot of ground to cover.
And a lot of places to dump a body.
I push that grim thought aside. We’re not there yet.
I survey the area again. And curse. That busted camera above the door would have provided us with so much valuable information. It would have shown us Holly. I’m not seeing much in the way of lighting back here. I’ll bet this corner is dark.
“She’s Isla’s best friend, right? You know her. Is this a thing with her? Would she jump in with some truck driver and take off for a joyride?” Samir asks, and I know what he’s really asking: Is Holly a habitual runaway? Because if she were, we might wait before we declare a missing person.
“No. Holly’s a lot of things, but a runaway who abandons her phone is not one of them.” I pause, and then add, “She’s a Whitley.”
Clara’s lips twist with understanding. She’s been at this station long enough to know how Brad will react to this.
A glint of gold catches my attention. I close in and stoop to inspect the chunky tube-hoop earring.
It’s relatively clean, not sullied by dust and rain.
“Holly was wearing hoops exactly like these last night.” And now one lies in the dirt.
Perhaps it just fell out. These backings can be finicky. Isla’s lost several.
Or perhaps this earring came off in a struggle.
My heart sinks as I meet my platoon sergeant’s worried expression, as the pieces are quickly falling into place to paint an ominous picture.
“You want to make the call?” she asks calmly.
“Get everyone who’s available to the station. And shut this place down. We can’t have any more people coming here.” It’s a potential crime scene.
With a growing sense of dread, I dig out my phone.