No answer. I walked down the hall and found an open door, stuck my head inside, and said, “Hey, I’m looking for Brooke Anderson. Have you seen her?”
Two students were lying on their beds, both staring at their phones. “Who?”
“Brooke. She lives three doors down.”
“We don’t know her,” one said.
If you’d get your faces out of your phones, maybe you’d know your neighbors. “Okay, thanks.”
Undaunted, I continued looking for someone, anyone, who knew Brooke. Finally, I found a young woman on the second floor. “We usually study together for our psychology class. But she hasn’t been around.”
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
“Last Thursday.”
Okay, now I was starting to get worried. Friday was the day Laney disappeared. “What’s your normal study pattern? Do you have a set day and time? Do you text each other? What?”
“We just text and meet when we can. But we always, always study together for tests.”
“And when’s your next test?”
“Tomorrow.”
A chill ran through me. “Do you have any idea if Brooke knows Laney Collier?”
“The girl that’s missing? No, I have no idea.”
“It’s a small school,” I said.
“Yeah, but you know … you have your friends and you text and you party, but nobody really knows anybody.”
“Does Brooke have a boyfriend?”
The girl shrugged.
“A part-time job?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where does she hang out when she wants to relax?”
“The gym? Or the coffee bar? I mean, everybody does.”
Everybody and nobody. Sheesh. I walked away from that interview, shaking my head. How could there be such a gap between my peers and Brooke’s in terms of friendships and connection? How could you live three doors down from Brooke Anderson and not know who she was? How could you study with someone and not have a clue about the rest of her life?
As I left the dorm, I texted my stepfather to get a description of Brooke’s car, the model year and license plate number. I figured my mom would freak if I asked her.
Frank got back to me pretty quickly. I drove over to the admin building and talked to the assistant dean of students. She didn’t really know my half sister but was able to give me the parking lot to which Brooke was assigned.
I went to that lot, which was near her dorm, and drove up and down every row. Her car was not there.
By this time, my concern was building, but my ninety minutes were nearly up. I drove to the second search site. Nate picked up on my stress right away. “You want me to do this with Susan?”
“And Luke? No.” Luke was my dog, and it was my search. Despite my anxiety.
Nate had mapped out a plan, and we set off. This time we were given open fields, pastureland that belonged to a farm adjacent to the town. It was within a mile of where Laney was last seen, so it made sense.
Not only that, it was easier to search. There were hills, but we weren’t climbing a mountain and we weren’t watching for snakes. We were looking out for cow pies.
Not a problem. Except that Luke thought they smelled delicious and managed to roll in one before I could stop him. I’m sure he thought that masking his own smell would make finding the elusive human easier.
I was so annoyed. But watching Luke luxuriate in his find, rolling on his back, a silly grin on his face, made Nate start laughing, and once he started, I couldn’t resist joining in. There’s nothing like a dog for comic relief.
Two hours later we had searched that whole farm, including the barn, an abandoned smokehouse (more delicious smells), an icehouse, and around the farmhouse itself. There was just one place we didn’t search, and that was the manure pit, a big, round concrete structure behind the barn. I stopped and stared at it, thinking that would be a great place to hide a body.
Nate came up next to me. “Could Luke sniff out a body with all that manure smell?” I asked.
“Possibly. Let’s walk around it. That thing’s about eight feet tall. He won’t jump in it.”
“He’d like to,” I said, smiling.
“Yeah, that’s his kind of spa. Let’s just walk around, slow-like, and see what he does.”
The manure pit was about twenty feet in diameter. As we walked around, Nate told me all about manure pits, about how valuable they were for collecting fertilizer for the fields, and how they helped keep pollution out of the streams, and how they were the devil to search if you had to go in one. “Lot of farmers been killed in these things. The gas gets ‘em if they’re not careful.”
Luke didn’t alert at all as we walked around it, so Nate declared the manure pit was most likely clear. Not a 100 percent, he said, but likely clear.
We walked down the farm lane to the road that would lead us back to Susan. There was no traffic, and I had Luke checking the ditches as we went. Working this search had taken my mind off Brooke, but the closer we got to our base, the more my missing half sister intruded on my thoughts.
Nate said he’d handle the debriefing with Susan. He could tell my mind was somewhere else. Besides, I had to clean off my stinky, smelly dog.
A lot of the manure had already dried on Luke’s coat. So I started out with a curry comb, brushing out all that I could. And while I brushed, I thought.
As a licensed private investigator, I had certain abilities to get into a person’s life. But my mind had already raced past those limited abilities. I was ready to track my sister down, but to do that, I needed official law enforcement help. Which meant asking my parents to report Brooke missing.
I had another idea first. I used enough dry shampoo on Luke to drown a cat, then sprayed Febreze in the back of my car. He kind of wrinkled his nose, objecting as eau de cow poop diminished. Then I put him in his crate and closed the back.
“I’ll be an hour,” I said to Nate.
He looked at me. “I’ll come with you.”
I decided to let him. He put Sprite in my car, and we took off. “What are we looking for?” he asked.
I gave him the make, model, and license plate number of Brooke’s car. Then I drove, and he looked.
We started with the college, checking all the lots, then we started going through the town. We saw two similar cars and stopped to check them out, but they weren’t Brooke’s.
Then we started on the residential areas. There were fewer cars, of course, so Nate decided to call local towing companies to see if they’d picked up her car.
No luck. No luck with any of it. Finally, frustrated, I pulled over, turned to Nate, and said, “Is it time to escalate this?”
44
Nate studied my face, then stared straight ahead while he thought.
Truth was, the best ways to track Brooke would be by pinging her cell phone or checking credit card usage. Only law enforcement could do that. The thought of going into that police station and interacting with a bunch of arrogant officers was about as attractive to me as walking into a manure pit. Still, I felt I had to.
“I think it is,” Nate said, confirming my thinking. “Call Scott.”
My anxiety level rose ten points.
Nate touched my shoulder. “You can do this.”
I closed my eyes and nodded. “Yes. I have to.”
But first I wanted to get cleaned up. I smelled like Luke, who smelled like poop. So I drove back to the motel. Nate took the dogs, and I took a shower. I got dressed in my most confidence-producing clothes and called my stepfather.
My head swam as I talked to him. I kept my voice calm, but I told him the information he needed to have on hand—her debit or credit card numbers, cell-phone information, and any other ID.
“I’m headed to the police station now. We’ll be in touch so you can make the official report.”
I called Nate before I left. Honestly, I could have just texted him, but I wanted to hear his voice.
�
�You want me to go with you?” he asked.
“No, I got this.”
“You talk to Scott?”
“I had to leave a message.”
He nodded. “Okay, then.”
I walked out of my motel room and was headed for my car when Nate came rushing after me.
“Jess!”
I stopped. “Here,” he said, pressing something into my hand. It was a tan stone, very smooth, like it had come from a creek bed.
“Stick that in your pocket and remember … ain’t nobody got any right to throw a stone at you.”
I felt my face grow hot. It was like he’d been reading over my shoulder. I looked at him, incredulous. Then I regrouped. I certainly didn’t want to have that discussion now.
“Thank you,” I said, and I gave him a quick hug. Nate kissed the top of my head, just like my dad would have.
I drove to the sheriff’s office and walked in. I faced the desk sergeant and told him what I wanted. Within minutes, I was sitting at an officer’s desk in a bullpen. Waiting for him, I could feel the testosterone-driven energy of the place and hear the cop-talk surrounding me. It was all too familiar. Nausea licked in my belly. Words flung at me in Fairfax raced through my head. I stuck my hand in my pocket, grabbed that rock, and gripped it.
“What can I do for you?”
I looked up as Deputy Billy Daniels sat down. He was an older guy with gray hair and a paunch. I explained to him what I wanted and told him why I was in the area. Then I glanced around. I didn’t want Deputy D. Foster surprising me.
“I heard y’all went home,” Daniels said.
“One team went home because one of our volunteers got hurt, but there’s still five of us here.”
“And you’re this girl’s sister.”
“Half sister, yes.”
He went on to explain how missing persons reports work. I already knew all that, but I listened as if I didn’t. I filled out most of the form he put in front of me, then called my stepfather and connected the two. Anxiety gripped me. I ached because I was so tense. I wished Luke was with me.
I didn’t have my dog, but I did have my rock. So I clenched it.
“We’ll put out a BOLO on the car,” I heard the deputy tell my stepfather. “That’s the first step. After that, we’ll see what happens.”
I could imagine that fell on my stepfather’s ears like a ton of bricks. I also knew from a cop’s point of view, it was pretty realistic. Chances are my half sister had just changed her plans. Was with a friend somewhere. Had decided to take a road trip. Didn’t want her parents or her boyfriend to know.
Happens all the time. No need to panic.
Except the deputy didn’t know about the other girls lying dead in the forest. The deputy didn’t know my little sister fit the victim description perfectly. The deputy didn’t know he had a former detective sitting at his desk, a detective that had no intention of depending on a BOLO alone, a detective who wasn’t about to let her younger sister become victim number four. Maybe five.
“Thank you, sir,” I said, rising from the chair.
“We’ll be in touch.”
I made sure he had my cell phone number. As I turned to leave, I saw Deputy D. Foster across the room. He was engaged in conversation, but he’d seen me, and the sneer on his face infuriated me, even from twenty feet away.
I walked out angry. I was halfway down the sidewalk when I heard my name.
“Jess! Jessica.”
I turned to see Scott Cooper jogging after me. “What?”
He flinched at the sharpness of my response. “What’s going on? I’m sorry I haven’t had time to respond to your message.”
I glared at him. Then I remembered he wasn’t the enemy. Plus, he was Hurting Man. Layers. I had to see things in layers. I closed my eyes for a second.
Then I told him what happened inside. “A BOLO isn’t going to cut it. You know that and I know that. We need to go live on her credit card and trace her cell phone. It has to be done now, Scott. She fits the profile.” To my surprise, I started to tear up. I quickly looked down so he wouldn’t see it.
“I’m on it, Jess. I’m totally with you. But I need information.”
“Here,” I said, and I texted him what my stepfather had sent me. Tag number. Description of car. Credit-card number. Cell phone. I added my sister’s full name and physical description.
Scott grabbed my shoulders and looked hard at me. “Don’t worry. We will find her. I will find her. I promise.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice cracking.
I drove back to the motel, but there was no way, no possible way, I could stay in that little room while my sister was possibly in danger. I knocked on Nate’s door. I needed Luke.
Nate invited me in, but I told him I’d only come for Luke. One look at his face told me the man was tired, and I made the decision not to include him in my plans. He needed to rest. I couldn’t.
So I stood at the door and gave him the Reader’s Digest version of my visit to the sheriff’s office. I kept my voice level and relaxed my jaw. I didn’t want him to get a hint of what I planned to do.
Then I gathered my dog and his leash and harness and food and water bowls, and I went back to my room. I sat there in the dark, stroking my dog, hoping Nate would soon go back to reading the book I’d seen on his bed. Maybe even fall asleep.
About fifteen minutes later, I quietly left, sneaking away with Luke like a teenager.
I wasn’t five minutes away before my phone rang. Nate. I swiped ignore.
The first place I went was my sister’s dorm. While driving, I tried to figure out how to proceed. I’d wondered if Lee Park had ever begun training Luke to track. To follow a specific scent.
It was a long shot. But then, we didn’t know he’d been trained as an HRD dog until he found Faith Caldwell’s body. I’d trained him as an air-scent dog—find any human.
Was it possible he’d also be able to track?
I was venturing into Lassie territory, I knew. Pretty unrealistic.
I walked into Brooke’s dorm, hoping her roommate was in.
She was. Tara Grimes was in the room. But she had no idea where Brooke was. Said she hadn’t seen her for a couple of days, but frankly, that wasn’t unusual for Brooke. She had a lot of friends and slept in different places.
I got Tara’s cell-phone number and put it in my contacts. Then I took the T-shirt that was lying on Brooke’s bed. If Luke could track, that T-shirt would give him the scent.
I’d left Luke in the Jeep. I got him out now and showed him the shirt. “Find it!”
Those were the words I’d used when I was training him to find cotton balls soaked in birch oil. I let him sniff around the bushes outside of the dorm. We walked all the way around the dorm and up and down the street. Nothing.
Then I dropped the shirt behind a car when he wasn’t looking, moved a little further down the street, did a U-turn, and said, “Find it!” His nose started working, and to my great joy, he found the shirt.
“Good boy, good boy!” I said, and I took out a tug and played with him.
Was that luck? I had no idea. I suspected teaching a dog to track reliably took a lot more time, repetition, and practice. Still, what could I do? My sister was missing and conceivably in danger. I had no time. And I’d try anything.
Next, we moved to the apartment where the party had been held. Again, I showed Luke the shirt and told him to “Find it.”
He spent a lot of time sniffing around the porch of that building. A lot of time. Then, when I suggested we move toward the street, he led the way. I waited to see which way he’d turn when the front walk met the sidewalk. First, he turned right, then he backtracked a few steps and turned around.
I wanted to believe he was following Brooke’s scent. Maybe it was wishful thinking. But maybe it wasn’t.
Twenty feet down the sidewalk, Luke took a sudden turn to the left. He crossed the grassy strip and got to the curb. He sniffed left and right, forward an
d back, and then he looked at me. I imagined he was saying, “This is where it stops.”
Oh, my gosh, was Luke really scenting Brooke? My heart beat faster. I turned and looked again at the path we had taken. Was Brooke at the party? Had she walked out of the building? Is this where she got into a car? Was it her car?
Despite my excitement, I reminded myself to reward Luke. I made him sit and stay facing the other direction. I walked back and hid the shirt in some bushes. Then I told him to “Find it!” It took him like five seconds. He tossed the shirt in the air and caught it over and over, as if to say, “Man, this is easy!” Then we played.
We got back in the Jeep. I texted Brooke’s roommate and asked about the party. She said Brooke often went to Friday-night parties, but she didn’t remember her saying anything about that one. I asked her if Brooke knew Laney Collier. She didn’t know.
Don’t kids know to keep tabs on each other anymore?
That thought seemed a little hypocritical when I noticed I had three missed calls and two ignored texts from Nate.
I had a sudden, sinking feeling. If Brooke had been at that party with Laney and had left in a car, they could be anywhere. Despite Luke’s good work, I was no closer to finding either of them than I was before.
I stared through my windshield. What should I do now?
45
Staring through the windshield into the dark night, I debated what to do next. I couldn’t just drive around aimlessly. There was no point in that. I thought of calling Nate back, but I knew he’d be mad at me, and frankly, I didn’t want to face that. I cared about him too much.
I finally decided to call Scott. I wanted to be sure he’d gotten on my sister’s case.
“Hey, Jess,” he answered. “I’m glad you called. Nate’s been trying to get in touch with you.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I accidentally left my cell phone in the car,” I lied. “Can you give me any updates?”
“We’ve put out a BOLO on your sister and her car. We’re working on going live on her credit card and tracking her cell phone. And Jess, that lead you gave us on those statues? It may be panning out.”
All That I Dread Page 23