Andy’s squad car skidded to a stop on the gravel driveway, right next to Kimmie’s Prius. He hopped out of the car, leaving the engine running, and ran up to Kimmie’s front door. He pounded on it, rattling the owl-faced knocker and causing the dogs inside to bark like crazy.
“Kimmie?” he shouted. “Are you in there?”
He’d called her five times during the short drive from town to her house. She hadn’t answered any of his calls. He thought Ollie was sending him on a wild goose chase at first, but now he was sufficiently worried. The door opened a moment later, and Albert stuck his head out.
“Yes? Oh, hey. Andy, right?”
“Is Kimmie here?”
Albert looked over his shoulder. “Is Kimmie here?”
Wendy appeared next to her husband. “No, I don’t think so. Why? Is something wrong?”
Andy balled his hands into fists to keep from fidgeting. Why would her car be here but not her? “Um, no. I wanted to talk to her about Mariah, the other person staying here. Is her husband here? David?”
“No, it’s just us,” Wendy said. “What’s wrong with Mariah?”
“Nothing!” he said, a little louder than he meant to say it. “She’s fine. We have her down at the ole’ HQ. There was a minor incident, and I need to get some details from Kimmie. Or David. Either one.” He leaned over to see past them into the living room. He didn’t think they were lying, he just needed to see for himself, maybe spot a clue. “When is the last time you saw Kimmie?”
Wendy looked at Albert. “This morning. At breakfast. She was headed out to the store, and she said she’d be out part of the day, but expected to be back for dinner.”
“And she didn’t come back?”
Wendy glanced out the door. “I see her car, but I don’t think she’s in the house. Should we be worried?”
“No, it’s fine. Like I said, I wanted to check up on something. You two stay here and enjoy your night. I’ll go look around town for her.” He pulled out some cards from his back pocket and handed one to Albert. “But if you see her or David, have them give me a call.”
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They took his cards, apprehensive frowns plastered on their faces. Andy walked back to his car, although it took a Herculean effort not to sprint. He wanted to remain calm for Wendy and Albert’s sakes. No need to spook them any more than he already had.
He reached his car and saw Wendy looking at him through the window, saying something to an out-of-sight Albert. Andy gave her a courteous nod and backed out of the driveway. He took off down the road, a little faster than he intended.
*
Andy didn’t drive straight back to the office. He needed more information to keep Ollie from baiting him with useless leads and tasks, and the only place he could think to get some was around the corner ahead. He turned into the gravel lot behind the cemetery and felt a small tinge of satisfaction as he pulled up behind Ollie’s truck, right where he’d left it.
He shifted the car into park, keeping the lights on as he got out. He walked up along the passenger side of the gaudy green beast first, shining his flashlight through the back windows. He saw a few pieces of luggage, what looked like a cat carrier, and a dull gray metal lockbox, the bottom welded to the floor. It ran from one side of the truck to the other, easily big enough to hold large, deadly, tools.
He opened the back hatch and leaned inside to tug on the lockbox handle. Locked, of course. Ollie would have the key on him. He’d make sure to get it when he went back. He unzipped the suitcases but all he found inside were clothes and toiletries. He shined the light on the floorboard, looking intently for any sign of foul play. Blood, skin, hair, anything that might show he’d been up to some nefarious stuff. But other than a few crumpled fast-food wrappers, an empty Doritos bag, a sleeping bag, and some discarded plastic water bottles, the back was empty. He grabbed the sleeping bag and squeezed it, feeling for anything that might be hidden inside. It felt like a sleeping bag should feel, so he left it where he found it.
He shut the door and walked around to the side, checking the back seats. Nothing untoward there, either, except for more trash. The guy was at least sloppy. That was good. Sloppy people didn’t cover their tracks.
He opened the passenger side door and found a big, green duffel bag lying on the seat. He unzipped it and a smile twisted his face as he examined its contents. A shotgun, a machete, some vials filled with chemicals. Knives. Balloons and toys… was he going after kids? He sifted through the treasure trove of weapons and tools, silently reveling in the fact that he finally had Oliver Hauk by the balls.
The wind ruffled the folded tarp on the floorboard. He realized it was covering something. He reached down and flipped up the edge, part of him hoping to find a head down there, another part dreading that it might be Kimmie’s. He cringed, then relaxed. Nothing down there except for a weird netting of bungie cords and even more fast-food trash. This guy must live in his truck.
Something scurried in the woods behind him. He spun and flicked the flashlight across the brush. Whatever it was stopped moving. A raccoon, probably. He ignored it and zipped up the bag. He left it where he found it and hurried back to his car.
Let’s see Ollie talk himself out of this.