Chapter 108
Dylan
@LeonieMeadowsLA, TikTok
I heard from a guy that Maple’s mom was doing karaoke in a dive bar in north Hollywood on Saturday night WHILE HER DAUGHTER IS MISSING!! So gross #findMaple
Dylan shuffles restlessly in the uncomfortable plastic chair. Jeez, this is painful. Why are they even here? If they wanted to sit around in a soulless police station, they could have stayed in Utah.
‘What’s taking so long?’ he mutters. ‘How hard can it be to find a detective working on Maple’s case?’
‘Maybe it’s a good sign,’ Garrett murmurs, the hope in his voice so obviously fake. ‘Maybe they can’t talk to us because they’re out looking for Maple.’
‘But isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing?’ Aspen says, with the accusing pout of a professional eight-year-old. ‘Isn’t that why we’re in Vegas?’
Dylan’s face burns. Because she’s right. When they left St George for Vegas, they were convinced they had enough intel to kick-start their search for Maple. But it only took one dude in uniform to direct them to the police station, and they deferred responsibility like dogs around poop.
‘What about your TikTok?’ Ash asks.
Dylan shakes his head. ‘Nothing helpful, not last time I checked anyway.’
‘And how long ago was that?’ Aspen asks, in a tone that matches her expression.
Dylan suddenly realizes it’s been a while, maybe more than ten minutes. He opens the app. There are over fifty new comments, so he scrolls as fast as he can, speed reading, wishing his brain could process stuff as quickly as ChatGPT.
‘Hey wait,’ he suddenly calls out, his thumb breaking like rigor mortis has set in. ‘Some guy called Paul Evans says he knows him, or at least that he knows he’s a photographer called Jake.’
‘Really?’ Garrett twists forward in the chair. ‘How does he know? Does he say anything else?’
Dylan turns back to his phone. ‘No, but there are some replies,’ he says, his voice still too loud for the hushed waiting room.
‘People saying he looks like a guy who hangs out in dodgy areas of LA and Vegas. Someone’s sister being mugged.
And then someone called Claudia says I should DM her about a photo she bought online.
’ He scrolls further, looks up. ‘Holy shit, a kid says his dad met him in some café, and the dad’s actually IDed him! ’
‘What café?’ Garrett demands, his eyes wide, sweat beading on his forehead.
‘He says it’s called Bagdad Café. I’ll message him for more info.’
‘No need.’ Garrett pushes off the chair. ‘I’ve seen the movie. I know exactly where that is.’