Martin opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. He didn’t know what irritated him more: one, that they’d come to search for a woman in the woods with no flashlights, or two, that the only reason they asked him to come was to bring the flashlights they forgot.
“What are you going to do?” Martin asked.
“Have a good ol’ game of flashlight tag. What do you think I’m going to do?” Captain said, glaring at Martin.
“I can help look for her. I came. I’m here. Let me do something.”
“You don’t know these woods,” Captain responded. “They’re tricky enough in the daylight. We’d just end up looking for both of you.”
“Can I at least look at her vehicle?” Martin pressed.
“Be my guest. We don’t have a warrant, and I already have a headache. So don’t do anything stupid,” he said.
“Noted,” Martin answered, and headed for the city girl’s car before Captain could change his mind.
He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and shone the beam through the driver’s-side window. A pair of jeans and a black sweater were folded on the passenger seat, black leather heels tossed on the floorboard. An unopened bottle of Smartwater rested against the chair back. She hadn’t taken water on the trail with her. Martin’s ex-wife had been a big runner. He always knew when she planned a run longer than an hour because she’d take water with her in one of those fanny packs she’d swear wasn’t a fanny pack. If the run was going to be an hour or less, she’d fill a thermos with ice and leave it in the car.
He glanced into the back seat. Manila envelopes lay in a stack behind the driver’s seat. The corner of a Louis Vuitton briefcase peered out from under a gray hooded sweatshirt. Her purse was visible in the opposite seat. Something about this seemed careless. He didn’t know anything about this woman, but if she was a city chick, she’d know better than to leave a purse in plain sight. Something must’ve distracted her. Maybe a phone call or a text… or a man sitting in a van.
Martin glanced across the parking lot. An old white work van sat in the far corner—no doubt Eddie Stevens’s van. Martin felt sure Captain would’ve noticed it. Maybe he was leaving it alone out of the same pitied reverence he’d shown toward the man earlier in the day. Yet here Eddie was, present at the scene of another possible abduction.
Martin switched off his flashlight and walked to Eddie’s van. He circled it once, scanning the ground for anything Eddie might’ve dropped. Then he peered at the other officers. He wasn’t sure how Captain would feel about him snooping around Eddie’s vehicle. But why the hell weren’t they?
Shielding his light from view, he switched it on again and stared through Eddie’s driver’s-side window. The seat was empty. He trained the light into the passenger seat. A pink notebook sat on top of a large binder. READ ME was scrawled in block letters with a red marker on the spine of the binder. Martin squeezed the handle on Eddie’s door. It clicked open. He glanced over his shoulder to where the other officers were gathered on the other side of the lot. Only one was still fully visible. The rest had become nothing more than tiny flecks of light on the wooded hillside.
What if Eddie was in the back of the van? What if this was some kind of trap, the whole lost-city-girl thing a hoax to draw out the officers who had failed him? Or what if he was some sick bastard who had killed before and felt like killing again?
Martin slid his fingers in the narrow crack between the door and the car frame. He eased it open, stiffening as the old hinges creaked.
“Mr. Stevens? Are you in here?” he called into the back of the van. No one answered. “Mr. Stevens, my name is Martin Locklear. I’m a detective with the Tarson PD.” Still, no one responded. Best-case scenario, the grieving father had drunk himself to sleep in the back of his van. Worst-case scenario, he was lying in wait only a few feet away. Or he was in those godforsaken woods… with her.
Martin shined his light into the back of the van. It was empty. He let out a breath.
“Martin? What the hell are you doing?” Barrow called to him from a distance. Without thinking, Martin grabbed the notebook and the binder off of Eddie’s passenger seat and tucked them inside his jacket before retracting himself from the van.
“Is this Eddie’s van?” Martin asked.
“You know damn well it’s Eddie’s van. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in it,” Captain said, advancing.
“Where is he? You think he’s lost out there, too?” Martin asked, attempting to sound neutral.
“He’s not lost. No one knows those woods better than Eddie,” Captain answered.
Martin hugged the material he’d gathered against his side. “It’s likely he’s one of the last people to see this woman. If she really is missing, he’d be a witness.”
“Witness?” Captain narrowed his eyes. “You sure that’s what you mean?”
“That’s what I said,” Martin countered. They fell in step as they crossed the lot.
“You leave Eddie out of this,” Captain ordered. “He’s got no part in it.”
“How can you be sure? Two girls missing on the same day, a year apart? Eddie the last one known to have been in the proximity of both women?”
Captain spun him around by the arm. “That’s his daughter you’re talking about!”
“You know the statistics as well as I do. Victims in cases like this almost always know the abductor. It’s very rarely the first encounter.”
“I know,” Captain said, sobering. “But I don’t see what Eddie would have to do with a hotshot defense attorney out of Atlanta.”
Martin raised an eyebrow. “That’s what she does?” he asked.
Captain nodded. “Name’s Ama Chaplin.”
“I can dig for any information linking Eddie to Ama,” Martin said, his thoughts racing ahead of him.
“You will do nothing of the sort,” Captain argued.
“Captain, all due respect, but if Eddie is involved in this, and I’m not saying he is, he didn’t start with killing his daughter. He started earlier, smaller, and he very well may have needed a defense attorney in the past. If it was anyone else, wouldn’t you look for a connection?” Martin pressed.
Captain paused and stared at the wet asphalt at their feet. “Go ahead and do some looking,” he said quietly. “But keep this between us until you find something concrete. If you find anything, you tell me immediately.”
“You got it,” Martin replied. He began to turn, his gaze landing on the two figures of Briggs and Stanton approaching them from across the lot. They knew Eddie, cared for him. If they were to encounter him in the woods, would they even think to protect themselves in his presence?
“All due respect, sir, if Eddie does has something to do with this, Briggs and Stanton will be in the woods with him completely unaware of what risk they might be facing,” Martin cautioned.
Captain stood still, exhaling long and slow. “I’ll mention something to Briggs,” he said.
They parted ways, and Martin headed for his car. He glanced up at the woods, his mind racing, the lights and voices calling for Ama fading into the fog.